Dark Genesis (Shadow and Shine Book 1)

by Danial Hooper

  The blonde man with raised arms spoke urgently, “We are. Yes, sir.” He looked at the guy with the hammer, but that one stupidly ignored him. He kept talking, “Gun on me, please. Please, please, point that thing at me. Don’t look at him. He’s not a talker, let me be the talker. Point the gun my way. Please.”

  Harry didn’t want to look at him though. All the freaks in the world weren’t as intimidating as the guy with the hammer. He needed one bullet, that’s all. One bullet right in his chest would make him drop that hammer and stop walking in Harry’s direction. Except Harry only had the gun, no bullet.

  “Tell him to stay there!” Harry shouted. “I’ll shot him right now. I’ll put a bullet between his eyes and won’t think twice. Don’t screw with me, Bub. I’m not playing around with you.”

  The blonde kept going, “I’m Asher. This is my brother, Ben. Back there are my friends Shelly and her father, Lynn. They’re like you. They need help. You guys seem like a good, friendly group. Can you please put the gun down, so we can talk?”

  “Tell your brother to drop the hammer, and we can talk,” he said. He needed to take control. An empty gun was just as worthless as a hammer on the ground. Unfortunately, Ben kept coming. He was less than ten yards away now. Harry closed one eye and aimed the gun right at his head. “I said put it down, or, or I’ll put you down.”

  Mickey and Greg must have thought he was an idiot. They knew the gun was empty, but hopefully they were all on the same page. These people might be the nicest folks in the world, but they needed to see Harry was the leader. A Wild West standoff to settle the matter of who was in charge. The hammer would be down soon enough. Harry had to call his bluff.

  “Gun on me! Please. He is not going to drop the hammer. You are just going to have to trust us. We are here to help.” He turned to the other guy, “Don’t do anything crazy brother, please.”

  “End this,” Ben said.

  Harry backpedaled involuntarily. He felt silly. Who brings an empty gun to a fight? He pointed his empty gun at Asher. His eyes went from Ben to Asher and back again.

  “Put the gun down,” Edie said behind him.

  Mickey, the mouse, said, “Hey man, don’t hurt him. Please stop. The gun’s not loaded.”

  The traitor. How could the mouse be such a coward and do this? He put the nail in Harry’s coffin. The guy with the hammer wasn’t going to stop now.

  Harry looked over to Mickey and started to say, “You little,” and then the air was forced out of his lungs. Something smashed into his chest.

  The hard steel of the hammer cracked through his ribs and pushed all air from his body. He fought for a breath but the urge to vomit came instead. Harry was on the ground gagging and wheezing. He looked up to see Asher standing over him.

  “I am sorry, sir. Next time you point a gun make sure it’s loaded, and it is not pointed it at my brother or me.”

  Harry’s lungs were too damaged and shocked to cooperate. He sucked the air like a fish out of water. The tears from his eyes were streaming, and his nose ran like he was a sick child.

  “He’ll be fine,” Asher said over him, “a couple of cracked ribs but he’ll be fine. I am sorry about this. I did not want to hit him, but it was either my fist or Ben’s hammer. This man left me no choice. I’m sorry if this upset any of you.”

  Greg’s voice came from a distance, “If he will be okay, then I’m satisfied with the result. He should not have pointed the gun at you or your brother without knowing your intentions. I speak for everyone, even Harry, when I say that I am sorry we got off to a rocky start.”

  “What a mess,” one of the women said. Were they all going to stand around and shake hands while Harry died on the concrete?

  “Help.” He could mutter one word through his shallow breaths. He needed help, or he was going to die.

  “Lay back on your stomach, buddy. You’re going to be okay. You’re lucky I ended our little draw instead of Ben,” Asher said, as he helped Harry ease into a position that would help oxygen into his lungs. “I’m not going to hurt you anymore, but you left me no choice. So hang tight for a bit. No one has ever died from a punch in the ribs.”

