Bloody Eden (Soldiers of New Eden Book 2)

by T. L. Knighton

  Rick sighed.

  "Movement," Holliman whispered.

  Jason moved smoothly from his reclining position to a kneeling one in a heartbeat. The other two men adjusted themselves so they could be ready for a fight in an instant.

  They peered out through the dense growth. Four men in black uniforms approached.

  Jason's heart pounded. Fear coursed through him, the kind of fear he hadn't experienced since the war. He battled himself as he tried to keep his breathing under control.

  Minutes stretched agonizingly as they watched the soldiers approach. Maybe they'll pass us by, Jason thought as they got within just a few feet of their hiding spot.

  "Alright," one of the men, apparently the leader, said, "We'll take it easy here for a little bit, then move back out. Water up, get something to eat."

  So much for that. So, our contact is late, then these guys show up. What's next? A dragon swoops down to eat us?

  Jason pulled out a folding knife he kept in his pants pocket, his palms coated with sweat. It wasn't the SOG knife he usually carried, but that was hard to carry without a sheath, and since it was integral to the gun belt, it wasn't an option. Still, it was good enough.

  He glanced to the side. Rick's folder was already out and open. Holliman opened his slowly, holding the lock to eliminate the click from the black snapping into place.

  Please, God, don't let me screw this one up.

  Jason communicated his plans with a series of hand gestures, mouthed words, and silent prayers. The other two nodded their understanding. He prayed silently once again.

  He held up the five fingers of his left hand, his right gripping the knife. Slowly, he lowered them one by one, the delay between fingers dropping growing slight with each one.

  As he lowered the last finger, he stood slowly. Two of the men had their back to the woods, but three others were in prime position. Weapons were strewn all over the ground. Jason silently thanked a benevolent God for their poor discipline.

  Prayer's answered, pure dumb luck, whatever. I'm not picky. I'll take what I can get.

  Jason wasn't sure how good Holliman was with a knife, but he knew it wasn't Rick's strong suit, which is why he'd picked targets the way he did.

  He nodded his head, showing a confidence he didn't feel in the least.

  The two men beside him bolted out of their cover, grabbed the men.

  Jason had a bit farther to go, his attention focused on his targets, bursting through and making it toward the man in the center of the three remaining troops. This was the leader, and he had to be disposed of first. Years of training took over as Jason took the blade and slammed it into the man's throat, then twisted and ripped it out.

  One down, Jason swung his head from side to side, looking at the two men left standing. Neither seemed interested in engaging the demon in front of them, but escape wasn't going to be an option for them.

  The man to Jason's left moved first, pulling his bayonet and swinging wildly at his adversary. Jason sidestepped it easily, but almost missed the thrust from the other man.

  Jason swung his blade upward and sliced the second man's wrist. Not enough to kill him, but severing the tendons and causing him to drop the bayonet.

  The first man apparently saw an opening and stepped in for the kill.

  He saw wrong.

  Jason threw a sidekick to the man's gut, doubling him over. One opponent out of commission for the moment, Jason moved in on the second man.

  His opponent was bigger than him. Bigger by a good bit actually, closer in size to Rick than Jason. Still, Jason was the one in this fight, and he was the one who had to finish it. Unfortunately for the other guy, Jason spent the last decade learning how to use a knife, spurred on by the pressure of the stories about him.

  The big man swung at Jason's head. Jason ducked under the blow, the sudden move throwing him off balance. Not much, but enough that he couldn't counter.

  Another punch, this time from the other side. Jason was ready.

  Jason ducked again, this time shifting to the side the punch originated from. He took his blade and shoved it into the other man's armpit.

  The big man screamed in pain. Jason twisted it and ripped it out.

  Instinctively, the soldier threw up the other hand to protect the wound. Jason slammed the knife deep into the man's chest, right into the heart.

  Jason pulled his knife out a split second before the big man collapsed, then turned toward the remaining soldier.

  The other man had recovered from having the wind knocked out of him, and from the look on his face, he took that kind of personal. Jason wasn't overly worried.

