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Rise of the Phoenix
Copyright © 2015 by M.R. Ferguson
Cover design by Karri Klawiter
Print and eBook Design by JT Formatting
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is dedicated to my best friend, Tracey,
who has supported me throughout writing this trilogy.
Title Page
Prologue
Part One
Exploring Rubble
The Barter
Life Shows Hope
The Hope Of A Community
Chemical Thoughts
The Enemy Waits For Sleep
News Travels Fast
Meager Accommodations And New Acquaintances
Morbid Details Of Corruption And Power
Part Two
The Truth Doesn’t Set You Free
Going To Dinner
The Pains Of The Day
Asking The Enemy For Help
Mobilizing The Troops
About the Author
WE THOUGHT FREEDOM would give us the world. For all the blood spilled on and for this land, more seems to follow. Freedom from British rule, emancipation for the slaves, vengeance on Hitler and for the attack on Pearl Harbor, surviving the Vietnam war; America joined together. Sometimes as patriots and other times in protest; and yet hatred and racism seemed like a plague on American life. The American dream wasn't a lie; the truth was all an illusion. We were being controlled, manipulated, and used as pawns; the dream became a nightmare.
The last time I saw my family was ten years ago. I was seventeen when my fate was changed. A decade gives you a long time to ponder how to survive in a world where food is scarce and the sun never shines through the dust filled air that clogs the skies.
I often wonder what the world would be like had our government actually cared about humanity and not those who lined their pockets with the blood money of the American people. I miss looking up at the blue sky watching puffs of white clouds sail by, or a warm summer’s breeze whirling across my face. What I wouldn’t give to hear a bird, or the crickets sing. Everything is so quiet now. No angry motorists honking his or her horns. The sound of the train that rumbled past our house has left behind only ghost tracks. I never thought I would miss the repetitive click, click of the steel wheels against the rails and the windows of our home vibrating as I slept. There is nothing left but memories and skeletons of what use to be houses and skyscrapers.
It all started when Neucorp was paying government officials to get funding for what they called “The Special Project”. Society knew of it as the TSP. Now we call it “That Shit Pile of an Idea”.
Altering the state of the human population isn’t an easy task. It takes greedy and high ranking men who call themselves scientists, and money; lots of money. Every Senator, Congressman, and the President himself watched his or her bank accounts grow as the TSP took shape. They were protected from the fallout. The rest of us didn’t see it coming. They wanted a perfect America; no gangs, no druggies, no murder, and no irresponsible parents. The list could go on and on. So this was their way to “cleanse” the country.
I remember the first blinding flash of light and the rumble of the ground. I was in my high school history class when all hell broke loose. The cries and screams that bellowed around me added to the confusion and panic I was feeling. Being twenty-seven now makes me realize we were not equipped to handle such a disastrous event. There is no way you can prepare for the day when the world as you know it is wiped out in a matter of minutes.
As we stumbled out of class, escorted by school staff, we could see the mushroom cloud rise high in the sky. It must have been about ten miles away. Winds took hold of it carrying it closer to us as it slowly dispersed around us. The adults pushed us back inside, but it was too late. We were in the direct path of the radioactive fallout.
Most died quickly; others like me had side effects that would span the rest of their lives. Our great leaders, those that were prized for their skills and intelligence, were hunkered down in bunkers supplied with enough food and water to survive for years. The images of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were nothing compared to what I saw. Corpses lined the streets; both animal and human alike. The stench was unbearable. Very little was left and anything that was would never be considered safe. It was all contaminated. It was a true ghost town.
I fled Missouri searching for any sign of life. Now I migrate from place to place, never trusting my bloodlust to let myself get close to anyone. I guess you could call me a vampire, but that term makes me laugh. I would say I’m a mutant from the fallout. My body doesn’t produce its own red blood cells, so I need to drink blood. The hunger burns in me urging me to stay alive; even as the hands of death come for those I drink from. I am a flesh and blood monster of the fallout.
CROUCHING LOW AND walking with a silent step, Phoenix explored the empty streets of New Orleans. This city was the same as the others; barren and lifeless. Entire major metropolitan areas are void of the life they use to hold and in a constant shade of grey. The sky above was a layer of fog so dense the daylight resembled a full, moonlit night. Looking up at the night like sky, Phoenix wished that just once the sun would pop through so the rays could warm her always ice-cold skin. With a sigh, she continued through the silent, empty city. A city so silent you could hear a pin hit the cracked asphalt. A city that was once alive with music, food, endless parties, and excitement, now lay dead under a blanket of dust and death.
