A New Start: Final Dawn: Book 9 (Volume 9)

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A New Start: Final Dawn: Book 9 (Volume 9) Page 1

by Darrell Maloney




  Final Dawn

  Book 9

  A NEW START

  By Darrell Maloney

  This is a work of fiction. All persons depicted in this book are fictional characters. Any resemblance to any real person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Copyright 2016 by Darrell Maloney

  This book is dedicated to Frances Maloney, the woman who brought me into this world and who threatened to take me out of it several times, but who never stopped loving me.

  Thanks, Mom.

  The Story Thus Far…

  Mark and Hannah didn’t seem well suited at first. He was the class clown. She was the beautiful Mensa candidate. He couldn’t decide on a major. Hers was clear from the start.

  It was strictly by chance that they both ended up at Baylor University in Texas.

  They met by accident in front of Baylor’s administration building.

  Hannah happened to be walking past when Mark exited the building after changing his major for the third time. Electrical Engineering had caught his fancy, and he’d rearranged his course schedule to delve into it.

  It was Hannah’s beauty which turned his head as she walked past.

  Turned his head and prevented him from seeing the three steps until it was too late.

  Mark tumbled down the steps, his papers and books flying in all directions, and Hannah couldn’t help but smile.

  It would have ended then and there if Hannah had just kept walking.

  But she was as sweet as she was beautiful, and she just couldn’t leave Mark sprawled all over the sidewalk. So she helped him up and helped him gather his papers.

  “I’ve got to know,” Mark told her then and there. “What’s your name?”

  “Hannah Jelinovic.”

  Mark had never been one to hide his feelings. Even with someone he’d just met.

  “My God, you’re gorgeous. You’re going to marry me someday.”

  She smiled.

  “I am? You sure about that?”

  “As sure as I’m standing here.”

  She winked at him and said, “Maybe you should learn to walk down steps before you try to walk me down the aisle.”

  Mark’s prediction eventually came true.

  But they wouldn’t have a fairy tale ending.

  A year later Hannah discovered that a meteorite, designated Saris 7, was on a collision course with earth some two years into the future, and immediately reported it to her superiors.

  But they already knew, and swore her to secrecy.

  “But why?”

  “Because we have plenty of time to divert it or destroy it. If we tell the public about it, there will be worldwide panic. Mass suicides. Economic collapse. There will be no collision. So there’s no reason for the public to even know about it.”

  It took Hannah and her coworker Sarah several months to see that their superiors were lying to them. NASA had evaluated their capabilities and determined they had no means of destroying or diverting Saris 7. Perhaps if they had a few more years to develop such a capability, they said…

  But they didn’t have the time.

  It so happened that two days before Hannah discovered Saris 7, Mark had purchased a PowerBall ticket.

  And against all odds, he hit the jackpot.

  They were suddenly millionaires, but had only two years to spend their new fortune.

  Before Saris 7 came crashing to the earth and ended life as they knew it.

  Mark said, “We might as well blow it. Quit your job and we’ll sail the world. We’ll live like royalty and then go out in a blaze of glory.”

  “No,” Hannah countered. “We’re going to use this to prepare. To save the ones we love.”

  The couple purchased an abandoned salt mine near the city of Junction, Texas. For two years they secretly renovated it into a comfortable place to live for their family members and closest friends. At the same time, they had a secret compound built just adjacent to the mountain.

  To use when the world thawed out again.

  Then they stocked the mine with everything they’d need to ride out the chaos. Livestock, seeds, food stores, water and fuel.

  For six and a half long years they isolated themselves in the mine, while the world changed around them.

  On the outside, few survived.

  The world became a harsh and evil place. Survivors grew accustomed to taking what they wanted by force.

  When the world warmed enough to allow the group to transition from the mine to the compound, they weren’t aware of the evil outside their gates.

  And although they took many precautions to keep their existence a secret from the outside world, word got out.

  The evil came to them.

  For they had been successful in keeping their animals and their plants alive.

  They had things others didn’t have.

  Things others wanted.

  The group of forty one successfully fended off a brutal attack which thinned their numbers and hardened them. It brought home the point that they’d always have to be on their guard. There would always be men who saw nothing wrong with taking from others at gunpoint.

  They avoided a war with the United States Army by agreeing to donate half their livestock to the ongoing relief effort in nearby San Antonio. And in the process, they made a friend of an Army colonel named Montgomery.

  Colonel Montgomery took John and Hannah in his helicopter to witness first-hand the good their animals were doing.

  But the pilot suffered a heart attack at the controls. The chopper nose-dived into the forest and there wasn’t time for the co-pilot to stop it.

  John didn’t survive the crash.

  Hannah did, but barely. She and the only other survivor, a crewmember named Joel, kept each other alive while they waited to be rescued.

