He extended the bottle to Vance. “You sure you don’t want a swig?”

“Dude, get that disgusting thing out of my face,” Vance said, his voice drowned out by a tremendous thunderclap outside.

“Looks like we’re in for quite a storm,” Brandt said, grabbing an iPad off the desk and opening a weather app. The app flashed with multiple warnings that appeared as a cascade of pop-ups over the current forecast:

SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING

TORNADO WATCH

FLASH FLOOD WATCH

Vance, who was looking over his shoulder, whistled. “Looks like we’re about to get pummeled, bro.”

“Yep,” he said, clearing the alerts and clicking to see the colorful radar map, which showed a monster thunderstorm heading their way from the northwest. “It’s gonna be here in—” He stopped midsentence as the radio clipped to his belt crackled to life.

“Main Gate, this is Spotter—over.”

“Go for Main Gate,” Sanderson said, keying the mic clipped to his chest pocket.

“I hold multiple vehicles on approach, traveling in what appears to be a convoy,” the spotter said. “It’s got my antennae up. I don’t like it.”

“Their headlights on or off?” Sanderson asked.

“Off,” the spotter said, “but they’re still too far for me to make out the vehicle details.”

Sanderson’s heart rate picked up and a bolus of adrenaline flooded his bloodstream. With his free hand, he signaled for Vance to prep the defensive countermeasures. Tonight, Sanderson was the watch commander, and the safety of this school and all the kids inside was his responsibility. His time in the Army and later as a GRS contractor for the CIA had taught him the danger of inaction. In the security business, spinning up and responding to a false alarm was always better than doing nothing or reacting too slowly to a threat.

This was the first time in fourteen months that he’d been back at St. George’s Academy to stand watch. After being promoted to chief of perimeter security at Trinity Loop, he’d been removed from the St. George’s rotation. Trinity SG oversaw all the security for both campuses, but the Trinity Loop billets were way more coveted. Like moths to the flame, former operators ranked proximity to the action as their number one priority. And like Sanderson himself, most of the Trinity security staff had aspirations of being recruited as Shepherds. For him, it hadn’t happened yet, but in his heart of hearts he was certain that day was just around the corner. He’d not been made privy to the reasoning behind the increased force at St. George’s, but his instinct told him it was something important, and for Sanderson that meant he needed to be here.

He realized he might be about to learn why.