Bloody Eden (Soldiers of New Eden Book 2) Read online

  Simon clearing his throat, however, brought him right back to the here and now. "Sorry to interrupt, but there's still some work to be done."

  Jason groaned as Jess glared at the other man. "You're interrupting my reunion because of work?"

  Simon held both hands in front of him in mock surrender. "Just for a moment. After all, your husband did bring in some new people too."

  "Make it fast. I've got plans for him tonight," she said with a mischievous grin and let her husband go.

  He looked at his wife and smiled. "I'll make it quick."

  She smiled back. "You'd better be talking about work and not later."

  Chapter 2

  Jason quickly recounted the Hernandez family's story, including the missing months. Simon agreed that it was suspicious, but without more to go on, there wasn't anything to worry about. A lot of people had things they didn't want to talk about. Just because it had been recent, rather than almost a decade ago, didn't mean it was something to be concerned about.

  His home came into view as he rounded the bend in the rough, dusty road. While most of the houses in New Eden resembled the squares and rectangles people had lived in before the war, the Calvin homestead was a little different. Mounds resembling the bastard offspring of domes and cones overlapped one another, forming an unusual jumble that looked like something Jason remember from a science fiction movie. The top half was an odd mix of brush that made the house almost invisible from the tree line. Almost.

  Opening the door, Jason took in the familiar sight. The main living space was round, like all of the rooms. The stark white lime-washed walls contrasted with the deep wood of what little furniture adorned the room. A large, rough wooden table sat toward one side of the room, close to the primitive kitchen he and Jess built shortly after the house had been completed. A small rounded fireplace sat on the opposite side, the fire inside shooting light that ricocheted off the bright walls.

  Jess sat on the worn leather couch the couple had scavenged from an abandoned home outside of Chattanooga a few years earlier, along with the leather recliner sitting at a right angle to it. Two battered end tables flanked the sofa. "All done?" she asked.

  He nodded. "Yeah, just had to fill him in on the Hernandez family."

  "They all good?"

  He shrugged. "The committee will figure that out. At worst, they're a few extra hands for the fields. Who knows though."

  "Be good to get some more skilled craftsmen."

  He nodded as he made his way toward the recliner. "They're getting scarce."

  "What do you expect. People were getting scarce for a while there."

  "True. I'm just glad the expectations were wrong." Jason untied the leather thong holding his holster against his leg and unbuckled his gun belt, sitting it on the table next to him. He popped the foot part out and leaned back, stretching his arms out.

  "Eight years of a nuke winter? I'd have rather they’d been more wrong." She shifted slightly toward her husband, curling her feet beneath her.

  "Yeah, but since they thought we'd be looking at decades?"

  "We think. No one knows how many weapons there were."

  He nodded. "Maybe, but we know there were two in Georgia alone. I find it hard to believe it was that limited, you know?"

  It was her turn to nod in agreement. "Wish we knew what else happened."

  "Milton's counted up about twenty weapons hitting on our side."

  "And how many did we launch?"

  He shook his head. "No clue. He hasn't found anyone who watched any of the launches."

  "He still looking?"

  Jason shrugged. "With Milton? Who knows." He leaned up, the recliners back following his motion. "It's kind of hard to tell what Milton's going to care about from day to day, you know?"

  "Yeah, so I've gathered. Still haven't met the man myself."

  "Hector wishes he could say the same," Jason said with a smile.

  The rough wooden door swung open. Jason and Jess looked up to see their son enter the room. He was covered in head to toe with dirt, a usual thing for someone working in the fields.

  "Hey, kiddo," Jason said.

  Ricky looked at his father, a slight smile curling his lips. "Heard you'd made it back. Get 'em?"

  Jason nodded. "Yep."

  "Good. Maybe I can go out with you next time?"

  "Not happening," Jess said.

  "Sorry, kiddo. Your Mom has spoken."

  Ricky groaned. "I'm seventeen now. I'm not some kid, you know."

