The Hunt Chronicles Volume 3: Crusade
Text Copyright © 2017, by J.D. Demers
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected by International and Federal copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized print or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
This book is the work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places or events is coincidental.
Edited By: Ruth Clack and Julia Tripp
Table of Contents
Author Note
Editors’ Note
Prologue
CHAPTER 1: The Thing
CHAPTER 2: Fight or Flight…or Both
CHAPTER 3: The Horde
CHAPTER 4: The Trap
CHAPTER 5: The Taylors
CHAPTER 6: Bogdons
CHAPTER 7: Good Men Do Nothing
CHAPTER 8: Danger Ahead
CHAPTER 9: The Destitute
CHAPTER 10: The General
CHAPTER 11: The Plan and the Reaper
CHAPTER 12: Lake City
CHAPTER 13: The Ogre
CHAPTER 14: National Geographic
CHAPTER 15: Scab Country
CHAPTER 16: Tikel
CHAPTER 17: A Pause in the Storm
CHAPTER 18: Family Reunion
CHAPTER 19: Dystopia
CHAPTER 20: Family Matters
CHAPTER 21: Popcorn
CHAPTER 22: Nemesis
CHAPTER 23: Against the Grain
CHAPTER 24: Pulling the Trigger
Epilogue
About the Author
Author Note:
Writing Crusade has been a whirlwind. This book is longer than the previous two, but I couldn’t bring myself to shorten it, as everything inside pertains to the overall story of this series. In the end, it is not about length, but telling the tale that needs to be told.
There are two more Volumes to follow: Reckoning and Salvation. Now that this five book series has crossed the halfway point, I am excited to reveal how it ends.
I would like to make a special note. In my series, Fish is a retired Special Forces Operative, more widely known as Green Beret. In Crusade, we dive deeper into his life and the life of these “Quiet Professionals”. I would like to thank my friend Luke for allowing me into his world. His advice and guidance allowed me to stay as true to these elite soldiers as possible.
I hope you enjoy Crusade as much as I enjoyed writing it. Even on my fourth pass through the book, I was on the edge of my seat, even though I knew what was coming next.
After you finish, please return to whatever platform you read or listened to, and leave a review. Let people (and me) know how you feel about his book and the entire series. Thank you for being a part of Christian’s tale and remember, the ride is not quite over yet.
J.D. Demers
Editors’ Note:
If you are reading this, that means Volume 3 of The Hunt Chronicles has been released. I have to tell you, it has been no easy feat. There were times during the editing of Crusade that I began to question my own sanity. There were roundtable discussions that lasted for hours where we didn’t even finish one chapter. Near the end of the process, I felt a bit like Michael Corleone: “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”
But that’s a good thing. Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy. This installment in the series is a perfect example of that.
This book hits on some raw emotional aspects of life during the zombie apocalypse and challenges you to consider what you would do in Christian’s position. Some parts may be hard to read, but that is what makes Crusade so genuine.
Enjoy!
Ruth Clack
Crusade is the third installment of JD Demers’s The Hunt Chronicles and, as the name implies, our intrepid band of survivors have embarked on their ultimate campaign, to ensure the continuation of the human species. They endured the Awakening, seized a ray of hope in Revelation, and now face a daunting journey to Hoover Dam to join other survivors in a last stand against the undead.
However, there are dangers far worse than zombies that they must face on their cross-country trek. Their struggle will test their endurance beyond anything imaginable as they approach the final Reckoning of mankind. Will they succeed in their mission to save the human race? Or will the battle for Salvation cost them everything?
If you have come this far with this epic tale, you know there will be surprises, some heart-warming, some heart-wrenching, but always shocking even for the most seasoned fans of zombie horror. The only way to survive is to join the Crusade!
Julia Tripp
I was pleased to be working as an advisor on the third installment of The Hunt Chronicles. The power of the horror apocalypse genre allowed me to wander through the extensive mind of J.D. Demers’s adventure through hell. The Chronicles brings you into the latest in thrilling modern horror with realistic survival tips and tactics.
He has shown his scary environment, descriptive details of encounters, and a fresh feeling of terror.
I felt as a goal in being a technical advisor on this book was to make sure the right ballistic damage was caused by the right firearms and some continuity checks.
J.D. is true to the genre and reaches for a top-notch adventure tale.
I hope you enjoyed this book as much as I have in being involved in the editing process.
Best wishes.
Dan Therriault Jr. (D.J.)
Prologue
August 6th - One year, four months and nineteen days after The Awakening
I’m tired and thirsty. I saved the blood from the bird I caught, thinking it would help rehydrate me. If it did, I can’t tell. The protein did replenish some much-needed energy, though. I’ve saved my urine and am using a makeshift solar purifier that I created out of a glass bottle and plastic bag. I’m not getting much, but it will have to do.
There is some good news, though. About half of the zombies that were outside are missing. The sun probably became too much for them, and they stowed away in another building or buried themselves in the sand. For brainless eating machines, they’re clever when it comes to staying out of the bright daylight.
