Contents
Foreword
1. STALKED
2. ALONE
3. BETTER WATCH YOUR BACK
4. FEMA BOUND
5. WHAT A DRAG
6. THESE ARE MY WOODS
7. GO FAST – GO ALONE
8. PONTYBRIDGE
9. FIRE & ICE
10. A DEAL’S A DEAL
11. NOTHING GOES AS PLANNED
12. THE YIN IN ME
13. OPPORTUNITY & INTEL
14. GRUNT LIVES MATTER
15. A NATURAL-BORN KILLER
16. HOPE IS FOOL’S GOLD
17. ALL GOOD THINGS MUST COME TO AN END
18. BE SEEIN’ YA
About the Author
Excerpt from Oath Takers
Excerpt by Michael G. Hopf
Excerpt by Boyd Craven
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover by Deranged Doctor Designs
Edited by Pauline Nolet Editing Services
Interior art by James B. Hogan
Copyright © 2019 Disgruntled Dystopian Publications
L. Douglas Hogan
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
ISBN: 9781099611384
Foreword
To reiterate, this is a story of human survival in a post-apocalyptic landscape. It’s not a love story and it’s not filled with mushy dialogue for any other purpose than to show the frailty of human emotions in an EOTWAWKI scenario. Emotional attachments can be a weakness for some and a strength for others. Where would your emotions take you if you had loved ones in a world where everyone wants your stuff? Would your child be an asset or a liability? What about your wife? Your husband? What if he or she fell sick? What would you do? If you bought this book because it has a flashy cover, then you may very well be a liability in the fictional landscape that I write about. You judged the book by its cover, and nothing is as it appears in the world I’ve created. Nobody can be trusted here. Nobody! So, if you’re expecting to read smut or a post-apoc book where everybody knows what to do in every situation, then put the book down. If you’re interested in knowing what it’s going to be like when the economy is gone; when there’s no electricity, running water, or communications; when your backpack is the equivalent of a treasure chest; when you’re seen as a threat, no matter how passive you appear, then read on. I’m not a snowflake author, and you’re not going to read about puppy dogs and unicorns in the pages of this series. If that last comment didn’t offend you, then you’re in! If it did… you may be reading the wrong genre.
“It’s about you. If you win, it’s you; if you lose, it’s you. Black and white. Nowhere to hide.”
Greg Rusedski
One
STALKED
The Mitchell homestead
The glade
August 18th
Rueben was standing over several fresh graves; none of them were marked. “How many do you count, Tony?”
After Rueben had Cornelius hunted down and killed, he had him replaced with Tony. Rueben’s alter ego, Denver, wanted a religious man filling the position of advisor, but recent events made him second-guess the moral compass of the time’s spiritual leaders. It was for that reason he opted to appoint Tony Higgins to the position. Tony reluctantly accepted. He was already a faithful member of the group, so to say no would insult Rueben and raise suspicions concerning his loyalty. Tony counted himself lucky to have never had to fight in the Red Circle. Whether by luck or coincidence, he counted himself fortunate. Tony was now Rueben’s confidant, whether he wanted the job or not.
Tony wasted no time answering Rueben’s question. “Shawn and Larry were found at the farmhouse just west of here. Frank was at that old shack. Each of them was left for the crows. So, if we figure one of these graves is Max, Trent, and Russell, then that counts for the six people this guy killed. Seven if you want to include Cornelius,” Tony answered, with detailed accuracy.
“No. Cornelius’s death was imminent. Let’s not hold his failures to the account of these.” Rueben pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and held it over his nose. It was a sure sign that he believed the poison was in the air. He wasn’t completely sure who resided in the house, but he respected the fact that whoever was living here was taking out his people. The thought was refreshing to his schizophrenic mind. He moved the hanky away from his nose and sniffed the air. It was a small sniff at first, but then he took in yet a bigger sniff. Finally, he took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with strength, or so he thought. “How many lived here?” he asked after letting out a deep exhale.
“We’re not completely certain. We do know there were at least two men, three women, and an elderly man. Perhaps even a child.”
“A child?” he asked, surprised.
“There’s toys scattered about,” Tony answered, revealing one that he had in his hands.
Rueben covered his face again. “Children are weak and must be cleansed,” he said, referring to the brutal ritual the Enclave performed to cleanse the group of weakness, ensuring the survival of the fittest. Not just children, but women, too. Rueben’s alter ego, Denver, only respected the strong. Every so often, at Denver’s command, Rueben would round up the families of men who pledged loyalty to the Red Circle. Those remaining loyal after learning of the fate of the women and children would be considered strong and allowed to live. The rest would be hanged with the children. The only way a child would be spared was if the kid was able to convince the Red Circle that he or she wasn’t weak. This was done by giving them specific tasks that were difficult to perform. Usually sending them out on scout runs to perform things a normal kid couldn’t perform, or fighting to the death. “How far ahead are the scouts I ordered sent out?” he asked Tony.
Tony dropped the toy race car. “They should be right behind the homesteaders. I would guarantee my life on it.”
