The Surviving Son (Valkyrie Book 2)

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The Surviving Son (Valkyrie Book 2) Page 1

by Hawk, J. K.




  Valkyrie Book #2 The Surviving Son By;

  J.K. Hawk

  Copyright © 2014 by J.K. Hawk Publishing All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  J.K. Hawk Publishing

  [email protected]

  ISBN-13:

  Message to the Reader Thank You for purchasing The Surviving Son. This is my second in what I hope will be many novels. As I am a self-publisher with limited resources, I have had my hands full from editing to marketing, and still I am finding errors and correcting them as I go. If you enjoyed this read, but found issues, please email suggestions and errors to [email protected], it would be greatly appreciated. Also, don’t forget to leave a review on the Amazon.com or the Kindle store, good or bad, it will only improve my future works.

  For my son, Tristan; Never give up on your dreams. Contents

  Presidential Transcript ....................................................................................................... 1

  Dawning .......................................................................................................................... 15

  Detention ......................................................................................................................... 40

  Feign Social Order........................................................................................................... 52

  Rooted in the Mire ........................................................................................................... 63

  Mindless Prisons.............................................................................................................. 70

  Food for Thought............................................................................................................. 84

  Sign of the Times............................................................................................................. 98

  Deluge of Apathies ........................................................................................................ 104

  Vestige of Hope ............................................................................................................. 106

  Within the Tome ............................................................................................................ 120

  Rancid Punishment ........................................................................................................ 128

  Simple Q&A .................................................................................................................. 136

  Parasitic Karma.............................................................................................................. 143

  PAPA ............................................................................................................................. 152

  Inspired Reunion............................................................................................................ 159

  Penal Servitude.............................................................................................................. 173

  Nature of the Beast ........................................................................................................ 199

  The Forsaken ................................................................................................................. 210

  Old World Benedictions ................................................................................................ 221

  Hounds of War............................................................................................................... 229

  God’s Porch ................................................................................................................... 236

  Consecrate the Cauldron Bog ........................................................................................ 244

  A Friend of a Friend ...................................................................................................... 250

  ECS 43........................................................................................................................... 259

  Man in the Box .............................................................................................................. 269

  March of Atonement...................................................................................................... 277

  Campaign for Restitution ............................................................................................... 289

  RESTROSPECTIVE ..................................................................................................... 314

  Presidential Transcript

  To My Fellow Survivors; What seems like eons ago, a past life almost forgotten, society had become convinced that mankind’s reign on this planet was closing upon an end. Some claimed that nuclear war was the direction, others believed that we would face a more natural demise; Meteors, Earth Quakes and Tidal Waves. Theories arose of potential Civil Unrest driven by economic fallout or even an invasion by other worldly beings. But the most common assumptions was that of a rising pandemic, or the words of scripture for which predicted our fall centuries ago. It is in the last two that we now find ourselves.

  However, we have largely tossed away those archaic beliefs of the old world. And although we all view the idea of God in our own ways, we have made a unilateral choice to not be driven by them. As of late, I’ve come across a dusty old copy of The Holy Bible, and found myself drawn to its cryptic words of guidance. Even though I have found the fables within to be exaggerated and overly preposterous, I have also found them to be unusually - comforting. That being said, I began to see the obscure truths that conveniently apply to almost all of life’s unforeseen circumstances. So I’d like to share with you a Verse from the book of Revelations, not as divine propaganda, but as foresight into mankind’s delicate balance between enduring enlightenment and perilous ignorance.

  “ The great Basilisk was hurled down – that ancient serpent called the devil, or Lucifer, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and all of his Zealots were cast down with him.”

  Chapter 12, Verse 9. Valkyrie is the Basilisk, our construct of Satan himself, and his Zealots are the Infected. The lost souls who mindlessly scour land and sea in search of those lead astray. We are living in the realm of pure evil, envisioned long ago by superstitious and gullible men. Their prophecies driven by merely observing the nature of man and the mystery of nature. But, we can still rise from the apocalypse as a whole, we have yet to be defeated, we have yet to conform to those beliefs.

  I come before you today not as your President, but as a mere reflection of the vast accomplishments society has made in such a brief yet ceaseless moment of time. I am humbled to have been the face and the voice of our own rebirth, humbled by the peoples honor and loyalty, and most importantly, humbled by our unwavering determination. On this day, I have much to dwell upon, as do all of us.

