by J. B. Havens
Ashes & Madness
by J.B. Havens
Ashes & Madness
Copyright (c) 2016 J.B. Havens
All Rights Reserved.
Ashes & Madness is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Connie Shingleton Miconi
Front Cover Designed by Samantha A. Cole
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Table of Contents
Prologue:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
About the Author
Other Books by J.B. Havens
Connect With Me!
Prologue:
The newscasters couldn’t contain their horror as they reported on the events of the day and previous evening. A coordinated, well-planned attack on a police stations all across the country. No longer called protestors, these home-grown terrorists had organized themselves and carried out attacks on police stations all across the country within hours of each other. Houston, Chicago, Detroit, the list continued on. Over one hundred and sixty police officers were murdered over the course of one night.
The political climate of the United States had been deteriorating over the course of the year. Officer involved shootings were on the rise, and while most were justified, the few that weren’t took center stage. The media was in a frenzy, sensing blood in the water like sharks they fed on the discontent; amping it up until there was no way out.
In response to the police murders, the President proposed martial law to Congress. Disbanding the police force and placing the citizens of the United States under military rule. This being an election year, many saw this as a ploy for him to stay in office because under martial law the government is shut down and no elections can be held.
This is a story of one possible reality…
Chapter 1
Friday, September 15th, 2016: 6 a.m. Williamsport, Pennsylvania
The droning of the talking heads on the news woke me sharply. Slapping the nightstand I finally managed to not only shut off the alarm clock, but knock it onto the floor with a satisfying clatter. Groaning, I swung my hot-pink painted toes over the side of the bed, dreading yet another day at work.
When I graduated college with a bachelors in library science, the last thing I thought I’d be doing was overseeing a bunch of teenagers at my alma mater. I left high school only to go back. Hooray for me!
Shuffling into my bathroom, I flipped on the shower and waited for the ancient pipes to start working. Most adults loved Fridays, it was the last day of the work week and freedom was upon them. For me, Fridays sucked ass. Hundreds of hormonal teenagers—also eager for the weekend— came through the library doors throughout the day. Joy of joys. I wonder how many couples I’d bust making out in the stacks today.
After showering and dressing, I trudged into the kitchen to start my coffee and force myself to eat some breakfast. Prepping the coffee, a green light blinking on my phone caught my eye. Swiping the screen as the sweet aroma of Arabica filled the kitchen, the icon for a voice mail grabbed my attention. I put it on speaker and grabbed my favorite coffee mug, it read ‘Give me Coffee or I give you Death’.
“Hello Ms. Everett, this is Bert Kramer. School is closed until further notice. The dumbass president enacted martial law, it took effect last night. The wife and I are getting out of the city before the guard shows up. You should do the same.”
“End of message. Check skipped messages.”
Ending the call, my hand shook in response to the principal’s message. We’d all suspected this would happen, but now that it has; I was frozen. My thoughts were rioting in my head: should I run? Should I stay? They’re here to keep us safe right? Just until things get settled again and they take care of the terrorists targeting police officers. Right?
No, wrong. The country was about to fall into chaos and panic. My father’s face appeared in my mind, his stern voice pushing me into action. His military training that he’d passed to me firing through my brain as adrenaline hit my blood stream.
“Go, Molly! Now, before they get here!” The National Guard would roll down my streets at any moment. There would be a curfew, enforced at the end of their rifles. The terrorists that spurred this would be going head-to-head with the Army now that the police have been disbanded. It wouldn’t be safe here.
I tried to set my coffee down on the counter, but missed. It slipped off the tiled edge and smashed onto the floor. Hot liquid and shards of ceramic surrounded my feet. I stepped quickly out of the way and narrowly missed being burned.
“Fuck… I gotta go…” I always talked to myself when I was stressed out. Who cared? There was no one to hear me.
Running to my closet, I grabbed the back pack I used for hiking and started to fill it. Lightweight and durable it was perfect. Shirts and tons of extra socks went in, along with anything else I could think of. I didn’t have a gun, but I did have a decent knife. My father’s KA-BAR from when he was in the Marines and a multi-tool.
I changed again, this time into jeans and a tank top, tying a long sleeved shirt around my waist. I pulled on hiking boots and hurried back to the kitchen to grab food and water. I didn’t have much that was portable. Protein bars went in, along with a jar of peanut butter, and a few small cans of fruit. It was only enough to last me a couple days, I’d need to find more. I couldn’t carry much more than this and I didn’t want to rely on my Bronco. The guard would shut down all the highways.
My father had a hunting cabin out in the woods, but it was nearly thirty miles from here. I had to get there and settle in. Staying in town would be suicide. And I wasn’t ready for dying.
Slamming the front door shut behind me and making sure it was locked—not that it would stop soldiers from breaking in and using it as their quarters—I hurried to my Bronco. Throwing in my pack, I started her up with a rumble. All around me, my neighbors were doing the same thing. Filling their vehicles with supplies and trying to get out of the city before the roads were shut down. In the past year, most average American’s had lost all faith in the government. Our President was setting himself up as a dictator with the military as his hammer. And everyone was a nail.
