Bad Moon on the Rise (Soldiers of New Eden Book 3)

by T. L. Knighton

He heard Megan approaching, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the carnage.

  "Jesus," she said as she surveyed the scene, her eyes slowly becoming vacant.

  "Boss?" Rick said. "You okay?"

  She shook her head, as if to clear her mind. Megan studied the carnage. He could tell it wasn't easy for her. "What kind of maniac does something like this?"

  Rick ignored the pause. "Someone who wants to make a statement," Rick said, pointing toward the sign.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Megan nod. "I was afraid of this."

  "So were a lot of us."

  "We need a tracker," she said. "We've got to find these sons of bitches."

  Rick nodded.

  "Did they at least get a chance to fight back?"

  He turned to look at the investigator and shook his head. "No brass, no guns, nothing in the bus. I don't think they were even carrying."

  "What?" she asked.

  "The lines have been pretty secure from the start. Maybe not on the frontier lines, but the interior? Folks don't seem to be worried much anymore."

  "Not good," Megan mumbled.

  Rick nodded and said, "We need to pass the word. We can't keep this stuff quiet. Folks need to know that we've got a problem."

  She nodded as she turned away from the grisly scene. "I'm going to call them terrorists. Most of the folks remember life before the nukes—well, that term will get their attention. Plus," she said as she looked around at the carnage, "it damn sure seems appropriate right now."

  "Probably. If you can, try and get Malachi Kane from Oak Ridge down here. He's the best tracker we've got."

  "Will do. I know their investigator, so I should be able to swing it."

  "Good. Just between us though?"

  "Yeah?" Megan asked.

  "You might want to put the word out to have the militia ready to roll. This looks like too much firepower for the guys who jumped Dad. There's more of them, and they really know how to lay down an ambush."

  "Oh?"

  Rick nodded, then pointed toward the direction the bus had been heading. "We found brass there, all the way to there, then to here, making an 'L' shape. Classic ambush layout."

  "Why can't we deal with amateurs?" she asked with a sigh.

  "We're Rangers. We're supposed to be the cream of the crop, right?"

  She chuckled. It seemed forced. "I'll remember that next payday."

  CHAPTER 8

  Megan sat on her sofa, such as it was. Springs poked through the uneven lumps, but she was oblivious. Her mind bounced between the scene of the attack and what she still thought of as a dungeon miles away.

  Blood everywhere. Was it hers? Did it matter?

  Her hands shook. Hell, her whole body shook.

  Deep in her chest, her heart pounded. It's rhythm pumping faster and faster as she remembered.

  Crack! The sound of the whip snapping against her skin caused her to flinch.

  Crack! A pause, then another. Crack! Then another. Crack!

  She breathed like a marathon runner at the end of a race.

  Knock! Knock!

  No, that wasn't right. The whip didn't make that sound. She tried to identify the knocking. There wasn't any knocking in the dungeon.

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  Wait, that wasn't a memory. It wasn't part of the nightmare. It was real.

  Megan stood up and ran her fingers through her hair. It was wet. She grabbed a hand towel and wiped her brow. When she'd finished, she tossed it onto the counter and opened the door.

  Tabby's smiling face greeted her. "Hey," she said. She tilted her head slightly as she studied Megan. "You okay?"

  Megan took a deep breath, then slowly shook her head. "I…it's…"

  Tabby nodded. "Can I come in?"

  She nodded and moved out of the way.

  Tabby stepped in and turned. "Let's talk."

  The door closed, Megan walked over to the couch. "I haven't…it hasn't been like that for a while. I thought…"

  "I know. It'll take time."

  "It's been two years. How much longer is it supposed to take?"

  Tabby shrugged. "It'll take however long it takes. I'm at five years, and I still have to deal."

  Megan grunted. "I'm a goddamn Ranger. I shouldn't be dealing with this."

  "Why? Because the guys don't?"

  She nodded.

