Monsters of the Apocalypse
Page 1
Written by Jordan Rawlins
Illustrated by Tia Stark
The events depicted in this book may or may not be fictitious, the future will tell, but for now, any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental.
Contents
BOOK ONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
BOOK TWO
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
BOOK THREE
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
BOOK FOUR
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
BOOK FIVE
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
BOOK ONE
***
"The world is less advanced now than when I was born. The world I was born into was less advanced than when my father was born. During my grandfather's youth, after the Great Explosion of 2035, was when man hit his technological peak and it's no coincidence that this era, under Caleb Machius and Angelica Sway's leadership, was the most peaceful time that modern man has ever known.
"As man grew more and more dependent on technology to think for him, store his records, keep him safe and run the day to day activities by which he was able to live in comfort, he gave up his ability to survive on his own. The reason that smart men stop short of absolute control, which is what technology basically had at its zenith, is that it opens the door for absolute defeat. Some would say America won out, and of course, America alone did survive the Great War. But, just because you survive doesn't mean you weren't defeated.
"Regardless, my point is this - here in this post-apocalyptic world, we have a choice: to recreate our society upon the tenets of kindness, decency, social equality and union with nature - or to focus on the old path of technology and convenience which led to the Apocalypse. It seems so clear intellectually that man should pick the former, but for those of us who are old enough to remember espresso machines, cell phones and artichoke heart pizza delivered hot to your door - we know there's an argument to be made for the latter."
- Jacob Rothschild, "Thoughts on The Art of Ruling"
Chapter 1
***
Far above the earth, satellites drifted through the cold, dark, silence of space. As those satellites passed over the United States of America, their tiny green lights began to blink in response to orders that had just been beamed up from the glowing white metropolises below. As these orders were processed by the satellites, another row of lights, these a bright electric blue, lit up. These blue lights gave notice to the vast nothingness of the universe that the huge Electro-Magnetic Pulse Cannons mounted on the satellites had just become active and that the whole of mankind was in danger.
Most people didn't bother to look up as these tiny manmade stars crossed the night sky. Most people had never thought about how much of an effect those satellites had on the Earth below them. Jacob did. Jacob knew all about EMPC's and satellites and the terror they were capable of raining down upon what remained of mankind. Jacob knew all about the little blinking lights.
As Jacob lit a cigarette his lighter reflected in the small seasonal creek that gurgled past him, gurgled through the woods, and gurgled next to the top secret government facility that was guarded by men with big guns. Jacob blew a puff of smoke into the air as he watched one of the satellites, nothing but a fast-moving light from where he stood, drop down below the horizon.
“A lot of people say: what's the point of a blinking light on a satellite? What's the point of a blinking light in all this empty universe?” Jacob said to a soldier who was kneeling over an un-functioning gun to Jacob's left. The soldier stopped trying to un-jam his rifle and stared up at Jacob with confusion.
"It doesn't make much sense I guess, sir."
"Yes it does," Jacob smiled. "It's about recognition. That little blinking light says: I'm here. I'm doing my job. I exist."
"I don't know what you…"
"Oh, never mind, forget it and go back to your gun," Jacob sighed. He watched his smoke rings disappear into the night sky as he listened to the approaching, plodding footsteps, and occasional stumbles, of the returning scout. Jacob looked over at the sound of his tech specialist, Arian Mills, laughing. Mills was the only member of Jacob's Shadow Army that was with him on this mission. Mills was so dark that he disappeared into the night except for where the glow of his small laptop reached him.
"Sir," the scout panted on arrival.
"Yes?"
"I'm back, sir!"
"I see that," Jacob sighed, "and I heard it before I saw it, and though I didn't bother to look, I would guess that I could have seen you before you saw me."
“Sir?”
“Don’t mind me, just making an observation about your stealth capabilities. What observations did you make, soldier?”
“They’re American, sir. The guards are American soldiers!”
Jacob watched as these last words rippled through the rest of the surrounding soldiers and made them shift ner
vously.
“Well… yeah. America is all there is anymore. The rest of the world blew up, remember? Who’d you think would be guarding it?” Jacob laughed.
“Criminals," the scout said without hesitation. "Criminals aren’t American. One of the agreements one makes in order to be part of a country is to respect its laws.”