Hearing voices she ducked into a narrow alley and crouched behind a rusted out dumpster. Phoenix peered around the side as the alley opening became blocked with five people. She pressed herself against the brick wall holding in the remains of a French Quarter home. “Shit,” she whispered to herself.
“Why can’t there be any hot chicks around?” one of the men said.
“What the hell do you call, me?”
Phoenix ventured another look and watched a black woman, with a head of hair that stood straight up three inches off the top of her head, knock the man in the shoulder.
“Baby girl, everyone in this gang has had that.” He smacked her ample rump.
“Fuck you, asshole.” The woman stalked off, the four men followed her laughing.
A rat crawled out of a hole in the side of the dumpster and scampered away. “You too, huh? Nobody likes the gangs.” Phoenix watched the rodent until it ducked into
a pile of old crates. She drew in a deep breath and looked out one more time, tightly gripping the firearm she carried at her side. She stealthily moved toward the mouth of the alley. Her military-grade boots were silent against the dust, dirt, and gravel that covered the ground. Pulling her gun from the holster she pointed it down, safety off. Allowing herself to lean out just enough to look down the street, she watched as the gang members continued to walk away, kicking trash, and firing their guns at abandoned cars as they went. The pops rang out and echoed through the area. “I guess you guys don’t care about remaining hidden.”
When the gang was a couple blocks away Phoenix ran in the opposite direction down the street, looking over her shoulder from time to time to make sure they hadn’t seen her. Turning the corner she stopped and tried to relax, but that wasn’t possible; two men were headed in her direction. Just like most of the people she saw in the city they were vamps. Just like her, their glowing eyes gave them away. The mutation caused the vamps eyes to glow neon green. No matter the color your eyes were prior; they now glowed like a nuclear beacon.
“Hey, lookey what we got,” one of them said pointing at her.
Taking a quick look around, Phoenix dashed diagonally across the street. The faster she ran the closer the men’s footfalls could be heard behind her. Turning down a street to her left she ran for the first door she saw. Just her luck, the knob wouldn’t turn. She could hear the running steps of the men coming closer as she rammed her shoulder against the door. The frame cracked and the door gave way causing her to fall into someone’s home. She quickly pushed the door closed and jumped to her feet. She could hear the men as they shouted in the street. Leaning her back against the wooden door, she could feel her semi-automatic rifle dig into her back. She moved it to the front, but kept her body firmly pressed against the door. Phoenix closed her eyes, making sure they would not give her away in the darkness of the house. Her ears pricked; she could hear them right outside the door. She stood with her gun at the preparing to be pushed down when they barged in.
“Where did that bitch go?”
“Marcus is gonna want to know we have company on our turf.”
Phoenix heard the sound of a hand wiping at the glass window beside her. She kept her eyes closed and quietly shifted to the side a bit. A lump had formed in her throat and she swallowed against it as beads of sweat dripped down her face. These “gangs” were not anything to mess with, especially for a person wandering on their own.
“I don’t see nothin in there.”
“Check all the doors, man.”
The handle jiggled, but the door remained locked. It jiggled again, and a body hit the door right behind her back. Phoenix jumped, but was able to hold in the squeal that threatened to escape her lungs.
“Something’s wrong with this door, man. She’s gotta be in here.”
“Fuck,” she mouthed. Backing away from the door she opened her eyes and brought her handgun up, and aimed.
The handle jiggled again and then the door flew open. “There she is!”
With her gun held steady, Phoenix waited for them to approach. As they ran toward her she flipped her handgun around gripping it by the barrel as she simultaneously slid the rifle unto her back. The first one to reach her got the full force of the grip slammed into his skull; he dropped like a slain deer. The second grabbed hold of her left arm leaving her free to holster her handgun and grab her knife from its sheath. His fist made contact with her cheek causing pain to sear down her neck and through her eye. Bringing his arm up in a block, he caused her to miss and the knife plunged, cutting his ear clean off. He screamed and grabbed for the bleeding hole on the side of his head. His grip on her arm became tighter as his pain became more pronounced. Phoenix brought the knife up again and this time pushed it into his jugular. Blood sprayed out like a water hose turned full-on. He fell face first onto the floor and she turned him over with her boot. “Silent as a mouse,” she said with a grin.
Just to ensure the other vamp was disposed of she jabbed the knife into his neck as well. He didn’t move or make a sound. She wiped the blade on his shirt and slid it back into its sheath.
Looking around the house she noticed a slumped over figure sitting on the couch. Approaching carefully she knelt down for a closer look. The clothes covering the corpse were among the variety purchased at Sears by elderly men. The skin covering the skeleton was like a mummy. “You got your own hot box here, won’t be long before you crumble. Sorry about your luck.” She sighed and very carefully laid him out on the couch crossing his arms. On the table beside him was a framed picture. She picked up a nearby towel and wiped the dust away uncovering a beautiful woman in a Jazz Age style wedding dress. Her hair was done in the traditional curls of that time and she held a large bouquet of roses.. Phoenix took the man’s hands placing the frame between them.
