Bloody Eden (Soldiers of New Eden Book 2)

  Bloody Eden

  T.L. Knighton

  Copyright © 2014 Flint River Publishing

  Cover image courtesy of Cedar Sanderson

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0692273964

  ISBN-13: 978-0692273968

  DEDICATION

  To Kimberly

  We who are left behind are richer for having known you, and poorer for having lost you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book would not be here without the love and support of my loving family. In particular, my wife Jennifer who has managed to put up with many countless hours with me blasting music in my ears so I could work, despite being just a few feet away from her. Also, my son Robby, who thinks every story I come up with is absolute gold. While that's not true, it's nice to hear. In addition, I must thank my mother and editor, Bonnie Jefferson, who has given me support since before I entered this world.

  I'd also like to thank a couple of my fellow authors. First, Cedar Sanderson, who helped out in many ways, including providing the photograph used to make the cover of this book.

  Also, I have to thank Sarah A. Hoyt, who nudged me into publishing a novelette to see if anyone would like my writing. That novelette was "After the Blast", which lead directly to this book. The response to "Blast" was tremendous, and I owe it to Sarah and her blog's readers. Thanks folks.

  Chapter 1

  A young woman, her blonde hair dirty and greasy, cowered in the stained corner. The room stank of human waste. She muttered a prayer, barely audible, for the family recently thrown into her own personal hell.

  The man, woman, and boy had been beaten, their facial features masked beneath the bruises and cuts. She could only tell that they had dark hair and dark eyes. Their barely conscious bodies piled in the center of the room, what had once been a living room in a suburban home. Dark stains covered the once white walls.

  Two men, one short and thin while the other was a full head taller and heavily muscled, stood looking down at the three. Malevolence gleamed in their eyes.

  The thin man cackled, his yellowed teeth dotting his open mouth. "Come on Earl. Lemme cut 'em this time?"

  Earl snarled at the newcomers huddled together, the man wrapping his arm around the woman and child, his embrace a shield that would protect them.

  "Come on, Earl. You got to cut the last two."

  Earl slammed the back of his hand into the other man's jaw, snapping his head back.

  "Ow! Whatcha do that for?" the thin man whined.

  "I can't think with you jawin' in my damn ear."

  The thin man rubbed his jaw. "Ya coulda just said somethin'."

  Earl looked at the family huddled in the floor and smiled ominously. "You're just gonna have to forgive my brother. He gets a bit excitable come supper time."

  The man looked at the woman and child, then back at Earl. "You don't mean…?"

  "I do," Earl said. "But you shouldn't fret none. Some of us have to die so that others may live and all that."

  "You're sick," the woman barked, he flaming red hair a harbinger of her spirit.

  Earl slammed the back of his hand against her cheek, her head snapping around. "No, we're not. We're alive. That's a damn sight better than most folks we knew from back when, now ain't it?"

  The big man pulled out a large knife, wiping it menacingly across his sleeve.

  A whimper sounded from the corner. Earl shifted his gazed toward the blonde. "I'll be with you in a minute. Now shut the hell up and let me work."

  Earl turned back toward the family. "Now, where was I?" His lips started to curl into an evil grin and instant before the front of his head exploded.

  The family jumped as they found themselves coated in blood.

  The front door crashed down, bodies pouring in, each armed with rifles. Gunshots echoes against the walls as the thin man jerked from the rounds punching into his body before finally falling onto the hardwood floor.

  The invaders filtered throughout the house. From time to time, one would call out, "Clear!"

  One of the men, shorter than most of the others with salt and pepper hair and thin like most people these days, knelt before the family. His dark red shirt and dusty brown pants contrasted against the pooling blood on the floor. On his hip was a leather gun belt with knife sheath that looked like it belonged in the Old West, except for the dulled nickel semi-automatic pistol resting in the holster. The knife was also a modern style looking slightly odd in the old timey rig. "You're alright. We won't hurt you," he said in a soothing voice. "I'm going to get you some medical attention, alright?"

  The man nodded.

  The kneeling man turned his head, yelling over his shoulder, "Hector!"

  A large Latino man, probably in his mid thirties, ran through the busted door. "Yeah, boss?"

  "Can you check these folks out? Make sure they're good to go?"

  Hector nodded. "Can do."

  The man in charge stood up and looked toward the girl in the corner. "We're gonna need you over there next."

  Hector nodded while poking and prodding the family.

  The other man walked toward the girl. "Like I said to them, no one's going to hurt you, alright?"

  The girl tried to pull more into herself, as if willing her body to shrink.

  Recognition seemed to dawn in the man's eyes. "Katie? Katie Miller?"

  The girl jumped at the mention of her own name. He knelt down and craned his neck, trying to put his face in her line of sight. "Katie, it's me. It's Jason. Jason Calvin."

  She turned her head to look at his face, still not meeting his gaze. "M…mister Jason?" she asked, the pain of speaking distorting her words.

  Jason smiled softly. "Yep, it's me. We've been worried about you for a while now. You alright?"