Jacob stared at the scout in disbelief.
"Is that so?”
“Si...”
“Don’t say "sir." Call me Jacob. You say "sir" too much.”
"I'm afraid, Jacob, that I have doubts,” the young scout said firmly to his own feet.
"I beg your pardon?" Jacob hissed.
"A week ago you were the leader of a Shadow Army filled with deadly Indian mercenaries and, well that… the guy with all those hideous brands on his arms over there," the scout pointed fearfully at the glaring Arian. "Now all of the sudden we get orders to follow you, and you lead us to a US government facility to kill Americans!"
"It seems to me, soldier, that the key concept there was that you were given orders."
"From a commanding officer who I haven't been able to get into contact with since! We've all been trying to get into contact with him - with anybody - for two days, but we can't."
"This is a black op, soldier. All communications have been jammed by Mr. Mills over there, for the sake of secrecy."
"So you say, Jacob, but now it turns out that the mission involves killing fellow American soldiers. It's just too much. It's too much to believe! I'm sorry, but we can't move forward without confirmation from our commanding officer."
At the end of this speech the scout swung his rifle up to Jacob's face. Jacob burst into hysterics. He heard the rustling of the rest of the squad shifting their weapons. He assumed that all the guns would be pointed at him, but he didn’t bother to check. He momentarily glanced at Arian, who tilted his head questioningly.
"You want me to kill them all, Jacob?"
"No, but thanks, Arian. We need them."
"Okie doke."
Jacob took a moment to appreciate his far off Shadow Army. Their quiet efficiency was so easy to take for granted. Even now, as they took up their positions across the country, Jacob knew they were unnoticed and unheard. He shrugged and returned his attention to the young soldiers who spread out in front of him in a wave of incompetence.
"How many real soldiers are even left anymore?" Jacob paused to stub out his cigarette and smile at the scout. "Ten years since the last war and even then there weren't many soldiers left. Kids raised on video games, controlling drones with joysticks, destroying countries. Missiles fired by satellite auto-command eliminating entire races. It's not your fault though, since the days of the Alpha Team a lot has changed.”
"With all due respect, sir, we're Alpha Team," the scout replied, his gun shaking with anger.
"With all due respect, soldier," Jacob swung up his .50 caliber Desert Eagle and pointed it at the scout's face, "your safety is on."
The scout glanced down at his rifle, and in that moment, Jacob reached out and spun the scout around. The scout let out a quiet gasp as he found himself between Jacob and his fellow soldiers. He grew silent when he felt the barrel of Jacob's gun touch his temple. Arian chuckled softly in the darkness.
Jacob smiled at the rest of the soldiers.
"Before any of you pull the trigger, I have to warn you that those guns might jam or misfire and explode in your face. Allow me to apologize about the guns, boys, they are a bit outdated. Unlike mine, which I am certain will not jam if I pull the trigger right now," Jacob said, causing all the soldiers to glance down at their twenty-year old bolt-action M-1 rifles.
"I'm the single most wanted man on the planet, but here I am, out in the open," Jacob smiled with sparkling eyes. "What does that tell you? I'm a smart man, but even I'm not smart enough to figure out a way to infiltrate the highest levels of the government to get American soldiers sent to serve me in a military action against America itself. That would take genius on a level that the world has never known! No. The truth is that October Carnegie, my old soldier in arms, has hidden me inside a lie over the years in case the government was compromised."
Jacob slowly passed his smiling gaze over the eyes of the young soldiers letting his words sink in.
"October Carnegie," Jacob continued, "the most popular President in modern times, has plans on top of plans, all beyond mere citizens like you and me. And he needs them, because, truth be told, he is the target of rich and powerful men who want him gone. These men are the ones who manipulate the very soldiers we are about to attack. True, these soldiers don't know the role they play, but, their death will save many lives tonight, and that's our mission, to save as many lives as we can. As soldiers, they would respect that. They signed up to die in the name of that cause. So did you. I know this is all very odd and hard to adjust to - but either you find a way, or everyone you love will be dead in a matter of days. Gentlemen, we are at war, a quiet war, a secret war, but a war nonetheless. A war for survival… and we don't have any time to waste! Look into my eyes, soldiers, you can trust me."
