by Ryan King
CHILDREN OF WRATH
Children of Wrath
Fourth Edition
Copyright © 2016 by Ryan King. All Rights Reserved.
Originally Published and Copyrighted 2013.
For More Information Contact:
Three Kings Publishing
115 Canterbury Court
Princeton, Kentucky 42445
[email protected]
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Children of Wrath (Land of Tomorrow, #2)
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Children of Wrath | Book II in the Land of Tomorrow series
Prologue - Knights of the Apocalypse
Part I | Intrigue
Chapter 1 - Partners and Friends
Chapter 2 - Retirement
Chapter 3 - Reports
Chapter 4 - Reconnaissance
Chapter 5 - A Feeling
Chapter 6 - Fire of God
Chapter 7 - Watching
Chapter 8 - See It Coming
Chapter 9 - Secret Meeting
Chapter 10 - The Mound
Chapter 11 - Old Friends
Chapter 12 - Prisoner
Chapter 13 - Saltpeter
Chapter 14 - The Sword of Uriel
Chapter 15 - Self Sufficient
Chapter 16 - Left for Dead
Chapter 17 - Investigation
Chapter 18 - The Scavenger
Chapter 19 - Hole in the Ground
Chapter 20 - Branded
Part II | Missouri
Chapter 1 - Genesis
Chapter 2 -Biding Time
Chapter 3 - Booby Traps
Chapter 4 - Cracks in the Foundation
Chapter 5 - The Huntress
Chapter 6 - Bylaws
Chapter 7 - The Union
Chapter 8 - The Meeting
Chapter 9 - River in the Earth
Chapter 10 - On the Other Side
Chapter 11 - The Eye Snatcher
Chapter 12 - Wheels In Motion
Chapter 13 - Celebration
Chapter 14 - Karaoke
Chapter 15 - The Golden Age
Chapter 16 - God's Sign
Chapter 17 - Plan of Attack
Chapter 18 - A Clear Sky
Chapter 19 - Escape
Chapter 20 - Confusion
Chapter 21 - Fulfilling Destiny
Part III | Rebellion
Chapter 1 - Protesting
Chapter 2 - Burying a Friend
Chapter 3 - Uncle Martin's Farm
Chapter 4 - Recall Petition
Chapter 5 - Curiosity
Chapter 6 - The Broadcast
Chapter 7 - Farewell
Chapter 8 - Doing One's Duty
Chapter 9 - The Burning City...Again
Chapter 10 - A Social Call
Chapter 11 - Closed Border
Chapter 12 - The Painful Night
Chapter 13 - Early Winter
Chapter 14 - Finding Another Way
Chapter 15 - Stalking Prey
Epilogue
Author’s Note and Acknowledgements
Paths of Righteousness – Buy it Now! | Prologue
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*******
Don’t miss the next book in the series Paths of Righteousness. See the except at the end of Children of Wrath.
Children of Wrath
Book II in the Land of Tomorrow series
by Ryan King
Copyright © 2016 by Ryan King
Again, for Kristin.
Prologue - Knights of the Apocalypse
It was safe in the caves. Cool also. Always the same no matter what temperature it was outside. Jacob Daniels appreciated the perfect predictability, a haven from what went on outside. Oily torches and smoky lamps cast more shadows than light. Jacob liked that too; the dark had always been kind to him.
The large cavern was filled with wondrous geological structures. Stalactites hung down like descending teeth from a ceiling so high that it couldn't be seen. Jacob knelt on the hard stone floor with six other robed figures. Hooded men and women stood back along the edge of the cavern, mixed in among the rock formations.
Jacob's heart soared. He could feel his companions’ fear, but he was ready for what was to come. Never in his life had he ever belonged, but he was about to belong to something, to become something.
He had nearly died the previous year while fleeing from Hancock Prison. Locals and other prisoners had hunted him through the woods and fields out of sport or fear or boredom. Hiding in a giant pile of horse manure had kept him warm and hidden. The smell had also limited men bent on sodomy to a simple, yet brutal beating. Stumbling into the massive Mammoth Cave complex had been fortunate for him. There the knights had found him.
"God first destroyed the world with water," said the Grand Knight, "and promised to never do it again. This time he has destroyed the world with fire. We are living in the Apocalypse and eagerly awaiting the final destruction of Satan and his evil puppets. Thus we are the Knights of the Apocalypse."
"Thus we are the Knights of the Apocalypse," intoned all those in the cave in unison.
The Grand Knight walked toward Jacob, who could have reached out and touched the man's robe if he dared. Never had he been so close. He felt a wave of gratitude and humility so great that he almost wept. The Grand Knight stretched out a hand toward the seven kneeling figures on the floor. The extended hand was missing a finger.
"These have chosen to be part of our order and dedicate themselves to God's work. What is that work?"
"To hasten the Apocalypse and thus God's return," they all said together.
Viewing the seven in silence, the Grand Knight picked up a small axe from the Table of Truth that was before him. "And our Lord said if your hand offend you, cut it off, and if your eye betray you, pluck it out. Better for one part to perish than the whole." He held up his hand with the missing finger. Other knights around the room did the same, pointing to missing ears, toes, or even a rare hand.
