Dark New World (Book 1): Dark New World

by Henry G. Foster

  Cassy turned the corner onto her mother’s street, still several blocks from the house. She hardly saw anything around her. Her kids... No one could survive this. No! Her family had to be alive. She had not come so far only to find them dead now.

  Lost in thoughts of her kids, she trudged passed a once-blue minivan with tires aflame. Abruptly, she found herself flying through the air with intense heat on her back when the burning tires ignited the minivan’s gas tank.

  She landed ten feet away in a heap and her head smacked a buckled, cement driveway. A shard of the cement sliced her open from her chin to just above her ear, and the skin hung in a flap. She tried to put her right hand to the wound as she gasped for air, but her hand wouldn’t move.

  She was probably in shock, she realized, and looked down at her right arm in disbelief. A shard of metal stuck out of her shoulder at the joint, at least six inches protruding. Part of her mind told her to leave it in; she shouldn’t pull it out in case it had cut an artery or something. But she couldn’t make sense of her thoughts, which tumbled around in a jumble.

  Still dazed, she noticed the faint dusk light fading faster than nature could account for. Damn it, she was losing consciousness. There was some fear about whether she had a concussion or an open head wound, or perhaps just a lot of blood loss, but she just didn’t have the energy to fight her slide into unconsciousness.

  Screw it. She just wanted to close her eyes for a minute. She needed sleep. That sounded so wonderful.

  Something banged her ankle painfully. Irritated at the distraction, she opened one eye, but saw only the night sky. She thought she heard a voice, but it didn’t make sense and she didn’t care. She closed her eyes again.

  The next time she opened her eyes, she felt a bit clearer in the mind. She looked to her shoulder and saw that the metal fragment was still there, but it was bound up with strips of cloth and stabilized with what looked like socks. She couldn’t see out of her left eye, but felt the constriction of bandages there, too. And she heard the murmur of a low voice, as though she was underwater. She turned her head to the left to see, fighting through the pain that shot through her neck when she did so.

  She saw a stranger there with his back to her. He was muscular, and wore jeans and a polo shirt. He had an M4 rifle slung over his shoulder. In his hands were two poles, which she realized extended down on either side of her; she was tied to a makeshift travois with paracord binding her chest and ankles. Shit, someone had taken her.

  Adrenaline pumped through her suddenly, knocking away some of her pain and confusion. Moving slowly to avoid being seen or heard, she reached up to the cord at her chest and pulled the loose end, and it unraveled easily. She didn’t waste time wondering why her abductor hadn’t tied her more securely. She slid slowly downward, until her hands could reach the bow tied around her ankles, and undid that knot as well. Hot damn, she was free.

  Cassy jumped off the stretcher wearing a triumphant grin, and staggered away from the man.

  “What the hell?” she heard behind her, but she didn’t look back. Then, ten steps away, a tidal wave of dizziness swept her off her feet and she flopped over to the left, sliding to a stop in the dirt. Fierce pain shot through her right shoulder; probably more damage from the shard, she thought.

  She rolled over onto her back and saw her abductor running up to her. She fumbled for her pistol with her left hand, but found the in-the-waistband holster empty. With nothing else to fight with, she could only kick out at the man. “No,” she screamed, “you can’t take me. Get away from me!”

  The man stopped, and looked down at her from just outside her kicking range. “Cassandra,” he said in a deep and pleasant voice. “I’m not here to harm you.”

  He put on a smile that looked so very good-natured, and made no effort to approach her when she scooted backwards a few feet on her butt. “Cassandra, I’m here to help you. You’re badly injured. If you struggle, you’ll tear your shoulder open again and you might bleed out. My name is Michael, and I’m here to save your ass, girl. I swear, you’re safe with me.”

  It was then that she realized he had known her name and she reeled, but as the adrenaline faded the clouds in her mind gathered once again, and she slid into unconsciousness.