  "I'm gonna gut your ass," the other man said.

  Jason smiled. He'd heard that before. He thought about saying something witty, but decided to channel Bruce Lee and just motion his opponent closer.

  The trooper held out the bayonet tentatively. Jason suspected this was the other man's first knife fight. He flexed his body toward the other man, who jumped back. Yep. He's mine.

  Jason moved in. Predictably, the other man thrust toward him. Jason moved out of the way, grabbing the arm and spinning the other man until he suddenly found Jason behind him.

  Jason slit the other man's throat quickly. Letting go, the body fell to the blood soaked ground.

  He looked around at the carnage, his two companions finishing up their own battles.

  "Well," he said, realizing he was panting for the first time when he heard his own voice, "that's a bit of a mess."

  "You think?" Rick fired back.

  Jason shrugged. "At least I'm not making you clean it up."

  Holliman's gaze shot back and forth between the two men. "I can't tell when you're joking and when you aren't. You realize that?"

  Smiling at the other man, Jason said, "Maybe it's a bit of both?"

  "Shit!" Holliman said in sort of a whisper/yell hybrid. "Movement."

  Jason looked. Four men headed toward them, a horse-drawn cart between two of them while the other two walked a few yards ahead.

  One of the two in the lead held up his hand in greeting.

  "I really hope that's our contact," Rick said.

  Jason nodded. "You and me both, kiddo. You and me both."

  ** ** **

  A horse-drawn cart ride might sound awesome, but Jason was having serious misgivings as the three men hung on beneath the bumping wagon. They'd secured themselves in multiple points with leather straps so they won't fall, but the ride was anything but smooth.

  The cart had sides that hung down, effectively hiding them from cursory examination. Of course, if anyone looked under the wagon, they were all screwed.

  Luckily, they'd apparently entered the city undetected. Around them, the once empty fields transform into the occasional building, until slowly it morphed into crowds and buildings butted up to one another.

  When the wagon turned and entered a building, Jason breathed a sigh of relief. No sooner had the doors been closed and locked, he dropped to the floor.

  "Well, that sucked," he announced as he took in his surroundings. He found himself inside of what looked like an old garage, the roll up door windows spray painted black long ago. The building was made of cinder blocks with at least a dozen different layers of paint, based on the pealing he saw. In the back stood a single door.

  "Oh, come on, Dad. Are you the one saying you should always try new experiences?"

  Jason nodded. "And now I've done that, so no need to do it again."

  Rick shrugged. It was as close to a surrender he was likely to get from his son.

  "Sorry about that," one of the men said, a rotund gentleman named Scott Latham. "Figured it the best way to sneak you folks into town."

  Jason nodded. "Probably was. Just wasn't a lot of fun. Good thing I'm here on business, because if this was a vacation, I'd post a really nasty review on the net."

  Latham put his hands on either side of his face. "Oh no! What would that do to tourist season!" he said in mock fear
.

  Jason smiled. He always appreciated a fellow smartass. Rick groaned. "Oh great. There's two of them."

  Latham laughed. "If I can't laugh at a shitty world, what's the point in living in it?"

  "So what's the plan?" Holliman asked.

  "Pretty straight forward at this point. Yancey will be here in about an hour or so. He'll have the intel for you, including what assets are available, all that. Until then, it's chill out time."

  Jason felt a cool blast of air as one of the contact group opened the door leading deeper into the building. "Air conditioning?"

  Latham nodded.

  "Okay, first thing? We meet in there."

  "Jack said you guys didn't have power out your way."

  Jason nodded. "Unfortunately."

  The man shrugged. "I hate it for you boys. Seriously, I'd die without it. Especially after growing up in Southwest Georgia."

  "Really? What part?"

  "Albany," the other man answered.

  "No way? Same here," Jason said.

  "Jack said your name is Calvin?"

  Jason nodded.

  "Holy shit! I used to read your stuff in the paper all the time."

