HOSHOKU
IN THE APOCALYPSE, A HERO RISES
Book 1 of the Hoshoku Chronicles
Vincent Fields
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This novel is dedicated to the memory of a truly great man; my granddad Charles Fields.
Copyright © 2016 by Vincent Fields. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.
Cover illustrator: Stephanie Parcus: [email protected]
TABLE OF CONTENTS
AUTHOR’S NOTES
CHAPTER 1: THE CRASH
CHAPTER 2: TAK
CHAPTER 3: THE SONS OF FREEDOM
CHAPTER 4: DISCOVERING THE GIFT
CHAPTER 5: REVELATIONS
CHAPTER 6: GROWING UP
CHAPTER 7: THE BOOK AND THE SWORD
CHAPTER 8: ROLL CALL
CHAPTER 9: SHTF
CHAPTER 10: SHOOTOUT
CHAPTER 11: OFFICER DOWN
CHAPTER 12: SURGERY
CHAPTER 13: IS IT THE MORPHINE?
CHAPTER 14: COM CENTER
CHAPTER 15: THE HOSPITAL
CHAPTER 16: LITTLE EARL
CHAPTER 17: REGROUPING
CHAPTER 18: THE RULES HAVE CHANGED
CHAPTER 19: DIARY ENTRY
CHAPTER 20: MAJOR MEDINA
CHAPTER 21: PLANNING
CHAPTER 22: SIX BY EIGHT
CHAPTER 23: PRIVATE PERCIVAL GRIBBLE
CHAPTER 24: AMBUSH
CHAPTER 25: BACK AT THE COMPOUND
CHAPTER 26: SOMETHING’S WRONG
CHAPTER 27: THE UNTHINKABLE
CHAPTER 28: GRIEF
CHAPTER 29: SHOWDOWN
CHAPTER 30: CLARITY
EPILOGUE
COMING SOON
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AUTHOR’S NOTES
Dear reader,
Thank you very much for purchasing this novel! It has truly been an enjoyable experience to write. I grew up listening to stories that my grandfather and father would tell me ever since I was old enough to sit on their knees and listen in excitement and anticipation. In turn I have told many stories to my own young sons who always want more, which keeps my creative juices flowing. I have not written this book out of any hope of achieving fame or fortune, but instead to simply write down a story that’s been brewing in my head for several years now. I hope you’ll find it enjoyable and that perhaps it will get you thinking about what you would do in a similar post-apocalyptic situation. It is my hope that you will, as the Boy Scout motto goes, “be prepared”, to the extent that any of us could for an “end of the world as we know it” situation like this. I have more stories in my head about the main character in this novel which will come along in future books in this series.
The city where this story takes place, Marion IL, is really a great small city to live in; but not so much in the post-apocalyptic dystopian world presented here. I have taken liberties in creating people and locations that do not exist in real life and should not reflect the citizens of Marion, its police force or anyone else. Some of the places and historical events in this novel actually exist and did take place, but they have been mixed with fiction and are not intended to necessarily be accurate. This is obviously a work of fiction, but several elements in the book certainly represent a possible scary future that we could actually find ourselves in.
Also, since I have been asked about this by a few readers; while I do draw extensively from my own life experiences, Tak is in no way supposed to be a representation of me or even an idealized version of who I want to be. There are similarities simply because I get material from what I know from my martial arts, military, law enforcement and life experiences, and include many of those elements in my writing.
My sincere thanks goes to the folks who helped me with editing and giving input on this novel, specifically; my dad Tom, my sister Julie, and friends Brian, Crystie and JT.
So again, thank you for giving this story a read and I hope you will stay tuned for future books in this series. I am looking forward to getting them out of my head and into print! I truly welcome any feedback you may have. May God bless you and yours.
Vincent Fields
June 2016
CHAPTER 1: THE CRASH
Sometime in the not too distant future…
The bottom fell out of the economy like the trapdoor of a hangman’s stand; and left hanging were the citizens of the United States, the noose tight around our necks. Hell, what did we expect? With a national debt of more trillions than most anyone had ever thought possible, there could be no question that stack of cards was going to come crashing down. As it turned out… nothing was free, including our government’s socialist programs like welfare, food stamps and stimulus packages. Our country had shifted from the mentality of “what can I do for my country?” to “what can I get for free while doing little to no work?” When the Chinese called for the US to pay off our debt to them, we simply could not. We hadn’t even been able to pay the interest on it for many years.
The stock market crashed predictably hard in response to the call to pay off our debt coupled with our inability to do so. Long lines of panicking folks almost instantly formed at the banks. It didn’t last half a day before most banks were empty and shut down; never to reopen. Our currency became worthless almost overnight, except to light fires with or use as toilet paper.
