QUIET LIKE FIRE By Cameron Cooper
A Standalone SF Novella
Alternative history
More books by Cameron Cooper
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In a fractured near-future, the United States has crossed the northern border—and nothing will ever be the same.
Evan Cano is a medic in occupied Alberta, treating wounds on both sides of a war she never chose: Homies, Maplebacks, and everyone caught in between.
When her wife disappears and the Dominion Defense Network offers protection at a cost, Evan is forced to flee. Across mountains. Across borders. Across the line between survival and resistance.
Science Fiction Novella
Other standalone fiction by Cameron Cooper
And We Danced All Night
A Place for Everyone
A Room of Her Own
Resilience
Space Opera Firsts
Galactic Reflections
He Really Meant It
Quiet Like Fire
Also (only from Stories Rule Press):
The standalone fiction Special Bundle
Cameron Cooper’s Super-Bundle
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Reviews
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Wow! Incredible story. Both terrible and beautiful. Read it!
First off this story is scary in its depiction of military aggression by the Americans. Plus it eerily echoes things that have unfortunately already happened in this world. Thankfully Cameron Cooper always manages to weave interesting people into stories and make it about them. This was a story about perseverance, bravery, kindness, hope and community during occupation by an armed force. The very end of this story was a lovely nod to hope and love.
Immersive. Immediate. These were the first words I quickly scribbled while reading this book. By the end of the first paragraph I was completely absorbed in the story of Evan Cano, a nurse practitioner “working way beyond [her] parameters,” in this near-future world. Although it touches on politics, this is not a political story. It is a story about people, everyday people who find themselves in extremely difficult circumstances. How do they choose to navigate their new world? How can they survive? As expected, this author presents problems I didn’t see coming, and offers solutions where I could think of none. The overall story spans a continent and, at the same time, is intimate, filled with small but richly described details that engage the reader ever more deeply in the compelling narrative. This is a book that kept me thinking about the story long after I had finished reading, and still keeps me wondering, “what would I do?” After reading an advance copy of this book, I most heartily recommend it. A book that sticks with you the way this one does is well worth reading (and re-reading).
Quiet Like Fire, by Cameron Cooper, is a breath-consuming read. Loosely based on current propaganda, the story emerges at a time after war has erupted between Canada and America. Quiet is a view from inside that war in the backwaters of the wilderness. As always, Cooper has fully developed characters that sweep you into their lives and hold you hostage all the way to the end of the story. Whether you agree or disagree with the underlying politics, this is a great and moving story with wonderful storytelling. It is a thought-provoking tale that will stay with you, long after the epilogue. Read it and enjoy the delightful prose of Cameron Cooper.
QUIET LIKE FIRE is horrible yet beautiful. It is the story of a tragic modern day war between allies but also a story of hope and friendship and cooperation among those wishing to simply survive as good human beings. Only Cam Cooper could have pulled this off. Bravo!
Main character Evan's compelling situation shows how hope and humanity can survive in the environment of an insidious war.
Attention to detail drew out the tension and transported me. I was there for every step of Evan's journey including the tight rope walk of trying to stay neutral with different factions all wanting a piece of her.
It's a well written presentation of what can happen in the aftermath of a governing body ruthlessly wielded its power to enact prejudice and greed. The novel offers the reader an insightful yet disturbing look at the effects of potential abuses of authority.
Deeply ingrained judgmental biases and threats against diverse societal groups have escalated into a widespread collapse of normalcy which is illustrated by the hardships and losses suffered by the people that Evan comes in contact with throughout the novel.
In contrast to the setting it is the characters and their support of each other that shine through as a beacon of hope throughout the novel. This not a doom and gloom scary story but rather an inspiration and wake up call for how humanity needs to look after each other.
The gritty descriptions of how everyday life has unraveled paint a vivid and unsettling picture of a society that has descended into hardship and struggle. Evan's story creates a realistic and striking picture of what could so easily happen to our own cosy lives.
The author crafts a disturbingly realistic vision of how quickly our comfortable existence could shatter. This isn't just a story; it's a potent and timely exploration of societal fault lines.
Ultimately, Evan's story serves as a stark and realistic picture but also has such a strong thread of hope and survival that it was a pleasure to read.
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Excerpt
EXCERPT FROM QUIET LIKE FIRE
COPYRIGHT © CAMERON COOPER 2025
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
I knew the homie was dying. Only saying so would earn me a bullet in the right temporal lobe from the Glock—or maybe it was a Smith & Wesson—the DC dog waved around every time I looked up. The officer’s grubby name tape told me he was BRAND.
