A Heart of Flesh

by Casey Hays

  A New Adult Tale

  Casey Hays

  Whispering Pages, LLC

  Copyright © 2017 by Casey Hays

  Editor: Anna Faulk

  Graphic Designer: M.A. Phipps

  We Got You Covered

  BeSpoke Book Design

  Published by Whispering Pages, LLC, an independently owned company.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Publisher Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  A Heart of Flesh: An Arrow’s Flight Novella, bk 2 / by Casey Hays

  178 p. 22.86 cm

  ISBN 978-0-9905698-8-6

  1. Young Women - - Fiction. 2. Survivalism - - Fiction 3. Dystopian - - Fiction

  I. Hays, Casey, 1972-

  PZ7.H3149176 HEA 2017

  [FIC]

  About the Author

  Casey Hays lives on the Eastern Plains of New Mexico and has been writing professionally since 2008. She has a deep love for God, music, and a good cup of coffee. A Heart of Flesh is her 7th published work and the second novella in The Arrow’s Flight Series. Find out more about Casey at www.whisperingpages.com

  Books by Casey Hays

  The Cadence

  A stand-alone YA Contemporary Fantasy

  The Arrow's Flight Series

  Breeder

  The Archer

  Master

  The Arrow's Flight Novellas

  The Scent of Lilac

  A Heart of Flesh (NA)

  A Tongue of Fire (forthcoming)

  A Soul of Stone (forthcoming)

  FIREBLOODS

  A YA Paranormal Romance

  Chapter 1

  Diana sits on a large, flat, tree stump and reads aloud from a book. I only half listen as I work my knife through a piece of fresh wood. For over a year now, Sophia has been teaching her how to read, and honestly, she’s been a fast study. In fact, I’m surprised by how quickly she’s caught on.

  A burst of light wind upsets her blonde curls, and she reaches up to push a strand away from her face. Her voice is comforting, a perfect match for the peaceful day, and the children gather at her feet, waiting anxiously for her to show them the illustrations. They take turns pointing chubby fingers and chiming in excitedly before she nods with a smile and moves on to read the next page. Today, they tackle Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and I can’t help the smile that keeps invading my face. These kids have some strong opinions regarding the wayward girl who stumbled upon the cabin in the woods.

  “Why does she go for Papa Bear’s stuff first every time?” Nicholas exclaims. “If she went straight for Baby Bear’s porridge, she’d be better off.”

  “Because Papa Bear’s things look better,” Jacob replies.

  “How do you know?” Nicholas retorts.

  “I know because it’s right there in the picture.”

  The other children shuffle around, watching the exchange with anticipation, and I don’t miss the familiar gleam in their eyes. Keen excitement and anxious tension mixed together. Diana straightens, her fingers tightening on the edges of the book.

  “Boys,” she cuts in, working to keep her voice steady. “There’s no need to argue. Let’s see what happens next, shall we?”

  “You weren’t there.” Nicholas narrows in on Jacob, ignoring Diana completely. “Pictures aren’t the real truth.”

  “The story’s not real either,” Jacob points out before returning to pulling up handfuls of grass and scattering it across his jeans. “Duh!”

  At this, Nicholas rears back his shoulders and bunches his fingers into fists, a scowl creasing his young face. Diana glances at me, a hint of wariness clouding her features. I pause in my whittling.

  “Nicholas.”

  My tone is harsh enough to cause him to swivel his head in my direction. I tense, but for once, he falls back, his fists relaxing.

  “Sorry, Justin.”

  I’m surprised, but I keep my expression clear of this.

  “Nothing to be sorry for… as long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He settles back, and in surprise, Diana mouths a silent “thank you” before returning to the story. All seven children hone in to hear the end, although if I’m counting correctly, this is the eleventh time they’ve unanimously selected this book. Still, this is the first time that particular argument has cropped up. I study Nicholas, making a mental note. Perhaps he wasn’t in the mood for the dungeon today. Or… and this is a stretch… maybe he really is progressing.

  “… but Mama Bear’s chair was too soft.”

  Diana’s voice carries across the grassy lot, and I return to my carving. I’m working on something special. The thing is… I don’t exactly know why I’m doing it. I just know I woke up one morning with this nagging urge to carve it—whatever “it” is.

  I’m usually pretty handy with my knife. I can visualize just about anything and transform a piece of wood into that exact image in no time. If I can look at the object I’m trying to emulate… like a butterfly… or a flower… or a sword… even better. A couple hours and voila! Mission accomplished. Time to move on to the next project.

  But this time, it isn’t working. I have no visual, and so I can’t get it right.

  I’ve started over twice.

  I study the distorted chunk of wood in my hands. It’s pathetic and not even close to what it should resemble. Frustrated, I stand and chuck the half-carved piece into the air and over a stand of trees a hundred yards away.

  “Whoa!” Caleb comes to his feet, disregarding the fact that his mother is not quite finished with story time. He smiles and saunters over. “Do it again, Justin.”

  I plant a look of surprise across my face and fold my knife, slipping it into my pocket. “Do what? There’s nothing to see here.”

