A breathtaking debut novel about survival, hope, and second chances in an Asian American community in Massachusetts, when a false missile throws the residents’ lives into chaos.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Seek Immediate Shelter by Vincent Yu, which releases on May 5th 2026.
On an otherwise unremarkable morning, the residents of a small town in Massachusetts all receive the same alert: BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
Confronted with the options of fight or flight, planning or panicking, the people of Beckitt are stripped to their basest instincts and revealed as their truest selves. Russ squeezes his family into the bathtub, leaving his own survival in question; Nina sends an unforgivable text to her daughter; Milly confesses her unrequited love; and David hits the gas, speeding away from his wife and child.
Then the second message comes in: FALSE ALARM. PLEASE DISREGARD. ALL CLEAR. First comes relief, then comes the reckoning, as each person is forced to face the unforeseen aftermath of decisions they thought might be their last.
Vincent Yu’s searing debut follows this eclectic cast of characters over a period of many years, suggesting that the conflicts the missile exacerbated were simmering under the surface long before, and proving the ripple effects of the false alarm will be felt for years to come.
An urgent, fiercely heartfelt exploration of relationships in all forms, Seek Immediate Shelter explores the balance between love and loyalty, betrayal and forgiveness. What choices would you make if you thought your life were on the line? And if you survive, can you ever redeem yourself?
EXCERPT
Excerpted from SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. Copyright © 2026 by Vincent Yu. Reprinted with permission from Flatiron Books. All rights reserved.
Beckitt’s emergency began on a calm spring morning: an expansive chill in the air; the sun soaring over rangy, adolescent clouds; miles of rolling green mowed into submission, flanked by grand columns of oak and maple, through which the wind shivered.
And a symphony of cell phones throbbing in sudden unison. Terror and confusion jolting through town like an electrical impulse.
David Li, however, had forgotten to charge his phone overnight. All he heard at first was a low diesel rumbling from beyond the window. The hypnotic beep beep of a truck’s reversal. Twigs scuffing lightly against the gravel.
“Get up! Get up!” his wife, Daphne, was howling. But it was still early. He mumbled something, must have fallen back asleep, because his next sensations were of her swiping a pillow at him. “David. Seriously! Get up!”
And then the rush of sounds, like liquid splashing into a bowl: Daphne’s distressed alto, the fussing of their infant, Nathan. The officious shouts of the grounds crew outside their window, everyone bellowing orders. And the abrupt, overwhelming screech of the phone held to his face.
“Look!”
BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
“Oh shit.” David leapt out of bed, feet pattering on the cold wood floor. “Okay, come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“The fuck away.”
“Are you sure? It said to seek shelter. We should probably stay here. Right?”
But their house, with its ranch styling, felt too spread out, too single-storied. While his parents lived minutes away in a home that had always felt to him like a fortress, with a sizable basement in which he’d spent many carefree hours as a child. And it would be nice, if this truly was the end, to spend his last moments with them.
“Hurry,” he said. “Come on, please.”
Nathan’s screaming. Action, action. Go, go, go.
Daphne was gathering supplies—formula, diapers, water. Ludicrous, to him, when each passing moment seemed drafted from an empty account. When a missile was hurtling toward them, shearing through cloud cover. He was in the car already. He pressed the remote to open the garage door.
Just as there arrived a distant rumbling.
Oh God, something was rumbling. Something enormous and cataclysmic was approaching. Please. He didn’t want to die.
“Come on!” he screamed. “Let’s go!”
Please, please. It was all too sudden; he wasn’t ready. How could he come to terms with such hasty, indifferent annihilation? No, please. Not like this, just sitting here. Yielding to it. And where was Daphne? What could possibly be taking her so long?
Up the incline of their driveway, past the clattering lift of the garage door, he saw a gathering of legs. As if residents had assembled on the street to welcome an extinction event. Well, he wouldn’t be one of them. He’d bowl them over if he had to. He honked the horn. Surely the garage had never been this slow to open?
“Daphne!”
And then came the faint sounds of yelling, as if warning of imminent impact. The unquestionable shadow of something descending. The thundering premonition of an explosion. SHIT. FUCK.
He couldn’t wait anymore. He could not.
He jammed his foot down on the gas.
******
“Well, the motor is pretty weak. Torsion spring is a little warped. And there’s a bit more slack in this chain than I’d like, alongside the obvious issue here”—the technician pointed at the base of the garage door— “which is that the bottom bracket’s knocked off.”
David surveyed the damage, nodding like a foreman. He had the unconstructive habit of noticing faults only when they were identified to him, and being unable, thereafter, to focus on anything else.
“A lot of people don’t realize it, but this here is the most dangerous thing in your entire house. The sensor gets messed up, the motor fails, and wham.” The technician slammed his grease-soiled hands together. “Done for. Accidents like that happen all the time. And you’ve got a nice family here. I mean, I’d take this as an opportunity to just get the whole thing redone. Fresh start. You get peace of mind for a lot more years.”
David turned to Daphne. “What do you think?”
But she’d been quiet ever since he’d charged through the still-rising garage door, scraping the car roof against its bottom, only to find the grounds crew across the street felling a tree, whose branches had ensnared some utility cables.
Ever since he’d stepped out of the car and jogged back toward the garage where she stood, holding Nathan in her arms, and the second message arrived on their phones. FALSE ALARM. Eighteen minutes after the initial alert.
“He makes a good point,” he said to her now. “And regardless, we need to get this thing fixed.”
Nothing.
“What’s up?”
She looked at him. “Seriously?”
“Honestly, this might be a blessing in disguise. We were due to replace it anyway. I can ask for an advance on my bonus to pay for it.”
“Fine. Whatever.” She turned toward the house.
“Daph?”
She looked back at him, expectation brimming in her eyes, her hopeful face cradled in its nest of thick russet hair. “Yes?”
“So you’re good with this?”
And her expression fell into one of despondency, aversion. “Funny that you’re thinking of me now.”
“It’s a big decision. I want you to be a part of it.”
The sharp peal of her laughter sent a family of sparrows jetting from a tall birch, their bodies growing smaller and smaller until they were lost to the blue-pink horizon.
While the technician stood there awkwardly. “Maybe I can come back later?”