“If what you say is true, then we should make some progress before the night is done.” Rueben glanced around the property. “Take what you can carry. Plant and animal alike. Burn the rest. Raze it to the ground.”
Ten miles east of Pontybridge, GA
August 18th
Darrick led the way through the forest as the group headed in a westward direction. His mind was on the events of last evening. A heavy sorry-filled rage filled him. His eyes were down as they went.
Andy, his ten-year-old son, was dealing with the same thing. Last night’s events had forced his dad to take his grandpa’s life. Although he’d covered his eyes and turned his head away, he could hear his grandpa’s legs thrashing against the ground as he fought for his own life. Just before the Pulse, Andy had been diagnosed with autistic spectrum disorder. A few of his symptoms included little to no eye contact, flat facial expressions or expressions that didn’t match situations, social awkwardness, and difficulty following through on strict rules or complex instructions. He understood the threat his grandpa posed to his life, but beyond that, he struggled to understand why he had to die. The two armed guards who were walking up on their position last night would have killed them if they were caught. Although Andy knew it was necessary for his dad to take action to save them from the bad men, a distrust and a feeling of animosity was boiling inside him over the way it had gone down. He simply didn’t understand. Andy couldn’t reconcile in his own mind how a man could kill his own dad. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? and Will I have to kill my dad someday to save
me and Mom? were the questions trolling his mind. They were incessant and controlling. They dominated his day. Andy was walking right behind his dad, Darrick.
Just behind Andy, his mom, Tonya, was doing the solo-parenting thing. Her husband and son were dealing with the death of elder Mitchell in their own way. Because they had been split up when they had their encounter with the armed Enclave group members, Tonya wasn’t with Darrick and Andy when elder Mitchell was killed. She only knew that he was dead and that Darrick was in some way involved with it. She was upset with Darrick for closing up on her and not communicating what had happened. In addition, she saw how the events were affecting Andy for the worst. She was holding Darrick responsible for that, even though she didn’t know the details.
I bet he’ll talk to Kara about it when he decides to open up, and I’m going to be there when he does so I can put her in her place. I know she wants my man were the thoughts trolling her mind. Tonya hated Kara, but was able to compartmentalize her feelings for her, at least in front of Darrick. Tonya had an advanced stage of ovarian cancer. Nobody knew how advanced it was. The Pulse changed everything. When the power went out, so did the hope of recovery. No electricity meant no hi-tech imaging, no medication, no treatment of any kind. She might as well have received a death sentence. Her abdominal pains were growing more severe – almost hourly. She was becoming accustomed to the sharp pains. She was almost able to ignore them.
Kara followed behind Tonya. After what had happened at the dilapidated house, she had good reason not to turn her back on her. She knew, with absolute certainty, that Tonya wanted her dead. She wasn’t about to give her the opportunity, so she stayed behind her – well outside arm’s length. Kara was deeply troubled over what had happened in the woods on the Mitchell homestead. Darrick wasn’t talking to anybody, not his wife, not his son – nobody. Kara was a clinical psychologist before the Pulse, so she watched and studied people. It was what she did best. It was her passion. She not only saw Darrick as a friend, but also a challenge. She was able to get him to open up to her about things he wouldn’t normally share with anyone else. Kara was both attractive and charismatic, a combination that made her an asset in her profession and competition for Tonya, or so Tonya thought.
Marcus was on rear guard. Like Darrick, he was a trained military man, having served in the Marines with him in a quick reaction force. Being rear guard suited him just fine. He knew his best friend, Darrick, had been dealt a tough hand and was unable to take his turn at dealing. Darrick wanted to bury every last member of the Enclave, but unlike Marcus, who had experience and knowledge of the inner workings of the group, he had no knowledge whatsoever of the armed brigands. The Enclave’s leader was an intellectual sociopath capable of gathering a following by his results alone. Nobody seemed to care that he was crazy. Most ignored it altogether. Others were of the same feather. Marcus had barely escaped the Enclave alive. He’d seen others in the situation he was in when he was rescued by Kara and Tonya. None of them survived. Escaping a Red Circle death penalty set a new precedent – a precedent that Rueben wouldn’t let go unanswered. It challenged the status quo and undermined his authority. God help anybody who crossed Rueben in such a way.
Now that he was back in Darrick’s life, he had to carefully balance the fact that Darrick was his best friend and Tonya had once been involved with him emotionally. Of course, Darrick had been recovering from combat scars, both mental and physical, at the time of his affair with Tonya. Both Marcus and Tonya had thought Darrick was dead. They were both surprised when Darrick resurfaced. I hope I can pull this off without causing any turmoil and I wonder if Darrick’s going to be a husband to Tonya were the thoughts on his mind. He could see the pain on Tonya’s face. She tried to hide it, but it was more than obvious. Her eyes would squint and her teeth would grind. It was a telltale sign that she was feeling it, but trying not to show it. Darrick wasn’t paying attention to it. He seemed almost oblivious to her emotional needs, but Marcus understood why – sort of. Marcus was able to put two and two together to figure out what had happened at Big Ditch, the ravine Darrick and his brother, Jimmie, named when they were kids. Darrick had killed his own dad, and that was what he was struggling with internally. The death of his father at his own hands was distracting him from the here and now. It was also why Tonya wasn’t bothering her husband with what she felt might be trivial in comparison. She was placing herself second to Darrick’s needs so that he could come to terms with what had happened last night.