I am becoming depressed. Probably a result of dehydration and very little sustenance. Maybe it is the story I am reliving as I write this. Who knows?
Because of that, I almost stopped writing. It isn’t good for morale to remember all the friends I’ve lost or remember all the things I’ve had to do.
But if I don’t tell this tale, the world may never know the true story. Better they hear it from me.
CHAPTER 1
The Thing
August 2nd Morning
Nature is powerful, especially in places where the sun and rain allow it to thrive. Eliminate the human element and it is unstoppable. In the five months since the Awakening, Route 192 had shown how forceful nature could be when unmolested by mankind.
The fence protecting the highway from wildlife traffic was completely enveloped in tall grass and bushes. The road was spotted with disregarded fronds from palmetto bushes and palm trees. Mixed into the debris were pine needles and leaves from deciduous trees. The grass had even begun to break through the asphalt in various places. Sizable branches were occasionally crushed under the weight of Big Red as we plodded ahead at thirty miles an hour.
We had been on the road for half an hour and the thrill, both exciting and terrifying, was starting to dissipate. Jenna was driving the F350 truck a few hundred feet ahead. Th
e CDC bus, driven by Captain Campbell, was somewhere behind us. Puffy white clouds amassed in the west, but gave no relief from the sun blazing just over the horizon of trees.
“Jenna, we should be coming up on Holopaw soon. Keep your head on a swivel,” Fish grumbled into the radio. Fish was sitting in the front passenger seat of Big Red, the fire engine that DJ had modified into a post-apocalyptic Mad Max tank.
The radio squawked as Jenna answered in her thick, southern drawl.
“Roger that, Fish,” Jenna responded.
“There is nothing in Holopaw,” Karina stated. “My dad said it had a population of ten.”
The fifteen-year-old girl was sitting next to me in the back of Big Red’s cab. Boomer, my trusty German Shepherd sidekick, was sleeping with his head on her lap, occasionally snoring. The kinship I felt for Karina was that of a younger sister, a bothersome younger sister, but still, she was like family to me. I had saved her life when we fled the Ace Hardware Compound and she, in return, had saved mine by telling everyone I was immune to the zombie virus.
“Your dad was wrong,” DJ grumbled. “There are, or were, about three hundred people that lived out here.”
DJ was driving Big Red. It was his baby. He designed the fire engine’s new ‘Mad Max’ appearance from the ground up, adding to and modifying it to be the perfect post-apocalyptic all-purpose vehicle. He also modified the fire suppression tank to carry our valuable bio-fuel, which would hopefully provide enough fuel for us to make it to Hoover Dam.
I was surprised he was embarking on this journey. The big man was leaving his family behind back at Camp Holly. The only reason why he made that choice was to ensure that whatever cure they developed at the Hoover Dam was brought back to his family.
Ahead of us, Jenna slowed her truck to about ten miles an hour, forcing us to match her speed.
Not far in front of her truck was a large, white recreational vehicle. All of the tires were flat and the outside of the RV had seen better days. Most of the windows had been smashed and red curtains fluttered around where the windshield use to be.
“Are you seeing this, Fish?” Jenna asked over the speaker.
“I see it,” Fish responded.
“What is it?” Dobson asked from the rear vehicle.
“There’s an RV partially blocking the road. Looks like it’s been there awhile,” Fish returned. “Do you think we should check it out?”
“Negative,” Dobson replied. “We’re not even an hour into this trip. Can’t stop for everything.”
“He’s right,” DJ said.
“I know,” Fish grumbled. “I just don’t like the idea of going forward blindly.”
“No choice in that, Fish,” Pittman said in his baritone voice. The large PJ was crammed in the back with Karina and me.
Fish nodded and pressed the transmit button. “You heard the Major, Jenna. Keep rolling.”
As we crawled passed the RV, I examined the wreckage. It appeared to have wooden stakes protruding from the front two tires. Behind the driver’s side door was a long, metal shaft impaled through the thin skin of the vehicle.
“That’s odd,” I murmured.
“What’s odd?” Karina asked.
I ignored her and leaned into the front part of the cab between Fish and DJ. Before I could say anything, Fish spoke.
“See those tires? Damn RV was ambushed.” Fish hit the transmit button again. “Major, take a look at the RV while you pass it.”
Fish turned and faced Pittman. “Pittman, grab some glasses and get on the back. Check for ambushes or anything that may try and kill us.”
Dobson came back over the radio just as Pittman climbed out of the rear hatch. “I see it. Are you sure we have the right people in our scout vehicle?” the Major asked irritably.
“Beginning to question that now, sir,” Fish replied.
“We can hear you, you know,” Jenna scowled.
The scout F350 truck that Jenna drove had Enrique, Daniel, and Preacher in it. They were not the most observant group of people. Jenna, maybe, but she was focusing on driving and avoiding any debris in the road.
“Whoever pulled that ambush off did it some time ago,” Dobson continued. “There was at least two months of growth around the RV.”
