If civilization were destroyed today—would John Thomas Rourke be able to survive...?
World War III is now a bloody page in American history. With nuclear holocaust killing more than a quarter-billion people worldwide and the United States just a memory, John Thomas Rourke, ex-CIA Covert Operations Officer, weapons expert, and survival authority is enduring the ultimate test.
Soviet Occupation Forces have landed and must begin the "pacification" of America. They will start by liquidating any prominent Americans who could become a rallying point for armed resistance. The first name on the list is Samuel Chambers, the lone surviving member of the Presidential cabinet. And as the American KGB invades Texas to find Chambers, they find Rourke there as well.
With his young friend Paul Rubenstein, Rourke is fighting his way back home to continue the search for his missing wife and children. Paramilitary armies, heavily armed brigands, a beautiful KGB infiltrator, an unending stream of War refugees, and a land gone mad with violence block his path. The birth of U.S. II has begun and the quest continues for John Thomas Rourke—THE SURVIVALIST
Sarah twisted involuntarily in her saddle, her eyes drifting to the AR-15 rifle she had taken off one of the dead bodies the morning after the War. Her spine shivered.
As she and Jenkins rode deeper into the mountains, she felt less despair. She knew that her husband's survival retreat was somewhere in these mountains and that it was only a matter of time before she and John would reunite.
Each time Jenkins and Sarah turned a corner, every time they cleared a bluff, they searched for a sign of life. And through the dimness of dusk they found it. Looking down through the dimness of dusk they found it. Looking down into the shallow valley below, they viewed a town, its people rushing in the streets. They heard shots as well.
Jenkins rode up beside Sarah and pointed straight ahead. "Those people were fools to stay in their town," he observed.
"Can't we do something, Jenkins?"
Jenkins shrugged. "I'm no weapons expert like your husband was."
"You mean, like he is," she corrected.
"I'm afraid you're wrong Mr. Rourke. Atlanta is just one big crater by now, and you said yourself that your husband landed there."
"But he can't be dead," she insisted. "Not my husband. Not John Rourke. Not THE SURVIVALIST."