Bad Moon on the Rise (Soldiers of New Eden Book 3)

by T. L. Knighton

  "Not entirely up to you," Rick said with a smirk.

  He sighed. "Yeah, I know."

  "Got something!" one of the Rangers yelled.

  Jason and Rick ran over and looked. There weren't any footprints, but that wasn't surprising. The dry weather recently didn't really make footprints reasonable right here. Instead, what they found was trampled brush and foliage, coupled with the odd scrap of human detritus that could only have come from their prey.

  Rick smiled. "Two for two so far."

  Jason smiled back. "Let's just hope my luck keeps holding."

  Megan stepped on his other side and looked down the fresh trail. "So," she said, "trap?"

  "Trap," Jason replied.

  "Well, we wouldn't want them to have gone to all that trouble and then not show up. It would be rude," Rick said, his grin turning malevolent.

  Jason studied his son for a moment, then said, "You know you're not right in the head, right?"

  Rick clapped him on the shoulder. "I take after my daddy."

  Megan sighed. "You're both out of your minds, but whatever. Let's do this."

  ** ** **

  The militia continued on, weapons ready but little else to show them as dangerous unless someone knew where to look. Billy watched as Greg Clark ran up. "Just squawked on the radio. They found what they were looking for," the lawyer said, his Tavor nestled in the crook of his arm, the odd rifle seeming out of place among the ARs and AKs. However, despite it's bullpup design—meaning that the magazine was placed behind the trigger, something Billy had to learn after the nukes—it took standard AR magazines. Something to be said for that.

  Billy didn't know the lawyer well, and unlike a lot of folks, he didn't have a particular disdain for the profession. Before the nukes, he'd hired a lot of them and most seemed to be decent guys. A few, however, really screwed up the public perception. "Cool. Thanks," he replied.

  Greg acknowledged Billy with a nod, then filtered his way back toward the middle of the pack.

  The big man turned his attention back to the front and pushed forward until he was next to the Ranger. "How much farther?" he asked.

  Mal shrugged. "Not sure. I'll know when we're there, but not much beforehand. Remember, this isn't my neck of the woods," he said with a gentle smile.

  "Right," Billy said sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

  "No worries here. From what Rick said, it was about six miles outside of town, so I'm guessing another couple miles."

  Billy nodded. "We're not making great time," he said, as much to himself as the Ranger beside him.

  "No, maybe not, but we planned to camp at the ambush site anyways, so…"

  "Yeah, I know. But still, we're moving like molasses."

  Mal shrugged. "I guess we can move quicker, but why?"

  Billy considered for a moment. On one hand, speed was essential in a fight. Hit hard and fast, and you've got a better chance to win the fight. However, on the other hand, why did it matter now? If there was an ambush waiting for them at the site of the attack Mal referred to, getting there quicker wouldn't really accomplish anything. In fact, a case could be made that taking their time to get there could help them spot it earlier as men got complacent.

  "No reason," Billy said. "I'm just antsy as hell."

  Mal nodded. "I guess I can understand that well enough."

  The next miles ticked by in as much silence as a group of a hundred armed men and women could create until they reached the spot Mal indicated.

  The Ranger pointed to some downed trees to the side of the road. "They used those for cover. Well, until Rick cut loose with the grenades."

  Billy nodded. "Tell you what. You get looking for where the trail starts while we set up camp."

  Mal nodded and trotted off toward the trees.

  CHAPTER 14

  Rick looked around the forest. The cooling weather turning the normal green into a kaleidoscope of colors as autumn ran its fingers through the leaves. The varied hues helped him see the man hiding behind a discarded hunk of concrete. The light grey of the concrete, along with the reds and oranges of fall, made his green camouflage as effective as neon pink.

  He looked at Jason, then cut his eyes toward the other man.

  Jason nodded.

  The other man showed no signs of having seen them, his eyes glued on the path the mortar crews had thrashed into the Tennessee landscape. Meanwhile, the Rangers had shadowed it, running parallel for about a hundred yards.