  Tabby laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure the reason Jason Calvin's lights are on all hours of the night is because he thinks nothing of anything that happened. Billy sits at the bar by himself a lot of nights, just staring into his drink. On the flip side, Rick can't be not doing something. He's either talking, reading, or anything else. He's just always keeping his brain occupied."

  Megan forced a smile. "So, you're saying those guys are just as screwed up as me?"

  She shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. I'm saying they're screwed up. Most folks are, considering what the hell we've all been through. Jason and Rick, well, they're a bit more screwed up than most folks. They saw more. The Pass was ugly from what I understand. But are they as screwed up as you? Who knows. Maybe they're more screwed up, maybe less. It's not like it's a competition, you know?"

  "So why are you here?" Megan asked.

  The other woman smiled. "I had a feeling you'd be like this, and I'm offering you a hand."

  "How did you figure that?"

  "I heard about the attack. And what you found. Based on what I'd heard happened to you, I figured it might be worth it to stop by and see if you were okay."

  Megan smiled. This one came easier. "And you found a hot mess."

  Tabby smiled and rested her hand on Megan's knee. "I hate to break it to you, but that would have turned a lot of people into a 'hot mess', as you so eloquently put it. And I'm talking about people who didn't deal with a sociopath getting off on hurting them."

  "So what do I do?"

  "Talk about it. A lot. There was a theory before the nukes that part of the reason we started seeing PTSD in modern wars was the fact that there wasn't any more talking about it around the campfire like during the Civil War and earlier. Makes sense to me," Tabby said.

  Megan nodded. "I guess. It's just…"

  "It sucks. Yeah, I know. It was hard for me too. It was harder because I associated all men with the assholes who hurt me. I had to get past that, because I knew good men who wouldn't do a thing to hurt a soul who wasn't asking for it. And I don't mean 'asking for it' the way a lot of pricks used it to justify doing things like I went through. You don't seem to be going through that part."

  She nodded again. "Jason pulling me out of that hole…well, I guess I saw there were good guys pretty quickly."

  "Makes sense. Especially since it was Jason, I guess." Tabby's face seemed to relax as she mentioned the name.

  Megan rolled her eyes.

  "What?" Tabby protested.

  "I saw that look," she said, her smile coming easily.

  "I don't know what you thought you saw, but-"

  "HA! I may be damaged goods, but I'm not brain damaged. I know that look," Megan interrupted.

  Tabby looked ready to protest, then seemed to consider better of it, then said, "Don't say anything, okay? I'm not sure he's over his wife, and I don't want to have to deal with that until he's ready."

  Megan nodded. "Jess was a good woman, and Jason's a great guy, but I won't say anything. You don't think he's picked up on it though?"

  Tabby shook her head. "Not really."

  "How are you so sure?"

  "Well," she started, "for one thing, he's a guy. They tend to be kind of clueless on the subtle stuff."

  Megan nodded. "True enough. But don't make him wait too long. He may not realize that there's life after Jess."

  "I'll keep that in mind," Tabby said with a soft smile.

  ** ** **

  The next morning, Jason sat at his dining room table. Rick sat next to him, with Megan and Simon sitting across from them. "Okay," Rick said, looking at the somber faces, "since you all felt so
mething was bad enough to come here during my convalescence, you might as well spill it."

  The three guests looked at one another for a moment, as if trying to figure out who would speak. Finally, Simon said, "There's been a couple of attacks."

  "What kind of attacks?" Jason asked.

  "A bus," Rick said. "They hit it in a L-shaped ambush. Ripped it to shreds. Then tortured the only person we know survived the initial attack."

  "Plus the Smith homestead got hit. Killed them all," Simon said.

  "Walker and his boys?"

  "Not alone," Megan said as she shook her head. "From what we know, there aren't a lot of New Lords with military experience. There's less reason to believe Walker has any with him."

  "So the Somerton crew?" Jason asked

  She nodded.

  Jason leaned back in his chair with a slight wince, his fingers locked behind his head as he thought. "So you need something from me, right?"

