Anhur

by Wayne Marinovich

  ANHUR

  The Journey of Kyle Gibbs

  Book 4

  By Wayne Marinovich

  Copyright © Wayne Marinovich 2014

  First published 2014 in Great Britain by Umduzu Publishing

  This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

  Version 2014-01-15

  The right of Wayne Marinovich to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

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  Edited by Bubblecow

  Proofread by Julia Gibbs

  Cover design by Stuart Polson

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  Dystopian, dystopia, apocalyptic, action adventure, action thriller, action, boxset, military, action adventure series, post-apocalyptic, SAS, world travel, climate change, global warming

  Why not also get a FREE copy of Gibbs: The Early Years? Look back at the events which moulded and shaped Gibbs’s character, and made him into the man he is.

  CLICK HERE to claim your short story.

  For Anneli

  My wife, soul mate, best friend, creative muse and fellow traveller.

  In early Egyptian mythology, Anhur was originally a god of war who was worshipped in the Egyptian area of Abydos, and particularly in Thinis.

  Contents

  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

  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

  Other Books by Wayne Marinovich

  Notes from the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Author Bio

  Chapter 1

  South Eutaw Street, Baltimore, Maryland – 2043.

  ‘I saw what you did to that man, Bounty Hunter. How can you be sure the target he identified is still in the building? Tortured men will tell you anything to make the pain stop.’

  Elijah Jones tightened the grip on the Glock17, shifting a little as he knelt at the corner of Eutaw Street. The African American looked across to the boarded building that was once the Sports Legend Museum. The red brick of the long building stood shrouded in shadow against the blue sky background and the brown dust road that ran in front of it. White window frames now laced with brown and green mould hinted at decades of disuse. The three-tiered central tower stood high over the boarded-up main entrance and once had four clock faces on the main points of the compass. The timepieces had long since been scavenged and sold on. Sweat dripped from his bald head and down his temples. The brown cotton shirt below his military webbing was soaked through, and he wiped the beads of salt from his brow with his gun hand. The heat was bearable in Maryland. The man kneeling behind him was not.

  ‘I told you not to talk to me until we’re inside, Alonso,’ Elijah said.

  ‘That’s Captain Alonso, buddy.’

  Elijah edged backwards in a crouch, not taking his eye off the large, red building with its dirty white cornerstones and window cornices. Scanning upwards to the centre of the three clock towers he saw movement below one of the large radio antennae. A head popped through one of the arched windows, and the individual scanned the empty street that passed in front of the building.

  ‘A word, Elijah,’ Captain Alonso said.

  Elijah held his hand up.

  ‘Don’t tell me to wait. I need to speak to you now.’

  The Bounty Hunter puffed his cheeks and let out a sharp breath. Staring up at the bell tower, he saw the person had retreated. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. Shouts broke out to the left of the museum from a makeshift trading stall. Three Scavengers were arguing with a trader who had a shotgun trained on them. Their voices echoed against the derelict buildings that surrounded them. Elijah’s informant had mentioned the side street down the left side of the museum was used as a makeshift market for those brave enough to venture out to trade. The man holding the shortened shotgun stood behind a small table that was piled up with kitchen goods. The trader stood in defiance as the middle figure of the three men who were spread out in front of him stepped forward, shaking his finger at the trader. Elijah looked up at the clock tower again.

  The standoff would attract the attention of his bounty, and he would be spooked into going underground again. The chase would start all over again, and his paymaster wouldn’t be happy at his failure. They were desperate to catch this man, so Elijah had time. Patience was his golden rule.

  ‘Elijah. Now, please.’

  Turning around, he looked back at the captain from the New American Government Army. The NAG acronym was used out in the Floodzones and Scavenged lands for good reason. Elijah stood up and walked past ten of his men who were all crouched together along the wall, thug recruits every one of them. A mixed-race group of varying ages, who would do anything for a quick NAG voucher. Scavenged jackets, helmets and body armour covered their dirty shirts and brown and black long pants. Elijah’s gaze caught the last man’s and he looked down at the man’s shirt. Several gang patches had been sewn onto the sleeve, trophies from corpses, no doubt. Living gang members didn’t surrender their gang colours.

  He looked ahead to the athletic figure of the captain who’d walked away from the scene. A swaggering walk as his shoulders swung his right arm around a holstered sidearm.

  Elijah holstered his Glock and turned to his right, walking around the back of the concrete building. Adjacent to the building was an overgrown courtyard that was surrounded by a square of old office blocks. Tall clumps of grass had taken control where workers had once spent their lunch breaks. Now a group of feral dogs were lying in the shade of the grass, licking themselves and resting after a night of scouring for food. Alonso was waiting for him, his foot tapping ever so slightly. The man was of Hispanic ancestry and had taken off his brown helmet to run his hand through the short black hair. Dark brown eyes watched the Bounty Hunter approach.