Chaos broke out in many places around the country much faster than most people had thought possible. They say it takes three missed meals to make the average person willing to kill for food. Most folks ran out of food within a few days. Grocery stores were quickly decimated as their shelves were stripped bare. People panicked and fought to the death over cheap items. Riots and looting broke out in most cities across the nation from day one. Fires consumed them as emergency personnel were too few and far between to be able to have any significant impact. Gas pumps no longer worked so highways became clogged with abandoned vehicles as folks tried to get out of the cities. The National Guard was activated, but less than half of them showed up after a few days in most places. They had their own problems to deal with and families to protect. The President declared martial law with a sunset curfew. Anyone found out after dark without a verifiable emergency would be arrested. Looters and arsonists were to be shot on sight by law enforcement or the military. Public utility workers not only couldn’t safely make it to their jobs, but they were getting paid in worthless currency. Hospitals ran on skeleton crews; and those on life support… well they were simply no longer supported. Pharmacies were quickly robbed and diabetics could no longer get their insulin. With staff unable to report to work, most prisons emptied out their inmates; sending an infection of criminality across the nation. Within a week the power was out nationwide.
Criminals clashed with law abiding citizens as the new world began. Chaos ruled the streets during those early days when it was kill or be killed. Within a month the population of the United States of America had been cut in half.
CHAPTER 2: TAK
Takamura Graves was a 32 year old cop from Marion; a small city of about twenty thousand in Southern Illinois. His Caucasian father had met his Japanese mother while serving in the US Navy in Japan. Takamura was given her Maiden name as his first, but his friends just called him Tak. His dad had been a professional Mixed Martial Arts fighter and later opened a successful tra
ining dojo in town, where Tak had trained from childhood. Through a lifetime of diligent training, Tak had packed 180 chiseled pounds onto his six foot frame. Tak wasn’t a violent man; but he did enjoy honing and testing his skills through realistic mixed martial arts training. It showed him what really worked and what didn’t in real combative situations, which he often found himself in on the job.
His exotic mix of Asian and Caucasian along with his slim, muscular frame, rugged good looks and piercing blue, almond shaped eyes had certainly turned the eyes of more than one lady. However his numerous hobbies left him little room for a full time romantic relationship. He spent his off duty time training in all aspects of martial arts, conditioning his body, shooting at the police gun range, or hiking through the many outdoor areas that beautiful Southern Illinois had to offer. He would camp at secluded lakes in which he would hike in his supplies several miles each way. During these camping trips he would go “back to nature” and fish, swim, read, pray, and meditate, as he had done with his father many times while growing up. His time in prayer and meditation kept him exceptionally calm and centered, even when life became chaotic around him. He didn’t let people get under his skin and push his buttons; which was very useful in his job as a police officer.
Growing up, Tak had always wanted to be a street cop, so after a four year stint with an elite Marine Corps Force Reconnaissance unit, he left the military and became a police officer in the hometown he grew up in. He liked to help people, and he found that he was good at getting criminals introduced to the criminal justice system. He had worked his way up to the rank of Sergeant, in which he was in charge of a dozen or so officers per shift. He was popular amongst them since they knew he could be counted on to have their backs, and if push came to shove and things got physical; he was the well-established first choice of who they would want on their side. He’d been on the force for just over 10 years when the system crashed in the early summer of the year.
CHAPTER 3: THE SONS OF FREEDOM
10:25AM, The day of the crash
They called themselves “The Sons of Freedom”. Almost 100 men and women of all ages packed into a large finished pole barn, located on what they called “The Freedom Compound”. It contained a half dozen cabins that many of them called home. Most of them wore camouflage hunting clothes or military fatigues with a ragtag mix of black and olive drab load bearing vests, duty belts, canteens and other such gear. Some wore jeans and civilian clothing, but they all displayed one of two particular bandanas somewhere on their body. Those who wore a woodland patterned camouflage bandanas were fully vetted members of the Sons of Freedom and referred to it as their “colors”, while those who wore OD green bandanas only held the status of “recruit” until they had proven their worth and loyalty to the group. This was usually done in participation in several criminal activities. They carried a variety of weaponry, many with pistols in holsters in various configurations about their bodies. Several had hunting or tactical rifles slung over their backs or hanging from their chests, while others preferred hand to hand weapons such as bats, machetes and brass knuckles. They were mostly white, but there were a dozen or so blacks and a few Mexicans who had been in their own gangs before joining the Sons. This wasn’t a group based on racial identity… they were for the most part poor and uneducated, but they all held one thing in common; a hatred for the government and established laws. They had been holding monthly meetings for several years now. Some of them were former military, now disgruntled against the nation they once served. Some had simply looked for a larger group to be a part of in order to increase their chances of successful criminal activity. After their meetings they would have a potluck where they spewed their anti-establishment rhetoric to each other, cementing their common bond of hatred.
