The End The Beginning (Humanity's New Dawn Book 1)

by Ryan Horvath

  30

  JACK, BRIAN, IAN, AND RIVER

  “Jack! Brian! Jack!” River was meowing excitedly as she ran over to them. “Ian saved my life!”

  Ian joined his three friends seconds later. Jack and Brian stared at him expectantly.

  “Well, yeah, I guess I did. But if I hadn’t let you outside in the first place, you never would have been in danger.” Ian looked down at his feet in shame.

  Jack flushed, his eyes widened. “Outside? Tell me you didn’t… Ian, there’s a huge hawk nesting somewhere in the area. Everyone has been warned to be on high alert with their small animals. It’s already picked off a toy poodle and a German shepherd puppy.”

  “Well, thanks for telling me that, One-Eyed-Jack” Ian said sarcastically, staring back at Jack. “She said she was getting uncomfortable waiting for you two to get back from Target.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jack stated with a little shame of his own in his voice. “Well, the important thing is that no one was hurt,” he added.

  “That’s not exactly true,” Ian stated quietly, looking down again, recalling the sensation the hawk’s talons had made in his back, arms, and head.

  “Hold on. Rewind,” Brian interrupted, looking at Ian. “Did you just say ‘she said’?”

  “Yes,” River piped in. “Ian can understand me now, too.”

  “Since when?” Brian asked.

  “Since I got up this morning,” Ian replied. “I guess I was just a little slow on the uptake.”

  “I still only understand her through Jack,” Brian said, looking a little disappointed.

  “That’s not all of it,” River continued. “Can I be the one to tell them Ian?”

  “Be my guest,” he replied, smiling at her and opening his hands in an offering gesture.

  “I’m going to have to start from the beginning,” River said. And with that, she began with her doing her business behind the bush and told up until her and Ian hearing Jack and Brian return. She extolled on her terror and marveled about Ian’s bravery. She told of all the injuries he had sustained from the vicious attack. And she told of the almost instant healing of Ian’s ruined flesh before their very eyes. She sat on the window sill she had come to like while she talked with the guys standing around. None of them saw the hawk in any visible trees.

  To prove their case further, Ian went and got his bag of bloody and shredded clothes and removed his fresh T-shirt so the guys could see he had healed without any scarring.

  “Did it… hurt?” Jack asked Ian as he pulled his T-shirt back on.

  “Insanely, Jumping Jack,” Ian responded. “I can still feel it. I’ll probably never forget it.” He laughed out loud and then added, “I guess the reason why I didn’t notice anything going on with me is that I wasn’t injured. Too bad I didn’t fall down some stairs. I’d have preferred finding out that way over the attack of the ginormous hawk.”

  His friends laughed at this too. Even River gave her own version on a chuckle.

  “Can we see you do it?” Brian asked Ian.

  “Fuck no, man!” Ian answered quickly. “It still hurts me to. I’m not about to go around cutting myself or some stupid shit.” He punched Brian in the shoulder. “You like that?”

  “Hey!” Brian exclaimed and decked Ian in the shoulder, setting off another rough housing session. Jack watched for about a minute, relishing in the normalcy of this ritual in spite of the fact that all the strange and out of this world stuff was going on. Finally he spoke and Ian and Brian settled down. “Well, Brian and I have some news too. Nothing new but…”

  Brian interrupted, “Things are getting… stronger… keener maybe.”

  “What do you mean?” Ian queried.

  “Well, it’s like I’m more in tune or better linked to Jack’s mind. It’s like my internet speed has been bumped up from fifteen mbps to twenty; or his signal strength increased,” Brian continued.

  Jack took over again, “While we were at the store, Brian and I were three aisles apart from each other. He said he was easily able to keep track of me, to see what I was seeing and hear what I was hearing.” Jack looked a little uneasy. Ian interpreted this look to mean Jack didn’t entirely like the idea of having someone inside his head. Ian thought he’d feel the same if it was him sharing his mind.

