by Ryan King
"Yeah," said Nathan, now looking north, "we'll have to go through Illinois and Indiana and come down south and then west again, all while avoiding Louisville and any other big city."
"Not just that," said Joshua, "but those areas are pretty wild. We haven't run that many patrols there, but things are bad."
"I'm afraid it's pretty much bad everywhere," said Nathan, "except for a few small oases of security and civility."
"Do you want to get started now?"
Nathan thought and then shook his head. "I left most of my gear back at Jack's. Also, he's a pain in the butt sometimes, but I wouldn't want to run off without telling him what's happening. He might worry, and he's been very good to us."
"At least he was wrong about the snow," said Joshua.
Nathan glared at him. "Why did you have to say that."
They both climbed back on the motorcycle and rode back to Jack's cabin to prepare for their ride north and east. They had to go much slower because of the heavy pregnant snowflakes falling in earnest in their path.
Chapter 15 - Stalking Prey
Alexandra heard the twig snap and slowly lifted the crossbow. She silently shifted her weight on the tree limb as she rested into a shooting position. It would surely be the buck and his herd that she had been stalking the last few days. Alexandra actually preferred to hunt on the ground, but this was rutting season and the bucks were nearly crazed with testosterone. Only a week earlier, a randy buck had attempted to gore her despite a crossbow bolt in its heart. Only the lineman's spikes she wore on her feet had allowed her to quickly scamper up a tree and avoid the sharp antlers.
The light was dim in the fading sunlight, but she could just make out a beautiful twelve-point buck walking majestically and calmly toward her tree. Only a few feet behind followed four does and two small bucks that wouldn't see their first antlers until next year.
She waited for them to walk further under her for a better angled shot. The crossbow was a powerful, accurate and silent weapon, but it had limited range and only one shot. Alexandra liked the discipline it required. She could have gotten a rifle, but the crossbow felt...right. Lifting the weapon slowly, she sighted along the top at the smallest doe and tightened her finger on the trigger.
All the deer's tails and ears went up at once. They turned back the way they had come. The buck snorted and pawed the ground before turning and trotting quickly away. The remainder of his heard followed dutifully.
Alexandra almost took a shot anyway, but noticed how quiet and still the forest had become. Something isn't right, she thought and felt the hair rise up on the back of her neck.
She strained her eyes in the dimness along the path from which the deer had emerged. After what seemed an eternity of waiting, she saw something. A dark and silent figure crept forward. Alexandra could tell from the figure's stance that he was alert and attuned to the forest, much as she was when hunting.
Must be another hunter stalking the deer, she thought, although she knew nearly all the hunters at LBL. This one looked unfamiliar, but that didn't mean anything. There wasn't a law against hunting, and the hunter could be anyone.
Alexandra nearly called out to the figure, knowing the deer were already spooked, but caught her breath as she saw another figure like the first. Behind this one emerged additional figures, silent and alert, so similar to the deer. The first figure was closer now, and she could make them out in the waning light. A man, all in dark camouflage, carrying a military-style rifle. On his back was a large backpack, tightly strapped down.
The man froze and lifted his hand. Without a word, the other eight figures halted in their tracks. The leader looked around and sniffed once, cocking his head.
Does he actually smell me? thought Alexandra. I know animals can smell humans if they wash with soap or use deodorants, but surely not another person. Besides, I haven't bathed in three days.
The leader turned and waved another man forward. When he arrived, they pulled out a map and then covered themselves with a plastic poncho. Alexandra saw a red light leak out from the bottom edge.
These are soldiers, she thought. Well-trained ones at that. If they're from Tennessee, how did they get through the border?
An odd faint sound drew her attention to the man in the rear of the file. He was squeezing the edge of his uniform and water trickled away into the dirt.
They swam, she realized. Or at least took boats, but why only these few?
The red light disappeared, and the poncho was packed away. The leader stood and waved his men forward as he resumed his silent march through the forest, now wearing an odd set of goggles on his face.
Night vision, she thought. Like the ones the recon elements use sometimes.
Filing beneath her tree one at a time, Alexandra held her breath, hoping none of them would look up. If they did, they couldn't fail to spot her, even in the fading light. After what seemed an eternity, they had passed out of vision and earshot to the north.
Letting her breath out slowly, she wondered what she should do. She needed to warn someone, but how? Also, these woods were large, unsettled, and filled with hiding places.
Alexandra climbed down out of the tree carefully using her lineman's spikes, and once on the ground, she listened carefully. She couldn't hear anything and the light was nearly gone. It would be foolish to try to follow those men in the night. The leader had night vision goggles and all she had was her knowledge of the forest. She knew from Joshua that a sighting meant little without more information.
Joshua would do it. David too, for that matter. After a moment's hesitation, Alexandra began stalking the men.
Epilogue
Ethan lurched painfully on a cane down the hall to his office where he eased himself into a plush leather chair. The doctor told him he should still be in the wheelchair, that he was lucky to be alive, but Ethan ignored him. He knew he was fortunate. If it had not been for the satellite phone in his pocket and a tiny moment of consciousness, he would be dead. No, his decision was not based on the inability to face reality, but on pragmatism. People looked on invalids with distain.
