by Jeff DeMarco
BORN OF CHAOS
by
Jeff DeMarco
Copyright © 2018 by Jeff E. DeMarco
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition, 2018
ISBN
DeMarco Writing and Editing, LLC
Lexington, MI 48450
www.demarcowriter.com
To my daughter, Stella. I never knew how much I could love till I met you.
FOREWORD
Many thanks and my sincerest apologies to U.S. Military and government employees, of whom I’ve cast both protagonist’s and antagonists within the novel. Quick disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
I’ve cast certain characters to be angry, violent, addicted, misguided, arrogant, abusive and downright treasonous. I don’t personally know of any such polarizing characters in real life (thank goodness, my life is much less exciting). Furthermore, during my time in the military, I had the honor of serving with some of the finest individuals this country has ever known… but this novel isn’t a memoire.
At the end of the day, my characters are all just human (or close to it) and for the sake of the story- their attributes, subversive organizations or actions were necessary to support a particular character arc. Furthermore, the novel is set in the near future as opposed to the present, so fingers crossed that none of this comes to pass.
Additionally, instead of using the standard scene break, I’ve opted to create a unique icon for all major characters. In the event that a character’s entrance into a scene is to be a surprise, I’ve left their icon off the scene break.
Happy Reading!
PROLOGUE
“I go to visit the dark places of my mind,” my father said. “Only then, will light shine into them.” He was a hero of sorts; a hero to me, and among the many of this story. He was also a villain, though it depends on how you look at it. That is to say, I am the hero of my own story, but not to all; and not to say that I’m the hero of this story, nor is it to say that I’m one bit heroic. I was born against all odds – true, but I wasn’t the one to fight for it, to kill for it, to bleed for it. No… I haven’t fought for anything except to live, and not in the way they did. People follow me; they listen to me because I have something to give them and expect nothing in return. Knowledge is what I call it, but it’s more than that. A gift.
The same people call this “the end of days.” I remind them of the food in their pantries, the roof over their heads and the friends and family at their hearth; a tribulation perhaps, but not so great as was foretold in the many “holy” books. Where one thing ends, another begins. True, these are dangerous times we live in, but no more dangerous than the war that I was born into. Just different.
There were heroes on both sides; all sides, in fact, and villains as well. But the villains were indeed the heroes of their own stories; each of them with a picture of their own personal truth – the nature of existence, what it means to be ‘right.’ I don’t lend much credence to that ideal, ‘being right,’ since so often, it’s relative to where you stand.
In the ‘Last War,’ as it’s been called, no one was right, as all armies stood ready to destroy one another, but we’re not quite there yet.
In the wake of the crimson sky, humanity lay in chaos. Erica, my mother, had been given a family back. She had killed for the first time in her life. As it was shown to me, Luca and his brothers had attacked Fort Sill, Oklahoma; released tens of thousands of the Hunters against their defenses; rained steel down from the skies. Her father’s Army fought them, their forces useless against the ceaseless onslaught. She had fought through the horde to face Luca and defeated him, killed his brothers, brought him to the brink of death; in doing so, destroyed who she was, her persona, ideology, morality, psyche; however one chooses to name it. The betrayal had meant an end to her old life and thus, she sought to end her life entirely. In death, rebirth – an end and beginning. Others would find the need for rebirth in the days to come.
Luca was mangled and imprisoned, but alive; his body destroyed by the Hunters. Jacob’s forces had scattered across the map, in control of key military installations, poised to control the U.S.
The Order: Vice President Kreuson and Lieutenant Colonel Petersen, among others, once sure of their superiority, were driven beneath the earth; the safety of sealed bunkers. Alliances would shift; new threats would emerge - ancient and advanced, powerful and deadly.
The Earth, however, had been given back itself. Large swaths of land had begun to purge the concrete megaliths that sullied its pristine growth. In the arid southwest, sands blew through the streets, covering them, eroding the once bustling pavement. Further east, what was known as Carolina, vines and moss began to grow out through cracks in the pavement, as life does spring in the desolate places.
The Hunters were hungry, as [WU1]no creature worth eating was safe; nor would they be in their rebirth.
“It’s like the others,” Senator Vivian Kreuson whispered, her eyes dark in the poorly lit annex room. “Three of them. Pristine condition – perfect cylinders, all sealed.”
A single overhead light burned at the nervous air in the room. “Blood?” Director Stevens whispered.
“No.” Vivian slid a photograph across the desk. Her face appeared like that of a Stepford wife, yet her cunning eyes, her sharp grey suit and tone suggested otherwise. “Analysis is almost complete. It’s something… more.”
“This one.” He tapped his pen against the photo. “Why’s it grey?”
“Silicone based.”
He looked up. “And the writing?” his voice trembled.
“Same.” Vivian pulled another set of photos from her briefcase. There stood a stone obelisk; its dead language circled in fine red marker, notations scribbled along the margins.
He put his reading glasses on and stared down intently at the handwritten text – “To Destroy the Wicked,” he mumbled. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It’s a weapon,” a voice whispered from the shadows.
