Nightwalker 5

by Frank Roderus

  Nightwalker 5

  Written by Craig Martelle, created by

  Frank Roderus

  This book is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2019 Frank Roderus & Craig Martelle

  Cover by Ryan Schwarz - thecoverdesigner.com

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  Nightwalker is published by LMBPN Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of LMBPN Publishing. Published under license from the Roderus Estate.

  First US edition, August 2019

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-64202-421-0

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64202-422-7

  Nightwalker (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2015-2019 by Frank Roderus

  Nightwalker 5 Team

  Thanks to my Beta Readers

  Micky Cocker, Dr. Jim Caplan, Kelly O’Donnell, and John Ashmore

  Editor

  Lynne Stiegler

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  About the Author

  Notes - Craig Martelle

  Books by Frank Roderus

  Books by Craig Martelle

  Other books from LMBPN Publishing

  Chapter One

  Wolfe shouldered his AR-15 and watched for movement in the distance. The young girl, Jennifer, was curled up with the big German Shepherd-wolf mix, Buddy. The two were inseparable and reminded him every day what he was fighting for.

  The nuclear holocaust had caught Wolfe in Idaho, thousands of miles from his home and—far more importantly—his family in Bradenton, Florida. The bombs had shattered the United States, creating hot zones, red zones flooded with harmful radiation, and clear areas where no radiation remained. To escape the fallout from the bombs that had targeted Boise, Wolfe had holed up inside an old mine shaft. Subsisting on the foods that were in the long-haul truck he had been driving, he had stayed there for more than two years until he was out.

  Somehow, due to radiation or strange chemical components in the water that seeped out of the walls, he had become immensely strong and quick. His hair had turned white, and his beard no longer grew. He could also sense radiation as a tingle in his fingertips. That came in handy to keep him safe in the Hot Zone. The biggest change, however, was his eyesight.

  When he emerged, he had found himself unable to see in the daylight. Darkness was his new friend. He did not know how or why those things had happened to him. He simply accepted them for what they were. He found welding goggles, and wore them most of the time to keep away the searing pain of the sun’s rays.

  James Wolfe had been greatly changed by the time he spent in that mine, but none of that mattered to him. All he cared about now was to get home to Lurleen and their toddler JoJo—Joseph Henry Wolfe IV, named for Wolfe’s father and grandfather.

  Home to his family, if he could find them.

  Home to his family, if they still lived.

  There was one hitch. Wolfe had run afoul of some brothers, smugglers who scavenged manufactured goods from the radioactive Hot Zones. The Alston brothers had accused him of murder, and now Wolfe was a fugitive in the Clear Areas, the zones governed by a new entity called the Federal Command.

  Darkness had fallen a few hours prior, and Wolfe wanted to cross into the Clear Area, away from the checkpoints, away from the criminal looks of the FEDCOM soldiers. They were no better than the wilders on the other side of the meandering border, the ill-defined separation between two areas. Both were unsafe, but for different reasons.

  Wolfe broke down the AR-15, separating the upper and lower receiver groups, and wedged them into his pack. When he was in the Clear Area, he didn’t want to stand out. The other times he’d had the displeasure of dealing with FEDCOM, only the soldiers had been carrying military-style rifles. At least openly. Wolfe had his bow and blowgun. He also had camp gear, a sleeping bag, and a few items of clothing. It was more than most had, and a treasure to be cherished, or something to be coveted by others.

  His gear had been taken before, more than once, but he had always gotten it back. He vowed to not let anyone take what was his. The welding goggles hung around his neck, a permanent attachment to his body. He could not function without them, not in polite society that lived and worked during the daytime. The wilders had tried to take that away from him.

  “I let the Alstons live, and that has caused me too many problems,” he muttered. “No more. If you cross me and mine, you have taken a step toward your personal abyss. The only way to defeat scum like you is to beat you back into the Stone Age.”

  Wolfe’s knuckles turned white from the fists he clenched. He stared into the darkness, wondering if he would encounter them again or if he was free of their malicious influence.

  Jennifer stirred, blinking into the darkness. “Mister Wolfe?”

  “I’m right here, Miss Jennifer.”

  “I overslept. I’m sorry,” she started, but he stopped her when he picked up her small pack and handed it over.

  “Nothing to be sorry for. When you’re ready, we’ll cross into the Clear Area. Should be easy walking for you and Buddy.”

  He could see her nod in the darkness, but she could not see his smile. Buddy trotted away to take care of business. A minute later, there was a scuffle in the brush. Wolfe ran that way until he came across the dog carrying a dead rabbit in its mouth.

  “Go ahead and eat, dog.” Wolfe returned to the young girl and sat down with her. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “What is there?” she asked.