She left him in peace and walked through the rest of the house. In the kitchen she opened the cabinets in search of what little edible food might be left. Surrounding the canned food were hundreds of mice. They had devoured the boxes of cereal, noodles and flour leaving only bits of packaging. The critters were piled so deep inside the cupboard that they looked as if they were one big moving mass of grey. “Well I guess there is no food to be had here.” She blew out a breath, causing her lips to ripple.
As she left the kitchen she spotted a carved wooden sign and ran her fingers over the letters. “Love Abides Here” A chill ran down her spine and her mind flashed to her own family.
“Tracey,” she heard her mother call.
“Coming!”
“You’re going to be late for school, get a move on.”
She bounded down the stairs missing every other one. As she grabbed a piece of toast she threw her backpack over one shoulder. “You ready, Sophie?”
“Yep.” Her little sister stuffed her books into her bag.
“You girls be home right after school,” her mother cautioned.
As Tracey pulled open the front door, which often stuck in the frame, the sign above it rattled. Her father had made it for her mother last year. It took him a week to carve the words “Love Abides Here” into the cherry wood and stain it. The little message always threatened to fall with every opening and closing of the door.
High school was always the same. In history class Tracey sat at her desk by the window, and beat her pen back and forth end to end against the wood top. Her head rested on her up-raised arm, her hand cupping her chin.
The repetitive beat of her pen stopped and her hands gripped her desk as it began to shake. Her history book fell to the floor with a clap, half opened.
The classroom filled with murmurs of worry.
“Students, stay calm,” Mrs. Avery said as she stepped out into the hall.
Tracey heard rapid footsteps coming toward the room, and then they paused. “Get your students out of the building. There’s an earthquake.”
Mrs. Avery clapped her hands. “Students, stand and form rows between your desks.” Tracey didn’t think that rushing people out of the building was the correct thing to do, but what did she know? This was small town Missouri, not Los Angeles.
As they did so the teacher instructed them to follow her row by row out of the room. She led them out the nearest door, which emptied onto the athletic fields.
As more and more students filed out of the building Tracey scanned the crowd for her little sister, who was two years behind her in school. Her attention was suddenly diverted by the large mushroom cloud of fire growing over the tops of trees. Tracey’s mouth fell open and panic filled her. The baseball fields, football field, and track filled with screams.
“Sophie!” Tracey screamed trying to run and find her. Mrs. Avery caught her arm.
“Student’s get inside, now!”
The mass of students that had filed out in organized formation was now running for the nearest door, fighting for position to get back inside.
“Sophie! Sophie!” Tracey continued to scream as she was s
hoved and pushed.
Like a wave slamming into her, she was knocked inside and instructed to lie down and cover her head.
Standing tall and fighting off the wave of emotions that were threating to bring her to tears, Phoenix looked at the sign one more time then turned her back on it.
She walked out of the house checking up and down the street for any sign of gang members. When she trusted it was clear she continued on her mission.
As she walked she looked at the abandoned cars with the former owners still sitting in the seats or lying outside the door, their skulls resting against the pavement. Some were still clinging to their steering wheel with their boney fingers. Some skulls had their mouths agape as if they were screaming when they died. She was thankful at least the stench was gone. This was the only sign of human life she saw in cities. Gangs of vamps needing blood hunted them like packs of wolves. Their only choice was to flee to more rural places.
As the breeze blew a crumpled piece of paper past her, she wished she had seen this city filled with tourists. Phoenix would rather have walked the streets during Mardi Gras, collecting beads and drinking until she couldn’t walk. Now all that was left was the reminder of what this city used to be. The buildings all looked the same. The TSP did not directly launch here, but it had been contaminated nonetheless. The bomb had gone off near Baton Rouge. This city that once had a vibrant heartbeat now lay lifeless and in ruins.
Her stomach rumbled from not eating for the last forty-eight hours. Sticking to the shadows, she kept her gun at the ready as she made her way to Bourbon Street. As she entered the first abandoned restaurant she hoped she could still find some good food. Utilities had remained running in many buildings because the gangs went around and turned the generators back on. These days, there just wasn’t anybody to send you a shut off notice, or they just didn’t care. Just as in a severe storm some power lines were down and still live; the same could be said for natural gas. In some places pipes burst, in others they remained intact.
Rise of the Phoenix (The Phoenix Trilogy Book 1) Page 1