Marcus was looking around when he realized it would probably be a good idea to stop and set up a camp before they got too close to their destination. An earlier conversation with Darrick regarding the location of Pontybridge gave him an estimation that they were about ten miles away. Carrying on would have them arriving with little to no daylight to work with.
He looked up toward Darrick and could see he wasn’t focused. Knowing somebody needed to make the decision, he took a shot at leadership. “Let’s stop here,” Marcus said. “I think this is a good spot to nestle down for the night.”
The column stopped and looked back at him for affirmation. Marcus was already dropping his pack. The group began dropping their gear, all but Darrick. He trudged onward as if he hadn’t heard what Marcus said. Tonya was the closest adult to him, so she gave him a shout. “Darrick!”
Darrick stopped and looked back at her. She was in the middle of setting her pack on the ground. “We’re going to stop here and set up camp,” she told him.
Darrick took the pack from his shoulders. “I’ll go grab some wood,” he said, pulling a hatchet from the pack straps.
Tonya knew he shouldn’t be left alone. He was behaving aloof. She saw an opportunity to reconnect her son with his dad, so she said, “Andy, go help your dad.”
Andy wanted nothing to do with him. He was afraid of his own dad and worried about his own safety.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Go on. Help him gather wood.”
Darrick looked back at his son after he heard Tonya give the direction. He looked down at his son, Andy. He was shaking his head. Darrick thought his heart was at rock bottom. He was wrong. He felt it sink a little more. He hated that sensation. Darrick walked off alone.
Tonya looked back at Marcus and mouthed, “Go with him.”
Marcus nodded and took off after Darrick.
Andy walked over to his mom. She pulled him in for a caress, knowing he was dealing with the death of his grandpa in his own way. The pain in her abdomen was more than usual. Tonya was having a bad day. She watched her husband and Marcus walk off together and disappear into the surrounding environment.
Abandoned Enclave Campsite
A stranger wearing a stretch-fit fabric face shield stepped out of the wood line of the property where the Enclave once resided. He had spent the last hour quietly observing from within the woods before making the decision to step out. An Alpha Defense boonie hat covered the stranger’s head. He had a walking stick in one hand, and a KA-BAR was affixed to the tip. The ranch home that used to house the notorious leader of the Enclave had been set ablaze not long before the property was abandoned. The smell of burning wood filled the air even as the plume rose skyward.
The stranger stood there watching and listening. To the left of the house, the familiar sound of rope grinding on a tree branch caught the man’s attention. A family of four was swinging from an old oak tree. A man, a woman, and two girls. Their necks were tethered to a large branch via old manila ropes, no doubt found lying around the ranch and recycled to fit somebody’s sadistic sense of justice.
What kind of person hangs women and children? the stranger thought to himself. The mask was catching much of the smoky smell, so that he felt he was only smelling smoke-stained fabric. The man reached up and pulled it down, revealing a dirty bearded face. Nobody was around that he could tell, so why not uncover his face and breathe some fresh air? It didn’t smell that fresh, but that was the lesser of the issues.
The man couldn�
�t quite comprehend the sight of the woman and children hanging from the tree. It was a disturbing and frightening sight. He sighed and shook his head, then extended his walking stick to cut them down. The extended reach of the stick decreased the leverage he needed to quickly cut the rope. The whole ordeal took longer than he was hoping. With much patience and some perseverance, he finished his act of human compassion.
When all four of them were down, he snooped around the rest of the property in search of survivors. The search revealed more bodies. Some were picked to the bone; others were partially dismembered and strewn about the property. Murders of crows were all over the land. They feasted on the flesh of men, the bones of cattle and hogs, and would fly off with full bellies. Most of them flew west. They formed a large dark cloud in the far distance.
The stranger would spend the next several hours digging holes and burying bodies. He knew that before he could move on, he had to honor the dead the only way he knew how. The stranger wasn’t a spiritual man; he was a naturalist – a self-proclaimed atheist who traversed the land and just happened to be traveling in the same direction as the group that was leaving so much devastation and death in its wake. The stranger knew his path was eventually going to merge with the transgressors that he didn’t know by name – Enclave. He was dreading the eventuality and tread lightly and carefully as he went.
He was able to study the fires on the property, the stiffness of the bodies, and other conditions left by the group to determine how long they had been gone. Judging from the burn on the house, it was only a couple of hours since they’d packed up and left. The rigor mortis told of a day or two since the family had been hanged. This group spent some time here, but hadn’t been gone long. The stranger wanted to keep his distance, but curiosity was driving him onward.
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