  Meanwhile, back at the compound, Sarah went for a walk in the woods, to pick some wildflowers.

  She never returned.

  While Bryan and the others desperately searched for Sarah, Hannah slowly recovered in a military hospital. Her survival was dampened by a horrific pall which hung over the compound and its occupants: the knowledge that too much time had passed and Sarah had probably perished in the woods.

  But while everyone else gave up, Bryan didn’t. And Sarah didn’t die. She survived, and had left the forest alive.

  But not on her own. She was attacked and knocked unconscious by a brutal man who’d stumbled across her and decided to take her home with him.

  He stripped her naked and carried her to a stolen pickup truck where he tossed her into the back as though she were game.

  Then he took her to be his slave.

  The blow to the back of Sarah’s head took away her memory.

  Her captor, Nathan Martel, was a most brutal man.

  He was also a man who liked to play games with peoples’ minds.

  Sarah’s amnesia played perfectly into his hands. Instead of keeping her bound to prevent her escape, he convinced her they were husband and wife. And that she lost her memory during an accident.

  Martel called her Becky, and claimed she was his bride.

  And she believed him. She believed not only were they very happily married, but were also all alone in the world.

  That all of their neighbors were hostile and jealous because Nathan, in his great wisdom, had prepared for Armageddon better than anyone else around.

  That those same neighbors were so jealous of Nathan and Becky, were so hostile, that they’d shoot them on sight.

  And that was why they stayed to themselves. Seldom strayed from the farm, unless Nathan was going out to gather supplies.

&nbs
p; Sarah… Becky… was content. After all, staying at the farmhouse wasn’t a bad thing. It was big and comfortable and had most everything they needed.

  Eventually Bryan found her and broke in to rescue her. A battle was waged between her true husband Bryan, and the evil man who’d claimed her as his own.

  Sarah, knowing no better, sided with Martel.

  Martel was tied up and taken back to the compound. The men weren’t sure exactly what to do with him. They couldn’t set him free to do the same things to other women. But there was no longer a working justice system to try him for his crimes.

  Three of them took him on an early-morning ride and refused to tell the others where they’d taken him. Or what they’d done to him.

  Marty Hankins was a trucker by trade before the world went dark and cold. Later he was drafted by the citizens of nearby Eden to be their police chief.

  Marty caught his first homicide case when a citizen reported finding a body near the compound. A body with no identification, but with the name “Martel” tattooed across its back.

  He was in over his head. He knew that. So he sought the help of Frank Woodard, a former homicide detective who lived at the compound with the others.

  Hannah was in a state. She believed another meteorite was headed toward the earth, and could arrive at any time.

  Her warning brought to light a second warning from her husband. Mark had long suspected Colonel Montgomery of playing them. Of using their cattle and swine not to feed the people of San Antonio, as he’d claimed. But instead to stockpile food for the second strike.

  “It all makes sense now,” he said. “NASA didn’t really disband. They’ve been there all along, tracking Cupid 23. Montgomery’s operation was just a ruse. A scheme that would allow the surviving Washington insiders to prepare for their own survival at the expense of everybody else. Just like last time.”

  And now, Book 9 of the series:

  A NEW START

  -1-

  Marty Hankins sat at his desk and sulked.

  He’d taken the job as Chief of Police of the tiny town of Eden not because he was qualified.

  And the townspeople knew that when they’d offered him the position.

  He’d told them himself, in no uncertain terms.

  “I’m a truck driver. I’ve been doing it most of my life. It’s all I know. Everything I know about being a policeman I got from watching Cops in truck stop lounges.”

  The mayor of Eden assured him it was okay.

  “The criminal element is gone now. You chased it away. You led the men who saved our town. We don’t need a beat cop inasmuch as we need a figurehead. Somebody to show that we won’t be pushed around anymore. Somebody watching our backs so we can sleep peacefully at night again. Somebody to scare away any bad guys who wander along and get to thinking we’re easy pickings.”

  “But why me, of all people?”

  “Because you’re tough. You’re available. And we hope you’re willing.”

  Well, at least they were honest.

  “And there’s another reason,” the mayor went on. “You’re a hero to us. The citizens of Eden want to reward you in some manner for what you’ve done for them.”

  “Accepting a position I’m not qualified to do isn’t much of a reward, if you don’t mind me saying so. And your people don’t owe me anything anyway. I just did what any other man would have done.”

  “Hardly. Many other men knew of our plight and did nothing. Granted, you may not be the most qualified for the position, but we’ll pay you handsomely. And you and I know that paying jobs are hard to come by these days.”

  Marty smiled. The offer seemed ludicrous in light of the present state of the world.

  The mayor read his thoughts.

  “I know, I know. The dollar is worthless now. But I’ve talked it over with the other surviving member of my city council and we’re prepared to offer you a special compensation package.”

