The Creed (Book 1): The Hunt
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The Hunt
Book 1 of The Creed Series
AJ Powers | W.J. Lundy
The Hunt
AJ Powers & WJ Lundy © 2020
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the authors.
Notes From The Authors:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Notes From The Authors:
Thanks for picking up The Hunt: Book 1 of the Creed Series. While this is the first full-length book of this series, it’s not the first story. If you haven’t already, I highly encourage you to check out the short story The Creed by AJ Powers and W.J. Lundy. It will give you a greater understanding of the events leading up to Matthew Hagan’s presence in Alexandria, and his reason for being there. It’s a short, fast-paced read that will get you up to speed so that you can hit the ground running on this new series.
If you’ve already read The Creed, then you’re good to go.
Thank you for purchasing this book. We hope you enjoy!
- AJ Powers & W.J. Lundy
Chapter 1
“What are they going to do to us?” the little girl whimpered.
Melody Cruz had been asking herself that same question since she and her nine-year-old sister had been abducted by the same group of armed men that had just killed her father. She didn’t respond to her sister’s repeated question, but Melody wasn’t naïve. She knew exactly what these men would do to them. But incessantly asking herself the question gave her a strand of hope to cling to, hope that maybe there was an alternative to the fears that overwhelmed her thoughts the moment she was dragged away from her dying father as he reached for his girls with his last breaths.
But no. There would be no alternative. There would be no happy ending to this story. The men would rape her. Rape her sister. They had probably already raped the other fifteen women and girls bound in front of her. And, after they were used up, they would be sold to the highest bidder where they would live out their days serving a new master every hour until death mercifully came for them.
A painful shudder rolled through Melody’s body. She promised herself that she would not allow that to happen—especially to her sister. Bile crept up her throat as she envisioned suffocating the girl in her sleep tonight, sparing her from a lifetime of torment and stolen innocence. Tears danced in her eyes as she psyched herself up to do such an unspeakable thing to someone she loved so deeply, but doing nothing felt like an even greater act of betrayal.
Melody hunched over and vomited onto the forest floor, causing the entire group to wrench to a stop. As she heaved uncontrollably, the man closest to her grabbed her hair, pulling her up to face him.
“What’s the matter, girl? You sick?” he said. The anger on his face quickly morphed into satisfaction, as if he enjoyed watching her empty her stomach. “Are you scared?” he asked, a grin creeping across his face. His lips curled back, revealing stained, crooked teeth.
Melody fought the urge to expel more of her stomach’s contents onto the man’s face as his hot, detestable breath reached her nostrils. Her throat was on fire, but she managed to stave off another episode. She drew in a deep breath. “N-n-no. I’m okay. Just tired is all.”
The man’s smile collapsed, and he shook his head with disdain. “Don’t hold us up again. Understood?”
Melody nodded. “Yeah. Okay. S-s-sorry.”
The man gave Melody a light, almost playful, slap on the cheek before falling back into position alongside the line of women. “Let’s go!” he shouted, lifting his AK-47 slightly to remind the girls he was king of the jungle.
There were six armed men among the group. Two in the front, two in the back, and one flanking each side. Slipping away unnoticed would be impossible. To try would mean certain death. By herself, she would have already made a run for it—a bullet was better than what lied ahead—but she couldn’t risk it. Not before she could free her sister from the bondage.
They were traveling north, and Melody was confident they were headed for Old St. Louis. She didn’t know much about the rogue nation of Alexandria—just the few stories that her father and uncle told her over the years. How it, along with all the other American territories, were once part of a mighty nation called the United States. The freest, strongest and most prosperous nation the world had ever seen. Melody was just a toddler when the first nuke detonated in Chicago fifteen years ago, triggering a war that didn’t stop at America’s borders. Even at two-years-old, the images of the mushroom cloud and horrified timbre of the news anchors’ voices was seared into Melody’s memory like the shadows of Hiroshima. It still haunted her in her sleep some nights, but as she glanced around at her captors, she knew that those nightmares would soon be replaced by something so much worse.
Both the sun and the temperature dropped fast, forcing the group to stop for the night. The girls, tethered to one another with rope, were pushed to the cold, muddy ground and told to sit silently as the men set up camp. One man stood guard with the muzzle of his rifle pointed at the girls, ensuring his merchandise didn’t slip away while the others had their backs turned. The guard’s eyes were filled with desire when they landed on Melody, causing her to focus her eyes on the ground. His sinister chuckle sent a chill down her spine. She screwed her eyes shut and squeezed her sister’s hand as she prayed that God would soon deliver them all from this dreadful nightmare.