  Jason laughed, remembering telling his father the same thing at that age. Of course, he had to concede that Ricky had come of age in a much different world than he had. Ricky saw more dead bodies in the last decade than most morticians had seen in their entire pre-war careers. Still, to Jess, he was just a kid.

  "What?" Ricky said defiantly.

  "Just thinking about something else. I told my father the same thing is all," Jason said with a smile.

  "Yeah, but that was different," he said, his voice inching louder.

  "Maybe, but you're still living under this roof, and the rule in this town is eighteen or with parents permission, so you're stuck with it. Sorry."

  Ricky rolled his eyes and stormed off to his room through a door to the left.

  "Now that we've aggravated one of our kids, where's Allison?"

  "Still at school. She should be back soon," Jess replied.

  "You're kidding, right? It's almost supper time."

  "She's learning more than reading and writing. It takes a bit longer, especially since they're trying to do so much of the traditional stuff too."

  "Damn. Are they trying to graduate them at twelve?"

  "Yeah, I get it. You're not a big fan of education in this day and age."

  Jason slammed the footrest back into the recliner and leaned forward. "It's not that. I just don't think they're really doing right by the kids, that's all. They live in a different world, but they're leaving out some stuff they're going to need."

  "No, they were leaving it out."

  Jason was taken aback. "Were?"

  She nodded. "Yep. I started teaching unarmed combat last week. Billy's agreed to teach firearm safety to the younger kids like Allison and then combat rifle and pistol shooting to the older kids in a couple of weeks." After her run-in with a warlord a decade ago, Jess had worked hard not to be a victim again. She learned how to fight from a former MMA champ that got stuck in the deep South after the war, far away from her home in California. Jason had taught her weapons. Jessica Calvin wasn't going to be a victim easily, that was for sure.

  "What the hell happened?"

  She shook her head. "Nothing really. I think some of what you said finally sunk in. With you not around though, they could make the decision without looking like they caved in to the sheriff."

  He cocked his head to the side. "It's not like that. I was talking as a parent and you know it."

  "Of course I do. They didn't. You've got to remember the lens they see you through. The sheriff. The hero. All that."

  Jason groaned. "Don't start that hero shit again, alright? I just can't deal with that right now."

  "You don't have to deal with it. You've just got to know that it's what people think when they see you."

  "I wasn't a hero. I was some kind of sociopath or something. That's not something to hold up and admire."

  "And you're all better now?"

  "Yes."

  She smirked. "So who pulled the trigger on the Jones brothers?"

  "That's different."

  Her eyebrows rose as she said, "Oh? Do tell."

  "They were cannibals. I'm sorry, but that makes them inhuman animals that need to be put down," he said defensively.

  "They were people, Jason. Evil people, sure, but people. You killed them, and you don't feel any regret, do you?"

  Jason leaned back in the chair, but said nothing. She was right, but he desperately wanted her not to be.

  "And what about Baskin?" she asked<
br />
  "What about him?"

  "You were ready to blow him away, weren't you?"

  He shrugged. "If he'd have been willing to do what he said he was, then yeah, I guess I would have."

  Jess put her feet flat on the floor and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her arms tight against her body. "Babe, I love you, but you're lying to yourself if you keep trying to think you're the kind of guy you were before the war."

  "I know I'm not. But I damn sure don't want to be that kind of guy I was right after it either."

  "Because you're trying to live by standards that aren't really applicable anymore."

  Jason sighed. "So not being a rabid animal isn't applicable?"

  "It's not that," she said, standing and walking toward the kitchen space. "Damn it, Jason. I swear, sometimes it's like you're trying not to understand what I'm saying."

  "You know that's not true," he said as he stood and followed her. "It's just…well, like it or not, I'm a product of that old world. It's against that world that I should be judged, not this one."

  She turned to look at him. "Wrong. You spent years in that old world shooting matches, taking classes, all that stuff that got you ready for this world, not that one. You were more ready than most for what happened and you know it."