  The Great Fall represents the beginning of our new calendar year, but the true origins of mankind’s fate had begun years before. Scientists and power hungry politicians blindly tampered with an already genetically fragile life-form decades ago, and then irresponsibly forgotten ab
out. When their research was rediscovered by another regime just barely into its first year of power, they too foolishly but decisively explored Valkyrie’s genetic capabilities. Without guidance nor caution, without forethought or integrity, they dove into her seductive depths. And it was in the face of power and greed that they unleashed SPV’s true destructive capabilities.

  The former World Health Organization caught wind of Valkyries perfume rising from the degradation of cities in Kazakhstan, Moldova and Belarus, but those country’s meek pleas for assistance came too late. Valkyrie had already spread even farther and deeper into our society, and W.H.O. was incapable of coordinating proper containment methods. At that moment all research was secretly transferred over to the CDC, along with a desperate call for American intervention.

  The Center of Disease Control immediately acknowledged that they were unprepared to handle such a contagion, and by recommendation of President Donald Cook, all research was shifted over to Division 9. We were an off the books agency once used to develop biological weapons for the military, but after the signing of the Geneva Protocol in nineteen twenty-eight, the facility had been decommissioned. However, under strict classification, Division 9 continued its research deep underground, but not for the purpose of weapons development, instead for the defense against them. With our advanced technology we sought to bring an end to the world’s rapidly growing desperation, but Valkyrie’s conquest was alreadyin its final stages.

  Upon my initial investigation I found that the infection was slow to spread, as we all know, via bites and scratches, as well as any other transfer of bodily fluid. What we remembered of a Kiss Goodbye had quickly became the Kiss of Death. But as I learned about her ruthlessness, and I began to see the patterns, Valkyrie mutated and thus became airborne. Although not everyone was affected by this new strain, one and three was all that was needed for this wildfire to become an uncontrollable holocaust. And on the First Day of the First Outbreak Moon, Boston fell, and the swelter was felt worldwide.

  Within a couple of weeks, the Division 9 complex at Fort Detrick was abandoned, all except for myself, along with a multitude of test subjects and research equipment. It was then that I vowed not to leave my post and continue my efforts to bring Valkyrie to her knees. It was my sole purpose, and in a way, I felt as if I were on a direct Mission from God. I was Jonah - trapped within the bowels of a whale, deep under the surface, searching for a way out so that I could save the people of Nineveh.

  Although I had the resources and an abundant amount of time, the world did not. Within sixty days from the initial American outbreak, Valkyrie had reeked so much havoc that communications worldwide ended in one, devastatingly single moment. June second, per the old calendar, at Six Thirty Three pm, the clocks stopped. There was no one left to maintain our systems, they had all fled or perished. But we do not blame them, at that moment it was everyone for themselves. And thus, The Great Fall was complete, the point where mankind bowed in defeat as we were viscously thrown back into the Stone Age.

  Months passed slowly within my veiled tomb, and the pressure of solitude weighed heavily upon my head, but I diligently continued my work, and desperately held onto to hope. Then, upon the first New Year’s Eve since The Fall, I once again sent out a weekly and desperate message through the Emergency Communications System, hoping for a response. Praying that I was not alone, wondering if my existence was all for nothing. I have met many people who heard this call, and have told me that it gave them faith that mankind would survive.

  “To the living, to those who still fight, to those who survive. Happy New Year, and may peace be with you.”

  Although others heard this hail, my Holiday Greeting was returned with the all too common static. My call out to the world was merely to let those who might be listening know that they were not alone, and if I truly was the last living soul on earth, then it was a message to Valkyrie herself. To let her know that mankind had not been defeated, that one still remained, and that he aimed to vanquish her into hell.

  I had never expected a response that night, but not actually receiving one condemned me further into blackened depression. Cursed with thoughts that far too many of us have had; opting-out, hara-kiri, suicide – they plagued me more than Valkyrie herself. I was a one-man legion, surrounded yet fortified, alone with only my thoughts and endless analysis’s. Armed with only my own selfdetermination, which guided me through a perpetual blitzkrieg.

  Hours later, well into the New Year, and long after a bottle of Cognac, I rested. My head lay heavily upon the communications system, and I drifted aimlessly. Somewhere between reality and a drunken dream-scape, inebriated, lost in a trance, meditating to the static of the empty airwaves. An everlasting stillness within the chaos of a persistent hiss, infinite emptiness.

  “… hello…” a muffled voice whisper in my ear, so quiet that I almost disregarded the thought of it.

  “…an you hear me?” This time much clearer, I wasn’t imagining.

  “…You are not alone, we are the Global Federation of Survivors.”

  For as long as I survive, that brief moment, those fateful words, will always be remembered.