“Roger that, sir. But still, we better change things up. Jenna, pull over to the side,” Fish ordered as he gathered his gear.
After the vehicles stopped, Fish jumped out and spoke to Pittman, who was still on the back of Big Red. He then went to Jenna’s truck and pulled Daniel out, sending him back to Big Red.
“I guess I’m not scout material,” Daniel frowned as he climbed into the passenger seat.
“Don’t take it personally,” DJ reassured him. “Fish wouldn’t want anyone but himself up front. He’s anal like that.”
“Daniel just wants to be next to Jenna,” Karina said smiling.
I gave her a quick elbow and she returned with a sour look.
“Jenna has nothing to do with it,” Daniel said, embarrassed. “I just think the lead vehicle should have the medic. What if someone gets hurt?”
“Heh,” DJ chuckled, “you’re not the only medic anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Daniel asked.
“Well, forget the fact that Fish is probably trained as well as you, we have two PJ’s with us. Kinda makes you obsolete.”
“I don’t get it,” Daniel said, turning to look at DJ as he drove.
“PJ’s are like, well, trailer park doctors,” DJ replied. “You see, their job is to go in and rescue downed pilots. If the pilot is injured, they have to get them stable enough for transport. Sometimes that means battlefield surgery.”
“I’m trained to do things like that,” Daniel countered.
“Not like them you’re not,” DJ laughed, and then realized he was insulting the young paramedic. “I mean, these guys go through something like two years of hardcore medical training. They’re not doing heart transplants or anything like that, but they’re supposed to be pretty damn good. I’m not saying you don’t know your shit, but it’s two different types of training.”
“Great,” Daniel said with a sigh, and collapsed back into the seat. “So, basically, I came for no good reason.”
“That’s not true,” I chimed in. “Daniel, we need all the help we can get.”
The cab became silent.
I didn’t want Daniel to feel useless. For the past month, I had wondered why he had chosen to join us. Daniel wasn’t proficient with any firearms, nor was he particularly brave. Truthfully, I knew he had a small spark for Jenna, but couldn’t believe that would be his reason for coming.
Jenna and I spent some time together before we left Camp Holly, and I knew Daniel noticed. We were not intimate, though. Besides, I had enough on my plate without throwing romance into the mix.
I had the feeling Daniel was using the fact that he was a paramedic as a shield, like that was his excuse for joining us. I doubted a mere crush would motivate him to join our crusade across the country. His feelings for Jenna had to be much stronger.
“Major, come in. Over,” Fish’s said, his voice blaring over the speaker. We had only traveled half a mile since Fish switched vehicles.
“This is Dobson. Go,” the Major responded.
“Approaching Holopaw. We have to stop,” Fish said with a touch of frustration in his voice. “You’re going to have to see this.”
“Affirmative,” Dobson replied.
Big Red began to slow as we approached Jenna’s truck. It had stopped a couple hundred yards from a now useless traffic light.
We had seen plenty of debris over the last twenty miles, but what lay in front of us was different.
Along with branches, palmetto leaves, and patches of grass on the asphalt were random heaps of rubbish, vegetation, and other forms of rubble. The piles covered around three hundred yards of the road we had to traverse, right through the single intersection that made up the town proper of Holopaw. And though they seemed to ran
domly spread across the length of the visible road, there was an odd, unnatural placement to them.
At the traffic light intersection, there was a gas station and food mart to the left, and nothing but foliage on the right. Other buildings could be seen further down the road in small quantity. It was a rural area, with lots of surrounding woodland.
The big cause for alarm was the cars. I counted seventeen lining the roadway on either side. Some were tipped over on their sides or backs, while others were off in the grass. Most notably was a State Trooper’s patrol car sitting in the middle of the intersection.
“You said three hundred people lived here?” I asked DJ.
“If you make a left at the stoplight, you’ll start running into houses. They’re spread out, though. The people here aren’t much for neighbors,” he replied.
“Zero movement ahead,” Pittman said over the comms. He was still on the back of Big Red, scanning the area with binoculars.
“Fish,” Dobson said, “I’m on my way up. Grab Enrique and we’ll scout the area.”
“Sir, we’re going to need Boomer,” Fish replied. I could hear him clamoring around in Jenna’s truck while he spoke, preparing to disembark. We kept our anti-zombie armor on at all times, just in case we had to quickly exit the vehicles. Along with that, we had acquired police issued vests which would help against small arms fire.
DJ squeezed the transmit button. “And I want to see what’s on this road.”
“Major, I recommend DJ, Enrique, Christian, Pittman and Boomer,” Fish added. “We need the mutt and I can put Jenna on the back of Big Red for overwatch.”
There was a moment of silence before Dobson answered.
“I’m wary about the Package being exposed,” the Major said.
“I wish he would quit calling me that,” I said irritably. Colonel Forester from Hoover Dam referred to me as ‘The Package’, and the term had been picked up by Dobson.
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