Big Gunner had established the Sons of Freedom over a decade earlier while still in prison. He was an early-40’s, six and a half foot tall, barrel chested mountain of a man who was stronger than three average men put together. Tipping the scales at over 300 pounds, his body reflected the lifetime he’d spent pumping steroids and working a weight pile. His massive arms were the size of a heavyweight bodybuilder’s, and he loved showing them off. He wore a salt and pepper ponytail and a braided goatee that reached the center of his chest. Tattoos covered most of his body including a large image of a charging viking warrior on his back, tribal designs that covered his chest and ran up the sides of his neck to just below his ears ending in sharp points, and a plethora of demons and hellish scenes that made up his arm sleeves. He wore a set of sleeveless olive drab fatigues with a matching duty belt, and the Sons’ camo bandana hung around his thick neck. On his left side hung a dump pouch, full of double-ought buck shotgun shells. A sawed off double-barreled 12-guage shotgun with a wooden pistol grip hung on his right side in an open leather holster. Just behind it was a large combat knife in its sheath. Although he was a ruthless, evil man, his intelligence was above average; making for a dangerous mix. He had gotten away with most of the serious crimes he’d committed in his life, although he’d done a dime in a Federal prison during his 20’s for manslaughter. Starting with his time locked up in the Federal pen he had read every book on war strategy and history that he could get his hands on. Although he was intimidating, he could turn on a bogus charismatic charm that many people bought into. He had spent most of the last decade overseeing his group's various business interests, such as robbing banks in neighboring states and making and distributing weed and meth.
Gunner walked through the crowd, patting people on the back and shaking hands with the charm of a politician. When he stepped up to the podium at the head of the room a hush fell over the crowd. He gave a long pause before speaking, adopting a serious look on his face as he made eye contact with many people. He gripped the edges of the podium with both hands; his large biceps flexing and framing this huge man who they knew and respected as the leader of the Sons of Freedom. He began shaking his head subtly up and down as an all-knowing smile crept onto his face. He continued to look several of the gathered people in the eye, as if he understood the same thing that they did without even saying a word.
A hush fell over the crowd and he began, “Brothers and sisters, you’ve seen the news… today is the day we have been preparing for. We knew a scenario like this would happen eventually. This corrupt country has finally been dealt a death blow. Things will deteriorate fast out there, and there is no room for weakness or mercy. As it crumbles before our eyes we will secure our place as the head of the new society that forms.
His voice was booming and filled the barn. He was quite the charismatic speaker and commanded the attention of all present. Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd. He began to pace back and forth, taking it all in, nodding in approval. Then he returned to the central podium and raised a huge paw, and the crowd quieted down again as he continued, “We must not waste the precious opportunity that this day presents us. As the world crumbles before our eyes, we WILL seize the moment and take what we have coming. Ohhh yes… our corrupt police and military rulers will try and stop us, and those pigs will die this very day!”
More cheering and applause erupted, and big Gunner waited for it to stop with a righteous sneer on his face. He went on, “Most of you have earned membership into the Sons of Freedom. For those of you who still wear the green; it is time to earn your colors. In order for us to rise up as the predominant force in this area we must be absolutely ruthless today and in the coming weeks and months. Do not forget that. We knew a scenario such as the one playing out before our eyes would happen, and we must take swift action. We have planned for the new world that begins this very day. There will be blood, and you cannot hesitate to spill it or that blood will be your own. Do you want to rule, or be ruled?! I know your minds are with me, now you must prove that your hearts are as well. Have no pity on the weak insects who burden our society. The new world that we will usher in will be a better place without them. Most people are merely a plague upon our society and have
looked down their noses at us for years. NO MORE! It’s time to trim the fat. We will take as we desire. Only the strong will survive. I’d rather be standing on the throats of the mindless sheep who burden this country than get pulled down in some misguided attempt to help them up! They will either work for us or die; there is no other choice. Friends, today is the day it begins. You know our plans. You know your role. Now is the time for action. Now is the time for blood to be shed and our future to be secured. Today is the day we begin our rise to the top! Now go… stay strong, show no mercy, stick to our planning and we will be victorious!”
The crowd erupted in loud cheers and applause that went on for some time. They admired their strong and ruthless leader. They were criminals one and all who he had united through their common hatred and greed. They needed little prompting to be willing to take and kill for their own gain, and Gunner had given them a vision worth fighting for. They dispersed and sped off into predetermined action plans.
Gunner motioned for one of his minions to join him in discussion. Little Earl Hammond rushed to him obediently, pulling his OD green bandana up over his nose as he ran and greeted Gunner with a crooked but serious salute. He had been a nobody before joining the Sons, and now he felt that he was part of something great. A lifelong drunk; the 40 year old mostly toothless man was slow witted, about five and a half feet tall and maybe 120 pounds soaking wet. He wore a dirty brown mullet that he thought was totally sweet. He had drifted from place to place as a vagrant for most of his life before finding someone who made him feel useful several months ago. He wore the same olive drab colored fatigues and duty belt that Gunner did, trying to emulate his hero in every way. He had even removed the sleeves as Gunner had done to his own, which revealed Earl’s noodle-like arms. He didn’t carry a firearm since he had proven in training to be far too clumsy and careless to safely handle one. Instead he wore a cheap survival knife on his right side. He wanted more than anything to gain full member status into the Sons and earn his colors.
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