"God will reward our sacrifice," they said in unison. "Let the evil world see our mark, yet not comprehend, so that we might hasten the end."
"Each of you before me has come far and endured much," the Grand Knight said. "God has led you here, but the final test awaits you. Many have faltered." He glanced toward a dark cave to his rear, as did the rest of the group. A dank dead smell whiffed out with the interior cave breezes. "If you pass the test, you will be selected to serve as God has chosen you, like one of His angels."
"Michael," boomed one of the knights to the left as he stepped forward, "who is like God. Filled with knowledge and wise in His ways."
"Gabriel," said another knight loudly on the right, "who is the strength of God, protecting the defenseless."
"Raphael," said a knight to their rear, "healer from God to take away the pain of the world."
"Uriel," said a voice in the front shadows, almost like a whisper, "fire of God, instrument of God's furious anger and vengeance."
The Grand Knight smiled. "If you pass the test, you will join one of these orders and serve until the end or until God blesses you by taking you to be with Him. May you serve well."
"May we serve well," they intoned.
The Grand Knight stepped aside and a smaller hooded figure stepped forward and pointed to the first kneeling figure. "Casey of Bowling Green, rise and approach the Table of Truth."
The man hesitated slight
ly, as if in prayer, and then rose. At the table he was confronted by a wide assortment of tools. In addition to the small axe, he found various knives, hammers, awes, pliers, and of course the small brazier containing the brands they would use to cauterize the proof of their devotion to God. Casey reached out toward the hatchet with a shaky hand and lifted it. He held out his left hand before him on the table its rough surface scarred and stained from countless trials before.
Lifting the axe, Casey brought the edge down on the surface, severing his left little finger, a popular choice among the other knights. The man let the axe fall from his other hand, reaching out slowly for the burning brazier to pick up a small brand. Lifting his bleeding hand, he deliberately pressed the hot end of the wood against the stump. He moaned loudly as the blood and flesh hissed and smoked.
"Behold," said the Grand Knight. "A Chosen of God. A Knight of the Apocalypse. What shall his name be?"
A tall and thin old man with blind eyes and silver hair falling out from his hood reached into a small bucket and pulled forth a white smooth stone.
"Welcome, Michael," said the Grand Knight. "From this day forth you are made anew and will shed your old ways. You will strive to know and understand God and His purpose."
Holding his maimed hand, Casey stumbled off into the crowd of awaiting knights.
The Master of the Table stepped forward and pointed at the next kneeling figure. "Elise of Tennessee, arise and approach the Table of Truth.”
The beautiful woman rose confidently and strode forward. Although the knights had all taken vows of celibacy, they were moved by her clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, and athletic bearing. She reached out for a large set of garden shears and with the other hand grabbed her own nose. So swiftly that many did not know her purpose, she began to slice.
Jacob could hear the crunch of cartilage and had to concentrate to keep from getting sick. If he were to defile this ceremony, they would crucify him. He heard the shears strike the table with a clatter and looked up.
Elise was pressing a burning brand against where her nose had previously been. Although her jaw was clenched tight and cords stood out on her neck, she did not cry out.
"Behold," said the Grand Knight. "A Chosen of God. A Knight of the Apocalypse. What shall her name be?"
The blind man reached into the bucket and pulled out a smooth red stone.
"Welcome, Raphael," said the Grand Knight. "From this day forth you are made anew and will shed your old ways. You will strive to heal the hurt of the world."
As Elise strode away, the next man was called forward. He reached for the small axe and all could see that his intent was to sacrifice a pinky. Raising the axe high, he brought it down swiftly.
There was a gasp in the room. He had missed.
The man attempted to raise it again, but was grabbed from behind by strong arms as the Master of the Table pulled the tool from his hands.
"Let me try again," he pleaded. "I can do it. I want to do it."
The Grand Knight shook his head. "You have not been chosen by God and are rejected in his sight. You will wander in darkness until you die.” Two men tied his hands, blindfolded him, and then dragged him off into the dark tunnel in front of them.
Jacob shuddered. He knew the Mammoth Cave complex stretched hundreds of miles under the ground and contained thousands of tunnels. Once you lost your way in that unforgiving blackness, there was no hope. He hardly even noticed the next three members undergoing their trial.
"Jacob of Hancock Prison," the Master of the Table said. "Arise and approach the Table of Truth."
Startled, Jacob stood and walked forward, mumbling a prayer for strength. He knew what he had to do. God had told him, but he was afraid and his fear shamed him. Jacob looked into the master's eyes, but they stared back impassively.
Reaching out for a large shiny spoon, Jacob pulled down the lower eyelid of his right eye. He knew this was going to hurt. Pain beyond imagining, but being worthy of God was about proving devotion. The knights had taught him this secret.
With quick resolve, Jacob slipped the spoon between his lower eyelid and the eyeball. Not thinking about the pressure and pain, he levered the handle of the spoon down and pulled outward, bringing his eye out of its socket.