  * * *

  Cassy opened one eye, and blinked hard against the bright electric lights. She forced herself to stay still, trying to think and to figure out just where she was. She was in a small room, lying on a hospital-style bed with metal railings on all sides. She had an IV in her arm, and a bag of clear fluid slowly dripped into the line. On her left hand she wore a pulse monitor, the machine behind her beeping at a steady rate. She decided she wasn’t in immediate danger. They wouldn’t have done all that just to kill her off later, whoever “they” were. She tried to sit up but the pain in her right shoulder made her gasp.

  She heard a sharp yelp to her left, and turned her head to see. Her jaw dropped. Sitting in a chair in the far corner was Brianna, with a bandage around her head and a sling on her left arm.

  Brianna stood, slapped a big red button on the wall next to her chair, and rushed to Cassy’s side. “Mom, you’re alive!”

  “I thought you were dead,” Cassy replied, tears coming to her eyes. “I saw the house, and it was...” her voice choked with emotion.

  “Burnt? Yeah, the whole town is,” Brianna said as she wrapped herself over Cassy in a big hug, and Cassy ignored the shooting pain this caused. “But we’re safe, mom. All of us!”

  The door burst open, interrupting the reunion; Aidan and Mandy rushed into the room, full of smiles, and Aidan bounced with excitement. She hardly heard the clamor of voices crying out her name, saying they loved her. So many hugs and kisses, each of which made her shoulder hurt, but she didn’t care at all.

  Finally her mother, Mandy, said with joyful tears streaming down her cheeks, “Welcome home, Cassy. We’re safe, all of us. And we’ve made some new friends with some new toys. That’s how we found you.”

  Finally, then, Cassy wept with joy.

  * * *

  Peter watched through binoculars as his prey disappeared into a field, along with the man who had helped her. Damn the stranger, Peter and his scouts had almost caught up to the spy when she and the man just seemed to vanish. Peter spent hours searching the field for a trap door or hatch, a hidden tunnel, anything. His frustration nearly boiled over when he couldn’t find it.

  The tallest of his three scouts said, “Boss, she got away. We should go home, and see who lived through that. It’s time to take care of our own.”

  Peter frowned, but didn’t lower his binoculars. “I will not leave. You can go if you want, Ron. Leave your supplies and half your bullets, if you go.”

  The other man, Ron, let out a long sigh. “Boss, I’m not gonna leave you. I don’t think the others will, either. If you say finding that bitch is more important than going back, then you’re the boss and we follow you whether I agree or not.”

  Peter nodded. Ron was a good man, and he’d just proven it again. “That spy killed one of our own, Ron, and sooner or later she’ll pop her head up again. Maybe the invader’s bombs killed more people than she did, but we can’t get justice for the bombs. Here, today, we are in a position to get revenge for what she did. Ron, I just can’t live in a world where there’s no justice. We, our community, we need this. We need this sliver of justice to bring back to our people, so they can see that the world hasn’t totally gone mad. There’s still rule of law, sometimes. There’s still a point to going on.”

  Ron nodded, and went to check on dinner.

  Peter simply kept looking at the field through his binoculars. “I’m coming for you and yours, woman,” he muttered.

  * * *

  Cassy sat in the small medical room with her family and their new friends, eating real food for the first time in days. Ethan had cooked up quite a meal from his stores in several deep freezers, and little Aidan seemed to follow him everywhere asking questions about his firearms, va
rious devices, and how he had electronics that work when no one else’s did. Apparently feeding hungry kids makes them like you. The thought made her smile. While they ate, they talked about their current situation and what to do next. Mandy said, “The devil may have transformed the world, but I think that all of us here, we’re the proof that good people still exist. God will take care of us, if we let Him.”