  "Really?" Jason said, surprised anyone would remember his byline after all these years.

  "Sure did. You're the one who broke that whole voter fraud thing, with those folks using the absentee ballots in the retirement homes."

  Jason nodded. He'd been proud of that piece.

  "Good stuff," Latham said. "Maybe if more people had listened to you, Albany wouldn't have become such a hellhole after the war."

  "What happened?" Jason asked. Latham looked at him, apparently shocked. "We bailed right after the war. My mother-in-law has a place just north of Rome. Seemed a better place to be."

  Latham shook his head, seeming to struggle with the memory. "The city commission tried to hold it together, but the gangs outnumbered the cops. It didn't take long before they took over the streets. Executed most of the commissioners just outside the civic center."

  "Damn."

  "Yeah, it wasn't pretty. I mean, I wasn't a big fan of most of the commission, but executed?"

  Jason shook his head. "I'm still trying to figure out how the world went to hell so quickly. I mean, we got hit and hit bad, but it shouldn't have completely destroyed the country. Not unless there are nukes that hit that I don't know anything about."

  Latham shrugged. "I don't think it was the war. Not by itself, anyways. It's almost like there was some invisible force at work. We lost tens of millions in the blasts, but you're right. We shouldn't have shattered like that."

  "Didn't realize Albany went to hell so quickly."

  "Not all of it. East Albany made it, believe it or not."

  "How?" Jason asked incredulously. East Albany had always had a bad reputation that wasn't necessarily earned, but there wasn't much of a reason to believe it would fare any better than the rest of town.

  "The base. The general there started grabbing every former Marine he could get, threw them in a uniform, and started securing everything he could. He even blew the bridges crossing the river. Then he started recruiting."

  "How long after the war?"

  Latham shook his head slightly. "Not really sure, but it was long enough that we all suspected we weren't going to hear from Uncle Sam."

  "Wow. I guess I missed out on a hell of a lot."

  "Yeah, but you had a family to worry about. Most of mine was in Columbus, so…"

  "Sorry," Jason said. He'd seen the mushroom cloud over Columbus. He'd met up with other people who had lost people in Columbus. It never got any easier.

  "Yeah, well…what can you do? You either cry about it, or deal with it. I grew up in a house where you just didn't cry about stuff. Besides, I had a daughter to worry about."

  Jason nodded. He decided not to ask too many questions about the other man's personal life. No guarantee he was going to make it, and the less he knew, the better. Just in case. "Not always the worst way to deal with stuff."

  Latham smiled. He looked a little like a chipmunk with his chubby cheeked filled with nuts for the winter. "Kind of what I figured."

  The two men opened the door in the back and walked through it. Jason once again enjoyed the cold blast of air to an almost perverse degree. "We have so got to get AC back home."

  "Help us win this, and I'll set you up myself with some cool air," Latham said.

  Jason smiled. "Deal."

  The time passed quickly as Jason and Rick enjoyed the simple luxury of air conditioning. The conversation seemed jovial, talking about old sports teams, movies, all the things Jason expected when a group of guys got together. It had been a long, long while.

  When the door opened, Jason tensed slightly, expecting an attack. Instead, a slight man with shocking blonde hair and an angular face walked in.

  "Gentlemen, gentlemen…and Scott," the new comer said with a friendly grin. He walked up to the leather sofa Jason and Rick occupied and extended a hand. "You must be our guests. I'm Yancey. Pleasure to meet you."

  Jason shook his hand. "Likewise. I understand you're the man we've been waiting on?"

  Yancey smiled, clearly not taking the comment as anything. "Well, I'm always inclined to be fashionably late and always love a grand entrance." His smile faded a bit, but his demeanor stayed friendly. "Seriously, I hope you guys didn't have to wait too long."

  It was Jason's turn to smile. "Hey, it's comfortable in here. I'm not exactly in any rush to leave, you know?"

  Yancey laughed.

  Holliman, who'd been in the bathroom, stepped out and looked at Yancey. "About damn time you got here," he said, his fist clenched to the side.