  “Still nothing from me though?” Ian asked.

  Brian looked at him and concentrated. After a few seconds he said “Yes, still nothing.”

  Feeling relieved Ian said, “So you’ve got some kind of psychic imprint on Jack-In-The-Pulpit or him to you? Is that it?”

  “Something like that,” Jack and Brian said simultaneously and they all three laughed again. River watched looking pleasantly amused.

  When their laughter had subsided Ian asked Brian, “So, can you turn it off?”

  Brian looked and Jack and focused. This went on for over a minute until he ultimately said, “I’m not sure if I can turn it off yet but it seems like I can tune it out, either like I’m ignoring him or reflecting it back to him. I’m betting you kind of like that don’t you, Jack?”

  The expression on Jack’s face was answer enough for his best friends and Ian quickly changed the subject.

  “So what about you, Jack-Me-Off? Anything new?” Ian said teasingly.

  Silently thanking Ian for this change in the conversation’s direction but also silently chastising him for the off-color nickname, Jack said, “I feel better physically than I have in a long time but I don’t think the sensory changes have improved. But we did discover something else.”

  “What did you discover, Jack?” River asked.

  Well, you remember the conversation you overheard when you were under that bench shortly before we met?” Jack said to her.

  “Yes, Jack. Of course. Like it was moments ago. My memory is very sharp now,” River mewed in response.

  “Well,” Brian took over again, “you said the men said something about an eclipse coming up?”

  “Yes, on Friday,” River said.

  “Well, it’s true,” Brian continued. “It was on the front page of the newspaper. A total solar eclipse is going to occur Friday afternoon. We’re not in its path of totality but we’re close enough that it’s going to get pretty damn eerily dark in the middle of the day.”

  “Guys,” Jack said next, “why do I suddenly get the feeling that this eclipse is going to… be significant for some reason? I don’t know but it feels like with all that’s going on, there might be a ‘changing of life as the way we know it’ thing underway.”

  “But you said the other day that you thought we were going to be okay,” Ian said, looking agitated.

  “I want to still believe that. I really do. But I just have this feeling that the times ahead aren’t going to be a walk in the park. We should be prepared for as much as we possibly can be,” Jack responded.

  31

  ART

  Tuesday, after snatching Amanda Breck from the grocery store, Art headed west on Interstate 70 towards the ultimate destination of his torture killing den which was just outside of the Minneapolis metropolitan area on a deserted farm, a property that had been yanked from the owners due to foreclosure along with so many others across the United States.

  Art kept the car at a speed limit that was not likely to draw attention of any law enforcement but even if it did, he was prepared to use his newfound strength to get him out of any pickle the law might try to hang around his neck.

  Amanda Breck did not stir at all on the entire drive to Orono, Minnesota. Nor did she stir or react when Art carried her inside the old farm house and down into its dark and despair inducing underbelly. She also didn’t react when Art removed the tape from her mouth and limbs, pulled off her shirt and bra, and strapped her to a wooden table tightly with the chains that were there when he found the place. He’d wondered what atrocities the previous owner of this house might have used these chains for and found himself happy to be carrying on with them. She continued not to react while Art fondled he
r bare breasts and pinched her nipples, though something in his pants sure reacted.

  But happiness turned into irritation as Wednesday crept on and his captive still showed no sign of waking up. Art hoped he hadn’t flicked her so hard that he’d inflicted brain damage and she wouldn’t wake up at all. The mark where he had flicked her had turned into an ugly bruise on her cheek.

  By Wednesday afternoon he was beyond frustration with her and was about to decapitate the stupid vegetable woman when his smart phone buzzed against his leg. It was a text message.

  He set down the machete he was about to use on the woman and retrieved the device from his pocket. He quickly manipulated the phone and read the text message.

  It seemed Dr. Simon Shepherd had decided to talk after all. Art didn’t know what it was the doctor and the congressman intended to “talk” about and he didn’t care. He’d only been ordered to convey the message to Thomas and since Thomas and Shepherd were somehow colleagues, Art suspected “talking” was probably the same reason Shepherd was going to get himself killed.