  “Yes there is,” he points. “I saw you throw that stick. Just like Stephen, only better.”

  Stephen is on his feet then towering over Caleb by a good foot. “Wrong Caleb.” His voice is defiant and commanding. “Nobody’s better than me!”

  That’s my cue to scoop Caleb up and secure him on my shoulders, far from Stephen’s reach.

  “You know what I think, boys?” I say, angling my head upward enough to see the underside of Caleb’s chin before I settle my whole gaze on Stephen. “I think Stephen is going to master throwing sticks far better than I ever will. And probably soon, too.”

  Stephen beams up at me, his hazel eyes glistening with a sense of future pride. I’m not wrong to say this: the kid has skills. Just last week I watched him throw one of those huge acorns from Scarlet Forest eighty yards before it hit the ground. To say that’s impressive for a four-year-old is an understatement.

  “Really?” Caleb ruffles his fingers through my hair, and then covers my eyes with his small hands. He bends down, his mouth close to my ear. “He’ll throw farther than you?”

  “No doubt,” I laugh, prying his hands from my face. I take Stephen by the hand and escort the two back to Diana, flipping Caleb over my head and depositing him in his mother’s lap. He giggles and snuggles in close to her chest. Finished with the reading, she sets the book aside and wraps him in her arms.

  “All right, children.” She connects with each one of them individually, giving Caleb a quick peck on the cheek. “Off to the kitchen for supper.”

  An excited jabbering explodes from them as they bounce to their feet and take off. Caleb squirms out of his mother’s arms, wipes off the wet kiss, and trails after his slightly older brother, Henry.

  “Be careful b
oys,” Diana calls out to her two sons. “You listen to Penelope. And don’t upset the others.”

  “Okay.” Their voices fade as they disappear around the bend. Diana smiles, watching them go. We both know Caleb and Henry will never catch the other children.

  “I hope Nick leaves some food,” she says with a sigh. She picks up the book and hugs it to her chest before her blue eyes find mine. I chew on my lip.

  “I don’t know what to do with that boy,” I admit.

  Of the five babies rescued from the rubble, Nicholas has been the most difficult. Ian and I knew we had a challenge ahead of us the minute we took on the project to train the last of the Serum babies—babies who had already developed their heightened abilities and were possibly indestructible. Of course, now there is no question. The children have proven the success of the latest advancement of the Serum time and again over the last four years. They are most certainly indestructible. And Nicholas? He shows signs of strength beyond what we imagined.

  “He’s coming around,” Diana answers, but I sense the doubt in her statement. I hold out my hand, and she takes it and comes to her feet. “You saw him just now. He reined himself in. Hopefully, he’ll do that more often. Maturity will make all the difference.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. Diana takes to the path, and I fall in step beside her. We walk together past the winding trees that line the side of the path. “But with that maturity will come his strength and his speed and his power.” She pauses, tilts her head upward, assessing my words. “No amount of training can prepare us for what they may become.”

  “Of course,” she nods. I shove my hands into my pockets as she continues. “It’s a learning process for all of us. But imagine if we hadn’t started training them at all. They’d be… animals. Test subjects locked away for life.”

  I take a breath as the memory floods in on me. It still surprises me how much I didn’t know about my dad and his work, and I cringe inside a little. It wasn’t fair to these children; it isn’t fair to any of us. I’m not equipped for the chore that Ian left me. I do the best I can, but I doubt myself. A lot.

  “Don’t put your guard down, Diana.” I brush my fingers across her wrist as we walk. “Even when you think they’ve mastered everything they could ever learn, don’t turn your back.”

  “And how many times are you planning to say those very words to me?” Diana asks, a smile teasing her voice.

  “I know.” I bite my lip. “I just… I feel an obligation to keep you safe.”

  “And I appreciate it.” She gives me a small nod. “But don’t worry about me. I understand the dangers.”

  I lock eyes with her, and I know it’s true. From day one, the children exhibited aggression, and none of us were blind to it, including Diana. Her boys? They’re living right in the path of potential destruction every day, and that adds an extra layer of concern that she has not taken lightly. Neither have I. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to Caleb or Henry. Which is why I constantly remind her of the dangers.

  She turns away, moving up the path. After a moment, I follow her. The breeze lifts the tiny hairs on my arms, and I’m swept back to another night when a different breeze did the same. I crouched in the shadows then, pricked with tension and waiting for the signal to move in and take back our city.

  That night, Ian and I destroyed the last of the Serum, but my mom deserves credit for rescuing the babies. She moved them to the padded titanium chamber inside the lab just before the final explosion. Five little lives. Two girls. Three boys.

  We were under attack, but thanks to the Set-Typhon and the Rovers, the battle was virtually over before it began. Ian and I took the babies out of Eden in the middle of the night and handed them off to Max and Jesse while my dad was still recovering. It took a little longer for him to heal, being older. This was a huge advantage for us. Ian’s mom knew of the perfect place—a place she’d discovered on an expedition as a young woman. She’d never shared its location with a single soul until she told us. It was on the other side of the river. At this revelation, my shock planted itself firmly on my face, but Ian only smiled and hugged his mom as if he’d expected it all along.