Though he was keeping a close watch on all the girls, the guard seemed fixated on Melody. He flashed her sadistic grins and licked his lips like a hungry dog as his eyes constantly traveled the length of her curvy figure. Melody’s stomach twisted like a pretzel as more bile skulked up her throat. His intense interest in her plagued her thoughts with what was to come, despite her effort to clear her mind. It was an impossible task. It was all she could focus on.
Better me than her, Melody thought. Glancing at her terrified sister, she feigned a reassuring smile.
When the guard turned around to joke with some of the other men, the woman next to Melody leaned closer. “It’s better if you just go along with it,” she whispered. The woman’s eyes were devoid of all hope, her expression, blank.
“What?” Melody whispered back.
“The guard. He’ll get what he wants regardless. But it’ll be a whole lot easier on you if you don’t fight it. Just act like you’re into him and it’ll be over in just a couple minutes.”
Melody tensed with fear, disgust and shame. She had never been with a man before, and she hadn’t planned to be until she was married. The thought of this man taking what wasn’t his made her shake violently. But, when the man returned his attention to her, a sick, twisted grin on his face, Melody’s fear was replaced with anger.
No. Melody thought, I will not “just go along with it.”
“About time you got that thing going,” one of the men said as another successfully got a fire burning.
“You try getting a fire started with wet sticks, jerkoff,” the man kneeling on the ground barked back as he got to his feet and began working on his shelter.
The crude banter continued as the makeshift shelters were hastily assembled before the incoming storm arrived. Most of the tents were made of decades-old tarps, blankets, and even a few shirts with frames constructed out of branches lying around the area. Though one man looked to actually have tent poles in his pack.
A young man, the youngest looking of the group, finished his tent and immediately came to trade places with the guard who had been ogling Melody, allowing him an opportunity to build his own shelter. Relief washed over Melody as she watched the guard leave, but a pit quickly formed in her stomach when she saw how much further away he was building his tent from the others.
The new guard awkwardly smiled at Melody. Unlike the others, he had short, clean-cut hair, straight, white teeth, and no tattoos. He was quiet and reserved, rarely joining in on the perverted conversations with the other men during the day’s journey. The young man struggled to look Melody, or any of the other girls, in the eyes. And when he did, he was wrought with guilt, giving Melody a sliver of hope.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
The man glanced around nervously. He waited a beat, then spoke quietly, “Michael.”
“Hi, Michael. I’m Melody,” she said, offering him a half-smile.
Michael ignored her and, instead, scraped dirt off the iron sights of his rifle with his thumbnail. He then looked up to the sky as the tops of the trees overhead leaned further and further to one side. The wind was picking up. The storm imminent.
“Can… Can I ask you for a favor, Michael?”
Michael looked at her, but again, remained silent.
“I’ve had to pee for the last few hours, and I would really prefer not having to do that in the rain. Can you take me somewhere a little more private?”
The man sighed but nodded. He looked over his shoulder and called one of the others over. “Need to take this one to the bathroom.”
“Make it fast,” the man gruffed at Melody, giving her a piercing stare before shifting his eyes over to Michael.
Michael loosened the knots on each of Melody’s wrists and helped her to her feet. They walked toward a patch of shrubs next to a few evergreens about fifty yards from camp. Far enough away for some privacy but not so far away that Melody could try something unnoticed. Not that she had any plans for that. Even though Michael wasn’t a big man, Melody knew that any attempts to subdue him without a weapon would be met with swift and brutal retribution—and not just to her. Instead, she was going to pull at the string of penitence she detected in Michael and pray that she could manipulate it enough to have him look the other way later tonight.
“So, how did you end up here, Michael?” Melody asked.
Michael ignored her question.
“Come on, Michael…” she said with a serious yet compassionate tone. “I can tell you aren’t a bad guy… Not like the others. You don’t want to be here, and I know it,” she said as they arrived at the shrubs. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, Michael?”
Melody hoped that using the man’s name repeatedly throughout their conversation would create a bond between them in the short amount of time they were out of earshot. But the tactic seemed to be ineffective. Michael pointed at the shrubs and said, “Please just hurry.”
Dejected, Melody went behind the shrubs to relieve herself. To her surprise, Michael began to speak.
“My father owed some people money.”
“Oh?” she replied, genuine sympathy in her tone.
“He…” Michael trailed off, his glassy eyes stared blankly out into the dying light of the woods. “He can’t pay it anymore, so I was told I had to come. This was how his debt had to be repaid.”
Melody had finished relieving herself, but she stayed put to keep Michael talking. “I’m so sorry, Michael. That sounds awful. I could tell that there was something different about you.”
Michael nodded. “They didn’t tell me what we were coming down here for. They just said I needed to pick up some merchandise with these guys. If I had known…” he said, shaking his head with disgust.