He was not ready for the disorientation. The agony was immense, but he nearly fell from the confusion. Both eyes still worked, but one was staring straight ahead and the other was now looking down at the table. His brain was trying unsuccessfully to make sense of these two images and reconcile them into one picture. His knees buckled to the floor.
Behind him he could hear murmurs. Heavy footfalls approached, and he knew they would drag him off into the darkness to die.
Grabbing the edge of the table, Jacob pulled himself back to his feet. He closed his eyes to blot out the disorienting image, but only one of the scenes disappeared. His disgorged eye still hung on his cheek attached by the stalk of the optic nerve. He could clearly see the tools on the table before him.
Jacob grasped the still bloody shears Elise had used to cut off her nose, and lifted them toward his face. Using his other hand to lift the eyeball away from his cheek he now saw through the detached eye the master gazing at him in something that might have been awe. Jacob slipped the head of the shears around the optic nerve and closed the handles sharply.
The world went black as agony exploded in his head. Jacob had endured pain before, but nothing like this. He could feel the severed optic nerve retracting back up into his socket and it seemed to contain every ounce and fiber of his being. He heard screaming, and the realization that the sounds were coming from his mouth caused him to clamp his jaws shut. He opened the lids of his remaining eye.
The Master of the Table and the Grand Knight were standing over him. Jacob had no idea what they were preparing to do, but he knew he must complete the ceremony. He rolled over on his stomach and climbed to his knees. Taking a moment to catch his breath and push down a wave of nausea, he wrenched himself up using the table edge. Jacob reached out toward the brazier to pull forth a glowing brand and shoved the hot end into his vacant eye socket.
It was almost a relief. His skin and blood boiled and smoked as the pain engulfed his face, but it was better than the agony pulsing from his severed optic nerve. The fire deadened the end of the nerve, and after a moment, Jacob removed the now black brand from his eye socket and dropped it on the floor. He nearly fell again, but caught himself on the table edge.
"Behold," said the Grand Knight. "A Chosen of God. A Knight of the Apocalypse. What shall his name be?"
The blind man reached into the bucket.
Jacob smiled in anticipation. He knew what the stone would be. God had already told him.
Pulling out his hand, the ancient blind man held out his hand and slowly opened his fist. It was a black stone.
"Welcome Uriel, fire of God," said the Grand Knight. "From this day forth you are made anew and will shed your old ways. You are God's vengeance and fury upon this world. Let not mercy or kindness weaken you."
Jacob wanted to laugh and realized he was crying, but only from his good eye. The tear ducts in his right eye had likely been permanently damaged by the torch. No matter, he thought. I have cried enough in this life. Now I shall make others cry and hasten the day of God's arrival.
And Jacob knew just where he would start. With the man who he now resembled in one small but significant way. The man who was also missing his right eye.
Part I
Intrigue
Chapter 1 - Partners and Friends
Ethan Schweitzer didn't particularly like blackmail, which was why he went to such elaborate lengths to pretend it did not exist even when both parties knew that it did.
"Good afternoon, Mr. President," Ethan said as he shook the man's hand. He noticed that Paul Campbell looked tired, but that could be from his long journey from Paducah to Jackson. Before N-Day such a trip would have entailed a car ride of a few hours. Now it took several days.
Paul Campbell smiled warily in return, but could not meet Ethan's gaze for long.
"I trust you found our facilities are to your liking?" asked Ethan. He was referring to the small oil field recently reopened in Milan that the president had toured that day. The oil wells hadn't been operational since before WWII due to their limited production, but N-Day had changed all of that.
The Jackson Purchase President nodded. Although the entire new nation was officially called Kentahten, JP still stuck. "Yes, indeed. I also inspected the old Goodyear Tire Plant in Union City up north. I saw the first new tires rolling out of the Banbury Mixer."
"Splendid," answered Ethan, clapping his hands together. "Until recently I had no idea how hard it was to make tires. Beyond the complication of vulcanizing rubber, it takes seven gallons of oil to make one tire. Fortunately, oil is of little use for anything else, right?"
Paul looked uncomfortable and glanced away.
Ethan's smile vanished and he began to walk away. After a moment, the JP President followed.
"We have been directed to divert half of the produced oil to Murray State University. Why?" asked Ethan.
Paul mumbled, "I'm not really involved in—"
"Your son Bradley is such a wonderful lad," said Ethan, stopping and turning to face Paul. "We have so enjoyed having him as a guest here, but guests by their very nature are temporary residents. One day Bradley will have to leave. I wonder where he will go? There are so many places out in the world. Sadly, many of them are unsafe."
The JP President sighed and looked down. "They're working on finding a way to refine oil to produce gasoline and natural gas."
Ethan was silent for a moment as he processed the information. "So in addition to the electricity from the dam, they want gasoline to fuel their tractors and automobiles. Seems like a lot of trouble considering the fuel supply they have at Fort Campbell."
"It's running out," said Paul. "We've even used up the supply that was originally supposed to be the backing for our currency. No one yet knows how little is left."
