Danny Pearl Harbor Novels & Stories

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, America, 1941 When Jordan Findley gave you a special assignment, you took it, even if it meant leaving the continent where you’d lived for over a hundred years and the area you’d led for almost half that time. Meeting with Jordan and his wife Janette in their office in Kansas City, Missouri, in the early fall of 1941 had been quite the experience for Aaron. After Titanic, he’d been appointed to the United Kingdom Area Leader, a new position, and he was tasked with overseeing all of the lands encompassed by the boundaries of that nation. Even though it had taken him away from the core members he’d worked so closely with, he enjoyed the job. Now that he and Christian had

bases at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii almost simultaneously, on December 7th on the eastern side of the International Dateline. The 9th and the 10th were spent sending plane after any sort of plane that could be had stuffed to the edge of endurance with American citizens off to Australia as the Japanese began a relentless invasion up the Malay peninsula with only token resistance. With each plane departure, Stanfield begged Abegail to get on board. But Abegail staunchly refused, saying she would take the last plane with Stanfield—when the last American who wanted to go was on board a plane.

I made my way to the main lobby, where several of my Warriors were waiting. “Alpha,” one of them reported, “we’ve confirmed that Lady Halle is still at the cabin by Lake Terara.” I nodded. That was the last update I got from Danny before all contact with him went dark. What the hell is going on? Why isn’t he responding? He never ignores my calls—unless there’s an emergency or he’s passed out from exhaustion. But how could he sleep when he’s supposed to be guarding Claire and my child? “Is Danny still there?” I asked before getting into the car.

The three men, Damon, Damian, and Donald, stood talking to different groups, their crowns glinting under the moonlight. Pearl ran past with a flower crown perched crookedly on her head, giggling as she chased glowing butterflies. Then an explosion ripped through the night as fire and debris sent her flying up before she hit the ground hard. With ringing ears, I crawled toward Pearl and began screaming her name over and over. Damon and Damian reached us first, faces ashen and Donald arrived moments later, dropping to his knees. “She’s gone,” he declared, voice cracking. “Pearl is dead.”