by Davis, James
Dark Days:
Retribution
Dark Days Series:
Book Two
James Davis
and
James Aldridge
Dark Days Press
MAYFIELD, KETUCKY
Copyright © 2020 by James Davis and James Aldridge
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
James Davis and James Aldridge /Dark Days Press
Mayfield, Kentucky
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Dark Days: Retribution/Dark Days Series-Book Two/ James Davis and James Aldridge . -- 1st ed.
ASIN B086JKFDM8
Thanks for reading!
Live long, be happy, and don’t be dicks.
-James Davis and James Aldridge
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
Hank's eyes fluttered open to a pounding head and aching body. He glanced around the dimly lit room, trying to remember where he was when he lost consciousness. A series of deep meaty smacks sent the memories rushing back like a tidal wave. He turned his head to see a large bearded man landing blow after blow to his brother's head. Clay slumped forward, his face bruised and swollen. Hank couldn't tell if he was even conscious or not. Blood trickled down from a gash on the bridge of his nose and his left eye was swollen shut. He watched as the man backhanded Clay across the face once more, causing his head to slam backwards. Blood poured from his flattened nose as the man said something in a thick Russian accent before laughing maniacally.
“Speak English, you commie bastard!” Hank shouted at the man trying to shift his focus off of Clay. The man leaned down right in Clay’s face and began to whisper.
“Not so tough now, are you American?” A bloody, toothy grin washed over Clay's face. He looked into the man’s eyes for a moment before opening his mouth and spitting a thick wad of blood into his face. The man straightened, clearly disgusted. Clay laughed hysterically as the man wiped the spit from his face with the back of his hand. He pulled a white cloth from his pocket and wiped his hand before using it to wipe his face.
Clay continued laughing, his laughter growing louder and louder. The Russian man tucked the cloth back into his pocket and smirked, turning and approaching a large wooden table. The table was covered in knives, pistols, and rifles. Hank quickly recognized these as their own weapons.
"You will pay for that." The man said, his accent seeming thicker than the first time.
"Uh oh, now you made her mad!" Hank yelled, "Let me have a turn, come on over here, big girl!"
The man chuckled, staring at the table for a few seconds, before reaching down and picking up Hank's pistol. He turned and walked across the room to stand in front of Clay. He pressed the barrel into Clay's swollen eye. He gritted his teeth and growled as the man pushed the barrel deeper into his eye.
“This is the problem with you filthy Americans. You don’t know your place . Maybe I should teach you some manners?” he said, placing his finger on the trigger.
"Come on! It's my turn! Let me get some of that action!" Hank yelled, still attempting to take his attention off of Clay "I'm getting real lonely over here and quite frankly a little jealous, you ugly bitch!"
The man looked at Hank and began to laugh. He began applying pressure slowly to the trigger.
"Come on pussy do me!" Hank screamed, becoming desperate.
The door burst open and the president entered the room. The large man quickly withdrew the pistol and straightened up, taking a step back.
“Ivan, what in the hell do you think you're doing? I told you to come down here and watch them, not use them as your own personal punching bag, you imbecile! Explain to me how these two are any good to us if you've beaten them to death?” Ivan opened his mouth, but Sharp raised his hand quickly cutting him off.
“Rhetorical question dumbass, now get the hell out of here before I have you tied up right next to them!”
Ivan grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open
"I guess we know who wears the pants around here," Hank said as Sharp slammed the door behind Ivan.
Sharp turned toward the brothers, running his fingers through his greying hair.
“Clay and Hank Mitchell. You boys have been a royal pain in my ass!”
He said as he walked over to them.
“Now normally I would just put a bullet in both of your worthless heads and be done with it, but as it turns out you two are wanted men now and it would be great for morale if people got to see you two criminals hang for what you've done to this great nation. All the cities that you helped destroy, all the people you killed with your impulsive actions, everything will now be brought to the attention of the American public.” Sharp said with a chuckle.
Clay and Hank looked at one another and then back to Sharp.
“What the hell are you talking about? We haven't done anything and you know it.” Hank spat. Sharp let out a hearty laugh as he ran his fingers through his hair again.
“I’m going to let you boys in on a little secret since you’re going to be dead soon anyway.” Clay and Hank just stared back at Sharp with bewildered looks on their faces. Sharp grinned and began to speak.
“When I was just a young man in D.C. I was eager to climb the political ladder and make a difference. Through all those years, I had one goal, to be President of the strongest nation on this planet. I fought tooth and nail until I got to the top. I was drunk on the thought of all that power I would have once I took office."
He stopped pacing and stood, facing away from them. "It was all a joke though. Being President is a damn joke. I wanted to make changes, I really did. I wanted to do it the right way too. But it wasn't possible. Because it doesn't matter how good your intentions are, everyone wants to get in your way. Unless..."