  Simon nodded as he leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table, fingers locked together, and said, "We need to put the militia on alert. We don't know enough yet to do anything, but they need to be ready to move out. The council's already talked, and they want you in command. We don't need a replay of last time, but we need to have an alternative in case you're not cleared for action."

  Jason nodded. The last time the militia had been formally activated, politics stepped in and someone else was named commander. The fact that the guy didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground resulted in hundreds of deaths. Somerton's response to the failed assault cost Jason his wife.

  "Billy," Jason said. "He's got the respect, and he knows as much about this sort of thing as anyone."

  Simon nodded. "Thought you'd say that, but we had to ask," he said as he stood. "I'll let the council know. And Billy, of course."

  Jason nodded.

  Simon walked to the door and left, leaving the two Rangers sitting there.

  "Why do I suspect you two have something for me other than Walker and company?"

  Rick smiled. "Perceptive as always."

  "What is it?" Rick asked.

  Rick explained about the situation with the Rangers, the fights and even the shootings. "We're just not sure what the problem is. It's damn near everywhere except for the really small garrisons, apparently."

  "That's easy," Jason said. "No identity."

  "Huh?" Megan asked.

  He leaned forward onto his elbows. "No identity. Nothing that says, 'This is what a Ranger is, and what a Ranger isn't.' The powers that be created an elite group out of thin air, then did nothing to give them that direction."

  "Okay," Megan said, drinking in Jason's words, "then how in the hell do we give them an identity?"

  Jason considered for a moment. "Well, in the military, there were a couple of ways. One was training. You finished Ranger School for the army, you wore that ranger title as a matter of pride. Same with SEAL training, Special Forces, etc. Even at lower tier outfits like the airborne units. You went through Airborne School, you were Airborne.

  "The rest was unit identity based on what the unit did. The Hundred and First had D-Day, Bastogne, Hamburger Hill, all that. They embraced it, made it part of who they were. Our Rangers? There isn't a lot of that. Some were at The Pass, but not all of you. Not even most of them. Some saw action of their own in different places, but nothing that the Rangers can claim."

  Megan nodded and stared at him. "I get that, but I'm not sure we can just create wars in the name of unit cohesion."

  Jason nodded in agreement, a grin stretching across his lips. "Of course not. But what kind of training to Rangers get?"

  Rick shrugged. "A bit of weapons training, some policy and procedure stuff. That's about it."

  "And that's the problem," Jason said. "There's no crucible, nothing to burn out the outside world and make them something different."

  "The Ranger Academy?" Megan asked.

  Jason considered for a moment. "Maybe, but I wouldn't hold your breath. If something isn't done soon, by the time you have graduates that make it out to the garrisons, there's bound to be a culture already in place, and not a good one. The Academy might be able to amplify a positive culture, but a negative one like you're telling me?" He shook his head. "Honestly, I think the graduates will get to the garrisons, try and act like Academy graduates, and be overwhelmed. Hell, considering what happened in Somerton, some of them might get killed if they push too hard."

  Megan sighed and said, "I was afraid you'd say that."

  Jason considered for a moment. "I think I might know a solution. Maybe. Let's go for a walk. I need to get Allison from school anyways."

  "Don't you have another week or two before you're cleared for duty?" Rick asked.

  Jason smiled. "Yep. But walking isn't considered 'duty' exactly. Plus, I need to keep moving and all that."

  They left the house, Jason locking the door behind him. The Ranger detail nodded as the entourage walked past.

  "You're sure you're okay?" Rick asked as they made their way down the dusty path.

  Jason nodded. "As well as I can be."

  "I hear Tabby's been taking care of ya," he quipped.

  Jason glared at his son. "She's been stopping by, bringing me some food, yeah. Don't read too much into it."

  Rick shrugged and nodded.

  Megan chuckled. "Really?"

  "What?" Jason asked.

  She shook her head, muttering something about men.

  Jason led them to his office. They waited outside as he stepped in to ask Billy something, then headed back out. Simon apparently told Billy about the decision, and he was giving Jason an earful about how his ass needed to be ready to go as they walked on.