Stevens spun around. “And what do you need me for?”
“We’ve assumed control of a facility,” the voice whispered, just outside the light. “Underground in New Mexico. It’ll need to be staffed. Your Department of Homeland Security personnel.”
He looked back, a single bead of sweat ran down his forehead.
“There a problem, Stevens?” Vivian whispered.
“No, I…” He wrung his hands under the table. “Have you considered the ramifications of this?”
“Seven sites around the world.” She glared at him. “Five claimed by other nations. The technology is a threat. We must protect our nation, our people…”
“Human testing,” Stevens whispered to himself. “Conspiracy…I can’t be a party to that.”
“You’ve sworn an oath to our cause,” Vivian whispered. “An oath to God and our Order. You are charged. Now act.”
“I swear.” He stood, knocking his chair to the ground. “I will never breath a word of this to anyone.” He edged backwards, towards the door.
Agent Flynn stepped into the light, young still, dark hair and sharp features to match his black suit and tie. He pressed in on Senator Stevens. Vivian put her hand on Flynn’s arm, stopping his advance. Stevens slipped out of the room.
“Tonight,” she whispered. “Make it look like a heart attack.”
Another man waited in the shadows, Senator Pet
ersen, the dull ember of his cigarette illuminated his withered face. “Who’s next on the list?”
The sun dipped down into a blood red sky. “This is it,” Captain Duggan whispered, looking down at the text message on his phone.
He pulled in to the Normandy - Bastogne housing community, passing unit insignias and stars on red flags. He pulled up in the driveway of Lieutenant General Nichols, Airborne Corps commander.
Nichols eyed him conspicuously through the crack in the door. “Can I help you, Captain?” he inquired with a hint of annoyance in his voice, as he ran his hand over his bald head.
“Time is short, Sir.” The young officer’s blue eyes peered back at him through the doorway. “There’s been an attack.”
Nichols’ brow furrowed, as he stepped on to the porch.
“The Order of the Double-Edged Sword, Sir.” He handed over the unlocked phone, along with a silver coin - a sword surrounded by seven stars.
Nichols scrolled through – ‘Biological attack imminent – Seek cover immediately.’ His brow furrowed as he read. “Say I believe you…” He looked back up at Duggan, fingering the coin in his hands. “… you’re admitting you’re a party to this… Order. Yes?”
Duggan nodded. “I’ve seen what they can do, Sir. Many will die if we don’t act.”
“And you understand what this will mean for your career? For your life, your freedom? You understand what we do to officers like you, right?”
Duggan nodded, a persistent strength held in his eyes.
Nichols pursed his lips. “… come in.”
PART 1
CHAPTER 1
A sweet smell of autumn decay hung heavy in the air; it stirred in the night as nightmare creatures raced along the forest floor. Hunger had driven the hunters to move. Their food stores exhausted, each of the pack felt it: the shakiness, a drive to feed. Twenty of them, twenty hungry mouths, their jaws now fully formed and growing, long sinuous arms and legs, curved talons and mottled grey skin.
The pack traveled overland, galloping on all fours, stretched out in single file. The leader had stopped, motioned the pack onward with a low shriek and click of his jaw. It hadn’t been a decision for the pack leader, so much as an impulse. Hunger had built until it was insatiable. He waited in the brush, his eager muscles coiled.
He felt the ground, an injured ‘thump… thump-thump,’ growing closer. He leapt, his talons shot forward – and he ripped into her side, knocking her to the ground.
She let out a painful shriek, crying out for help.
The pack stopped, converged on the sound.
The leader slashed at her spine - a ‘snap,’ and tear of cartilage.
Her legs slacked as she tried to roll over, slashing in defense. A deep slice across his face; blood poured from the wound.
The pack gathered; anxious for a victor, anxious for a meal.
He bit in to her neck, his razor teeth tearing through her trachea in animalistic rage, blood spurting from the jagged flesh. He bit in to a bullet wound on her chest, tearing the entry open, exposing muscle and bone. He cracked the ribs open, exposing the organs. Her heart continued to beat, faint and fading; her eyes open, staring out at the glimmer of morning light.
He buried his face, gorged himself on her as the others circled, waiting to have their turn feeding on their fallen sister. Deep in him, sorrow grew in the darkening pit; that place in its mind that held the last remaining shred of his humanity.
Jacob reached for her in the darkness, an empty spot, still warm from her body heat. Her scent hung heavy in the air. Marines sat outside the hotel door, guarding them from the creatures. He heard the trickle of water; ran his fingers through dark messy hair, an attempt to put it in some sort of order.
Kristen stood naked at the sink, bathing with a cold, wet washcloth. “Wake up.” Her whisper had a sense of urgency. The shimmer of light from her head lamp reflected off the mirror, enveloping her silhouette.
Jacob walked to her, wrapped his arms around her waist, his bronzed hands pressed to the pale flesh of her exposed stomach. “Luca can wait.” He brushed her blonde hair aside and kissed her shoulder.