  "So what do you want?"

  "Just admit you're good at what you do. You're the kind of guy we need in this world. You're the kind of guy that can keep your family safe."

  "And rescue damsels in distress from warlords?" he asked with a smile.

  She smiled back. "Something like that," she said as she put her arms around him.

  The door burst open, letting in a three and a half foot tall ball of fury. "DADDY!" she screamed.

  Jess released her grip an instant before Jason dropped to his knees. "Come here, baby girl!"

  Allison sprinted across the room, throwing herself into her father's arms. "Did you get the bad guys?"

  He nodded. "We did, baby girl. We did."

  "Good. Did Mommy tell you that she's going to teach us how to punch people?"

  Jason smiled. "Yes she did. You know when to punch people and when not to, right?"

  Allison nodded. "Mommy said we can punch people who are trying to hurt us or someone else, but that's it."

  "Good girl. So…did you miss me?"

  She smiled broadly and nodded.

  "Good. How about you go get cleaned up for supper and I'll help Mommy get it finished up?"

  She nodded again and ran off toward her room.

  ** ** **

  Jason milled around the market. Even this early in the season, fresh vegetables filled the stalls as barkers called out their wares, dozens of them blending into a chaotic cacophony that, when mixed with the smells of the vegetables, created a memorable impression that had burned itself into his memory.

  "Mornin' Sheriff," an old lady at one of the stalls said. Jason tried to remember her name, but he wasn't completely sure he'd ever heard it before. New Eden grew more each week as outlying homesteads moved toward the safety of the town.

  "Morning," he said with a smile.

  He opened his mouth to ask about the green beans the woman had, but a familiar voice calling stopped him short. "Jason," he voice said.

  Jason turned to see a mountain of a man, with skin like ebony, walking toward him. "What?" Jason barked.

  "Don't even think about talking to me like that, you puny piece of shit."

  Jason's hand drifted toward his CZ-75B. "You sure you want to go down that road?"

  The black man smiled. "Depends. Your mama's bed down that way?"

  Jason smiled back. "No, but my Dad's is, and I bet that's more your speed."

  The big man laughed. "About time you got your scrawny ass back here."

  Joining him, Jason said, "Yeah, well, it took longer than I meant."

  "At least you got the assholes."

  "Yeah, but you know? Marshal Dillon didn't have to deal with people eating other people in Dodge City."

  The other man shrugged. "Maybe it just didn't make it past the TV censors?"

  Jason considered it for a moment, then shuddered. "Thanks, Billy. I didn't really need to think about that."

  Billy chuckled. "You left it open, boss."

  "All quiet while I was gone?"

  "For the most part. Baskin started making some rumblings, but nothing we couldn't handle."

  Jason nodded. "Man's got a right to make some rumblings, so long as it stays there."

  "You comin' by the office?"

  He considered it for a moment. In truth, he hadn't. He was tired from three weeks in the saddle. On the other hand, it was kind of his job.

  "Do I gotta?" Jason asked, a put on whiny tone coloring his words.

  "Hey, I'm just the deputy," Billy said as he crossed his arms.

  "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

  "Good. Sully needs to talk to you about something."

  Jason groaned. "Why do I doubt that it's about him finally qualifying with a handgun?"

  "Probably because he still can't."

  "Figures."

  Billy laughed. "You're not going to turn him into a combat accountant, no matter how much you try."

  "Great. Now I wish to hell I had a Larry Correia book to help the poor boy see the error of his ways," Jason said.

  "You just want a new book to read."

  "Fair enough."

  The two men made their way down the dusty road, dandelions jutting up here and there, until they reached the New Eden jail. The two story building was one of the few brick buildings in town, built entirely of cinderblock then covered in stucco. The bottom floor served as an office for Jason and his people, while the upstairs was the actual jail. Iron bars covered all of the windows and were tightly bolted to the wall. For a post war town, it was an imposing structure.