  Back then, the GFS was nothing more than a small group of revolutionaries and humanitarians who were stationed somewhere in southern France behind the walls of an abandoned military base. Consisting of only a few dozen survivors, mostly former red-cross volunteers who struggled to bring others together, as well as attempting to survive themselves. I was the first they had made contact with after months of attempts, and it was all because of one young man, Larue Arnaud, may he rest in peace.

  Larue was a brilliant computer hacker, only seventeen years of age, who after many attempts managed to tap into the French military’s systems and redirect the Emergency Broadcast Satellites back into alignment. Through binary code we found ourselves no longer struggling to seek out others, but instead we began directing them to safety. His selfless efforts allowed our voice to be heard once again, and he will live forever in our own gratitude.

  This new organization’s self-delegated mission was to recruit and to rebuild, not as a country, but as a species. ‘Mankind will rise as one,’ was and is our motto. Black, white, yellow or brown, it did not matter. American, Chinese, German, or Pakistani, no one would care. Atheist, Christian, Muslim or Hindu, we would learn from each other. Wealth and Hierarchy, banished beneath the waves of the past. This design has proven successful, and as we have made contact with more and more survivors our numbers grew rapidly along with our unity. Throughout all of history we have seen man come together in the most desperate of times, but at this moment, we were achieving a state of singularity never seen before.

  All across the world our colonies sprung from the ruins like dandelions across a freshly mowed lawn. From fall-out bunkers to locked-down skyscrapers. Missile silos to oil-tankers and even one nuclear submarine. These venues of hiding became our fortresses. And from our walls of confinement we passed tips onto each other; how to fortify, how to eliminate, and even medical expertise. All of which we accomplished through the airwaves by the modern technology of our former society. Our voices were alive and growing, only this time it was not a fearful weep, but a ferocious roar.

  Banding together, we continued to fight and face Valkyries advances with an iron fist, yet with each victory more of our loved ones are lost. From the Northeast Sweeps, to the Metropolitan Purges, we have stomped out the flames of this epidemic. From our fallen sister colonies, to the search for those Missing in Action, we have stuck together. And unlike before, our diversity is the armor that has shielded us, rather than the wedge that once segregated us.

  On the Fifth Day of the Tenth Thunder Moon, the GFS and the World declared victory over this dreadful tragedy, for which celebrations erupted all across the globe. For the first time, since the beginning of time, the visage of Mankind was not that of many, but as one. Unity had become a reality, and there was nothing that could hold us back.

  Recently though
, as some of you may have heard, our optimism and fortitude has been crushed by the chaos that has broken out among random colonies across the globe. Wicklow, Ireland - Ilha da Cazanga, Angola - Isabella, Puerto Rico- Nelma, Russia - and even Port Huron, Michigan. All of which have been described as barbaric terrorist attacks by unaligned criminal factions, simple murderous hunts, pillaging and looting. However as we investigated, some of those rumors did not match the evidence.

  In each attack our research teams confirmed that there was nothing of value stolen, except for the bodies of the dead which were dragged off into nearby forests or barren sewage systems, never to be found again. And in each instance there was no direct witness to these events, at least none that lived to tell about it. No faces, only the remains of destruction and blood. We were facing the dawn of a new war, one with a faceless enemy.

  However, today I stand before the world with confidence that we have uncovered this menace, but with a heavy heart it is not a means to an end. Last week, video-records from the colony in Oak Harbor Washington gave us a glimpse of what we now face. Although the images are dark and grainy, the movements of the six or so individuals were all too recognizable, and most of us know them as Tweekers. But, after closer examination, it became apparent that they were more than just swift mindless wraiths.

  Aside from their stalky posture, lanky arms and pivoting heads, they moved with thought and purpose. They were precise, each sidestep, and every hop was calculated. They worked together, like a team of ninja-bandits out of some cheesy comic-book. No, these were no barbaric criminals, but an unfortunate and well overdue mutation. Pack Hunters, or what I prefer to call them, Social Predators. But most of my colleagues simply refer to them as Prowlers. And from the depths of hell they had been resurrected, quite literally.

  It took scrutinizing research before we found a trend which implies that these fiends are of no natural mutation, but unfortunately one induced by my own personal research back beneath the surface of Fort Detrick. My counter-agent, my weapon of hope is no more than the catalyst to a new strain of SPV. And I assure you, in light of this information, we have destroyed every last cache of the biological weapon. However, this now leaves us even more vulnerable to an uprising of the original infection. We must, for the moment, be steadfast and resort to more primitive means of eradication. More importantly, we must remain united.

 

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