  “It’s nothing special,” she said. “But it’s solid and secluded. And big enough to house all of you and anyone else you choose to take in. And it will be difficult for anyone to find you.”

  By anyone she meant my father, the infamous Dr. David Phillips. She was right. We’ve been here for over four years now, and no one has ever found us.

  Diana and I round another bend and come out of the trees to work our way across a small field etched with a patchwork of crops in browns and greens and yellows. Peas, corn, potatoes, wheat. The perpetual rains have given us a harvest beyond our expectations. The largest of the three farmhouses stands in the center, surrounded by open fields on all sides, which are in turn, surrounded by a forest of trees. A big, red barn stands at one end of the wheat fields adjacent to the farmhouses where a small group of wild chickens peck the dusty ground.

  I hold the kitchen door open for her, and she slips through just as my cousin Liza’s voice echoes back at us.

  “Aria, don’t let those boys push you around. You get in there and take what you want. See? Klayre has the right idea.”

  The setting sun floods light into the room from the west window, heating up the kitchen and casting an orange glow across the long table where a feast is laid out. Bread, meat, eggs, potatoes… everything these kids need to staunch their enormous appetites. Diana takes the empty seat next to Caleb and plants a kiss on top of his head. He ignores her, reaching for a second ear of corn.

  I slide into the seat beside Aaron. He gives me a sidelong look.

  “How’d training go today?”

  I adjust the plate in front of me and pile some beans onto it before answering. “Not bad. They listened to the entire story this time… with much less interruption.”

  “Well, that’s progress.” He lifts a forkful of beans to his mouth. “And the fighting?”

  I purse my lips, glance over the children, who are oblivious to our conversation as far as I can tell. “Not one fight today. But it’s only one day.”

  “Every day without a fight is a day you can count.”

  “I guess,” I shrug, bite into a biscuit, chew a few seconds. “I just hope what we’re doing holds water in the end, you know?”

  “I know,” he agrees. He lets his untouched forkful of beans drops to the plate with a small clink. After a minute, he rests his rough hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing good, Justin. Real good.”

  I nod, focusing on my plate. “Yeah.”

  I don’t feel as confident in myself as he does, especially now, without Ian’s help. And if I’m being honest, Ian is really the one who brought the kids this far. He connected with them somehow.

  It didn’t hurt that he’s fast. So fast they couldn’t always detect him. He got the upper hand many times because of his speed, staunching a gruesome fight or two. Eventually, as they got a little older, the kids began respecting him, listening to him, wanting to be like him. And by default, wanting to be like me. The thing is... I’m not quite sure I can live up to my best friend’s image, and that scares me.

  I scan the faces of our little army of Nephilim children—the last of Eden’s product—and I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. They look no different than any other group of children. Nicholas, our little bully, chomps on a turkey leg, the juice smeared across his upper lip. He concentrates on the meat, ignoring the others. Beside him, Klayre clears another row of kernels from her corncob, and runs a pink tongue along the edge of her lip. Stephen and Henry chatter about a spider they found last week, which they captured in a jar and kept for three days until it keeled over due to lack of air. Now they plot, planning what they will do next time they capture an insect to make sure it lives longer. On the other side of Henry, Aria chats with Liza, and I catch a piece of their conversation.

  “It came from Jordan,” Liza
says with a smile. “My dad had it specially made by a silversmith and gave it to me for graduation.”

  “Can he get me one?”

  Liza pauses, catches Penelope’s silver gaze briefly before returning her full attention to the little girl. “Honey, Jordan is gone. The rains ruined it.” She allows this news to sink in before she reaches out with a smile and brushes a strawberry blonde strand of Aria’s hair from her face. “But you know what? We have one of the best smiths sitting right here at this table. I’ll bet you Uncle Aaron just might be able to help.”

  Aaron lifts a brow as Liza meets his gaze. Aria brightens. She focuses on him.

  “Can you, Uncle Aaron? Can you make me a sword like Liza’s?”

  The table goes silent as every eye lands on Aaron’s amused face. He meets Penelope’s smile, then chuckles with a shake of his head.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Aria’s grin couldn’t have been wider. She leaps from her seat and skirts the table to climb into Aaron’s lap and throw her arms around his neck.

  “Thank you,” she beams. “I promise to take extra special care of it. And be responsible, too. Like Justin says.”

  Well, there’s progress. I catch Diana studying me, a smile lighting her own lips, and something in her expression causes this weird heat in my chest, burning as her gaze fixates. And it doesn’t ease until she drops her eyes.

  Beside me, Aaron settles the little girl onto his knee. The others return to their quiet bantering, and we finish our meal. If anyone passing by our window chanced a peek through the dirty glass, they would think we were nothing extraordinary. We’re a family, happy and content on the other side of the river.

  Content.

  I scrutinize our small gathering around the table and furrow my brow as this one emotion penetrates my thoughts.

  Am I?

  Chapter 2