I wanted to write a survival thriller that took Christian belief seriously all the way through the story. I wanted readers to care whether a family could get out of danger, whether a plan would work, and whether help would arrive in time. I also wanted the characters’ convictions to affect the decisions they made when those decisions could cost them something.
That meant going further than having a capable main character mention God or pray before a dangerous moment. I wanted to deal with the questions that would follow him afterward. What did he owe the people he passed on the road? How far could he go to protect his family? Who could correct him when the people around him depended on his judgment?
Christian authors already write in this genre. Mark Goodwin and Terri Blackstock are two examples, and I wouldn’t claim otherwise. What I wanted to develop was a sustained survival story from a Reformed Christian perspective, with attention to human nature, family responsibility, legitimate authority, and the work of rebuilding. I wanted those concerns to develop through the people and events in the books.
The premise
The Unrestrained begins with a fictional neurological virus, NEV-34. The infected retain their intelligence. They can plan, organize, recognize another person’s weakness, and decide how to exploit it. The outbreak removes restraint without turning them into mindless creatures.
That gives the danger a particular character. Daniel Mercer cannot assume that someone who speaks calmly or makes a reasonable argument is safe. His experience may help him recognize a problem, but it cannot tell him everything he needs to know. He has to make decisions while people he loves depend on him.
NEV-34 serves that fictional premise. I’m not presenting it as a medical prediction or an explanation of real neurological illness. It allows the story to examine purposeful cruelty while leaving another problem in view: the uninfected characters still have to answer for their own choices.
The people who reach safety still have problems
A refuge gives people a chance to survive. It also brings their disagreements into closer quarters. They may agree that someone needs to make decisions and disagree about who should do it. They may agree that a wrong needs an answer and disagree about what justice requires. Personal loyalty can complicate an otherwise straightforward question.
My background in law, law enforcement, and training makes those problems interesting to me. A person can have good intentions, useful experience, and a serious blind spot. Other people may hesitate to challenge him precisely because he has helped them before. I wanted room for that kind of conflict.
I also wanted marriage and family to remain important after the outbreak. People bring their existing loyalties, habits, fears, and frustrations into an emergency. A husband does not stop being a husband because the situation requires him to lead. The people closest to him may understand something about him that everyone else misses.
The practical details
I enjoy survival fiction that lets readers learn something. I want practical instruction in these books, and I want enough detail for the reader to understand the lesson. The characters need a reason to teach it, though. Someone lacks a skill, conditions have changed, or a mistake has exposed a problem.
I want the action to respect similar limits. Traveling takes time. Cold and fatigue affect what people can do. Equipment can fail, and experience cannot make every plan work. If the characters use force, the consequences should remain part of the story after the immediate danger ends.
Why six books
High Ground begins with the outbreak and the struggle to protect a family. The later books follow the survivors as their responsibilities widen. They must establish order, deal with people beyond the refuge, examine the beliefs behind their decisions, and consider what they will leave to the next generation.
That progression gives me room to explore something I care about: whether people can preserve the things they claim to defend while enduring the pressure to compromise them. A community can survive and still become cruel. It can defeat an enemy and still need to repent of something it did along the way.
I write from the conviction that Christ remains Lord over those circumstances. That does not mean the characters avoid grief or receive an explanation for every loss. It gives them a reason to remain faithful when they cannot guarantee the outcome. I want the books to deliver suspense and action while giving readers enough reason to care about the people making those choices.