Not waiting around, I drove out of the city in the early hours of dawn. I was tense and anxious, waiting for a road block or shouts for me to halt. They weren’t here yet, they’d focus on major cities first. Our city was large enough to have a gang and drug problem, but not so large as to be a major strategic point for the guard.
The line at the gas station was out into the road, I maneuvered around it carefully and headed over the bridge. They’d close those first. The one thing about Williamsport is that the main roads in and out all had bridges. Control them and you control the city.
Turning left directly off the bridge, I saw a convoy of military vehicles headed my way, the lead Humvee pulled ahead, blocking the bridge behind me and stopping traffic. Stomping on the gas, I took a side road at an intersection with a screech of tires. I was convinced that I would be fired upon, hot lead and shrapnel ripping my truck apart. Glancing again in my rearview mirror, I was surprised I wasn’t being followed. I had expected pursuit, but there was none. Odd.
Staying on back stree
ts I turned onto Sulfur Spring Road which twisted up the mountain, heading toward the farmland off Route 44. Watching the mirrors as often as I did the road in front of me. There were no other vehicles around me. The only sound was the buzz of the tires on the pavement. It was as if the world had gone silent. The sun had risen and was shining brightly behind me as I climbed higher up the mountain. Getting out of the city was almost too easy…
CRASH! The front end of the Bronco smashed into something, glass shattered and metal screamed all around me and the sharp copper taste of blood filled my mouth as my face hit the wheel. The seatbelt pulled me backward hard, the pressure cracking a rib and knocking the breath from my lungs.
I blinked—something hot was running into my eyes. There was a terrible keening outside and I didn’t know where it was coming from. Did I hit someone? My head was pounding and fuzzy, my eyes wanting to close. I fought to keep them open, desperate to stay conscious.
I turned my head, looking down at my hand as I fumbled for the latch to the door. My fingers wouldn’t work, they were slipping on the plastic handle. I finally pulled it and the door fell open with a screech of protesting metal. Moving my legs, I tried to get out but was unable to.
What?
The seatbelt was still holding me tight. It took all the concentration I had left to press the red button and slip it off. I fell out of the Bronco, hitting the hot asphalt on my hands and knees, jarring my battered body. I spit blood to the side, the movement making my head swim. My vision was dark and spotty with pain. I fell over sideways, facing the crushed front end of the Bronco.
There was blood and… hair? Brown hair all over the front fender and the little I could see of the grill. The effort it took to move my pounding head so I could see was extreme. The hooves of the deer were still twitching as it made an effort to stand. Even though its chest was crushed. Blood was coming out of its nose and mouth in bubbles that burst with each struggling breath it took.
Painfully rolling to my back, I closed my eyes and tried to get my head to stop spinning. The weight of my eyelids was noticeable and only made it worse, my stomach recoiled and I got to my side just in time to vomit painfully.
“Fuck…” I choked and gasped as I dry heaved onto the road. My skull was splitting open, clutching my head in my hands I was shocked when I didn’t feel bone and brain under my fingertips. Giving up the fight, I curled into a ball, unable to move anymore—blackness swallowed me and my pain.
Chapter 2
I was floating, weightless, and warm. Too warm.
What the hell?
I forced my eyes open, only to be blinded by sunlight. Groaning at the spike of pain being driven through my eyes by the sun, I tried to roll on my side but was stopped short. Hot metal met my palms, I could feel the burn of it even through my jeans. Shading my eyes, I opened them again and found that inches from my nose was the wheel well of a truck bed. I wasn’t floating, I was in the back of a moving truck.
“Where?” Even talking made my head throb, each beat of my heart agonizing.
“Relax.” A gruff voice answered from above me.
I craned my neck, my gut protesting the movement. All I could see was a big pair of brown boots next to my head. He must be sitting on the edge of the truck bed.
“Stop moving. If you puke on me boots I’m gonna be pissed. Ya won’t like that one bit, missy, no, not one bit.” A hacking cough and the sound of him spitting was disgusting.
Fear, more than the heat had sweat running down my temples and neck. I didn’t know who picked me up or what their intentions were. Injured and unable to move much without extreme pain, I was incredibly vulnerable.
“Who are you and where the fuck am I?” I peeked a quick glance at the sun, it was directly overhead. I’d been out for hours. I had no idea how long I lay there unconscious before these cock-sticks picked me up. Maybe I’d be lucky and they were headed in the same direction I had been.
“Shut yer pretty mouth.” A barked order came from above.
“How about you go fuck yourself?” I had more anger then sense.
“Well now, Bubba, looks like ya got a feisty one. I’ll give ya Rachel if ya let me have this one first.” A young, greasy pimple-covered face appeared in front of mine. He had sharp cheekbones, cracked lips, and teeth the color of motor oil. His breath was strong enough to make my stomach roll again at the stench coming from his diseased mouth. His hand reached out, going for my breast.
“Put your hands on me, you hillbilly fuck wad and I’ll shove it so far up your ass you’ll be my puppet.” I growled, doing my best to ignore the smell coming off him. He stank like he’d just crawled out of a grave.