  A punch? Harry tried to look up and see if the guy was screwing with him. It felt like a car ran into him. If that was a punch then this Asher fella was even more dangerous than the freaks. He tried to smile at him to let him know Harry was the forgiving type, but he would watch Asher like a hawk. Someone who hits like his hands are made of concrete was not to be trusted.

  -

  “It wasn’t my finest moment,” Asher said to Mickey, "but Benny isn’t the type to take threats without causing damage. You guys seem like good people. I hope I haven’t offended anyone by hitting your friend. I didn’t know what else to do. Again, it was either my fist or Ben’s hammer.”

  Mickey was wearing a backwards hat and loose jeans. He looked like one of Asher’s old college roommates who played on the basketball team and practiced rap lyrics in the shower. He seemed innocent and bold enough to call his friend out on a lie that could have gotten him killed.

  “I wouldn’t argue, dude. How did you move that fast?” Mickey asked.

  “You ain’t seen nothing,” Ben replied. “Asher could kill thirty wolves in ten seconds with nothing more than a butterknife and his good looks. Red-beard is lucky he didn’t get a shovel head down his throat. Asher is like superman on steroids.”

  Shelly raised her hand politely, wanting to add to the discussion. “I’ve seen it. He cut off one of their heads with his shovel. He threw it from one side of the hall to the other as if it was shot out of a gun.”

  “That’s right. Want to know the best part?” Ben asked.

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

  Ben continued, “He is the weaker brother. You witnessed Asher cover forty feet in a split second, and I’m faster and stronger than him. Ain’t that right, Ash?”

  “Correct,” Asher said.

  The conversation soon moved on to the group getting to know one another. Everything about these people would be perfect for Shelly and Lynn. They had no desire to be heroes or go further into downtown. Greg, the intelligent one with a broken nose, surprised Asher with his plan.

  “We’re going to need your help, if you are willing. This building is an ideal shelter to protect us from those blank faced…”

  “Wolves,” Ben interrupted. “Call them wolves. They hunt in packs, attack in formation, and are savage animals.”

  “Okayyy. Wolves. The Grand American is an ideal safe house against the wolves due to a number of key factors. I won’t bore you with the details, but it is the safest building still standing in Salt Lake City. We believe this is a global event and in our best interest to protect ourselves before making any attempt at leaving. I would like to ask if you and your brother are willing to help us clear out a few rooms in the hotel.”

  “You plan on moving in?” Shelly asked.

  “That’s exactly what I plan. I’m not asking for these men to save us or be our guardians, but if they exterminated any potential threat still in the building, as well as help Edie restart the power, we could have weeks’ worth of work finished before they went on their way to hopefully save the world.”

  This kid looked at Asher with a gravitas about him. While Harry previously pretended to be the leader was hunched over on the ground crying real tears, this kid stood in front of Asher as if they were equals. Greg walked over to a nearby sedan, wiped the dust off of the hood and scooted himself into a comfortable power-pose. Asher liked his swagger. If he wasn’t such an obvious nerd, he could probably have done well with women.

  Greg spoke confidently again, “Edie works for the hotel. She knows how the systems work and the necessary components to reset electricity. I’m not going to bore you with the details, again, but she has assured me of the potential of having full power once we are able to gain access to the basement and reset the entire system. We need a few people who are not afraid of the dark to go down and clear out the wol
ves.

  “Would you mind?” he smiled at Ben.

  Asher’s brother smiled back and said, “Deal. I’ll give you tonight. My brother and I have a job to do, but we don’t want to leave you set up to fail. We will clear out the basement, but you and your group need to be somewhere else. Go get supplies and we will play ghostbusters.”

  -

  Another yawn.

  Omaha was still in the rearview mirror when Tink continued to wear down. There was no longer room in his brain to dwell on Michael as his mind wafted in and out of consciousness. He needed sleep, but the three energy drinks he finished in the last twenty minutes had created a rough dryness around his eyes when he blinked.