  Art looked over the text message at the doctor’s travel stops. How convenient it was that Shepherd was coming to the Twin Cities! That would make this very easy. He began formulating a plan in his head. As he mused, he looked down at the half nude body of Amanda Breck before him. Should he kill her now, like he was ready to do moments ago or should he wait? He was pissed off that he hadn’t been able to have any fun with her yet and he still very much wanted too. He wouldn’t have driven her halfway across the country if he didn’t.

  He decided to wait to kill her. He opted to wait for and take care of Shepherd and then come back for the unconscious bitch woman on the slab before him. If she was still unconscious by then he would shake her awake, or drag a hose down here and spray her in the face or maybe Taser her until she woke up. The thoughts of even this light torture caused a stirring in his pants so he pushed the thoughts from his mind. He did not have time for that and needed to focus on Shepherd, his latest sanctioned hit. Art also had to get the doctor’s laptop.

  Art checked the time Shepherd would be arriving which was around 5:00 AM Thursday morning and decided to be at the airport an hour before Shepherd was there to make his connecting flight, which Art intended for him to miss. Art wondered what Shepherd had scheduled such a long layover in the Twin Cities for. Shepherd’s final flight leg to Philadelphia didn’t leave until around 1:00 PM. Surely there had to be a sooner flight between there and Philadelphia. Art thought perhaps Shepherd was stopping so long there to meet a reporter to do his “talking”. Art guessed the ones who had ordered the doctor dead would not be pleased if he got to meet with a reporter. Art needed to take care of Shepherd as soon as he disembarked the aircraft. That should be easy enough.

  Art ascended the stairs from the basement and into the hallway of the abandoned farm house. He walked out the front door of the house and over to his car. He opened the trunk, lifted the spare tire cover and placed the machete in the trunk with a litter of other weapons and ammunition. He pulled an IV bag of saline and a needle from a small cooler. Art returned to the basement and hooked the bag up to his captive. He didn’t want her to die of dehydration. There was no fun for him in that. He checked the woman’s pulse. It was shallow but steady.

  He left the basement again and this time, engaged a heavy padlock on the door. He went out to his car, got in, and started it. He pulled out onto Homestead Trail and proceeded south toward Highway 12. About thirty minutes later Art was in the heart of Minneapolis, a city he had always loved but never killed in. He was in what is known as Uptown and eating at a nice and busy Thai restaurant. Tonight’s dinner ritual was again filled with fantasy killings of the various men and women around the establishment. His arousal level did not get as high as it had the night he’d met and killed Celia so there was no need for immediate release. Besides, when he did get release, he wanted to make sure the bitch woman back at the farm house was on the receiving end.

  After he was finished eating, he went to a bar next to the restaurant and drank Scotch. He sipped the brown liquid slowly, feeling it warm his insides. As he drank, he surveyed the other patrons in the bar. There weren’t many so it didn’t take long but he did notice that one woman in the bar had taken an interest in him. Art would have loved to have had sex with the woman and then pop her head off in the aftermath but he needed to take care of his assignment. He checked his watch and saw it was time for him to leave. He hadn’t slept since he woke up on Tuesday and he needed to get a little shut eye before embarking on the commissioned hit. He finished the last of his drink in one quick gulp, tossed some cash on the bar and quickly exited. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the woman who had been looking his way had disappointment on her face. Art smirked thinking that the woman didn’t know that she had narrowly missed becoming one of his victims and that she shouldn’t be disappointed at all but instead should be relieved.

  He walked back to his car and drove into downtown, where he kept a small apartment. He parked nearby, and let himself in the residence.

  Once inside, he stripped, admired himself in the mirror, showered and laid down in bed. Having not stopped to sleep during the drive out here, sleep should come quickly. However, before it did he wondered again why his current captive had recognized him. He’d never seen her before at least not that he was aware. He sincerely hoped she was awake and terrified and ready to talk when he returned to the farm after taking care of the Shepherd assignment.