  He had told JoJo that he could be whatever he wanted to be. That was no longer true. “I guess, Miss Jennifer, we are going to have to find out by seeing for ourselves. None of that,” he waved his hand at the world behind them before shifting to point at the way ahead, “and all of that.”

  In the distance, random lights flickered from those blessed with power. They lived in the Clear Area. Blessed was probably the wrong word, but they were doing what they had to do. Wolfe hoped they had a public transportation system of some sort. The girl was keeping up without complaint, but walking all two thousand miles would take its toll. He would protect her, but was it the right way to raise her?

  He struggled with the answer.

  Buddy returned, tail wagging while his tongue worked overtime cleaning his muzzle. Jennifer patted his head, and the three started walking.

  Chapter Two

  Jennifer kept her head down, as did Jim Wolfe. Daylight had come, and with it, the three found themselves almost ten miles inside the Clear Area. Normal people outnumbered the soldiers on the outskirts of a town that threatened to turn into a city. A river flowed from the north. Wolfe wondered if it was the same one they had followed out of Canon City before turning south.

  The
Arkansas River. He had almost forgotten the name. Did people remember what things were called, or were they giving rivers and mountains new names? Paradise. Not paradise at all, but the name had changed. A new opportunity for people with ambition. A new opportunity for bullies to run wild. Maybe that was where the name “wilders” came from.

  It was going on three years since the bombs had fallen. Three long and painful years. Wolfe clutched the bow he carried over his shoulder while his other hand swung free. He tried to look casual but was tense as a horse that smelled blood. Or one that saw a rattlesnake coiled on the trail ahead, head up and tail rattling.

  His fingertips didn’t tingle, and that was something. They would not have called it the Clear Area if there was radioactivity burning holes through the people. At least the air and land were safe, although Wolfe could not speak for anything else. In his travels, he had found that Clear Areas were as dangerous as Red Zones.

  “Excuse me,” Jennifer said to an older woman who was approaching them on the sidewalk. Wolfe was shocked and gritted his teeth. He expected her to scream for the soldiers to protect herself from the strangers. “Where might we get a drink of water?”

  The woman eyed Wolfe cautiously. He hoped his brown-dyed hair would make him look different from any posters with his description if the Alstons’ influence had made it this far south and east.

  “Yes, dearie. You look like you could use a bath, too. You’ll want the boardinghouse up ahead. They’ll take care of you and your...” she searched for the word, “father?”

  “My Pa and I only want a drink and then to be on our way.”

  The older woman took a knee before producing a handkerchief from the folds of her skirt. She licked at one corner and used it to clean Jennifer’s face. The young girl stood still during the attention.

  “Stop by the boardinghouse. Tell them Bessie sent you, and that I’ll be there shortly.”

  She stood and gave Wolfe a full once-over before reaching for his goggles. Wolfe caught her hand with a motion too quick for the eyes to follow. He immediately let go, keeping his hand up and holding it to the side. “I have a problem with my eyesight,” Wolfe said softly. “These glasses hold most of the pain at bay. My eyes are brown if you were wondering, but they don’t work exactly right. Miss Jennifer and Buddy make sure I get where we need to go.”

  The older woman nodded knowingly and lowered her hand.

  “My apologies, mister. Go to the boardinghouse. I’ll join you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  Wolfe and Jennifer watched her go. “I’ve had bad luck with boardinghouses that catered to strangers.” Wolfe was torn. The girl needed a bath. He remembered his last hot shower—at a boardinghouse, just before he went to war with the hosts.

  Buddy didn’t seem to care. Jennifer was happy, and that made the big dog happy. Wolfe hung his head for a moment.

  “I’ll watch your back, and you watch mine,” Jennifer told him. She deserved a better life, but this was the best Wolfe could do. Wasn’t that what family did? Watch each other’s backs? That made life safer and worth living.

  The houses were scattered along the before-time streets. The garages and sheds had been turned into places of work. Wolfe couldn’t see what the people were doing, but they were laboring away inside. He looked this way and that, trying to see in, but couldn’t, and worried that he was being too obvious.

  “I’ll go look, Mister Wolfe. Nobody will worry about me.”

  He was torn about letting the girl go by herself but saw no other way. He was trying to avoid going to the boardinghouse for as long as possible.

  “Take Buddy with you, and stay where I can see you. If you yell for me, I will be there before you hear the last echo,” he promised.

  “I know you will. If anyone tries to hurt me, I think the only yell you’ll hear will be theirs when Buddy lets them have it. He’s a good dog, and I love him.”

  Wolfe’s lip twitched into a smile, the kind he saved for those he cared about.

  “Off you go, now.” He leaned against a tree growing between the sidewalk and the street. No cars remained. Whether they had been driven away or removed after the war, he would never know. He did not care enough to find out. It simply was, and he accepted it.