  Mona insisted on making it there as fast as possible. She nearly cried when they hit one-lane construction coming into Omaha. Even now, with smooth sailing on the interstate, she battled between fear, anger, pain, and reassuring smiles every time she caught Tink watching her. Tink was still too left out of details to share those emotions. He just needed sleep. Not wanted. Needed.

  “Alright. Talk to me. Tell me something, anything. Imma start napping in between mile markers if we don’t switch it up a little.”

  “Okay,” she smiled. “I’m thinking of a person.”

  This game? This game would do. Anything to get his mind off the road. “Male or Female?”

  “Male.”

  “Mmm.” Tink thought to himself. “Michael Jordan.”

  “What? How did you guess?” She punched Tink in the arm.

  That brought a big smile to his face, “Little girl, you been picking the same guy since you was six riding in your booster seat.” He remembered when little Mona Leigh grew out of her little booster seat but refused to sit normal. She loved that booster seat, stubborn little bull. It was in this same car, the one Grady bought Tink when his mom left them with nothing. Tink looked in the rearview where Mona’s booster used to be. Oh, the good old days.

  “Do you ever miss ma?” Mona asked.

  They never talked about their mom. Tink accepted being a family without parents, and it was better that way. Their mom and dad never loved them as much as they loved themselves and bailed out before they could ruin someone with Mona’s potential. Tink had his fair share of heartache and terrible memories. It was better for Mona to be left without those.

  “No. I don’t,” Tink replied. Which, he hated his mom for leaving him, but he still missed her. The times when she won big at bingo, bought everyone toys, and stocked up the fridge, before the itch came back, and she took the rest of the money to go on a bender. Tink missed her sober smell, her hands; Tink missed having a mom. Shoot, he missed those even when she was around.

  “I do,” Mona replied.

  “Why?” Tink focused on the road. Her confession woke him up a little.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I feel like we got ripped off from something. Like we could have had a good family, but she stole it from us. People in the Tower talk about her sometimes. Like Odessa Pete, she babysat her growing up and said she was a sweetheart. She loved school, loved sports, and loved her brothers and sisters. I wish I could have known her that way. We could have had a good family if she would have been like that. Instead we got broken down ma. I miss her because even though she ruined our chance to be a family, she could have been great. Her blood flows in our veins, Tink. She had it in her, just didn’t know it. I miss her because I think if she saw us now she would miss us.”

  “We have a family, Mona.” Tink reached over and nudged her a little. “We have a good family now. You and me, we are all we need right now. I’m glad she’s gone. She would have slowed us down and left even more of a mess to make at home. She would have made it harder for you to go to school, just like she did for me. We’d be living in the streets, not the Tower. And the Tower ain’t all that, but the streets ain’t for us. All we need for a good family is us. Not a mom who doesn’t want the job or a daddy in and out of jail. We got what we got, and it’s good.”

  “Wellllll…,” Mona said in her mock Southern Baptist voice, “haller-lou-yah, Reverend Leonardo DaVincent Morris, man of the people and man of GAWDDD.”

  “Yeah yea yeah.”

  “Alright, your turn, but if you say Rihanna, I’ll slap you.”

  “Female,” he said and winked to his baby sister. A little bit more energy came his way as they were about twelve hours away from Salt Lake City.

  -

  Lieutenant General Conrad Greene was a man who truly appreciated a good nap. He had spent the better part of thirty years sleeping in holes, caves, and uncomfortable beds with bullets and mosquitos flying over his head. Now he was trying to get comfortable in his little cottage off the grid in Central Pennsylvania. He was an old soldier trying to learn a new trick. Sunday afternoon naps were next on the docket.

  This was the primary reason he never married and started a family. It was preferred to keep all relationships official and at a distance. His service to his country took all his time and energy. The press said an unmarried man could not properly run a country, which was fine with Conrad. In the same way, his firm stance somehow made him a media darling as President Watt’s successor. The media and servicemen alike cheered when Conrad spoke freely about his respect and admiration for President Watt. None of them could seem to grasp that Conrad preferred less bureaucracy and more focus on national security. He did not want to be a figurehead, all due respect to his President. He was an old soldier but still a soldier.