  Katie shook her head. "I didn't want to. None of it. I know I can't help what they did to me. That ain't my fault. I know that. But the other…"

  Jason gently touched her shoulder. "We know that, darlin'. We all know that. I don't suspect they gave you a whole lot of choice. No one here's going to judge you, alright?"

  He stood and grabbed a man passing by. "Get these chains off of her as quick as you can, got it?"

  The man nodded and ran off as ordered.

  ** ** **

  Jason helped the woman, who'd introduced herself as Megan Hernandez, into the wagon. It wasn't much, just the back end of a pickup truck modified to be pulled by a horse and a bench up front for the driver, like most wagons these days, but it didn't involve walking. Her husband, Mark, and their son Xander followed.

  Katie, the blonde girl, was cowering in the front corner of the wagon. Her eyes darted around the overgrown suburb like a caged animal.

  "I'm sorry for the lack of comfort," Jason said with a soft smile.

  "We're not really in any position to complain, Mr. Calvin," Mark said.

  Jason shook his head. "It's just Jason, okay?"

  Mark nodded. "Jason. Got it."

  "Excuse me, Jason?" Megan asked.

  Jason raised his eyebrows in answer.

  "We're appreciative, you've got to know that," she said.

  "But?" Jason heard this thing before, and was ready.

  "What's going to happen to us?"

  "To start with, we're going to get you all some food. Fill your bellies. Then we're going to talk to you a bit, find out what you do or did, and most likely ask you to stick around."

  Megan took a deep breath, her face troubled. "And if we say no?"

  This was the part that Jason enjoyed. "Then we try to outfit you as best we can so you'll be as safe as possible on your way," he said. "We don't keep anyone against their will. We aren
't those kind of folks."

  Jason looked at Katie. He could barely imagine what all she'd been through, but figured it would be years before the smiling face he thought of as hers would show itself again. "If Katie decides to talk, she can tell you a bit about it," he said, adding, "but I wouldn't push it. As bad as you folks had it, I think she may have had it worse."

  Both adults nodded. Hector declared them all fit for travel physically, though Katie was less than fit psychologically. Jason decided to load her up anyways. He didn't figure sitting around the house of horrors would be any better.

  Jason, not being a horseman, finally mounted up on a brown horse on the third try. "I'll ride right beside you folks, so if you've got any questions or anything, you just ask."

  The couple nodded as Xander's eyes drank in the surrounding sights. The wagon bumped down what had once been a highway, now overgrown with weeds. Abandoned cars, now nothing more than rusting hulks, littered the sides of the road and the median.

  "Everywhere else, the cars are in the road," Mark commented. "Folks in Tennessee just more polite in the face of a nuclear war of something?"

  Jason chuckled. "Not quite. This is New Eden territory, technically. One of our projects has been to clear the roads. They pushed them out of the way so the roads can actually be used."

  "New Eden?"

  "Home," he said with a warm smile.

  The hours dragged on as the group, five men plus the recently freed prisoners, pushed on down the abandoned highway. Jason made small talk with the family as best he could. They admitted they were originally from Texas, but had headed out of there shortly after seeing a mushroom cloud over Dallas while out driving.

  He figured they didn't want to tell him anything, but Jason was used to that. While years of what he had always described as office work was a liability immediately after the blast, Jason Calvin had been a pretty good journalist. He knew how to draw information out of people.

  Before they realized what they were saying, they were answering his questions and filling in most of the blanks. The couple flatly refused to talk about the last several months though, and Jason decided it best not to push.

  The road circled around one of the many mountains until a small settlement became visible in the valley below. Even from up here, the hustle and bustle was obvious.

  "That," Jason said, pausing dramatically, "Is New Eden."

  The highway snaked its way down the mountains, switching back and forth as it worked its way down into the valley. As they approached the settlement, the outline of houses became clearer, revealing their unusual construction.

  "What are they made of?" Megan asked.

  "Old fashioned wattle and daub mostly," Jason answered. "A few are a little different. My place is cob."

  "Huh?"

  "Basically, it's mud slapped on a woven frame shaped like a house. Then we roof it with whatever we can manage. Cob is a little different. It's like building with adobe, only you skip making bricks and just build the wall straight up."

  "Do either of 'em work?"

  Jason shrugged. "About as well as anything else we've thought of. What I'd give for central air though."

  Megan's eyes widened momentarily before returning to normal, then nodded. Odd. Something there. Might need to poke around a little later and see if they'll talk more, he thought.

  The group wove their way through a maze of haphazardly placed homes, all of different shape, along the dusty road. As they went, Jason commented on the person who lived in that home, or how that was actually a shop where one could get whatever.

  They stopped in a large open square in the middle of town. People filtered in from every direction.

  Jason looked at one of the townspeople, a man in heavily worn jeans and an old ratty t-shirt. "Go get Marlene Miller."

  The man nodded and ran off at a full sprint.

  Several people came over to the wagon and reached out to help the family down, hunks of bread soon thrust into their hands.

  Jason looked around, scanning the crowd for one particular head. His head swiveled back and forth several times before the flash of red hair. He focused in, finally seeing one of the faces that mattered most in his life.

  He dismounted and immediately made his way through the crowd until the rest of the redhead was visible. "About time you got home," she said, her wide smile showing off her perfect teeth.