  When sleep finally did come to him he dreamed of nothing.

  32

  KAREN AND BLAZE

  After leaving the Great Falls Grocery Co-op, Karen and Blaze headed west. She kept the passenger window cracked and Blaze sat with his nose close to the crack, sniffing.

  About an hour later, Blaze woofed from his seat. “Master Karen, I can’t smell him anymore.”

  “What?” Karen’s voice sank with worry.

  “I’m sorry. His smell just faded away,” Blaze whimpered.

  Karen stared out at the highway as it unfolded before her. Now what was she to do? They were over an hour from home and the trail had gone cold.

  “What should we do?” she asked the dog next to her.

  “Stop somewhere,” Blaze barked. “Let me get out of the car and walk around some. Maybe I can pick up his scent again.”

  “Okay,” she said sounding unhopeful. A few minutes later, Karen guided the car onto an off ramp and made a right turn on the county road. A moment later she turned into a gas station.

  “No,” Blaze woofed from his seat. “Too many smells here,” he added.

  Karen nodded and drove through to the gas station’s other access point. She turned left out of the station and headed back the way they had come. They passed under the freeway and Blaze soon saw what he wanted.

  “There,” he said and used his snout to indicate something coming up on the right.

  Karen wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at but then she got it. It was a water tower. It stood about three stories high and had an eight foot tall chain link fence topped with rows of barbed wire surrounding its footprint. It was light green in color and was emblazoned with the name Winchester. Most importantly for Blaze, she guessed, was that it had a small unoccupied turn around. She pulled the car into the turn around and was amused to see Blaze trying to use his teeth to pull the door handle and open the door. Try as he might, he just couldn’t make it happen. Karen chuckled.

  As if he had forgotten she was there, Blaze turned and looked at her. A shameful smile appeared on his face. “I guess I can’t do that,” he woofed.

  “C’mon,” Karen said, smiling at him. She opened her door and stepped out of the car and Blaze bounced from his seat to hers to the ground. He pattered around to the passenger side of the car, his nails clicking on the pavement, while Karen closed her door. By the time Karen made it to the passenger side, Blaze was already ten yards away by the fence enclosing the water tower. He was sniffing around and so
on, again, found what he wanted.

  Blaze lifted his leg and out of polite courtesy, Karen turned her back to him. She leaned against the car, her arms crossed and resting on the warm metal of the roof. Her thoughts turned to her and Amanda’s visions. Nearly all of them had been bad and at least some of them had come to pass. The one that didn’t fit was Karen’s vision of her Jack, younger, and his feline companion.

  If her and her sister’s visions were of the future, why this image of Jack in the past? More questions came to her as well. Why did he have modern clothes and a modern haircut? Karen hoped she would have a vision of him again. A certain sense of calm and serenity had taken over her when she had seen him standing outside her kitchen window. Aside from joining with Blaze, and seeing Amanda in her driveway, that feeling that vision had put in her was the only other good thing that had happened since parting with her husband on Sunday morning.

  Maybe her vision of young Jack was an image of the future. Perhaps, by some miracle, he hadn’t died and had in fact digressed in age and nipped his allergy to cats in the bud.

  She pushed this insanity out of her mind. Thoughts like that would get her nowhere fast. Karen turned, assuming by now Blaze was done with his business. He was and she saw he had taken a sitting position in the grass about four feet away from the fence. He was slightly angled so she could only see part of him. She was able to see his head was slightly cocked and his nostrils quivered.

  He’s really trying Karen thought to herself as she watched the dog.

  She knew the odds of him detecting the bad smelling man from here were not good but even still, she crossed her fingers.

  A moment later, Blaze turned and looked at her. He winked his green eye at her and smiled.

  Karen’s heart leapt in excitement.

  “Master Karen,” Blaze barked with pride. “I’ve got the scent again.”

  And he quickly padded back to the car where Karen was waiting with his door open for him.