Uncommon Purpose (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 1)

by P J Strebor

  The blood drained from Kroener's face.

  Caleb had fought scavengers for most of his life and had questioned prisoners at length. Red didn’t fit the type. Caleb’s years as a marine taught him to recognize a professional when he saw one. Red was no mere scavenger. The mystery surrounding this day deepened.

  Red, apparently lost in thought, stepped to the open window. Caleb had never met a scavenger known for deep thinking.

  What the devil does Red want with Nathan? Caleb foresaw one absolute certainty from today's bizarre nightmare: many answers written in blood. Whose blood was yet to be determined.

  After a brief interval Red straightened his back. "We wait," he said to no one in particular.

  CHAPTER 17

  Driven by a burning fear Nathan and Moe fell to their knees at the top of the rise. Still struggling to catch his breath, Nathan pulled his eyeglass from a leg pocket and scanned the valley.

  From two kilometers away the high, sand-colored compound walls stood empty. Careful inspection confirmed both the comm. tower and sensor feeds remained intact. Nathan detected no movement from the compound walls and the solid front gate remained open. Outwardly, the homestead remained as it had been when he left there this morning. Despite what his eyes told him his Prep screamed a warning. He pushed himself to his feet and wiped sweat from his brow.

  He followed Moe’s lead and drank deeply from his canteen.

  Breathing raggedly Nathan gasped, "Moe … get to Abner's … raise the alarm."

  "I won’t … leave you … alone," she responded around panting gulps. She yelped when he grabbed her roughly by arm and hoisted her to her feet.

  "I’ve no time … to argue. Get going."

  Moe staggered off in the direction of Abner’s cabin. Nathan sprinted down the valley toward the homestead. Through the undulating plantation he pushed his exhausted body until his tortured lungs burned and orange splotches marred his vision. Topping the last rise before the compound he staggered and dropped to his knees. For precious seconds he choked down air until his vision cleared.

  The ache in his heart battled with the bitter recognition that he had failed to listen to his instincts. A sense of apprehension had troubled him all morning. He finally understood why the spot between his shoulder blades burned with such intensity. His premonition of danger, his Prep, had sharpened since it first saved his life six years ago. Today’s warning was stronger than anything he had sensed before. Nathan had wrongly assumed the danger related to the hunt. Now he understood that this new sensitivity not only warned him of personal danger but also extended to others. He cursed himself for failing to read the signs correctly. Nathan pushed the recrimination away. Today, he had a man’s work to do.

  Closer inspection of the homestead revealed no signs of disruption. He detected no movement from the high compound walls. Despite the apparent evidence he dared not ignore the knot of hot coal burning between his shoulder blades.

  Nathan cranked his eyeglass to maximum. He breathed deeply, forcing his thundering heart to slow. This time, with exacting care he scanned the compound. The roof and general structure of the building showed no damage. The shutters stood wide open, odd for this time of the afternoon but otherwise normal. His gaze tracked along the western wall, panning past the comm. shack. Without his eyeglass’ military grade optics he may have missed the vital clue. Charcoal scorch marks smudged the shack’s door and adjacent wall. Someone had blown the door off its hinges before clumsily propping it in its frame. Walking home from a day's hunting with thoughts of family and Livy on his mind, he would have missed it.

  Closer scrutiny showed indications of two men hidden behind the front wall. If not for the telltale wisps of smoke rising from the parapet at regular intervals he would not have spotted them. The light breeze carried the unmistakable scent of Mascar to him. This illegal noxious narcotic made cowards feel courageous.

  Scavengers.

  His stomach lurched. By now his family was dead; and Livy.

  Orphaned twice in one lifetime.

  He shoved the ugly thought aside. Scavengers regularly took their time with the women. His stomach lurched and again when he swallowed bile.

  Nathan had personally witnessed the aftermath of scavenger attacks. Murdered farmers, burned properties and women, whose suffering before the release of death, made grown men vomit. Outlaws, raiders from a distant province who had defied attempts to eradicate them for years. These were not men but vile creatures draped in human form.