  He looked into her deep blue eyes. "Sorry, traffic was a bitch," Jason answered with a smile of his own as he took the redhead in an embrace.

  He loved Jess with all his heart. He still didn't know why she married him, but she did and he was thrilled. He also understood why a would-be warlord wanted her. Of course, it had turned out to be a big mistake for the warlord.

  "How bad?" she asked.

  "Bad. Katie Miller was there too, chained up in a corner."

  Jess closed her as she turned her head for a moment. "Did she…?"

  Jason nodded.

  "Oh, God," she whispered.

  "She didn't have much of a choice."

  Jess looked up and smiled. "I know. It's not that. John Baskin's been stirring up some crap."

  He rolled his eyes. "What the hell now?"

  "The usual."

  From behind, Jason heard a shrill voice screaming. "Be gone, foul demon!"

  Jason sighed as he turned and walked toward the voice.

  Standing a few feet from the wagon stood a tiny man with a weasel-like face, dressed in black clothes, all in varying degrees of fade. In his hand was a homemade wooden cross, the cross-piece slightly askew.

  "Back off, Baskin," Jason called out.

  "I'll do no such thing," the man in black barked. "You brought a demon into our midst. She has feasted on the flesh of her fellow man and must be cleansed by fire." With that, Baskin held up a gas can. Gas sloshed within.

  Jason's hand rested on the pistol strapped to his hip.

  Baskin's eyes widened. "You would shoot a man of God?"

  "Not any God I know." Jason's demeanor turned ice cold as his hand came to rest on the pistol's grip.

  "John Baskin!" called out a familiar voice. Jason instantly relaxed slightly but kept his hand ready on the pistol.

  "This don't concern you none," Baskin said, holding his hand out as if to keep the new arrival away.

  "You're using that 'man of God' stuff again, even though you ain't been ordained by anyone. That does concern me. I'm kind of responsible for everyone here's immortal soul, after all," the new man said.

  Jason looked sideways at Reverend Michael Hardesty. Hardesty was a good and Godly man and all that, but he was also practical. The man was a fighter. He had a body count behind him. The Good Lord may have said to turn the other cheek, but Hardesty knew enough to know that Christ had also instructed his followers to buy a sword if they didn't have one. Hardesty had used his sword more than once.

  "I am a man of God, more than you, who allow fornicators and demons in this town," Baskin said, his hands quivering with every word.

  "Thou shalt not kill. Remember that one?" Hardesty fired back.

  "I am purging this community, purifying it against the demonic forces that lead us to this low point in human history."

  Jason looked at Hardesty. "He always talk like this?"

  Hardesty shrugged. "Radiation does some weird things, after all, but nah, this is new. Thinks God spared him to force mankind to repent of our evil ways. He means to purge the evildoers and such."

  Jason turned his gaze back on Baskin. "I'll tell you what, John. You even think of 'purging' a single person in this here community, and I'll purge this here pistol of the 124 grain hollow points it's carrying. Understood?"

  "You won't do it. You don't have the guts," Baskin said, a smug grin crossing his face.

  Jason smiled coldly. "Try me." His fingers gently tightened around the CZ-75B's grip.

  "Knock it off, Baskin. This is your last warning," said Simon Redfeather, who served as town council chairman of New Eden, a
s he walked into the square. "Next time, you're out."

  "God's will-"

  "Oh shut the Hell up about God's will. You don't know it any better than you know how to build a nuclear reactor," Simon said, walking up to Jason. "About time you got back."

  Jason released his grip on the pistol and took an offered hand. "Tell me about it."

  "Done?"

  "Yeah. Left 'em hung up on the highway as a warning."

  Simon nodded, then turned his attention back to Baskin. "You're still here?"

  The weasel looking man turned and stormed off.

  "Looks like things haven't exactly been quiet while I've been gone," Jason said.

  "Baskin means well and all that, but he's crossing lines he doesn't even know he's crossing," Hardesty said.

  Simon nodded. "Yeah, and he really is an idiot to boot. It probably would have been a mercy to have let you pop him."

  Jason chuckled. "I don't think killing him will put him out of his misery. I suspect it'll keep going on afterward."

  "Who said anything about ending his suffering? I was talking about ours!" Simon said with a laugh.

  "Tempting in so many ways," Jason said, smiling. "So, besides Baskin and his crap, what did I miss?"

  "Other than that, not much," Simon said. "Pretty quiet otherwise."

  "Great. I'm going to end up being out of a job if I'm not careful," he said with a smile.

  Simon returned it. "Nah. We'll just make up more laws until you've got something to do."

  Jason rolled his eyes. "Great. In that case, let me quit now."

  Simon laughed. "What? You have a problem with law and order?"

  He shook his head. "Only when it gets stupid, and I'd just as soon we never get there."

  "Fair enough."

  Jess swung around in front of Jason, putting her feminine yet muscular arms around him. "You gonna stay home for a bit?"

  He smiled. "Wild horses couldn't pull me away."

  "Good," she said as she leaned in and up just a bit to kiss him. In that instant, the entire world seemed to vanish.