Jacob waited and watched as the rifle barrels that were pointed at him, one by one, lowered. Once all of them were down, Jacob lowered his own gun and released the scout. He slid his gun back into the waist of his pants and then slowly ran his hands over the curves of his well-tailored suit, then over his impeccably styled hair, until he was finally satisfied that everything was perfectly in place.
"It's okay, boys. You're new to this. The games those in power play are long and complicated. Almost impossible to understand. We are only pawns in a chess game played by very rich, very old, very bored families with lots of time and money and little morality. In any case, forget what I said about your guns, I'm sure they'll be fine. We ready, Arian?"
"Yeah, the security systems are down," Arian said turning off his screen.
Jacob lit another cigarette and blew a puff of smoke into the air as his smile caught the glint of the rising moon.
"You heard him, soldiers, security systems are down. Onward ho, safeties off and no survivors."
Chapter 2
***
If you could make it past the road blocks, the snipers, the secret service agents out front, the hand scanners that controlled the elevator and the voice recognition locks of the titanium interior hallway doors - you would find that October Carnegie's door was always open and that all were always welcome - as long as he wasn't eating. He didn't like to be interrupted during meals. So, even though the door was physically open at this moment, his sandwich was the equivalent of a stop sign… a stop sign that Miho Walker was clearly intending to run.
He continued chewing as he saw her appear around the corner, that big ape, her personal bodyguard, CIA Special Agent Alberto Flores, behind her. October was passing interested in the man walking at Miho's side, an unfamiliar, small, awkwardly designed fellow, but it was hard not to focus on her. Her legs that filled out her skirt, the hair that went from dark at the peak of her head to the lighter shade of auburn at its jaw-line finish, the mix of European and Asian features so perfectly blended to entice. October found himself aware that he was staring at her chest too late to do anything about it.
“Sorry to interru…”
“This better be important, Miho,” October interrupted while raising his eyes to her face.
“It’s about Jacob,” she stated sitting down in the chair across the desk.
The name made October drop the sandwich onto his plate. His appetite momentarily forgotten, October now stared at Miho with what he hoped was indifference.
“Jacob is dead.”
"That was never confirmed, Mr. President."
"So, he's alive?"
"That hasn't been confirmed either."
"So… what are we talking about here?"
"His feed is back online. I thought you'd want to come see it. It could just be that his camera has turned on and that he's dead. We aren't sure,” Miho said.
"No. With Jacob it's always the most annoying possibility, which means he is alive. How annoying. I bet he looks great too. Those movie star looks of his, that hair…"
October scooted his chair back and stood up with a groan. He turned and looked out of the Oval Office's windows and briefly he focused on his own reflection, his attention drawn to his thin hair, his double chin and his beer gut.
“Where is he?” October said popping a chip into his mouth.
“Analytics are working on that, they haven’t found any defining images yet. A strike force is ready. At any moment we’ll have him.”
October sat down and rested his face between his palms. He looked hopefully into Miho's almond eyes, but they only looked back unblinking and unfeeling.
“How is this possible? You said he was dead or had found a way to turn his camera off so we couldn’t monitor him. Why would he turn it back on? And why now? Just as The Migration is beginning. I don’t trust this.”
“I have the computer specialist who found his camera feed, right here,” she said gesturing to the small man standing at her side.
“Him? Okay, awkward guy, how did this happen?”
October eyed the nervous man who kept his eyes averted from his own.
“Well, Mr. President, the other computer specialists were wrong, he never turned it off,” he tried to control his words, though he was excited to the point of shaking hands. “It seemed that way, so I know why they came to that conclusion, but it never made any sense, I mean, they were designed specifically so you couldn’t turn them off.”
“Yes, but Jacob designed the camera himself, so he would have been able to cheat the system.”
“No, Mr. President. That’s just what they thought he did. Then I thought: what if he couldn’t do that? What would he, what would I, do? I’d block the transmission system! You see, usually people hack into a communication system, through the encryption, so that they can see top secret stuff, but you could, I mean no one ever has because why would they, but you could hack in and then add another heavy encryption that would block the government itself from seeing its own feed. That way we’d just assume it had gone offline, that the camera or the person himself was dead. It would be almost easy, Mr. President.”