  A long shuddering breath partially calmed him for what came next. Nathan focused his rage to serve, not hinder. His breathing steadied as a soft chill settled onto his clammy skin. In this state of white cold self-control he considered his options.

  Nathan couldn’t expect help for at least an hour even if a distress call was sent and marines were en route. Too long.

  At least two scavengers covered the frontal approach to the homestead. Almost certainly more were inside. From the homestead’s interior he detected only shadowy movements.

  His first priority must be to get inside the compound’s walls.

  Rows of coffee trees hid him from view as he circled the compound. At the rear wall he saw no movement. No wisps of smoke rose from the parapet. No sentries or no weed? With no time for a second plan, he relied on his instincts.

  Slinging his bow across this back freed his arms. For weeks Caleb had told Lewis to trim the Plocklar tree where the great sagging limb drooped over the back wall, ending barely two meters above the ground. Fortunately, Lewis had considered it a low priority and ignored the order.

  Nathan took another deep breath, broke from the protective umbrella of coffee trees. Bolting down the embankment he leapt, seized the tip of the branch and struggled to the top of the wall. With his nose level with the wall, he inspected the area. No one guarded the rear parapet. Muffled voices wafted across the rear courtyard from the homestead. Silently he dropped onto the parapet. Bow in hand, he slid over the parapet’s rough timber edge. Nathan hung by one hand before dropping noiselessly to the ground.

  The murmurs heard earlier had grown rowdy. They guided him to the back verandah. Through a small gap in the trees he spotted two scavengers. Beneath the verandah’s shady roof they sat at a table smoking Mascar and drinking wine. Nathan withdrew two arrows, planted one in the ground at his feet and nocked the other. Drawing a deep cleansing breath, he forced himself under control. If one of them sounded the alarm ...

  Nathan pivoted side-on to the verandah. His eyes locked onto the first target, held it for a moment, raised the bow and fired. The shaft tore through the scavenger's back and pierced his heart. The piece of shit died before his head hit the table.

  The second scavenger barked a raw laugh. "You drink like a virgin school girl."

  Nathan’s second arrow struck the target in the center of his chest. The astonished grimace on the scavenger’s face produced a soft rippling growl from Nathan's throat. The scavenger pitched forward, the protruding arrow propping him in place.

  Nathan edged along the narrow path toward the main gate. Rows of white barked Plocklar trees growing around the inside of the compound walls hid him from view. The homestead’s open front door came tantalizingly close. The temptation to charge through the door gnawed at him but he pushed the suicidal notion aside.

  Stopping twenty meters from the front gate, he closed his eyes and concentrated. A subdued murmuring flowed from the parapet. Good, the two I spotted earlier are still there. Nathan worked his way silently forward until he stood directly beneath the pair of guards. They were sitting on their heels, smoking Mascar. If they glanced through the two-centimeter gap between the planks they would spot him.

  Nathan sighted through the opening and fired. The arrow whistled between the planks, pierced the soft skin under the scavenger's chin, tore through his palate and embedded itself in his brain. He stepped from under the parapet. His second arrow ripped cleanly through his left eye, exiting
with sufficient force to pin his twitching body to the wall.

  Nathan crept to the break in the tree line that marked the homestead’s entrance. A few perilous meters of open space. His head snapped toward the house when an unfamiliar voice reached his ears. The incoherent words came from the main front room. The sun had shifted to the west and now light spilled into the room through the open windows and door. Through the glaring haze he just made out a large red bearded man. His heart skipped a beat when he caught sight of Lucy, alive and tied to a chair. The red bearded scavenger pressed a dagger to her throat. A shiver dashed down Nathan’s spine. He could not move. Interminable seconds later red beard stepped away from his kid sister. Fear fled before renewed hope. If Lucy was alive Livy and Bernie might be too.

  Nathan released a breath he had not realized he was holding. His jaw ached with the effort to restrain his anxiety. He battled against the insane urge to charge through the front door and rescue his loved ones. Got to be smart. Have to get into position before I attack.