“It’s not too late, Michael. You can still help us escape. All of us. You can right this wrong.”
“No,” he shook his head emphatically. “They’ll kill my family.”
“Who?” Melody asked. “Who will kill your family?”
The man didn’t respond, instead, he lifted his head and tilted it toward the camp. “Hurry up, we need to get back.”
Melody sighed as she buttoned her pants and walked back around to Michael’s side. He gestured for her to move forward as he trailed a few feet behind. “I’m serious, Michael. You can do the right thing. I’m sorry about your family—I really am—but that’s… that’s not my fault…Or my little sister’s. She’s just nine years old, Michael…”
“Please, stop,” Michael begged.
“I know what they’re going to do to me tonight, Michael. And I know there’s nothing you can do to stop that. But you can stop it from happening again… From happening to my sister…”
“I said shut up, Melody,” he said. The anger in his voice was thick, but not directed at her.
Melody glanced over her shoulder to see conflict on the man’s face. There was a war raging inside his head. Two wolves vying for dominance. She knew the conflict had been there long before their conversation but hoped her pleas for help would push his conscience over the edge.
“Where have you been?” the creepy guard from earlier demanded to know as the two returned to camp. The man’s jaw was tight, and his brows furrowed. He rested one hand on the grip of his holstered pistol while the other grabbed on to the buckle of his belt.
“She had to go to the bathroom, Mr. Wilks.”
Wilks was not convinced. “You touch her, boy?”
“No, sir!” Michael shot back.
“You sure?” he said, eyeing Melody for some sort of confirmation.
“Yes, sir. She had to go to the restroom; I was just making sure she didn’t escape.”
“If I find out your lying to me, boy…” Wilks growled, leaning in close to Michael’s face.
“He’s not!” Melody spoke up. “But what difference does it make? Aren’t you all just going to have your way with me, anyway?” she said defiantly.
Wilks laughed. “Well, yeah… Part of the benefits package,” he sneered. “But this boy is just hired help. He doesn’t get to enjoy that perk of the job,” he said, glaring at Michael with indignation. Letting out a sigh, Wilks’s features softened as did his voice. “Well, since you’re already up and about, might as well follow me, young lady. I’d like to get to know you a little better.”
Melody’s heart thumped hard, rocking her body with each contraction. She looked over at Michael who immediately turned away. The shame on his face was sincere. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Melody then looked back at Wilks. “Okay,” she said as bravely as she could.
“After you, little lady,” he said, gesturing to his tent on the far end of the clearing they were in.
Melody’s mind was filled with panicked images of thousands of different outcomes this night would have. Each step brought her closer to this nasty man stealing her innocence, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She silently pleaded with God that he would numb her to what was about to happen. That she wouldn’t remember any of it, and that she would b
e able to find a way to spare her sister from experiencing the same—one way or another.
At the tent, the man jabbed her in the back with the muzzle of his AK-47, shoving Melody through the flap and into the thick, canvas shelter. There was a sleeping bag on the ground, the man’s backpack in the corner. A few feet away, an oil lamp illuminated the interior.
“Have a seat,” the man said, pushing her shoulder down before she had a chance to react.
“Please, no,” Melody said, her words twisted in terror as her knees slammed into the ground. “You don’t have to do this,” she pleaded with him. But her cries for mercy fell on deafened ears. Unlike Michael, there was no guilt in Wilks’s eyes. No empathy. He didn’t care that Melody was a person. He didn’t care he was about to do reprehensible things to her. He was going to get what he wanted, and Melody was going to suffer even more if she resisted. The other woman was right, it would be better to just go along with it. But Melody found herself unable to lay back and give into what this man wanted. If he wanted it, he would have to take it.
Melody smacked his hand from her shoulder and tried to climb back to her feet, but the man forced her back down.
“Hmmm,” he purred. “I gotta say, I do like the feistier ones. It’s funner that way,” he laughed menacingly.
“Get off of me!” Melody shouted, shoving at him again.
Above the struggle inside the tent, Melody could hear men laughing from outside as Wilks tore off her shirt. Spurred on by the excitement of the men listening, he began roughly fondling her chest when the laughter outside was hushed by a single pop that echoed around the windy forest. The loud noise reminded her of the air compressed tools her father used in his workshop.
Wilks stopped; his body froze. There was a brief, ominous, silence. A woman’s scream cut through the stillness in the air. Then, more shrieks. The men outside started shouting at each other.
“Fuller’s hit!” someone yelled before more gunshots rang out.
POP, POP, POP, POP!
More silence.
Wilks jumped off Melody, reaching for his gun. He spun around and aimed the Russian rifle at the tent flap, resting his finger on the trigger. His breathing was heavy and irregular, his body trembling.