  Jennifer skipped as she walked, her hand caught up in the German Shepherd’s scruff. They reached a garage, stopped, and stood patiently watching. Someone inside flicked a hand to shoo them away. Jennifer curtsied politely and walked casually to a shed next door, where a woman walked out to greet her and pet the dog.

  Buddy. Wolfe listened, looked, and scoured his memory. There were no dogs in this town, which made Wolfe and Jennifer stand out. He had taken great pains to fit in, dying his hair, hiding his rifle, and walking with a family. But the dog… Like Jennifer, he would not leave either behind.

  The woman reached for the girl and grabbed her. Wolfe took a step forward, but it was just a hug. They waved, and the woman went back into the shed. Jennifer skipped her way back.

  “They are making replacement parts for the electrical system,” she said, enunciating the words as if she’d memorized them.

  “Why did those men chase you away from the garage?”

  “They were grinding something, and sparks were flying out the door. They yelled at me to be careful, and keep Buddy out of the way, too.”

  “Makes sense,” Wolfe conceded. “And the woman?”

  “She was nice.” Jennifer did not say anything else about the shed or the woman’s explanation of what they were doing.

  “Why wouldn’t they use a larger machine shop instead of hobby tools in garages?” Wolfe wondered. Jennifer shrugged and ran into a yard to make Buddy chase her. The two played as Wolfe herded them in the general direction of the boardinghouse.

  “Maybe things are more normal the farther one gets into a Clear Area,” Wolfe mumbled. But the people here earning his trust? That took something completely different.

  Chapter Three

  “What can I do you for?” The man was dressed in dirty bib overalls and a stained and torn t-shirt. His hair probably had not been cut since the war. Or his fingernails for that matter, but his smile was genuine, and in Wolfe’s book, that mattered more than a bath.

  “Bessie sent us. We were looking for a drink of water and maybe to refill our canteens while we are here. Then we will be on our way. Much obliged for any kindness you can show us.”

  “Sure. Sink over there works, but not the toilet. They don’t have the sewage system up and running yet, but they promise it will be soon. Where’d y’all come from?”

  Wolfe could not lie. He believed people deserved the truth, or as much as there was to tell, but no more. “Hot Zone to the west and north of here. We were able to detect the radiation, so we stayed clear of anything harmful.”

  “Like a Geiger counter? Those will save your life, but no need for those here.”

  “Something like a Geiger counter, yes. It is nice to be in a place that is safe.” Wolfe squinted through his goggles, knowing the man could not see his eyes.

  “Nice dog. Can I pet him?” the man asked.

  Jennifer didn’t have to do anything. Buddy worked his way around the back of the counter. The man dropped his hand but then started to yell. The dog shot out from behind the counter, stopping halfway across the open area that used to be a living room to eat the sandwich he’d stolen. The man’s shoulders hunched after the first step.

  “It’s been a while since I seen a dog. I should have known. They don’t like us eatin’ in front of the customers or my sammich woulda been out of reach.”

  “I’m sorry, mister,” Jennifer said. “But I don’t think there’s anywhere you could have put your sandwich that he would not have gotten it.”

  The man chuckled.

  “How can I make up for that?” Wolfe asked, looking angrily at the dog. Buddy was as happy as could be until he realized he was being glared at by all the humans in the room. His tail dropped, and he slunk over to a couch befo
re jumping onto it and licking his front paw while looking with puppy-dog eyes at those who watched him.

  Wolfe pulled off his pack and reached into it, pulling out a can of beans. Supplies like canned food were hard to come by. He didn’t want to give them up, but the man looked like he only had one chance to eat, and Wolfe was not going to be responsible for his lack of food.

  “Take it.” Wolfe put it on the counter. “I thank you for letting us have some water.”

  Wolfe nodded toward the bathroom. Jennifer hurried over, taking the two canteens from Wolfe, in addition to her own.

  The can sat on the counter, neither looking at it as they stood in uncomfortable silence.

  “Was that a rifle you had in your backpack?”

  Wolfe stood a little taller, his mouth set. “The Hot Zones are dangerous. Sometimes a bow is not the right tool for the job. I also have a blowgun.” Wolfe showed the man the tube and one of the pellets.

  “That works? On what?”

  “Birds, rabbits. Not squirrels. Those things are tougher than shoe leather,” Wolfe quipped.

  “And the bow?”

  “Deer, wild boar. Antelope if I can get close enough.”

  “The rifle?” the man pressed in a low voice.

  “Elk. And that mountain lion pelt she wears.” Wolfe nodded toward the bathroom. He didn’t want to add that too many times, men had been in his sights. The deadliest creature of all.