  Four meters stood between him and the tree line on the other side of the open gate. He could cover the distance in seconds. But if someone spotted him in the open he was dead. No option. Nathan flexed his muscles and focused his mind and body on the task. He sprung from cover and dashed across the exposed gap. As the comforting tree line engulfed him he slid to a stop and awaited a shouted alert and a hail of pulsar fire. When none came he crept forward.

  He reached the small gap in tree-line and broke from cover. A frantic sprint brought him to the heat-baked wall in seconds. He hugged the building’s north wall while he glanced around the corner. Front verandah clear. After slipping over the railing he glided noiselessly toward the windows and the open door beyond.

  ***

  The leader paced the homestead floor, impatience eating at him. He rubbed his red beard. Although he had numerous successful covert assignments to his credit he could not dismiss the nagging disquiet regarding his current assignment. Despite his concerns, playing the role of the nameless mercenary required him to maintain a neutral expression. One sign of indecision on his part would have the scavengers shitting their pants.

  For the last two weeks he’d struggled to pound some sense of discipline into his clueless recruits. Sometimes he thought it might be easier to train stone slabs. At least slabs would stand still and listen. Their marksmanship had improved and he finally taught them the proper way to don the sensor suppressor harness. Something at least. Despite his misgivings they had accomplished the first stage of their operation without it turning into a complete fiasco.

  A bad feeling settled in his gut. His informant had been wrong when he said the boy would be here. Then that idiot Kroener complicated matters by blowing the comm. shack.

  Why is this boy so special? Immediately he corrected himself. No one ever questioned the Family elders. They wanted the boy and that was all he needed to know. As an Advocate of the Family he felt shame for allowing the thought.

  He stopped pacing and turned toward the front door. The fresh air might help to clear his head.

  ***

  Nathan edged toward the nearest open window, his feet silent on the wooden verandah. He froze when a large, red bearded man sauntered through the front door and stopped at the top of the short flight of steps. That’s the swine who threatened Lucy. Red beard gazed into the compound, apparently lost in thought. Nathan had an arrow nocked but could not move without exposing his vulnerable position.

  If the scavenger turned his head, even slightly to the right … Can I kill him before he screams for help? A sliver of sweat ran down Nathan’s face as he continued to play the part of a statue. Nathan tried to slow his pulse. Finally, Red shook his head and turned back to the house.

  Then, as if alerted by some inner sense of danger, Red blinked and turned his head. Seeing Nathan standing so close, his eyes bulged with astonishment. Red charged for the safety of nearby door. Nathan fired a hurried, crudely aimed shot. In his haste, Red beard stumbled. His clumsiness saved his life. The scavenger screamed as the arrow - intended for his chest - pierced his left arm below the elbow. Red lurched through the open doorway into a room that erupted into panicked uproar.

  "Rear guard, get in here." Red’s voice cut through the turmoil.

  Dismayed howls fueled the frenzied cacophony when the guards failed to answer.

  “Shut up!” The same unwavering tone silenced the chaos. “Show some backbone you gutless turds. Form a line on me. Weapons on stun."

  Nathan's stomach knotted into an angry fist as he slipped beneath the open windows then stood next to the doorway. He darted a glance around the door jamb and quickly pulled back. A barrage of automatic fire ripped into the doorframe. Stone and plaster disintegrated under the deafening volley. The stinging cut to his forehead proved how close he had come to dying.

  From inside a muffled thump was followed by an angry bellow. "I said weapons on stun you piece of shit."

  Nathan’s fleeting view of the room showed three scavengers including the one he shot. If they were as scared as their voices suggested, there was a good chance they had frozen in place. Risky. No time for refinement.

  Nathan upended the long wooden bench and propped it gingerly against the wall. He stepped to the window. The bench obediently froze in place for two seconds before sliding across the doorway. Under a furious volley of pulsar fire the bench disintegrated. Nathan stepped to the window and fired. The first scavenger stared in disbelief at the arrow buried in his chest before collapsing to the floor. A second joined him moments later. The last of the scavengers reacted instantly, swinging his sidearm toward the window. A fierce torrent of energy shredded the window frame beside him. Nathan pressed his back against the wall as debris exploded around him.