  Eventually, they found themselves outside of a crudely built shack. Misshapened plywood panels cobbled together to form rudimentary walls, old car hoods overlapped on the roof, mimicking tiles or shingles.

  Jason knocked on the door, then stepped back.

  The door opened, an Asian man stood there. His clothes were dirty but well kept. Everyone knew that his particular brand of dirty came from hours in the fields.

  "Mister Chu," Jason said.

  The man nodded. "Sheriff. Didn't realize you were up and around yet. What can I do ya for?"

  "May we come in?"

  Chu nodded and moved out of the way, one hand gesturing for the company to enter.

  Jason looked around the rude shack. A roughly cobbled together wood stove sat in one corner. On the opposite side, a cot took up most of the space against the wall. Beneath it was an old steamer trunk. Just inside the door was a beat up table with just two chairs.

  "I'd offer you all something to drink, but I don't really have much," Chu said. "Besides, I suspect this isn't a social call."

  "You know about the attacks?" Jason asked.

  Chu nodded. "And I've got an alibi for them too."

  Jason held up a hand, trying to calm the other man. "You're not a suspect. For anything. We know what's going on, more or less."

  The other man nodded again. "And you think it's some Somerton guys who aren't happy with the way things happened." No question, just a statement of fact.

  Jason's surprise must have reached his face, because Megan said, "We put the word out. We didn't want people on the buses unarmed."

  "Plus Ranger Rick there already talked to me. I told him I didn't know anything. Wish I did, but I don't."

  Jason nodded. He'd forgotten that Rick was going to talk to Chu. "Okay. But that's not why we're here."

  "Oh?" Chu asked.

  "There's a problem, and I think you might be able to help," Jason replied.

  Chu stood there and said nothing, only raising an eyebrow in question.

  "You said your dad had been Special Forces?" Jason asked.

  Chu seemed to relax a bit at the question. Not much, but some. "Yeah, he was. Taught me some stuff."

  "How much did he teach you?"

  "What do you mean?" Chu asked, his eyes cuttin
g between the three of them.

  "I know part of what Special Forces did was training. They turned indigenous personnel into effective fighting units. Did he show you any of that stuff?"

  Chu nodded slowly, confused. "A bit."

  Jason smiled and turned to face Megan and Rick. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the solution to your problem."

  The two Rangers looked back and forth between Jason and Chu, confused.

  "You need someone to play blacksmith, taking your raw materials and forging them into something more. There's your guy."

  "I thought you didn't trust me," Chu said.

  Jason nodded and said, "I don't. But I'm trying to give you a chance to change that."

  Chu laughed mirthlessly. "Maybe I don't give a damn whether you trust me or not."

  "Fair enough," Jason said, keeping his smile. "But you also said you came here because of me, of how I handled The Pass. I'm asking for this. This town you decided to make your home in spite of the fact that a lot of people hate you just because of what uniform you wore? It needs this."

  The other man glared back for a moment, defiant. After a few moments, his look softened. With resignation in his voice, he said, "Alright, why the hell not?"

  CHAPTER 9

  Crickets chirped all around, an early morning chorus greeting the new day. Above, birds woke from their own slumber, their chirps joining in the symphony. As Walker lay along a fallen tree, he wondered if he would have ever been one of those who would enjoy such things. He doubted it though. For better or worse, he was a city boy and he knew it. Hell, he still missed the smell of engine exhaust and pollution from factories. He couldn't think of any scenario that would change him into someone who actually liked the forest.

  Regardless of where he'd prefer to be, the forest was where he was and where he'd been for the foreseeable future. Luckily, Walker had learned long ago that sucking it up for the short term often meant better rewards in the long term. Sure, Declan was the one usually saying that, but it didn't make him wrong.

  He looked around, the early daylight only barely allowing him to see the men surrounding him. On either side were Somerton rebels, desperate to avenge the loss of what they held dear. Long years of training kept their eyes glued on the path their target would take.