“Woo-ee!” He squealed in excitement. “You gotta let me have her now, Bubba!”
A huge dark maw of a hand shoved the pimple-faced kid back. “You get on over there. She ain’t fer you.”
“That ain’t fair, Bubba! You heard how she done talked to me!”
I tried to be invisible. I had to wait and bide my time. We would stop eventually and if an opportunity didn’t present itself, I would make one. Finding my pack was essential. I wouldn’t survive in the woods for long without it. These dirty hillbilly fucks had no idea who they were fucking with.
“I don’t care about that. She’s mine. Shut yer filthy mouth, Ace, before I shut it for you.” Bubba shoved Ace back, knocking him on his ass on the other side of the truck.
“Bradly will make ya share.” Ace whined like a kid who had their favorite toy stolen.
“You let me deal with Braddy-boy. Stay the fuck over there before you accidentally fall out the truck.”
Ace huffed and grumbled under his breath, but did as he was told. He’d be easy enough to deal with, Bubba was going to be the problem. Not many problems that six-inches of steel wouldn’t solve. I just needed to get my damn pack.
We drove in silence for a while, the sun was steadily moving across the sky. Sweat was making my clothes stick uncomfortably to every part of my body. Trails of it slid down my back into the waistband of my jeans. As soon as I got well away from these bastards, I was stripping down and jumping in a creek or something.
The truck slowed and made a right turn. I tensed, wanting to be ready to fight when they pulled me out. They hadn’t bothered to tie me up, probably figuring that my injury would keep me from striking out. Idiots.
Stones pinged against the undercarriage as the blacktop gave way to a dirt road, slowing the truck even further. I wanted to lift my head and look around, get a feel for where I was, but didn’t dare risk it. Another blow to my head would no doubt spell disaster.
The vehicle rolled to a slow stop, dust blowing over us and sticking to everything. Bubba made no move to get out and the engine was still rumbling under my cheek—the vibrations clacking my teeth together.
“What ye got there, Bubba?” A high pitched, but drawling female voice asked loudly.
“I found her on the road. She smashed her truck up, hit a deer.”
A cackle worthy of a wicked witch from OZ sent shivers down my spine. Who were these fucking people? I felt like I was in a horror movie. Was I going to be raped and cut up for their dinner? Locked up like a toy and only taken out when someone wanted to play with me? Whatever their intentions were, I didn’t care over-much. My hands curled into fists and my heart was pounding as adrenaline shot through my veins. I shoved my pain down deep into my gut, noting thinking about it and refusing to feel it. I’d have time to lick my wounds later, right now I had to do everything I could to survive.
Metal clanged together as what sounded like a chain was pulled off a metal gate, the truck crept forward through the check-point. To say I was terrified was an understatement of grand proportions. But I couldn’t let my fear keep me from surviving.
Chapter 3
Corporal Richard Reid crept quickly through the trees, following the loud diesel truck down a dirt road. He’d seen the rusted out red Ford stop at the gate and when he heard them discussing who was going to get
the girl, he knew he had to act. He may have left his unit and refused to follow orders, but he was still a solider. Helping people is what he did, which is why he’d given his commander the figurative finger and flat out refused to fight against his neighbors. His NCO was an egomaniac on a power trip. Ordering people pulled from their homes and anyone who refused him was detained. In a matter of hours, the country he loved was being torn apart. All on the whim of a president not fit for office.
The Ford was creeping down the pot-hole littered dirt road, making it easy for him to keep up with a slow jog. The heat was oppressive, making his BDUs stick to him and his hands sweat profusely inside his gloves. The gloves were necessary though, it was better to have sweaty hands than to lose his grip on his M4. He was lucky that it was late summer, the leaves had yet to change and he had ample concealment in the trees along the road.
The road curved hard to the right and directly after opened up into a large clearing. Scattered around like children’s blocks were ramshackle buildings. The whole place looked like a tent city of sorts. Lines sagging with laundry were strung between the buildings. Several fire pits dotted the clearing, no doubt their only source of heat for cooking. Smoke hung over the camp like a shroud, the stink of soot and garbage permeated the air.
Checking his watch, he saw it was only fourteen hundred hours, he had a long wait for dark. There were guards stationed around haphazardly. It was apparent they weren’t trained very well as he scouted for a good vantage point. A pine tree to his left looked promising. Double checking the safety on his rifle, he pulled himself up and into the tree. Again grateful for his gloves as sap leaking from the heat stuck to his gloves. Halfway up, there was a wide and sturdy branch that would be a stable seat and give him a good view of the camp.
Pulling his binoculars from their pouch, he set in to do some recon. The truck was parked outside the largest of the buildings, and as he watched a giant of a man jumped out, followed closely by a skinny kid. Lowering the tail gate with a screech he heard clearly, the larger man reached in and jerked out the woman. Blood covered one side of her head, matting her short black hair down against her skull. A large knot was forming on her forehead. She looked scared, but refused to cower. Even when the skinny kid lunged for her.