He trailed off, turning to face the two men.
"Unless of course, you take drastic measures. Which I clearly did. Now I have all the power one man could ever ask for and I am going to mold this country into perfection. You see, once I sent that fleet of battleships off the coast of Korea, I knew it was just a matter of time before that crazy little fat man started firing nukes. That was the perfect opportunity to stage a nuclear attack from Korea. Just send out a fake emergency alert to everyone's phones and hit a few substations with EMP devices, and bingo you got yourself nationwide chaos."
The president chuckled.
"There is one thing that I didn't account fo
r, Korea actually hitting us with nukes, right here on American soil too. That was just icing on the cake.” Sharp said proudly. Clay and Hank listened intently as Sharp continued to lay out his entire plan in what they thought sounded like some sort of confession.
“After that, all I had left to do was declare martial law and wait for all of you morons to kill each other just as I knew you would. Now that the rest of you people are having trouble feeding your starving kids, you’ll get down on a bent knee and kiss my shoes for a few scraps that I may or may not allow you to have.” Sharp said with a cocky grin.
“What the hell does any of that have to do with us?” Hank asked angrily.
“I'm glad you asked. See, nothin’ brings this nation together like a little act of domestic terrorism. Once our investigation is complete and we find out that two of our very own countrymen had something to do with this.” he paused, shaking his head. "Well, suddenly they trust me a whole lot more. You boys will face justice for these acts of treason, therefore curing one of the biggest pains in my ass." Sharp said, pointing an accusatory finger at Clay and Hank.
“You’re insane! You can’t just pin all that on us!” Hank shouted. Sharp began to laugh again.
"I can, I will, and I have. Who’s going to stop me?” Sharp said holding his arms straight out from his side and looking around the room.
Clay scoffed, as he looked at Sharp and shook his head. “The U.N. isn't going to sit back and let you get away with this. Once they figure out what’s going on, they'll show up and end your little shenanigans.” he said with a hint of satisfaction on his face. Sharp shook his head.
“Oh, dear boy. You aren't the smart one in the family, are you? The U.N. troops are already here, I called them in to help me keep all of you bottom feeders in line. Where do you think your friend, Ivan, came from?”
Clay fell silent, the satisfied look wiped right off his face, unable to reply as a sobering realization washed over him. The one thing he had been expecting, even counting on, to put an end to this was now working against them all. He stared at the president through swollen eyes. Anger began to build as Sharp walked over to stand in front of Clay.
“You didn’t really expect that anyone was coming to your rescue, did you?" He shook his head wryly, "There’s no help coming. This is the way things are. You really only have yourselves to blame. If you hadn't been running around causing trouble, I wouldn't even be aware of your miserable existence." Sharp said, flashing a bright smile like he was posing for a campaign poster.
Clay quickly spit a thick wad of blood out. It landed on Sharp's chest, splattering all over his expensive looking black suit. Sharp quickly took a few steps back, cursing and wiping spit from his red tie, before finally loosening it and angrily slinging it across the room. After regaining his composure, he stepped forward and grabbed a fistful of Clay's hair, slammed his head backward.
He bent down, inches from Clay's snarling face. "You better mind your manners, you may not realize it right now, but things can get a whole lot worse for you."
Clay reared his head back and slammed it into Sharp's nose. The president stumbled back several steps, tripping over the table on the other side of the room. The table tipped over spilling weapons all over the floor.
Blood poured from his nose, the rest of his face red with rage. He reached down, and grabbed Clay's knife. Straightening up and pulling it from its sheath as he walked toward Clay. He pressed the blade hard against the man's throat. Clay’s eyes widened.
An evil smirk crept onto Sharp's face as he stared into his eyes “You will regret that real soon, boy. Mark my words.” Sharp said, dropping the blade before spinning on his heels and storming out of the room leaving Clay and Hank staring at the closing door.
Clay struggled with the ropes binding his hands until his wrists began to sting and bleed from the busted blisters. Hank sat there listening intently for any sound of a coming guard as Clay twisted and pulled and jerked his arms and hands in a futile attempt to get loose.
Finally, just as Hank caught the sound of footsteps coming down the hall Clay was on his feet and moving toward the back of the door. Just then the door swung open and in walked a short, fat, bald man. He was looking down at his feet when he came in the room giving Clay the perfect opportunity to put the man’s lights out, which he quickly did with an elbow to the man’s temple.
“Hurry up and untie me!” Hank said in an urgent tone as he watched Clay drag the man’s still body into the room. Clay grabbed the knife Sharp had just dropped and cut Hank free. Seconds later they were both getting their gear back on and checking their rifles.
Satisfied they had all of their stuff back, and that none of it had been tampered with, Clay turned to Hank. “We’re gonna have to do this stealthily for as long as we can, or until we find Ashley.” Clay said as he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe blood away from his swollen face and busted lips.