Her body tensed in a cringe, suppressing the urge to recoil entirely. “That’s not how you felt yesterday.” She felt his hands slide up the length of her body; she spun around, her elbow cocked, pushing him back. “Only person you think of is you.”
He looked at her in a painful stare.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” She glared back, waiting.
“I…” He cleared his throat. “I’m not about to risk an attack head on, without support. I’m not stupid.”
“Selfish, Jacob. Not stupid.”
He stood, speechless. She turned and continued bathing.
“If that’s how you feel,” he whispered. “Why have you followed me so long?”
“Hope.” Her eyes still focused on her task. “That maybe you’d grow up one day. Lead us to some sort of… salvation.”
“Salvation…” he mumbled to himself.
“It was inevitable.” Her tone matter of fact. “They can’t make something and not use it. If you hadn’t released the virus, someone else would have. At least this way we had a fighting chance.” She slipped her shirt back on and threw a towel at his face. “Hurry up. They’re coming.”
Jacob stepped into the darkened hallway; tacky print carpet and spackled walls were illuminated by their flashlights. The two Marines rose to attention, silent; the shuffle of talons was heard down the hall. Jacob flipped his flashlight off.
The Marines lowered night vision goggles from their helmets and took aim. Six creatures rounded a corner, sprinting on all fours. Pitch black, shots rang out; bursts of muzzle flash, Kristen looked at Jacob in the strobing dark, her icy glare urging him to act.
His eyes narrowed on her. He reached his hand out; the creatures stopped. His fingers spread apart. With a tug, their limbs ripped from their bodies, blood pouring from open flesh.
CHAPTER 2
The twilight and shadow danced across the child’s face, as he rocked back and forth in a waking dream, a vision of what once was, and what could have been again. He studied her, the deep green of her eyes, the curvature of her nose and chin, her dimpled cheeks. He held her tiny hand, wrapped around his finger. She stared back intently, watching him, his deep hazel eyes, his dark skin and loving smile, deciding if he was safe. She yawned, scrunching her nose and nuzzled into his tan t-shirt. He pressed his lips to the black tussle of hair at the top of her head. The scent of the child lingered in his empty arms. “Let me go,” he whispered to the apparition.
“Are you listening, Alpha 1?” Vivian’s voice rang against the concrete walls.
It didn’t matter anymore. He had been killing for far too long for it to matter anymore. “Yes Madam.” He refocused his eyes back on the Vice President. In truth, he hadn’t been listening, nor was he listening now, rather fantasizing about sliding his knife through her throat.
A building had collapsed on their bunker, sealing them underground, destroying their communications array. He was thankful that the air supply port had remained unscathed, yet the more she talked, the more he wanted to strangle- “That’s it!” he shot up. “We’ll run a cable up the pipe. It’s a straight pipe; it’ll get us a signal at least.”
She looked at him as though he were stupid.
“It’ll work.” His feet set in motion. “Trust me.”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “You were Flynn’s boy, weren’t you?”
He stopped.
“It’s a shame what happened to him.” Her eyebrow raised. “Did you hear?”
He looked at her, silently.
“Betrayed The Order, shot himself in the head… And you know what happens to suicides.”
He knew it to be lie, having tapped communications in the bunker from day 1. “Hell,” he whispered, despite his disbelief.
She walked to him. “You would never betray the Order,” she said placing her hand on his shoulder. “Would
you?”
“Negative, ma’am.”
“No,” she whispered. “Not with all we’ve given you… Your purpose, Alpha 1, do you know what that is?”
He remained silent, quelling the murderous impulse inside him.
“The Order will lead the people out of darkness, to a new age of existence,” she whispered, facing him, her other hand on his shoulder now. “One of peace and prosperity, one to glorify the one, true God… and me, as the mother of humanity. I want you to swear an oath to me, to God. Swear to protect me at all costs, even your own life.”
His features like stone, he whispered, “I’ve sworn my oath, Madam.”
She smiled a knowing grin at him. “What were you thinking of, just now?”
“Nothing, Madam.”
“Your daughter,” she whispered. “And her child.”
His eyes widened.
“Did you think we didn’t know?” A malevolent gleam arose in her eyes, at the leverage she held. “Swear, and I’ll do everything in my power to see that you’re reunited.”
He had done everything in his power to watch over the girl from afar[WU2]; too broken for her to see him, too far removed from the life he’d once been proud to call his. “I swear,” he whispered. ‘A lie,’ he thought.
“We’ll need a quick turnaround.” Jacob rode in the front passenger seat of the Humvee. They approached Fort Bragg, North Carolina from the northwest. “Refuel, gather support, tanks, helicopters, infantry. You’ll hold down the fort. I’ll give that little bitch what she’s got coming.”
“You thought of talking to her?” Kristen asked.
“If she’s not with us, she’s against us,” he said. “You weren’t there in the void - didn’t see what she did to Luca.”
“Luca’s not exactly… smart. Did he even tell you he was going to attack?”
He stared at her, his face blank.
“Might be a good idea to ask first.”