The Hope Island Chronicles Boxed Set

by PJ Strebor

  He yielded surrender with raised hands. “All right, don’t get your knickers in a knot. Mary Okuma Esquire, it is.”

  An explosion thundered down the valley and they pivoted to the east. The rumbling echo could only have come from the Penkovsky homestead.

  CHAPTER 16

  Time: 22nd December, 315 (ASC).

  Position: Mullally province. Planet Kastoria.

  Status: Under siege.

  Caleb Penkovsky surfaced through an ocean of pain. Still alive! Should be dead.

  His last memory was of sitting down to lunch. What the hell happened? An explosion. His marine training had taken command without conscious thought. With the blast still ringing in his ears he had pushed back from the table and sprinted to the gun cabinet. The sound of splintering timbers as the front door crashed open, the stomping of hard boots on the stone entrance resounded as he grabbed his hunting rifle. Searing pain racked his body before the blessed relief of oblivion. Finally resurrection restored him to a world of piercing anxiety.

  His back felt like it had been scrubbed with a jagged rock dipped in lava. Scavengers rarely used the stun setting on their weapons. At least not on males.

  How the devil had these backward scavengers penetrated his hi-tech defenses? Somehow they crossed the two-kilometer zone covered by the defensive net without setting off the alarms.

  Low mumblings came from nearby. Caleb kept his sagging head motionless as he forced his eyes open. Through slits he glimpsed Lewis’ unconscious body slumped in the chair beside him. The same coarse, tough rope used on him secured Bernice, Lucy and Livy to sturdy wooden chairs to his left.

  Caleb saw that gags had rendered them mute. They were conscious, their faces unmarked and clothing intact. With relief washing over him, he closed his eyes. Everyone was alive. For the time being at least.

  Odd. Perhaps the bastards are branching out from their usual hit-and-run atrocities. Kidnapping Livy, the governor's daughter, could in their tiny minds bring great rewards. If that were the case, surely they would have fled with her by now and his family would be dead. Caleb opened his eyes, raised his head and scanned the room.

  At his first movement the women’s eyes swung to him. His wife and daughter’s eyes revealed understandable fear but resolute determination. Livy tried to do the same but could not pull it off. He nodded to them.

  Two roughnecks stood to one side of the main room talking in low, urgent whispers. From their garb Caleb immediately recognized how the scavengers had neutralized his security. Wafers of micro circuitry designed to mask the wearers from sensor detection were embedded into every centimeter of their black harnesses. High stakes military hardware like sensor suppressor harnesses were never made available to the public, let alone to these mongrels. Must have smuggled them in from off planet.

  A scavenger noticed Caleb was conscious.

  “Hey boss,” he yelled to a man who stood by an open window.

  A tall, ruggedly built man with a scruffy red beard turned from the window and strode to Caleb. Something about this man set Caleb’s nerves on edge. He cleared his throat after red beard yanked the gag from his mouth.

  "Where's the boy?" red beard asked without preamble.

  Caleb feigned surprise. "Boy? What boy?"

  "Caleb Penkovsky." His finger jabbed Caleb’s chest. Red beard identified everyone else with the same pointed finger. "Your son Lewis, your wife Bernice, your daughter Lucilla and your guest Olivia Marshall. Nathan Telford is missing. Where is he?"

  Caleb shrugged, displaying a false listlessness. This prick is unusually well informed.

  To emphasize his deadly serious intentions, Red stepped behind Caleb’s fourteen-year-old daughter. With his gaze locked onto Caleb, he unsheathed a short-bladed dagger from a scabbard attached to his left wrist. Lucy’s eyes bulged when the blade pressed against her throat, drawing a thin scarlet trickle.

  "He's hunting pigs." Although terrified for the safety of his daughter, he could not show weakness to this kind of man. Caleb set his face with the most gruesome smile in his arsenal. "Nathan wouldn't have bothered leaving home to kill pigs if he knew you and your pals were going to visit."

  Red’s steely gaze remained fixed on Caleb. A slight glint of respect briefly touched his hard features. Caleb breathed again when red sheathed the dagger.

  "When will he return?"

  "There's no way of knowing." Red's expression turned menacing, prompting Caleb to continue. "If he tracked his quarry somewhere close to the plantation he would have been back by now. The fact that he isn't probably means he’s ranging far out along the lower plains. If that’s the case he won’t be back until after dark." Caleb hoped the latter were true. Every hour Nathan stayed away increased his chance of survival.

  Red said nothing. His eyes defocused as the thousand-meter stare set in.

  Another scavenger, short and stocky, marched up to him.

  "What are we waiting for boss?" His voice betrayed fear, bordering on panic. "No amount of money is worth hanging around here. Marines could be on their way. Let’s finish up and clear out." The scum glanced at the women.

  Red shot him a murderous scowl.

  "Shut your mouth, Kroener," he snarled. "You're in deep enough shit as it is."

  Kroener's face darkened. "I told you before, I did exactly what you ordered me to do."

  Red bared his teeth. "I told you to disable the communication net, not blow it up." Red’s long finger jabbed Kroener's chest with enough force to stagger him. "If this mission turns to shit because of your fuckup, I will personally skin you alive."

  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 the 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 sav
ed 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 the scavenger’s 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 the 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. T
heir 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 the 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.