  Rick felt a part of him awaken, the part that always felt at home in times like this, as the rest of the Rangers made their way to their positions. He welcomed it like the old friend it was now.

  Finally, in the distance, an odd bird call sounded, a whippoorwill, piercing its way through the trees. Rick smiled and silently counted. One thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three. On and on he counted until one thousand and thirty, then raised his rifle.

  The first gunshot unleashed a chain reaction as the Rangers unleashed hell on the would-be ambushers. Rick's own shot immediately cut down the man hiding behind the concrete. He scanned for more targets.

  There were none.

  "That was easier than I thought it would be," Jason said.

  "That's never a good sign," Rick said, his eyes scanning the surrounding wilderness.

  Jason shrugged, Rick only catching it from the corner of his vision. "You know, sometimes, the bad guys really are stupid."

  Rick nodded. "Yeah, but has anyone ever gotten killed from overestimating the enemy?"

  "Believe it or not…"

  ** ** **

  Mal pointed to the footprints angled toward the small stream. The trail along here was a lot trickier. He'd found it just before sundown the night before. Here, they were trying to minimize their approach, which was expected. Unfortunately for them, Malachi Kane was very good at his work. "We're going to have to move upstream and keep an eye out on either side of the water for more signs."

  Billy shot a look at Scott Latham, who simply shrugged, then back to the tracker. "Don't we need to check downstream too?"

  The Ranger shook his head. "No, sir. See this print?" he asked, pointing toward the shape of a human foot nearly perpendicular to the water.

  Billy nodded.

  "See this slight angle to it? It's pointing upstream. The foot that made it planned on heading upstream from the start and it showed."

  Scott asked, "Couldn't it be something to throw us off?"

  Mal nodded. "It's possible, but they'd have had to know we were coming after them from this site. I doubt they'd see any reason to be that careful."

  Billy nodded. "Alright, then." He stood up and turned to the men assembled behind him. "I need scouts on both sides of the stream. If you see anything, let me know."

  Scott smiled. "Time to get a little rowdy?"

  The big man returned the smile. "Oh yeah. Big time."

  ** ** **

  Jim Grayson heard the eruption of gunfire in the distance. Judging by where the sounds were, and assuming the mountains weren't screwing with the acoustics, it should be his ambush team. Grayson smiled. "Well, Mister Dennings, it looks like your plan worked well enough."

  Walker sat on a piece of log that had been stood up on end, making an impromptu stool. He nodded. "That our boys?"

  Grayson nodded. "Who knows, maybe Calvin was with them."

  "Oh, that would be nice."

  "Indeed it would be. Then you can go about your merry way and I can get back to the business of reclaiming my home," Grayson quipped.

  "And here I thought we understood one another," Walker said with a feral grin.

  Grayson locked eyes on the former gang member. "We had mutual interests. If Calvin is dead, then those are at an end."

  He laughed mirthlessly. "Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?"

  The two men shared an uneasy silence.

  After half an hour, a runner burst through the tree line and into the clearing, making a beeline for Grayson. "S
ir," he reported with a crisp salute, "Lookouts report that the New Eden militia are making their way up the stream now."

  "How many?"

  "About a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty. They're spread out on either side of the stream."

  Grayson nodded. "The ambush team should be here in about another half hour or so. We'll head out to meet them then."

  "Why?" Denning asked. "You still outnumber them. You've got the initiative. What more do you want?"

  "I want a clear victory. Preferably a bloody one for them. Especially if Calvin wasn't with the team already down."

  Walker shook his head and stood up. "I don't really think so."

  "You don't have a say in this, Mister Denning, so sit back down and don't make me have you restrained."

  He laughed with malevolent glee. "Listen, bitch," he said, leaning in close to the other man, "you ain't got the balls to come after me. You don't really have the men either."