  Jason entered the main office. Four desks were placed facing each other in a square formation. The walls were relatively unadorned with the exception of a large map of the area. It had belonged to the forestry service before the war, so it lacked any of the newer settlements on it. Those had been marked on it with a black marker someone had scavenged.

  Standing at one of the desks was Edward James Sullivan. To most everyone who knew him, he was just Sully. While most people in this day and age were thin, Sully was just scrawny. From what Jason could tell, the other man had never weighed more than he did right now unlike most folks these days. He was, however, very industrious in his field and had eagerly volunteered to maintain the inventories for the town. It was as close as he could get to actual accounting these days.

  "How are you, sir?" Sully asked.

  Jason nodded. "Fine. What did you need?"

  "Yes, well…um…we've got a slight problem in the ammunition category, sir."

  Jason raised an eyebrow. "What kind of problem?"

  "It's 5.56, sir. We're down to about three thousand rounds of it."

  He winced as he heard the number. "How much .308?"

  "Not enough. We're down to about ten thousand of it."

  Jason muttered under his breath. "Is there anything we're flush with?"

  Sully shook his head. "We're better with 7.62x39 -about thirty thousand rounds- but if anything goes wrong, that might not be enough."

  "That's wound down over the last six months. You know that," Billy volunteered, having entered behind Jason without a sound. Jason still wasn't sure how anyone that big could move so quietly.

  "Any traders coming through?" Jason asked.

  Sully shook his head. "Not with ammo. It's getting scarce. What we've got here, well, that might be all that's left in the whole valley. Either that, or people are holding on to it like Mama's pearls."

  Jason considered for a moment. "Those are all military calibers, and I get that, but what about some of the civilian rounds?"

  "Well, we've got plenty of .38 and .357. A good bit of 30-30, and some .44. That's about it," Sully said.

  Jason nod
ded. "Keep checking. Someone's bound to have something. Grab whatever you can. We might be able to trade it later, alright?"

  Sully nodded.

  Noise erupted from outside the jail. All three men turned their head toward the door, still open to allow the occasional breeze to blow through the hot building. "What the hell?" Jason asked as he stepped out into the burning sun.

  The jail was located on the central square. People were everywhere along the open green, clogging every road. Dark figures began to appear over the heads of the lollygaggers. People parted ways, like the Red Sea before Moses, allowing a column of horse mounted armed men step into the square.

  He scanned the faces, trying to see if any were familiar. Each one was a stranger to him. Either they're not local, or I really need to spend more time at home.

  In the lead was a large man, probably a foot taller than Jason, with a thick, dark beard and pale skin. He appeared to be wearing some kind of uniform, though it looked alien to Jason. "I'm looking for whoever is in charge in this settlement?" the man asked in a deep baritone.

  "I guess I am," answered Simon, stepping out of the crowd. "Can I help you?"

  "Yes, sir," the man said, then dismounted. "My name is Terry Conklin. My men and I have been trailing some escaped prisoners. We've got reason to believe they may have come through here. We'd appreciate any help you can give us."

  Simon nodded. "Absolutely. Unfortunately, a lot of people come through here. I'm assuming you've got a description of them?"

  Conklin nodded. "We do. Family. Man, his wife, and their kid. Hispanic. Man's named Mark Hernandez. His wife's name is Megan, their kid is Alexander."

  Jason approached. "What did they do?"

  The stranger turned to face him. "I'm sorry, friend. You are?"

  Simon said, "That's Jason Calvin. He's the sheriff here."

  Conklin smiled and offered his hand. "Ah, well then. Good to meet you."

  Jason shook his hand. When they released their grips, Conklin continued, "They stole food. I'm sure you folks know how bad a crime that can be in these troubled times. It's not as bad now as it used to be, true, but it could still cost someone else their life."

  "The kid's wanted too?" Jason asked.

  Conklin nodded. "I'm afraid so. All three of them were caught with the food on their person. Even admitted it in court."