  ‘Can you address me as captain in front of those thugs of yours? At least until we enter the building. As per your agreement with Chancellor Byrdich, I’m still in charge, and they need to respect that.’

  ‘Of course… Captain,�
� Elijah said. ‘They just don’t like you NAG boys very much.’

  The soldier folded his arms and glared at him. As he shifted in his stance, his gaze was drawn to their left where two feral dogs were sniffing around a corpse. One grabbed at the leg of the Scavenger and started pulling. The drunk man reared up and screamed at the dogs, which beat a hasty retreat, tails curled beneath them.

  ‘I hate this damn place,’ Captain Alonso said.

  ‘Go back to cushy Manhattan then. I don’t need you.’

  ‘You don’t know with any certainty if your target is even in the building. The information could be false, and all you’ve done is led us here on a dying man’s confession.’

  ‘Information is information, and I have three leads pointing us to Baltimore. As for that Scavenger, we all die in the end. It was his time.’

  ‘Jesus, you’re bloody evil.’

  ‘I don’t care what you think of me. My reputation speaks for itself, and I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Bullshit. We can get the Hooded Man on our own.’

  ‘Need I remind you how many times the NAG has tried and failed to get him? You have let him get away three times this year alone. I’m here to clean up all your mess. The target may not be in that building. The prisoner said he’d seen him there weeks ago. Leads come and go, and this is a lead that needs looking into. He may or may not be in there. We move on regardless.’

  Captain Alonso shook his head and placed his helmet back on, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he stared up at Elijah. ‘I’ll give the command to go in. Is that clear?’

  Elijah felt the bile rising in his throat. Grabbing the captain by his shirtfront, he pushed him against the wall. ‘I’ve chased men like this for most of my life, and I’m getting close to my bounty. I can smell it. We go when I am ready.’

  ‘Take your hands off me.’

  ‘I have the authorisation from Byrdich to go in there with my men when I see fit. Stay out of my way, and you won’t get hurt,’ Elijah said, letting go of the man. ‘I’ll get this man in my own time.’

  Captain Alonso blinked a few times. ‘I can see why you got a dishonourable discharge.’

  Elijah stared at him then twisted his head to the side to click his neck, releasing the tension as the adrenaline pumped through him.

  ‘You’re no better than these Scavengers, Bounty Hunter. I’ll be making a full report back to NAG operations,’ Captain Alonso said.

  Elijah lifted his finger and pressed it to the captain’s chest, forcing him against the wall. ‘You do what you like but, stay out of my way, little boy,’ he said.

  He turned and walked away, his fist clenched tight to dig his nails into his palms. Reaching for his Glock, he walked up behind the ten men who were still crouching against the wall on the pavement.

  ‘Stand up, you three,’ he said, addressing the closest men. ‘Go around the back of the building and surround that noisy street vendor. Move all those Scavengers along, but don’t fire off any shots. As soon as they’re gone, take up positions at the back of the museum and wait until you hear from me.’

  The three men blinked and looked at one another, the man nearest to Elijah speaking first. He had long black hair that stuck out below a khaki helmet, and gaps between his teeth, allowing the stench of rotting teeth and gums to waft towards Elijah. ‘Is it really him that we’re going to try and take down? We heard Alonso mention the Hooded Man earlier.’

  Elijah reached forward and grabbed the man by the front of his brown combat webbing.

  ‘Focus on what I tell you to do, not that NAG idiot,’ Elijah said. ‘It doesn’t matter if it is him holed up in that building or not. We’re here to do a job.’

  ‘Boss, do you know how many gang members he’s killed? There aren’t enough of us here. Can’t Alonso get more men?’ Elijah pushed the man backwards, who then grabbed on to his friend next to him as he fell on his backside.

  ‘Go and chase those Scavengers off, or I’ll shoot you myself. Are you a coward who’s afraid of a few folks who are down on their luck?’ The man stared at him, blinking rapidly. ‘Do you want to go back to scratching a living in the muck and grime, fighting with wealthy Floodlanders for handouts? I’m paying you to move those people along then go into that building with me. Are you on board with that, or do I end your life here in front of your friends?’

  ‘We’ll move them on, sir.’

  ‘I thought you might,’ Elijah said. ‘And remember that the Hooded Man probably has a family and bleeds when shot. He’s not a god, so don’t give him your fear unless he is standing over your dying body. You understand me?’

  The closest man nodded.

  • • •

  The sounds of Mozart’s piano concerto No. 23 piped from a digital player on a small table to the left of a large, dark-brown desk. Retired engineering professor Paul Hoskins sat curled over a large black notebook as he scribbled passages from a burnt and blackened book that was placed on a stand in front of him. His assistant shuffled up next to him.