He found Fulton not nearly as much to his liking as Jackson, but he certainly preferred it over Paducah. Even before the riots and the fires, Paducah was too far north and too far from his base of power and authority to truly feel comfortable. In Fulton, he straddled the Tennessee and Kentucky border and therefore had no compunction about surrounding himself with WTR soldiers, Tennessee State Troopers, and other aides and staff members he could trust.
Paul Campbell also seemed happier. Ethan had allowed Paul's son to be moved north and kept in a secluded house nearby. Although they could not leave the house together, it allowed Paul and his wife, who was certainly surprised to know her son lived after all, to see each other more often. Paul had practically taken to living in the house with his son and growing more and more distant from his presidential duties every day. This was a situation that suited Ethan. He wasn't even sure how much longer Paul Campbell would be necessary.
There was a knock on his door.
"Yes," called out Ethan.
"Sorry to disturb you, sir," said one of his aides, "but the man you spoke to me about earlier is here."
"Excellent," said Ethan. "Please show him in."
A powerful and dangerous-looking man in a worn JP uniform walked in and looked around the room cautiously. His blue eyes finally settled upon Ethan and rested there. "You must be Ethan Schweitzer. You're not what I expected."
"And you must be Vincent Lacert," said Ethan carefully. "You are exactly what I expected. Please sit and forgive me for not standing. Would you like a drink?"
"Scotch if you've got it," said Vincent, sitting in an overstuffed chair.
Ethan waved a hand at the aide who walked over to his wet bar and poured two glasses of single malt scotch. He handed one to Vincent and the other to Ethan, who waved the man out of the room.
"I hear you've had a few problems recently," said Vincent, swirling his gl
ass but not yet drinking from it.
"As have you," said Ethan. He had to turn his head to the right since he was now permanently deaf in his left ear. Ethan also felt the beginnings of one of the post-attack blinding headaches coming on.
"Minor setbacks," said Vincent. "Nothing more."
"Same here," answered Ethan, concealing his pain.
"No offense," said Vincent, "but are you sure I'm talking to the right man? I like to deal with the person in charge."
"Then you are dealing with the right man," said Ethan. "Despite what you may have heard, I am very much in charge."
He stared at Ethan for a moment and then nodded. "Okay, let's go with that for now. I was impressed by your man's ability to find me and even more impressed by the message he brought."
"I have many talented men working for me."
"So did I...once," said Vincent.
Ethan sensed danger, but kept his face expressionless. "You should know that the unprovoked attack on you and your men was not authorized. I had just sent you the message to begin our agreed upon operation. Neither the president, nor I, knew of the JP attack. The men responsible have been removed."
"That doesn't help me or my men much," said Vincent.
Ethan set the glass on the table between them and leaned forward. "Then let us start fresh. I believe we can help each other greatly."
"How so?" asked Vincent.
"I have need of men with your experience," said Ethan and then searched for words, "and your, what shall we call it..."
"Viciousness?" asked Vincent.
"I was going to say determination or thoroughness or efficiency, but your word works just as well. We are in a situation where we need to squash this rebellion quickly and viciously, to use your word. I believe you are the right man for the job. Some people need to be made an example of to others."
"What are we talking about here?" asked Vincent.
"We have recently lost our Chief of Defense and many senior officers to the rebellion," said Ethan. "We have men and weapons. What we are lacking is an experienced senior leader. I've done some research and believe you are that man."
"You seem to be placing a great deal of trust and power into the hands of someone you just met," said Vincent.
Ethan knew what Vincent actually meant. "I am, but I always plan ahead. Most of your unit commanders will be loyal to me, as will numerous other persons around you. We will make an excellent team, and I look forward to lavishly rewarding your success, but...should you cross me, it will not be a great inconvenience for you to disappear."
Vincent smiled for the first time. "Okay, it's good to finally get to read the fine print. What about my men?"
"You bring anyone with you," said Ethan. "They can be formed into a separate unit or placed on a staff around you, but you cannot replace commanders already in place without my permission."
Vincent made a show of considering the offer, but Ethan knew he had him. The man had no other option as good and was being offered immense power. Something Ethan judged meant something to a man like Vincent...and Ethan. He gripped the arm of the chair tightly as a bolt of pain shot outward from behind his left eye.
"Okay," said Vincent, "I believe we have a deal."
"I believe we do," said Ethan, lifting his glass up, "and congratulations to you General Vincent Lacert, Chief of Defense for the Jackson Purchase and West Tennessee Republic."
"Has a nice ring to it," said Vincent, lifting his own glass. Both men tapped them together lightly and drank.
The lights suddenly went off.
Ethan could tell it wasn't just the lights though; it was the electricity. He sensed it by the lack of the humming sound in the background. Climbing with difficulty out of his chair, he used the cane to shamble over to the high window. There, he gazed out upon the city of Fulton, covered in darkness.
No lights as far as he could see.
Ethan at that moment had a curious feeling he had not had in a long while. It took him a moment to identify it, and when he did, he wanted to reject it, but couldn't.