  Not that he was interested in the job. But Marty was now curious enough to ask.

  “What kind of package?”

  “Eighty thousand dollars a year, deposited into a city fund with your name as the account holder. It will accumulate until such time as the United States Treasury creates a new dollar, or agrees to back the old one again.”

  Marty smiled again.

  “You realize that’ll probably never happen in my lifetime.”

  “I know that. That’s why we gave you an option.”

  “Which is…?”

  “The city has exercised imminent domain rights on all abandoned properties within the city limits. And, since we’re the county seat, on county properties as well. Both residential and commercial.

  “We now own a boatload of land, Mr. Hankins.”

  “Okay…”

  “So at any time in your tenure, if you decide to trade the salary you’ve accrued, you may use it to purchase some of our excess properties. I can promise you a sweetheart deal. Pennies on the dollar. A tiny fraction of the property’s last appraised value.

  “Think of it. You could be our police chief for ten years, and then retire.

  “And when you retired, you’d be the biggest land baron in the county. Maybe even in central Texas.”

  Marty took two days to make his decision. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be a land baron. The whole concept of one man having a monopoly on God’s green earth unnerved him just a bit. Especially when the land came from people who were murdered or who were desperate enough to take their own lives.

  It was no better than accepting blood money.

  He finally went back to the mayor with a counter offer:

  He’d take the job at half the offered rate. But he’d also get the deed to an abandoned house of his choice, large enough to accommodate himself as well as Glenna and her kids.

  “That’s all you want?”

  “That’s all I want.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  That had been exactly six months to the day before Marty received a visitor to his office one afternoon.

  “I found a body west and north of here,” he was told. “Can you come and take a look at it?”

  “West and north of here” was outside of the Eden city limits, and therefore beyond Marty’s jurisdiction. He should have taken a pass.

  But the county sheriff committed suicide just after the start of the freeze. His deputies scattered to the wind.

  He could have gone to the Texas Rangers to ask for their help, but no one knew whether the Rangers even existed anymore.

  And he was too far away from Austin to drive there and find out.

  So here he was, sitting in his office sipping stale coffee and pondering what an idiot he was.

  Marty had received a dressing down of sorts from his friend Frank Woodard. Frank was an old detective who’d spent many years running the homicide unit at

  the Bexar County Sheriff’s Office in nearby San Antonio.

  When Bexar County forced him into an early retirement he wasn’t ready to take, he said, “Fine.”

  He accepted the same position for the San Antonio Police Department.

  With better pay and a bigger desk.

  And a prettier uniform which he only wore occasionally, for official functions.

  Frank was old school, raised on a ranch in west Texas. He was much more comfortable in a leather western-cut jacket and a cowboy hat than he was in dress blues.

  Frank was up in Junction a bit more than a year before hunting for one of the few deer who’d survived the freeze when he caught the eye of the people in a secret compound.

  They became fast friends, and Frank was invited into the compound with his wife Eva.

  It was a win/win situation. In those days life was very dangerous in San Antonio. Still was, actually. Frank wasn’t as young as he once was, and his greatest fear was being attacked by more marauders than he could fend off.

  It wasn’t himself he was worried about, but rather Eva.
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  He’d seen what the animals did to unprotected women.

  The people in the compound were getting two more people whose talents and abilities much outweighed the food it would take to feed them.

  Eva was a retired school teacher and a heck of a cook. Frank was an expert on all things related to security, and a war veteran to boot.

  Eva could help teach the children in the camp, while cooking homemade tamales and making everyone fat.

  Frank would share his knowledge of combat tactics to ensure the men in the compound were able to fend off future attacks.

  And he suggested many new procedures to strengthen their security. Duress codes, a new alarm system, comm-out procedures.

  And on top of all that, both of the newcomers knew how to drive a tractor. And despite the fact they were older than nearly everyone else in the compound, they pulled their fair share of work in the fields to bring in the crops and take care of the livestock.

  The overall operation was far and away better for having brought them in.

  Frank brought in something else as well. He brought many years experience as a law enforcement officer.

  Specifically in homicides.

  -2-

  “Why are you even investigating this,” Frank asked Marty straight away. “If you found the body outside your city limits, it’s not in your jurisdiction.”

  The discussion didn’t get any better from there.

  Marty explained he knew the case didn’t fall in his jurisdiction. But if he didn’t work the case, who would?

  Frank told him such action was grounds for dismissal, and that any good defense attorney would likely petition the court to drop all charges.

  He looked at Marty’s evidence and evidence gathering techniques and concluded his friend had made so many mistakes there was no chance of the case ever seeing a courtroom.

  Marty dejectedly told him, “It’s probably a moot point anyway. I don’t even know who my victim is. And even I know that’s the first step in solving a murder.”

  Frank said, “True. But how do you know that?”

 

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