The Survivors

Cover image of book 3

Abandoned by her lover.  Reunited with her father.  Ardently pursued by a man who has vowed to never leave her side.

From within the protective walls of Sanctuary, Jasmine and her friends find themselves numbered among a throng of refugees fleeing a world under constant assault from all sides. The horrors of The Maya Virus were just the beginning as nations emboldened by chaos succumb to the temptations of nuclear warfare, religious zealots employ drastic tactics against their rivals, and Mother Nature herself seems determined to destroy all that remains.

As governments crumble and factions unfold, the pressure is on for Jazz to take sides and declare her allegiance, but the rules are unclear and the lines may not be as cleanly drawn as some would have her believe. An ancient secret society disguised as a wealthy corporation creeps comfortably into a position of power; a struggling republic determined to maintain some semblance of normalcy clings to what little control it has left; a faithful crowd amasses to worship a newly emerged and powerful figurehead of myth and legend; an unlikely army forms in obscurity, it’s awesome power hidden from all who would seek to destroy it; and then there’s Damien, quite possibly Jasmine’s greatest temptation to date.

The fiercest war mankind has ever known is percolating on the horizon. What would you be willing to sacrifice to be counted among The Survivors?


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WHAT’S THE BUZZ?

“I’ve been waiting for this novel for a long time… It was worth the wait, even though it made me late twice because I couldn’t put the book down.” ~Molly F.

“L.M. Smith has written a fantastic psychological thriller that also crosses several other genres, especially paranormal fiction and dystopian fiction. I love her fast paced writing style, and the flow is wonderful. I have added this author to my favourites list, and will read any of her books in the future.” ~L. W.

“I am not in the habit to rave over one single thing in a book but today I am making an exception. I loved, loved, loved book one. And I loved book two but book three has me raving for reasons not mentioned in book I or II.” ~Wanda

“I loved book one & book two, now I love, love, love this book…. In all honesty The Jazz Nemesis Series is one of my all time favorite series.” ~R. Lynch

“It took us on quite the adventure, one I did not see coming. Let’s just say this book will pull you right into it and it does leave you needing more. Can’t wait for the next book!” ~Lauren A.


SNEAK PEEK!

The rhythmic sound of boots marching in tandem drew their attention briefly and they turned to watch as several dozen men in riot gear, complete with shields and batons, ascended the ramp toward them like an army on their way to an invasion.

“The hell?” Gabe queried, glancing over his shoulder at Jazz to see if she’d noticed them.

“Wait, are we bringing in refugees or prisoners?” She breathed, suddenly having a very bad feeling about her offer to help.

“Which are we?” He shot back, his tone dripping with poignancy.

She was too surprised to respond and the two of them watched as the men proceeded past them, dividing themselves into two lines and taking up positions on either side of the ramp between their table and the sharp turn that it made to the right at the top of the far wall. That was when the silence came, everyone seemed to have found their place and decided that there was nothing more for them to do but wait for the intakes to arrive. No one spoke, no one moved. The tension was deafening. ‘Nothing to do but wait.’ Jazz repeated the thought in her mind and then remembered the state of the supplies that she and Gabe would be handing out. There was plenty for them to do! She turned her back on the ramp and ripped open another box to reveal tiny boxes of travel sized toothpaste. Gabriel took the cue from her and returned to the box that he’d already ripped half open as well, the two of them seemingly the only movement within the ocean of stillness.

The rumble had begun so low that Jasmine hadn’t even noticed it at first but as it grew louder and louder she found it increasingly more difficult to focus on her task. What could it be? It almost sounded like some kind of large engine but that was impossible this far underground, wasn’t it? It grew louder and closer until she realized that it wasn’t an engine at all, it was walking. Lots and lots of people walking. The skin on the back of her neck tingled and the hair on her forearms stood on their ends. How many of them were there? How many of them could this place even hold?

The voices of soldiers could be heard above the hum of footfalls, shouting intermittent orders like ‘Walk please, no running!” and “Proceed in an orderly fashion!” She and Gabriel exchanged meaningful glances as her mouth went dry and suddenly the sorting and identifying of supplies left her mind. All she could do was stare up the empty ramp and wait with the rest of them.

The first few intakes rounded the corner at the top of the ramp and started toward them and for a brief moment Jazz believed that they would arrive in a single-file line but then more came, and more. A literal cloud of people emerged around the corner, moving like a herd at least two dozen wide. Those in front drew closer and closer down the ramp, a ramp that was long enough for two full-sized city buses and still there were more rounding the corner with no end in sight.

“Holy mother of …” She breathed, in disbelief.

It was as though the floodgates to hell had been opened and the swath of tortured escaping souls had been detoured directly to the opening of the tunnel. The crowd that fell upon the supplies table were bedraggled, exhausted, frightened, and some of them wounded. More articles of clothing bore the stains and smears of dried and blackened blood than those that didn’t and there wasn’t a single clean face to be found amid the crowd. It became apparent, almost instantly, that Jasmine and Gabriel were possibly the first non-helmeted human faces that these people had encountered within Sanctuary, as the barrage of questions that were pelted at them ranged from ‘Is there a fee to stay here?’ to ‘Have you seen my wife?’.

 

 

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