  ‘You’ll damage your eyesight if you keep squinting like that,’ the younger man said, standing beside him.

  Paul looked up at the good-looking young man and smiled. A grin appeared on the young man’s face, laugh lines stretching at the corners of his brown eyes. The professor reached up and combed back the blond fop of a fringe with his arthritic hand. Paul took the thin-rimmed spectacles from his nose and looked at the clear tape that held the lenses together. ‘Jonathan, you worry too much. I’ll try the market again next week to see if they have a better pair.’

  ‘You say that all the time, yet you never venture out,’ Jonathan said, placing his hand on the shoulder of the professor’s tweed jacket. ‘You do know that it’s open every day now? Not just once a week.’

  ‘I know that. I’m not daft. I have so much to do, that’s all. We have two rooms full of rescued books and digital recordings to transcribe. Our new digital library will not build itself,’ Paul said, looking into the young man’s brown eyes.

  ‘Yes, my love. I know it’s important to you.’

  ‘I’m not doing this for me, Jonathan. This is a chronicle of all that’s happened to the planet since the Kharon virus. There are no universities or libraries around to do this anymore. Think of all the history we’ve lost in the new world.’

  Jonathan smiled at him as the concerto ended. The DJ started talking again. ‘Must you listen to Radio Cognito? You know what’ll happen if you get caught. It’s prohibited, and I don’t want us to go to jail. Think of all those slimy Scavengers.’

  ‘I know it’s banned. That’s exactly why I need to keep taking notes about what they discuss. We’re all making new history here. It’s a valuable mouthpiece for all the good and bad that’s happening out there.’

  ‘It’s been outlawed by the NAG, and I’m sure they have a good reason to do so.’

  ‘Rubbish. They just want to control the narrative. You’re too young to remember the press censorship at the beginning of the century. Had more people listened to this type of stations our species may not have had to suffer as much as we have.’

  Jonathan rolled his eyes and walked over to a small percolator to get the jug of coffee out. He topped up the mug in front of Paul. ‘You’d better enjoy this as we’ll have to trade in the coffee machine for your new glasses.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. We’ll find something else to trade. We have boxes of freeze-dried coffee beans. They’re worth a fortune out there to the wealthy Floodlanders.’

  ‘And we can make other more valuable trades for with them.’

  ‘Forget it. It’s not up for discussion. Wait. Turn up the volume.’

  Jonathan stabbed at the radio, increasing the volume. The volume of the voice raised to fill the room.

  ‘Welcome back, folks. As promised, we have a special guest with us today on Radio Cognito. We won’t use her real name, and for the purpose of the interview will call her Sharon. Welcome, Sharon.’

  ‘Hello, Mike and Andy. T
hanks for having me on the show.’ Sharon’s voice was soft with a West Coast lilt.

  ‘You reached out to us a few weeks ago via email to shed more light on the number one hero of the moment. A man who is being sought by NAG, warlords and gang lords alike. You have a story to tell us about the Hooded Man.’

  ‘I do, and it’s also a great chance to get on the air and tell the Cognito listeners.’

  ‘And don’t forget our friendly NAG intelligence wing who are our biggest fans.’

  Sharon laughed. ‘Of course. All listeners need to hear about the man and his great work.’

  ‘Some say he’s just a thief who looks after himself first then occasionally hands out what he doesn’t want.’

  ‘That’s not true, Mike.’

  ‘Did he really help you out at the hamlet you were staying at?’

  ‘More than that. He risked his life and went out of his way to obtain valuable antibiotics that we needed for our sick and wounded.’

  ‘Where did he get the drugs from?’

  ‘He and his team stole them from a NAG stronghold.’

  Jonathan turned the radio off.

  ‘I was bloody listening to that,’ Paul said, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘I know, and that’s the problem. You’re going to get us locked up if you continue to support this station.’

  ‘Turn it back on you, silly boy. Stop worrying so much. I’ve got so much of our new history from these two blokes. Why would I stop now?’

  ‘You’ve heard what the NAG said in the market square. There’s a reward for the Hooded Man. Maybe we should catch him and turn him in.’

  ‘Watch your tongue, boy, or I’ll throw you out on your arse.’

  Jonathan’s eyes widened, and his hand flew up to his mouth.

  ‘What you’re witnessing is a modern-day Robin Hood. A man who flaunts his success in the face of the law all the while helping the poor. We need more people like that out there in the Floodzone.’

  ‘Who is Robin Hood?’

  ‘Bleeding heck, we have a lot of work to do on your education. Now turn the radio back on.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. I won’t risk what you and I have built here to follow a mythical man and his followers. You have said that we need to rebuild the human race after the sea-level rise and the Kharon virus. The NAG wants to do that as much as you do.’