He felt fear.
With a blinding flash of agony in his skull, Ethan crashed to the floor.
Author’s Note and Acknowledgements
Thank you for reading Children of Wrath, the second book in the Land of Tomorrow series. Please take the time to leave a review so that other potential readers will know if this book is for them or not.
Also, please consider signing up for my reader’s newsletter at Ryan King Newsletter, you can unsubscribe at any time. For signing up you will immediately receive a free book in addition to the latest information on new releases and free giveaways.
I published Glimmer of Hope, the first book in the Land of Tomorrow series almost one year ago. Although I've worked on numerous other projects in the interval, Nathan and his new savage world has never been far from my mind. So, when my family left for a few weeks to visit family, I decided to take the opportunity to continue the tale. Having no real agenda, I sat down and wrote the first draft of this book and was surprised at where the story took me. As always, the first draft didn't take nearly as long to produce as the finished work.
This novel went through several rewrites and revisions in order to improve the story and the final product. In order for this to happen, I needed the help and input of friends who willingly took time to read my manuscript and provide input and support. My wife Kristin has always read the first draft and encouraged me to add a love interest for either Joshua or David. Alexandra was the result of a later rewrite, and although her role in this book in small, it will be larger in the next book. Fellow author David VanDyke did the lion's share of editorial work and provided crucial input to make this reader worthy. My good friend and writer Luke Jones also proofed this work and provided much needed assistance. My father-in-law Sherman Chaudoin identified a number of typos that everyone else somehow missed. I would also like to thank our final copy editor, Joshua Sharo whose quick precise work is much appreciated. Thank you all.
The story of Nathan and this brave new world is not over. It continues with the third book in this series Children of Wrath, which I hope you get the chance to enjoy soon. Please enjoy the following except from the book.
Until then, stay strong friends.
Ryan King
17 September 2013
Get it free now at Ryan King Newsletter
Paths of Righteousness – Buy it Now!
Prologue
Major Susan Rivera's eyes burned from the smoke. She admitted to herself that it wasn't as bad as when she first arrived over a year ago. Maybe she was getting used to it. Who knew where these Creek Indians were obtaining tobacco anymore or even if that was what they were smoking. It smelled like it could be something else, something unfamiliar. Either way, whenever two or more gathered, they treated it as a duty to smoke. At least the alcohol was gone. She had personally witnessed several fights and one stabbing. Smoking just seemed to make the Creek mellow and introspective.
Rivera and Jasper Timmons were the only non-Native Americans in the room. In fact, they were the only ones on the small reservation far from any major town or city. It was a miracle we even stumbled upon the reservation at all, she thought.
She considered leaving the dim smoke-filled room that also served as a reservation warehouse, but a gust of wind shook the structure with a howl. It likely wasn't as cold as North Dakota, but winter in Iowa was still cold enough. Besides, it would soon be time for storytelling. Entertainment was hard to find anymore and the old Indian tales and folklore were fascinating. Word had also come to her that Chicoca, the tribe's oldest elder, wanted her to relay the Tale of How Susan and Jasper Brought the Fire From Heaven Onto the Earth and Then Walked Through the Invisible Death to Find the Creeks.
It was a story she had told before and the telling had been difficult at first, but after a year, the pain and guilt were fading. Glancing over at Jasper, she knew his wounds were deeper. His face sometimes betrayed him and showed visibl
e anguish when she relayed the story of their unlikely survival. He had lost his wife and unborn baby. Susan hadn't really lost much of anything, except maybe her humanity.
Looking back, she couldn't understand how she joined the military, much less been responsible for ballistic nuclear weapons. Her grandfather had called her a gentle soul and allowed her to work with his horses. She had always been good with animals, and horses especially seemed to trust her. That skill had saved their life after escaping the silo and helped bolster her worth with the Creek. Maybe I should have been a veterinarian, she thought.
There was a stirring at the far end of the packed room followed closely by a settling of people. An expectant stillness fell over the large group of nearly three hundred Native Americans huddled around small fires on the cement floor. Billy Fox, the tribe's current chief and one of Chicoca's many nephews, stood and looked at them with dark eyes that always appeared sad. He was young for a chief but had proven his wisdom after Fire Rained From the Sky. The previous chief had died shortly after N-Day of no apparent cause and Billy Fox had stepped into the role.
"It has been a good day," said Billy with one of his regular openings. "We are alive and have food and warmth. We are a community and a tribe. No one has died today or been seriously sick, and for that, we are grateful."
A low murmur of agreement and nods slowly swept through the room. Billy had a way about him, Susan realized. He calmed people the same way she calmed horses.
Billy looked at them with the barest hint of a smile. "Tonight my uncle has asked Susan Who Soothes the Horses to tell the story of how she and Jasper came to us."
Susan liked her new name much better than the previous one of Susan Who Burned the Land. Jasper did not have any additional names. Probably because Jasper Who Grieves or Jasper Who is a Hard Worker But Talks Little or Jasper Who Lives With Ghosts would be accurate but impolite. To the Creek, politeness and courtesy were taken very seriously and tied to their tribal honor.