  "You came here with two or three dozen men. I've got hundreds. Do you really want to play this card?"

  Walker put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly.

  All around, Somerton troops stood and moved to stand behind Walker Denning. At most, about twenty men stayed in their position.

  "How…?" Grayson asked incredulously.

  Walker smiled. "Oh, your boss' brother? Declan? Well, he came up with this philosophy, this 'New Feudalism' stuff. Smart son of a bitch, all in all. He knew what people wanted, and he came up with something that gave it to them. All of them. Your boys? They like that. They like the idea that they were meant to rule, and they like the idea that people will serve them. Willingly."

  The former Somerton commander looked at his now former subordinates. "Men…you know we had that before. We take back our homes, we'll have that again!"

  Walker shook his head with a laugh. "No, you didn't. You made criminals into servants. Slaves, really. With those types, you have to watch your back…and that's assuming you can afford one. It seems the only people who benefited from that whole indenture scheme y'all had going there were the rich. Not a good thing, you know?"

  "We can rebuild it," Grayson said, pleading with his men. "We can make it better. We can-"

  A hand reached around Grayson, grabbing hold of his head as a second hand came around and ran a knife over his throat.

  The former commander collapsed to the ground, his eyes wide as his blood spilled the ground.

  Walker looked at the soldier who'd killed the man and smiled. "Well done, Captain."

  Wilson nodded and smiled back. "A pleasure, sir."

  "Advice," Walker said. "How long until you expect the ambush team back?"

  "Any moment."

  He nodded. "Alright, leave a team here to wait for them and serve as reinforcements if needed."

  "Yes sir," Wilson responded.

  Walker looked around, his smile widening. "Alright boys…let's go hunting."

  ** ** **

  Billy's group made their way up the stream slowly. Scouts up ahead kept an eye out for footprints, but everyone else kept their eyes open. They were in enemy territory right now, for all intents and purposes, and he didn't want people being killed for being stupid.

  Scott walked beside him. "I hate this crap," he whispered.

  Billy nodded. "Yeah, me too. I feel like a mouse and a house full of pissed off cats," he replied, also keeping his voice low.

  "At least at The Pass, we knew they'd be coming to us. We don't even know where they are."

  "Yeah, well, I'll go without the excitement for a while."

  Scott smiled. "You and me both."

  Ahead of them, the scout on the left bank turned to face them. "Sir," he said in a more normal speaking tone. "I think I found somethi-"

  A gunshot cut him off as it shattered the relative peace of the wilderness. The scout collapsed, a spot of blood red spreading across his white shirt. His lifeless eyes stared into oblivion.

  "TAKE COVER!" Billy yelled and ran toward a large oak tree, one hopefully large enough to protect him. Splinters flew from trees all around, bullets whizzed by like angry bees. Billy peered out from behind the mighty oak, his AK-47 pulled tight against his shoulder and scanned the trees.

  There, beside that pine tree. A muzzle flash grabbed his attention. He raised the barrel of his AK and took aim. A dark figure, little more than a shadow, swung around the tree. He swung around the tree and right into Billy's aim.

  The big man squeezed the trigger, instinct telling him to keep pulling until the figure was down. Three shots later, he scanned for another target. Once he found it, he repeated the process. Cool and methodical, just like Jason taught him.

  What Jason hadn't taught was how fast things happened. Luckily, he knew that game. Going from high school to the NCAA, then the NFL. Each stage much faster than the previous ones. Years of surviving on his own before he reached New Eden was a hell of a school.

  Another squeeze of the trigger, another target fell. Billy knew he was supposed to direct people, lead them, but he didn't know what to do. He racked his brain, desperate to do something besides just shoot people.

  Why? Why didn't he know what to do?

  Information! He didn't know what to do because he didn't know anything. He needed information. That would show him the openings, the holes in the enemy's forces, places to exploit, whatever.

  "Mal!" he yelled as he looked around for the Ranger.