I didn’t know the name. He was a newcomer to Crowsnest Pass. Probably because the DDN had taken out the 91st’s C.O. last week.
I didn’t need signage to tell me Brand was upset, even though he was the quietest one in the room.
There were five others in full combat gear, standing around with their camouflage-painted M18+ assault rifles in both hands. They were shouting at each other, while their comrade on the table in front of me groaned and writhed. I wasn’t paying much attention to the shouting. The bits I picked up were about who was going to take it in the face for the fuck-up that had led directly to their mate taking a bullet in the thigh.
They should rightfully be out in the waiting room, not dirtying up my treatment room, but I wasn’t going to tell them that. I valued a pain-free existence.
I focused on securing the tourniquet around my patient’s leg. I reefed on the strap and locked it down.
“Bleeding’s slowing,” Brand observed.
I held my teeth together. The bleeding was slowing because the homie was running out of blood. He’d lost liters of it before they’d plunked him on the table. The bleeding they couldn’t stop was the reason they’d diverted to the clinic here in Blairmore, instead of heading back to their base lower down the valley.
“Now, the bullet, woman,” Brand added.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
I moved over to the cabinets and pulled out one of the last sterile kits in the cupboard, pulled over a rolling table, opened the packet and spread the equipment. I hesitated to use the sterile gloves. The patient wasn’t going to live long enough to incubate an infection, and the clinic was short on gloves…
Brand watched me with narrowed eyes, the Glock—yeah, pretty sure it was a Glock—nestled in the crook of his arm, which coincidentally meant it was still pointing at me.
I put the gloves on. “Turn him over so I can get at the back of his leg,” I told the homies. I spoke loudly enough to be heard, which meant I was yelling.
They gaped at me.
“Do it,” Brand said softly.
They let their rifles hang while they carefully turned their comrade over. He stopped groaning and screamed, instead.
I moved the trolley around the table and positioned myself over the wounded leg. I leaned in, visualizing where I thought the bullet was. The x-ray machine wasn’t working, but since the war broke out twenty months ago, I’d got very good at figuring out the path of a bullet through the human body.
“Wait,” Brand said in the same soft voice.
I looked up.
Brand had pale blue eyes, narrowed suspiciously. I put him at early forties, not much younger than me, but with silver grey hair that had probably been black, not so long ago. “You haven’t applied a local,” Brand pointed out.
I lowered the scalpel. “I don’t have any.” We were expecting a care package from the Middle Kingdom any day now that might have local anesthetic in it, but delivery was always uncertain, given the obstacle course the packages went through. That Canadians got regular care packages smuggled in from our unofficial Chinese allies wasn’t something I was going to tell a captain of the Homeland Force—North Command of the United States. So I just looked at him, waiting for permission to continue. I was in no hurry.
The corners of his jaw flexed hard. “Pain killers, then.”
I opened my mouth to protest. Shut it again. Then I found a different argument. “It’ll take forty minutes for the pain killers to kick in. You want me to wait that long?”
“Fentanyl is instant.” Brand’s tone was confident.
The fentanyl the homies’ medics used did kick in instantly, for it had been souped up and tweaked. The dogs did not hand them out to anyone else. “All I have is Dilaudid.” I raised my brow at Brand.
His jaw flexed overtime for a moment. “Fine. Use that.”
I worked hard to not swear, not even in my head, because Jenny has told me more than once that I have an expressive face. I didn’t want Brand to know how much I resented giving the very last of my Dilaudid to a man who would be dead in a few hours.
I stripped off the sterile gloves, headed out into the corridor and the drug cabinet, and shook the last two hydromorphone tablets into my palm. We’d run out of paper drug cups months ago and care packages ran to essentials only.
I had to hold the homie’s jaw to help him drink a mouthful of water to wash them down. Then I stripped off my sodden coat and stuffed it in the over-full laundry bag. I’d have to get someone to run the washing machine today or tomorrow. “I’ll be back in forty minutes.”
“Where are you going?” Brand demanded.
“I have other patients,” I pointed out. The waiting room was full of them, but Sarah, who was on triage, had assured me that they were all level 5s. Not even a single level 4 among them.
“Gomez, go with her,” Brand said.
“No.” The flat tone came out of my mouth without thought.
Brand looked at me steadily. His jaw was flexing again.
“You’re all filthy and none of you are wearing a mask.” I pointed through the glass door. “You’ve got two men guarding the front doors. I’m not going anywhere except the next treatment room. And I will be back in forty minutes.” To emphasize that, I looked at the wall clock, taking in the time, even though I had automatically checked my watch when I’d given the homie the Dilaudid.
Finally, Brand nodded.
I didn’t thank him.
