by SD Tanner
CALL TO WAR
(HUNTER WARS BOOK SIX)
SD TANNER
Call to War
Copyright © SD Tanner 2015
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by law.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Dedicated to Mousey
Because he thinks he’s ‘people’.
Table of Contents
FOREWORD
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE: Thin line between life and dead (Survivors)
CHAPTER TWO: If you love something, set it free (Gears)
CHAPTER THREE: Friendly foe (Pax)
CHAPTER FOUR: To dream the impossible dream (Mackenzie)
CHAPTER FIVE: Unexpected allies (Annie)
CHAPTER SIX: Who let the dogs out? (Pax)
CHAPTER SEVEN: Tempted for life (Mackenzie)
CHAPTER EIGHT: Take my hand (TL)
CHAPTER NINE: Succession planning (Gears)
CHAPTER TEN: Witness to life (Gears)
CHAPTER ELEVEN: Witness to dead (Gears)
CHAPTER TWELVE: Eternal brothers of War (Gears)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Through seeds grow trees (Gears)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: I can see clearly now (Gray)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Say hello to my little friend (Pax)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Saved my soul (Ruler)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A life worth waiting for (Angel)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: A battle to die for (TL)
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Longing for life (Benny)
CHAPTER TWENTY: Born to be King (Hull)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Road to hell (Captain Ted)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: A divide conquered (Gears)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Hell night (Ruler)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: The Long March (Pax)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Hell interrupted (Gears)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Lean on me (Survivors)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Shooting star (Gears)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: Call to War (Gears)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: A battle to win (Survivors)
CHAPTER THIRTY: No way to die (Gears)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: New Eden (Angel)
EPILOGUE
FOREWORD
“My name is Gears and welcome to my bases. If you’ve just joined us then my world might seem a little confusing at first, but you’ll get the hang of it quick enough.
I met my foster brothers, Pax and TL, when we were ten years old and were moved to Mom and Pop’s Ranch. I don’t rightly remember where Pax and TL were before then, but none of us were locals. We chose to be brothers and join the US Army, and we’ve been everywhere together ever since. Even when the airbag in my car failed to deploy, and I was smacked face first into the grill of a semi that left me with a scar down the left side of my face, my brothers have always been there for me and for that I’m eternally grateful.
Almost two years ago a virus erupted simultaneously across the world. Well, we assume it happened everywhere, but we heard they lost communications so fast no one can be sure. Fact remains, here in the U.S., most of the people were infected with the hunter virus. At first they turned into shambling undead and then they evolved into what we call the hunters. Those guys are lean, hairless, fast as whippets, strong as apes, and their heads vibrate manically when they hunt their prey. They prefer their food still breathing, so if they catch you, you die a bad death.
When the virus first hit we were good to go. We’d just landed back from a mission, still had our weapons and escaped the worst of it. I can’t say we were worried, but after a month of wandering around we were directionless, and that’s when we met Ip. I love that woman, but she’s an odd one. The CDC developed a virus called the designer virus. It was meant to counter the hunter virus, but it didn’t work like they meant it to. It changes the host, giving them telepathy, and they can kill hunters with a touch. I’ve been told that it also kills the host and they become another version of the undead, but I’m not sure if it really does. It turned out Ip was infected with the designer virus and she could kill hunters with a touch. After we hooked up with her, we set ourselves the mission to kill all hunters and restore order.
Turns out the hunters and the infected weren’t the only undead we had to deal with. There’s also the super hunters. They’re demons who’ve taken possession of a person. I’m told they infect the living with a strain of the hunter virus that kills the body, but the soul lives on and the demon keeps the body moving. Anyone with any strain of the hunter virus is telepathic, which means these demon super hunters can control the hunters. Ip was always a hell of a weapon, but now she’s more than just infected. She died and came back in another body and now she can control hunters like a super hunter.
The demon super hunters work for a guy who calls himself Ruler. He’s a little shit and so far he’s set up three camps and we’ve blown all three back to hell. In his camps he captures the living and tortures and terrifies them beyond their deaths. According to Ip, he’s the Devil, and she believes we’re the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and it’s our right to decide if man gets to live. In her version of events, I’m the Horseman of War, Pax is pestilence and TL is spreader of the word. I got to admit Pax is a pest, so I could believe that. Ip reckons she’s the Horseman of Death and she is a talented killer, so who’s to say she isn’t?
I won’t lie. I’ve been more than skeptical, but the reborn Ip developed a fine ridge than runs from her hands, over her shoulders and down her spine. Around that ridge is a blue black pattern that looks like a tattoo and it ends at her left cheekbone. That was odd enough, but Pax is developing the same markings. There was also a woman at Wolfie’s base who gave birth to a baby that has the same markings, and I can’t explain any of that.