  "Sir?" the thin man replied from behind a downed tree a few yards away.

  "Take whoever you need and recon their position. I need to know numbers, placement, everything."

  Kane nodded and scooted off, staying low to make the most of the cover from the tree.

  Now, let's hope he's good enough to not get killed, he thought as he turned his attention back to what was in front of him.

  ** ** **

  The Rangers picked their way through the woods. They were guessing—mostly, at least—where they were headed. The trail wasn't nearly as easy to follow from the ambush point. Nice thinking there, dumbass. Might have been nice to have someone who knew how to find a damn trail with you, Jason thought as he inched his way through the woods.

  The Ranger in the lead motioned for a halt, the gestured for Megan and Jason to come forward.

  Carefully, they pushed forward until they reached the point man's position. He pointed forward toward a clearing. Within, a handful of men in black leather vests milled about with a larger number of men in various other kinds of clothing…including one wearing the distinctive black shirt of the Somerton military.

  The group made its way back about two hundred yards.

  His voice hushed, Jason laid out the plan. The Rangers agreed that arrest wasn't really an option. Not really. Still, survivors could make life interesting, so they would make a half-hearted attempt to arrest, then unleash hell on Earth when they resisted.

  The group spread out, taking their position.

  Jason took his own position. He was out of his jurisdiction, which precluded him from putting himself out there to be the big bull's-eye.

  Megan Hernandez, however, had no issue with it.

  She stepped into the clearing, held up her investigators badge nestled into a leather wallet. "TVA Rangers. You're all under arrest," she called out.

  As predicted, weapons swung up toward Megan. Jason smiled as he squeezed the trigger to his AR-15. The New Lord in his sights—someone he recognized from that night outside of his house—dropped immediately. Payback's a bitch, ain't it?

  The New Lord collapsed. Jason swung to the next target, stroking the trigger until he fell, then repeated the process until every single one of the enemy was down.

  Jason stepped into the clearing.

  One by one, the Rangers filtered in themselves. Megan looked around.

  In the distance, they heard what could only be described as a battle raging on. "Sounds like they're giving our guys a hard time," Jason said.

  Megan nodded, her attention focused
on the cave.

  "Problem?" Jason asked.

  "I want to take a look in there, make sure it's clear."

  Jason nodded. Sounded prudent to him.

  "Johnson, Mackenzie, give it a look. Let me know what you find."

  The two barked their "yes ma'am" and ran to do as ordered. A few minutes later, they returned to confirm all was clear.

  "We did find something interesting, ma'am," Johnson said.

  "Ma'am," another voice called out. "I think…well, I think you need to see this," McLaren called out from the tree line.

  Megan looked over her shoulder at Johnson and said, "Hold that thought, okay?" She then jogged to where McLaren stood. "What is it?" she asked.

  The big Ranger gestured to the side.

  She walked to the tree line, stopping short.

  She stared at the remains. They'd been cut up badly, but the face seemed to have been left untouched.

  "Jim Grayson," Jackson Chu said from behind her, making her jump. "He was one of Conklin's senior officers. Right below Ramirez."

  "Son of a bitch," she said. "Do I need to put a bell around your neck?"

  He grinned and shrugged. "Might defeat the purpose of being here," he said.

  The two looked over as Jason stepped up. "Any clue who he is?"

  Jackson nodded and filled the sheriff in.

  "Interesting."

  "What does it mean?" Jackson asked.

  Megan shrugged, but Jason said, "That Walker's calling the shots."

  "Possible. Right now, it doesn't matter. We've got someone's day to wreck, regardless of who it is," she said. "Now, let me see what my boys found."

  Collins beamed. "Ma'am, you're going to love this. Do the letters, RPG mean anything to you?"

  ** ** **

  Walker looked from his position. The New Eden troops were pinned down, and he still had phase two left in his plan. He raised his own rifle, aimed, then fired. The AK-47 bucked against his shoulder. The New Eden man dropped.