  "Yeah, I'm here. That a problem?" Yancey said, his bearing shifting in an instant.

  Holliman cleared the distance quickly. Once again, Jason tensed up. He didn't know these guys, but had grown to like Holliman. Slowly, he balled his right hand into a fist, trying to plot where he would have to throw it while hoping it wouldn't be anything too big.

  Yancey began his own march toward the other man until the two were just a few feet apart.

  Here we go.

  The two men suddenly embraced one another. "About damn time you made it home," Yancey barked, his friendly smile plastered across his face once again.

  "Yeah, well, got side tracked." Holliman said as the other man let go.

  "So I heard."

  Holliman nodded. "I take it I've been missed?"

  Yancey nodded. "Yeah. It's your turn to do the dishes."

  Rolling his eyes, Holliman said, "I should have figured. So damn typical. I try to end an absolute tyranny, and you're worried about whose turn it is to do what."

  The new arrival shrugged. "Don't be gone for so long next time and they won't pile up on ya."

  "So," Jason interjected, "I take it you two know one another?"

  Holliman nodded. "Yeah, this unfortunate soul is my roommate."

  "Ah. Gotcha," Jason said as he allowed himself to relax slowly. "Really didn't think this was a good time for a knockdown, drag out fight, but hey, not my party."

  Yancey looked at him, allowed his smile to fade. Everything about him shifted yet again, this time from a friendly guy to a man with a mission. "Actually, I think it is your party now. We're just arranging the guest list."

  ** ** **

  An exhausted Jason poured over the data Yancey brought yet again. He didn't have names, but he didn't need those. He had capabilities of his own forces, troop disposition of his own men, everything he needed.

  Something was missing.

  He looked up from the scattered pages, spread out over an old pool table. Around him, most people were asleep. A yawn snuck up on him, reminding him how little sleep he'd had lately. There would be plenty of time for sleep later.

  Yancey slept soundly in an old arm chair, his feet stretched out and resting on a matching burnt orange ottoman. Jason stepped over and nudged the man's leg.

  Sitting upri
ght, Yancey stammered some incoherent mumblings before he remembered where he was. He looked up at Jason, eyes showing Jason that he was just barely awake. "Yeah?" he asked blearily.

  "I need something that's not here. Think you can get it?"

  Yancey rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to wipe sleep away. "Depends," he said as he yawned. "What do you need?"

  "I need to know Conklin."

  "No paperwork on that one." A voice shushed them, so Yancey stood up and walked toward the pool table, motioning for Jason to follow. "But I've got what we've got on it," he said, tapping his head with in index finger.

  "I need to figure him out. Anything you guys have managed in the past, and how he reacted, anything."

  Yancey nodded. "There's not much we've tried, to be honest. Not here. So I can't give you much there."

  "Then I guess we're going to have to make some stuff up."

  "Huh?"

  Jason smiled at the other man. "You'll see."

  Chapter 14

  A hard rain fell all around him. Jason's hood was up, which helped, but that's not what the hood was for. Across from him stood the central barracks for Conklin's troops. He lurked in the shadows of an alley, watching the building.

  Latham warned him that anyone he saw out was most likely either an indenture, or someone too poor to have one. There was almost no practical way to tell the difference. Whoever owned the bond was responsible for making sure the indenture did what they were supposed to do though, so he shouldn't have to worry about being questioned.

  Two men stood guard outside. Yancey knew when the guard would change. The next one was 0200. Most of the men were already in for the night. The perfect time.

  There.

  Jason watched as two men came from inside. Both were armed, clearly the relief. The two teams spoke for a brief moment, Jason suspected they passed any relevant information. Frankly, he could give a damn.

  Finally, the two men who'd been standing outside made their way in. The newcomers settled in for their watch.

  Internally, Jason counted. Occasionally, his eyes shifted to a window across the street from the barracks. However, he wasn't watching the window when the first guard dropped, a red mist spraying out the back of his head.