  The firing stopped followed by an ominous silence. Nathan edged back to the door as the silent seconds ticked by. His sweaty skin turned to ice when a woman screamed. Livy!

  Nathan burst into the room swinging his bow from side to side seeking a target. The red bearded scavenger crouched behind Livy. Red’s injured left hand enfolded her long chestnut hair, wrenching her head back. The barrel of his pistol dug into her jaw under her right ear.

  Nathan swiveled his body to present a narrower profile. At this range his tactic counted for nothing against an assault weapon. He focused on the small fragment of the scavenger's head. Too close to Livy. If he miss-timed the shot by a fraction he would kill her. He maintained his stance, awaiting the searing pain of an energy blast.

  "Drop your weapon or I'll kill her." Unlike the other scavengers, Red’s voice did not betray the slightest hint of indecision or panic.

  Nathan wanted to scream that he would gut him like a swine but did not trust his voice. Only one of Red's eyes was exposed and he longed to take the shot.

  "Listen boy. Everyone can come out of this in one piece. You drop your weapon, I walk away. You get your girlfriend back. I get to live. My way, everyone wins. Your way –" He shrugged.

  Nathan knew better than to trust one of these creatures. Why is red negotiating with me? He could cut me down without effort.

  "You're quick boy, but not fast enough to save this pretty thing," he tugged Livy's hair, "and some of your family as well. Is it worth the price?"

  A dozen crazy ideas whirled through Nathan's mind. Each one led to the same tragic ending. Through the open front door Nathan heard the distant cry of a Kastorian mallard – a distinct, strident squawk. Mallards were out of season. The bird protested again, an almost urgent cry. Male mallard’s made such sounds only during the mating cycle. Kastorian mallards were out of season.

  The setting sun poured through the open door, burning against Nathan’s back. Taking the biggest risk in his life he lowered the bow and threw it aside.

  "And the knife," Red ordered, from behind his sanctuary.

  Nathan meekly unsheathed his hunting knife and tossed it aside. Red released his grip on Livy. He stood before Nathan keepi
ng well out of arms reach.

  "Smart boy." He smiled benignly. "You will soon know the joy that is service to the Family." Red held out his open, bloody hand. “Take my hand and your journey to a life of service will begin.

  Again the urgent sound of the mallard's cry. A mallard. A duck. A big duck. Duck!

  Nathan dropped to his knees.

  "No need for that Nathan, I'm not going to k …"

  A frayed twelve-millimeter hole darkened red’s forehead above his nose. The bullet’s impact snapped red's head backward, throwing his body across the room in the same instant the rifle’s boom cracked the air. The back of the scavenger's head splattered against the far wall forming a grisly curtain of bloody bone and grey shards of brain matter.

  Retrieving his knife Nathan sliced through Livy’s bindings. She threw herself into his arms so ferociously she almost knocked him over. Nathan melded her body to his and smothered her face and lips with kisses.

  “Shhhh, it’s over now,” Nathan whispered. “I'll never let anything harm you."

  Livy clung to him. “I knew you’d come for me.” His fingers explored her shoulders and back to confirm she had no injuries.

  “When he threatened to kill you I …” Emotion cracked each word Nathan uttered. “Are you sure you're all right? Did anyone hurt you?”

  She sniffled. “I’m fine, but they scared me half to death.” Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath. When her trembling body eventually calmed, she broke their embrace.

  “I’m fine darling,” Livy said. “Your family needs you. Take care of them.”

  Her plucky composure startled Nathan. His family had spent their lives fighting for survival, so he expected such grit from them. His heart swelled with love and pride.

  Nathan freed Bernie and placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll live.” While rubbing her wrists to restore blood flow she surveyed the carnage. “I’ll never get that bloodstain out of the rug.”

  After cutting Lucy’s bonds he removed the tight gag. “How are you?”