My brothers and I have been setting up bases. We’ve got over ninety thousand people, three bases in north Florida, plus a CDC, two Caribbean islands, a cruise ship, and we’ve just settled people on the Isle of Wight off the coast of the UK. Plus there’s Wolfie’s base near Atlanta. We also rescued a hundred thousand people from Ruler in New York and Mike is running a base there now. The problem is, wherever Ruler goes, the land dies. He brings hell and I suppose that’s why he’s the Devil. With so many people we’ve got a real problem keeping the bases supplied with food. We’re running out of places to scavenge, and with the state of the land, we can’t grow what we need here and that’s why we’ve taken over the islands and the Isle of Wight. We need to farm the land to establish reliable food supplies. We have an army to feed, and under our leadership, we’ll kick Ruler out of our world or die trying.
I’ve got a good team. Captain Ted was a Marine and he’s shaping up to be a good leader. Nelson runs the islands. Kat administers the bases. Hatch runs our fleet of birds. Every time Ruler wrecks the Ranch, Pop keeps rebuilding it, and Mom takes care of the babies. Lydia used to run the CDC, but she died leaving a son who is either TL’s or Ted’s, but TL stepped up as his father. After Ruler attacked the Ranch the last time, we’ve only a handful of the Infected left who can kill the hunters by touching them, and Logan is
probably the best of them. He was a Colonel in the U.S. Army and he’s retained his skills now he’s infected. Then there’s Mackenzie. He was one of the three young leaders we were training and he chose to be infected and now has precognition. Max was another of the young leaders and she’s pregnant with Mackenzie’s baby. Plus there’s Benny, but he’s a young guy and I don’t think he’s found his place yet. Gerry’s our radio guy, and without him we’d never know where one another were.
I figure it this way, it doesn’t matter if I’m the Horseman of War or not. Fact is, Ruler doesn’t get to punish man. Man didn’t do anything to deserve the hunter virus or being tortured beyond their death. If I’m a Horseman then it’s my right to rule and I rule that man gets another chance. Our mission was to restore order, but now it’s to enforce our right to rule.
Welcome to my world.”
PROLOGUE
“Be careful, I don’t wanna hit her with the shovel,” he said, as he used the back of his gloved hand to wipe greasy and gritty sweat from his forehead.
With a grunt, Pax heaved his shovel loaded with sandy earth out of the grave. He ducked as Pax swung the shovel back down, narrowly missing his head, and began to use it to scrape at the soft earth. Continuing to run the head of the shovel over the dirt, the color of black began to show through the light beige of the sand.
“Move outta the way, Pax.”
It was a narrow grave, and he awkwardly navigated around his brother’s stocky build until he was positioned with one leg on either side of the body. He wasn’t a lightweight, and if he stood on the body, he might get his big booted foot stuck in the corpse of the decaying woman. Bending over, using his gloved hands, he began to sweep the sandy earth from what he assumed was the upper body of her corpse. Slowly the body bag emerged in sharp contrast to the earth covering it and he could see the top of the zip. He tugged his assault glove off and pulled at the zip, but having been buried for more than three months, it was gritty and stuck. Cursing, he pulled out his KA-BAR and began to slice the bag open. He was prepared for the stench of death, but even as he revealed the body inside the bag, all he could smell was the slightly damp earth.
Finally the woman’s face was revealed and he pulled back in surprise. With her eyes closed and her skin a grey and ashen color, the woman was clearly dead, but otherwise her delicate face was perfect. He peeled back the body bag, and a small parcel wrapped in white cloth was cradled in her arms. Carefully lifting out the white bundle, and still holding it in the crook of his arm, he levered himself from the grave. Kneeling next to the grave with the bundle on his knee, he gently unwrapped it until he revealed the tiny body of a newborn baby and drew a sharp breath in surprise. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought the baby was sleeping and not dead. It was lying curled up, with its tiny hands and feet drawn close to its torso, and moving the arms and legs gently, he felt his head swim slightly.
Across the tiny body was a tattoo of blue and black lines in a pattern he knew so well.
CHAPTER ONE: Thin line between life and dead (Survivors)
Mary (Marine supply base)
All her life she’d been the sort of person no one really noticed. With her mousy brown hair, plain features and apple shaped figure, her only asset was her well-rounded breasts. Well, they would have been an asset had they not been underpinned by an equally large belly, but since the end of the world she’d finally lost the weight that made her feel inadequate for most of her life. Sighing, she thought being large didn’t made any difference to who she really was and wished people realized that from the start. In her previous life, she’d worked as a clerk in the City Council offices in Columbia, South Carolina, but her job wasn’t important and neither was she. Living alone with her three cats, watching TV at night and enjoying her quiet evenings, she never dated much and expected to die alone. For her, the end of the world changed her life for the better, and her willingness to work hard and keep her head down really paid off.