“I bet there’s a hundred Secret Service guys in here, not to mention the U.N. troops Sharp was boasting about. It’s going to take some work to find her without alerting the entire security force to our presence.” Hank said as he pulled back on the charging handle of his rifle. Seeing brass, he eased the bolt back forward and smacked the forward assist making sure the bolt was seated properly. Clay mirrored Hank’s actions and then they both let their rifles hang down in front of them as they pulled out their sidearms and checked those as well. Seeing that their gear and weapons were in tip top shape, they readied themselves for battle.
“We need to find a floor plan for this place. I highly doubt anyone is going to give us directions up to the first family’s residence on the second floor.” Hank said with a smirk on his face as he tried to lighten the mood.
“No, we don’t. We just need to find the stairs. We find the stairs we’ll find Ashley.” Clay replied as he cautiously opened the door and peeked out. Seeing that the hall was empty they darted out to the right and sprinted down to a door at the end of the hall. Clay held up a fist signaling Hank to stop and then pressed his ear to the door. He could hear muffled voices inside the room and slowly began to step back away from the door. Once they were clear of the door they started for the opposite side of the hall. They stopped at another closed door and repeated the process. Hearing nothing coming from within, Clay slowly opened the door and moved in with his rifle raised checking the left side of the room while Hank came in the same way checking the right. The room was a bright red and had shelves of fine china all around it.
“All clear.” They both said at the same time and turned to head back out into the hall. They crossed the hall and entered another room with practiced precision calling out the all clear in less than thirty seconds. They stepped out into the hall and looked at the door directly next to the room they were just in. Beside the doorframe was a small black sign that said stairs and they each took up a position on either side of the door. Clay glanced down each end of the hall, surprised that they hadn’t managed to run into any guards yet, and then shrugged it off and focused back on the mission at hand. He eased the door open allowing Hank to slowly move into the stairwell while he kept an eye on the hall. A soft pat on his shoulder told Clay it was safe to follow. They aimed their rifles toward the first landing and quietly made their way up a single step at a time. When they were half way up Clay turned around and kept watch on the above railing as he took the last few steps backward. Clay stopped in his tracks when he spotted two men standing shoulder to shoulder with their backs to the stairs. Hank held a finger to his lips as he looked at Clay with wide eyes. Clay nodded once and they both continued to make their way up, not making the slightest noise. They stopped short of the last step and pulled out their knives ensuring it would be a quick silent kill. They each took slow deliberate steps until they were directly behind the two guards and Clay released the breath he had been holding. Startled the guards spun around raising their weapons at the same time, but before they could get their fingers on the triggers the brothers drove their blades
deep into the two guards’ throats.
Blood sprayed across either side of the wall as they yanked the blades free and grabbed the guards’ weapons before they hit the floor. Hands went flying up to grasp gushing throats and the guards fell into the wall and slid down to the floor, their pale faces staring up at the ceiling as the last precious drops of life blood left their bodies. Clay and Hank wiped the blood from their blades and shoved them back into their sheaths before bringing up their rifles again. Clay took point again and glanced out of the door. Seeing that this hall was also empty he began to get nervous.
“Man, someone would have heard us kill those last two. They weren’t exactly quiet.” Clay said in a soft whisper. Hank looked back at his brother and shrugged.
“Just getting lucky I guess.” Hank quietly replied. Clay shook his head, not buying into the simple explanation. He knew something wasn’t right. He could feel it in his gut, but he couldn’t just stop now. His wife was waiting for him to save her, so Clay bit his tongue and soldiered on. They spotted an open door and darted across and into the room. They spun around and dropped down to a knee waiting for someone to follow them in with guns blazing but no one ever did. A wet cough got their attention causing them to spin around and look deeper into the room. The room had a large picture of Abe Lincoln on the far wall at the foot of the bed, and the two brothers slowly moved toward it. Another loud cough caused them to jump as they stepped around the end of the bed. A pair of legs stuck out from the end of the bed on the opposite side and jerked as another wet cough sounded. Clay had his rifle aimed down at the body as he rounded the foot of the bed. His sight moved up from the feet and passed the bloody legs and shirt until it finally stopped on a vacant gaze. One he had looked into every single day for years now.
Chapter Two
“Ashley!” Clay screamed, letting his rifle drop to his side as he slid down next to his wife’s pale face.
“Oh God, baby no!” Clay said as he laid her head in his lap. He began wiping the hair out of her face and putting his fingers to her neck to check for a pulse, but it was too late. She was gone. Tears welled up in Clay’s eyes followed by a deep burning hatred that rose up from the darkest parts of his soul. He sat there staring into his wife's pale face as the tears fell freely from his eyes and landed on her cheek. Hank placed his hand on Clay’s shoulder and said.