  Cassy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She believed in God, sort of, but was certain that any god would only help those who worked hard to help themselves. “Sure, mom. But we don’t know what He wants for us, so we have to make rational plans and trust Him to do what is needful for us.” Cassy knew how to get her mother to see reason without insulting her beliefs…

  Ethan said, “We can’t stay here forever. I don’t have enough food for all these people for more than a few months. But more importantly, my bunker isn’t truly safe anymore. Eventually the invaders will find it. I have something to tell you all. The bombing happened because of me. I was contacted by a group called “the 20s” and they convinced me to broadcast coded intelligence to help the Resistance. I’m not sure who the 20s are, really, but I believe they are on our side. The invaders got a fix on the signal and bombed the hell out of the town to stop the broadcast. Eventually they’ll scour the area to find the real source, when they figure out the broadcast was on a relay, and when that happens we can’t be here.”

  Michael grinned at Cassy and said, “You got guts, and skills, Cassy. You made it out there on your own. I gather you aren’t military, but I bet between the two of us we could get a lot of training done, and maybe spread some knowledge to the rest of the clan.”

  Cassy nodded. She’d heard them call the group a “clan” before, and didn’t see a need to argue the point. “Well, as you all know I have a decent-sized homestead north of Lancaster. There’s a lot of dangerous miles between us and it, but there’s room for the clan, and food. A lot of gear, too, like radios that I kept in Faraday cages. Only a couple rifles, though.”

  Ethan smiled at that. “Don’t you worry about that, Cassy. I have a stockpile here. Aidan can help me inventory it, and then Michael and I can figure out who gets what based on his military experience.

  Frank stood, and cleared his throat. “I’d like to thank Ethan for taking us in, first of all. He saved the lives of everyone here, and I trust him even if he did bring the bombing. He had no way of knowing that would be the result,” he said, and Ethan did not correct him. “So, if the clan agrees, then my mission is to get everyone here to Cassy’s farm, with as much gear as we can carry.”

  Amber added, “I’ll help Ethan inventory things. I’m good at organizing.”

  Cassy thought Amber’s attitude toward Ethan was more than friendly, but then, her husband Jed had spent most of his time away from the group. Maybe a problem there, but they weren’t Cassy’s problem. Not yet.

  The door opened, and Cassy’s jaw dropped. Standing in the doorway, Jaz looked at Cassy and waved, timidly. Jed was behind her, standing oddly close to her. Another puzzle piece, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now. Her anger rose and her face flushed. Cassy tried to sit up, but the pain in her shoulder stopped her, so she glared at the young woman.

  “This woman is a thief,” Cassy announced loudly. “I challenge her right to be here, and I won’t take a thief to my farm. Bitch.”

  Jaz didn’t flinch, though she did glance to Jed for reassurance. Then Jaz said, “Cassy, I am sorry I took your pack. I was scared, and dumb. I’ve been through a lot since then, and I risked my own life to save Frank and his group from some pretty bad peeps. I’ve earned my place here, and I’ll do my best to earn your trust again. Can’t you just take it at face value?”

  Cassy looked to Frank, who seemed like the most level-headed of the bunch and the leader of his group. “Is that true? Did Jasmine save your lives, at risk to herself?”

  “She sure did, Cassy. I don’t ask you to trust her on my word, but we trust her, and she’s one of us.”

  Cassy noted the finality in his voice when he said that. Alright, fair enough. She trusted Frank, if not Jaz, and she’d let that be good enough for now. “Fine, Frank. You have good judgment. I’ll keep my eyes on her, but for now I’ll let it drop.”

  Aidan hopped up on the gurney Cassy lay on, and sat by her feet. “Mom, does that mean we all get to go to the farm?” He sounded terribly excited. “We get to be part of the clan, too?”

  Cassy smiled at her son and nodded. “Yes, son, we do. And for right now we’re safe, we have lots of gear here to make our journey easier, and we know where we’re going. Things could be so much worse.”

  The rest of the night was spent in happy talk of earlier times, and eating more food than they’d had in nearly a week. Yes, Cassy thought, things really could be worse.

  # # #

  TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 2…

  Sign up for JJ Holden’s Newsletter to receive release notifications plus a FREE unreleased short story!

  Click here to sign up: bit.ly/jjholdennewsletter

  Other Stories by JJ Holden:

  Life After: THE COMPLETE SERIAL NOVEL

  About the authors:

  JJ Holden lives in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. He spends his days studying the past, enjoying the present, and pondering the future.