Joining a group, she’d followed them around, always willing to help collect supplies, carry more than her fair share, never complaining and doing exactly as she was asked. It was how she’d lived before the outbreak and it was how she lived after. Even now, she was busy cleaning the kitchen after everyone else had left at the end of the shift. She took pride in her work and always had. Rats were an issue at the Marine supply base, and she made sure the kitchen was spotless, so none would be attracted to where they kept the food. The last thing they needed was dysentery and she was meticulous about scrubbing the kitchen until it gleamed after every meal. She dipped the sponge into the bucket of steaming water and felt a little more of the water leak into the already damp plastic glove she was wearing. Ignoring the unpleasant sensation of her fingers sliding against the inside of the rubber glove, she vigorously wiped the metal frying plate on the stove.
A man’s voice she recognized well said softly, “Mary, you missed a bit.”
Startled, she spun around to find the owner of the voice, knowing full well there was no one in the narrow kitchen with her. To her surprise, her father was standing next to the fridge by the stove, and shaking her head and blinking, she thought, I must be tired.
Her father laughed. “Surprised to see me?”
“You’re dead,” she replied tonelessly.
Shrugging, her father said sulkily, “Yes and you never visited my grave. Don’t think I don’t know that. I’ve been watching you and your miserable little life. You’re as boring as you ever were, useless too. Always fat, plain and ugly, you never did have any strings to your bow, Mary.”
With her lip curling in disgust, she said bitterly, “Never stopped you from abusing me.”
Rolling his eyes, her father said, “You should be grateful. I was the only person who wanted you, and even I didn’t really want you.”
Needing to get away from the man she couldn’t wait to escape while he was alive, she began to back towards the door to the kitchen container. “You’re dead. You’re not here.”
Her father walked towards her while she tried to find the handle to the door behind her back. “Oh I’m here alright, and I’m waiting for you. You’ll be back with me soon enough.”
She felt her gut contract and her heart beat in fast and heavy thuds inside her chest. The idea she would ever have to deal with him again made her bowels want to run, and shaking her head, she spat angrily, “No! I’d rather die than be anywhere near you again.”
“That’s the point, Mary,” her father replied with a sly smile. “You’re going to die and we’ll be together forever.” As he leant into her, she felt a coldness seep into her skin. “I’ve come to fetch you, my dear, like any good father would.”
Finally finding the handle to the door, she wrenched it open and literally fell through it onto the concrete ground outside of the kitchen container.
“Oh my God, are you alright?” A man asked, as he bent down to help her back to her feet.
Shaking, she looked up at the open door to the kitchen container and saw there was no one there. As the man helped her to her feet, she looked at his worried face. “Did you see a man in the doorway?”
The man looked up at the doorway and sounding confused, he replied, “Yeah, but where did he go?”
***
Nathan (Naval base)
After spending the morning doing weapons training at the Naval base, the sound of constant firing had given him a migraine. His team leader, Tess, took pity on him and sent him back to his quarters telling him to get some rest. Lying on his bunk inside the container he shared with five other men, he closed his eyes and waited for the pain in his head to subside. Despite the steady pulsing, he couldn’t stop worrying about his training. Before the end of the world, he’d never played sports, violent computer games, or even been a party animal. Instead he spent almost all of his free time doing something that always brought him a sense of peace. At heart he was an artist and every extra dollar he made went on his art supplies. He mostly drew cartoons and anime
, and even though he never expected to be published, he had his own website and a small following who avidly waited for his new artwork. He licensed his work through online art galleries and it was beginning to earn him a small, but reasonable secondary income. Of course he dreamed of one day being able to spend all his time drawing, but he never got the chance. The hunter virus destroyed his modest existence, and he found himself thrust into a life he was never designed to live.
He was assessed as being young and fit enough to work as a scavenger and ultimately a combat shooter. Being new to the camp, he didn’t question what he was asked to do, and if he was honest, he wanted to fight. The combat shooters were well respected at the bases for protecting the survivors, and they got the best food, accommodation and spent their time either training or on missions. It was the first time he found himself wanting to be part of something, but he was struggling and lying motionless on his bunk bed, and he could have wept with frustration. All the other men and women seemed to adapt to their training, but he learned he was uncoordinated and had no instinct for combat. He knew his team leader was being patient, and unless he improved soon, he would be nothing more than a liability and downgraded to work as a scavenger, or possibly sent to one of the islands to become a farmer. Even just thinking about that made his face burn with shame. Trying to manage his growing anxiety, he heard a scratching at the wall behind his head, and he wondered what it was. The sound persisted and he thought he heard something growling. He twisted his throbbing head to see what could be at the top of his bunk bed, but with all the windows closed, the room was gloomy. Suddenly the door to the living container opened and the room filled with a brilliant light.
“Are you in here, Nathan?” A woman’s voice asked softly.
It was his team leader, Tess. “Yeah, I’m here.”