  As he laid flat with his hands clasped over his chest looking like a corpse at a funeral, the peace of sleep came. His watch was set to give him thirty minutes. He wasn’t going to nap and then not be able to sleep tonight.

  His phone rang.

  “This is Greene,” he said answering the phone. His voice official, as if he had been waiting for the call all day. There was only breathing on the other end. Still, barely inaudible breathing. “This is Lieutenant General Conrad Greene of the United States Army. Identify, please.”

  “Greeny…,” The voice said on the other end. It was Conrad’s best friend. The second term President of the United States of America, Uriah James Watt.

  “Mr. President?” he asked.

  “Greeny. I need a moment. Could you turn off the television?”

  Early in Watt’s political ascension, Conrad worked with him to create a non-official code for ‘off the record’ interactions. There was potential for a leak in any faucet of the governmental cabinet, and the code was strategically kept amongst a very short list. Thus, when Conrad heard his friend, his brother in arms, ask about the television, it was President Watt’s way of asking for Conrad to secure the line for a private conversation.

  “One moment, Sir,” he said, walking into the bathroom. “I can never find this remote.” Conrad turned on the sink and made sure each nozzle was spun completely. The water would be a good sound block for any potential bugs hidden in his home. Secrets were not always detrimental, but hearing the wrong secret could be detrimental.

  “Television is off. How can I help you, Mr. President?”

  “I have a meeting tomorrow with a very important person. I want you to join me,” President Watt said.

  There is an important decision President Watt needs to make, and he needs me in DC to review.

  “The White House or off-site, sir?”

  “White House. West Wing. Second floor.”

  This is a stateside development; located in the central-western section of the USA.

  “Who else will be involved?”

  “I will have Arthur send a roster to your mobile. You have email on it, old man?” President Watt asked. “I need you there at 0800 tomorrow.”

  Arthur Hale, Chief of Staff, will send the meeting details. The time was the actual time he is requesting.

  Conrad didn’t speak. Uriah was better at this. Back in his days of active service, he could decode enemy coordinates better than the special computer programs the military invested in. President Watt n
ever lost the sharp mind, but his aim probably faded a little. Another reason why Conrad didn’t find politics in his future, he still preferred a gun over a pen.

  “Arthur will also make sure your team has a summary of the meeting afterwards.”

  Your team.

  The mention of the word ‘team’ meant this was an operational meeting and Conrad’s special unit would be involved. Conrad no longer had operators working in the field directly under him. Now he worked in drone monitoring and intelligence. The old soldier can’t run with the lions anymore, but he made himself useful in other methods. President Watt trusted him, they were brothers in arms willing to go to any battle together. Even today, Conrad would choose Uriah in a foxhole over any of these young, spry operators. Not that he did not respect them, but Conrad knew his President. The President also knew Conrad, and his team was made up of men he held in the highest regard who were willing to obey a command while remaining vigilant to only honor their country with each operation. If President Watt wanted Conrad and potentially his team, then the decision was severe.

  “Roger.” The picture was becoming clear; President Watt needed Conrad to help make a vital decision about a potential action in the western part of the United States. They needed to meet tomorrow to go over operational specifics.

  “Who is the guest, sir?” Conrad asked. For President Watt to call and feel the need to speak in code over a secure line signified the severity. All he could think of now was the silent hope Uriah would not say anything starting with the letter A.

  There was a pause on the other end. Conrad could hear President Watt sigh before he said, “All you need to know, is what you already know.”

  “Yes, sir,” Conrad said. There was no need for further pleasantries. No need to continue with small talk. Just by acknowledging Conrad became an accomplice to an act he swore to never commit. Uriah was not a man to make rash and poor decisions. He would only ask Conrad if there was no other way to properly protect the nation, and Lieutenant General Conrad Greene would risk his life and his freedom for his brother.