  Henry Gene Foster resides far away from the general population, waiting for the day his prepper skills will prove invaluable. In the meantime, he focuses on helping others discover that history does indeed repeat itself, and that it’s never too soon to prepare for the worst.

  For updates, new release notifications, and exclusive content, be sure to sign up for JJ Holden’s Newsletter: bit.ly/jjholdennewsletter

  Contact JJ Holden at jjholdenbooks@gmail.com

  For more information, go to jjholdenbooks.blogspot.com

  THE MOST IMPORTANT THING YOU CAN DO…

  …to help these writers, anyway.

  Thank you for reading Dark New World. You’ve already made your way to the top of our Favorite People list!

  But there’s one more thing we’d appreciate if you have a few minutes.

  If you enjoyed Dark New World (even if you kinda liked it), please LEAVE A REVIEW TODAY.

  For new writers like us, reviews make a huge difference between finding an audience and writing in obscurity. We would write if we only had one reader—writing is among our favorite things to do. But the better our books do, the more we can write for readers like you.

  Please consider writing a review today.

  Thank you,

  JJ Holden & Henry Gene Foster

  SNEAK PEEK!

  Enjoy the following sneak peek from the second book in the Dark New World series:

  2200 HOURS - ZERO DAY +5

  ETHAN SHOWED THE others the third section of his bunker, which he thought of as the dorm. It had sixteen individual bunks stacked two-high along the walls, and not much else. There were also the supply section and the living section.

  Unfortunately, they’d have to leave almost immediately if they wanted to avoid follow-up patrols by the invaders. Sooner or later the enemy would find the bunker, and then it would be over for them all if they weren’t long gone by then.

  Still, he was glad he’d been able to broadcast vital intelligence to the resistance groups, courtesy of “The 20s.” He thanked the heavens that he’d thought to bring relays and wire, and all the components needed to make that broadcast appear to have come from somewhere other than his bunker. He tried not to think about the civilians who must have died in the terrible bombing the enemy gave Chesterbrook when they took out his broadcast equipment—which he’d been smart enough to place far away from his actual bunker. Those people would likely have starved soon anyway, he told himself, and at least bombing was a quick death compared to that poisonous brown gunk they sprayed.

  Putting the broadcast equipment far from the bunker hadn’t helped avoid the risk of detection, however, since enemy soldiers had followed
Frank and his “clan” to Ethan’s own house outside of town. Ethan had saved the clan, but in doing so he guaranteed eventual discovery by the enemy.

  “I’m telling you, we have to leave, and we need to do it right away,” Ethan said gravely. “If we don’t, we’ll all die. Those soldiers will come back.”

  Cassy, the newcomer who seemed to detest pretty young Jasmine, and who seemed to have just sort of taken over the clan in the single day since she’d arrived, nodded emphatically. “Yes, we do have to leave. We should take what we can and go to my homestead. As I said, it’s just north of Lancaster. We can walk there. I have a bunker at the ranch, too, and about twenty man-years of long-term food storage. Not to mention a seed vault with my stockpile of so many seeds and local-growth saplings it’ll make your head spin.”

  Frank asked, “Do you think your five acres can feed all twelve of us, Cassy?” It wasn’t a challenge, Ethan noted, but a simple, practical question.

  Cassy grinned. “I do what’s called intensive gardening—sustainable agriculture on a pretty big scale. I can raise about six thousand pounds of food on less than a quarter acre,” she declared with obvious pride. “But it doesn’t look at all like the farms you’re used to. It looks more like a weed-filled jungle.”

  Frank nodded. “Good enough for me, Cassy. Good enough for my family. When do we leave?”

  Ethan cleared his throat. “We should leave in the morning, no later. We’ll need time first to inventory what I have and split up what we have to bring. Unfortunately, I have to bring my computer to Cassy’s farm, to continue my work. I can’t talk about the details but I’m helping the Resistance organize and coordinate. Without people like me, they wouldn’t stand a chance.”