Value of Jade (Mace of the Apocalypse #2)

  THE VALUE OF JADE

  By

  Daniel J Williams

  DARK INFECTION PRESS

  Copyright 2012 Daniel J Williams

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  Cover Art by Judy Bullard

  Acknowledgements

  This book would not have been possible if not for the love and support of my family. To everyone who extended a helping hand, a word of encouragement, a hand in editing or a patient ear, I thank you. To my parents, you are truly incredible and I feel so fortunate to be your son. To my sisters, I cannot thank you enough for all your help. And to Marie, my wonderful wife, thank you for putting up with me through everything. I love you.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  With a soft breeze whispering through the thin bedroom curtains, Sarah Thompson stirred fitfully in her sleep. Her vision grew more frantic with each passing second. “They can’t come back! No! Not like before!” Her voice grew louder causing Bo, her husband, to roll over and murmur something in his sleep. He’d been up late going over some development plans. Sarah woke abruptly from her nightmare and bolted upright, disoriented and startled by its urgency. She began shaking Bo. “Bo, something’s going to happen. Wake up! We’ve got to do something!”

  Bo stirred, her words not making sense and his senses not fully awakened. “What? What are you talking about, Sarah?”

  Sarah shook him again and said excitedly, “We’ve got to be prepared! Something's coming!”

  Bo rubbed his eyes with his hands, trying to wake up. He was growing more agitated by the second. He wasn’t awake and he wasn’t able to grasp what she was talking about. “Who’s coming? What the hell are you talking about?"

  Sarah was almost in a panic. “If we don’t do something now, we’re all going to be dead!”

  Bo switched on the lamp next to the bed and studied his wife’s face. “You had a bad dream, Sarah. That’s all.”

  Sarah shook her head and tried to catch her breath. “It was no dream, Bo. It was a warning. I saw our encampment on fire. This very house..." Her voice trailed and her eyes grew wide as she recalled the images that splashed across her sleeping landscape. In a low monotone voice, she said barely above a whisper, “Something's coming. Something bad. We are going to be attacked." Looking at him with deadly seriousness, she added, "We're going to lose a lot of people. There's more though. I couldn't see it all.” She remained silent for a second, and to his surprise, Bo felt a finger of fear slither down his spine.

  “The future is uncertain,” she said with the same flat, hushed tone. “There will be darkness before the dawn.” She said those words with no clue where they originated from.

  She stared at Bo, wide-eyed. “I saw an image of you searching for a wrench. You were with Manny. Then I saw Manny dead."

  Small flashbulbs of light sparkled across Bo’s vision as he pictured the search for the wrench yesterday afternoon, blinding him momentarily. His breath caught in his throat. The finger of fear turned into a full-sized chill.

  “What the hell?”

  They both remained quiet, eyes locked, jaws open. Finally, Bo whispered, “I think it’s time to turn this up a notch, especially now.” Sarah was five months pregnant.

  Not more than two hundred yards from the bedroom window the fires blazed hot. Fueled by oil in long metal cattle troughs, they were spaced every hundred feet or so. In the incandescent glow of the controlled burn, the infected stayed at the outskirts, moving in the shadows, raging at their existence. The flames kept them back, but there was no denying the fury of their longing.

  Travis Rogers lined up his night scope, the fluorescent green of his victim only shadowed by the deep red in its eyes, which appeared black, and the dark blood that dripped from its chin. A bitter smile creased his lips as his trigger finger twitched, and his heart pumped a little harder as the image blurred and dropped, its head obliterated by the hollow point that exploded on impact.

  The small pop of a homemade silencer barely interrupted the quiet. The distant moans of madness were always present at night, but over time became so normal they could be drowned out easily enough.

  “Say goodnight, Margaret,” Travis whispered as he slowly lowered his weapon.

  A rabid survivalist a few years before the attacks, Travis’ survivalist skills and large cache of weapons proved highly beneficial to the small group of survivors, despite his gruff personality and weak social skills. Part of his bitterness concerned the soft tactics the small community employed. His ideas for combat were widely rejected as being too radical or dangerous. Hell, if it wasn’t for what he’d supplied, they’d all already be dead.

  Surrounded by fire troughs, the community stayed fairly safe, with eight guards rotating throughout the night. Fifty-seven members lived in the community. At one point their numbers were as high as eighty-two. The numbers fluctuated regularly until Travis’ arrival. His tactics cut down drastically on deaths and infections. They’d gone the last six weeks without any serious incidents.

  Their compound consisted of two complete blocks of spacious residential neighborhood. It was part of an older suburb, with one-story ranch houses on large lots. Travis erected four iron triangles near the center of each perimeter, fifty yards or so from the fire troughs, as a warning system of impending attack. A dirt field, with knee-high grass and weeds ran over a quarter mile from the rear of the compound.

  Travis continued to watch through the scope as the undead moved in the shadows. Drawn by the flames, the fires still kept them back. The guards eagerly took out any that wandered too close, but as dawn approached, the rest always retreated back into the night. They needed to find their hive. The last few search and destroy missions proved disastrous.

  Travis waited for this night to end to follow their path of departure. He would go it alone.

  Small pockets of resistance formed around the Country, but any sense of normalcy was simply gone. Six months since the firestorm of terrorist attacks, life now resembled darkest hell.

  Around the globe, Countries fell like dominoes as the scourge of the infection spread uncontested. Fear was palpable as several Nations tried to close their borders in a last ditch attempt to hinder its progress. The infection, like death itself, could not be stopped, only momentarily halted, and soon it found a way. Like an out-of-control surgeon drunk on madness and power, the infection sliced its way through the capillaries of society, severing the limbs of order with reckless abandon. In China, the Government exterminated hundreds of thousands of citizens as panic set in, with the majority of the citizens dying completely untouched by the strain.

  Bo and Sarah Thompson led a small group of survivors in Overland Park, KS. Their existence revolved around basic survival.

  Sarah stared long and hard at Bo. "This is real," she sa
id softly, a little shocked by her own conviction and realization of what awakened inside her. "And for some reason I feel like it's tied to Jade." She saw a flash of a woman and instinctively knew it to be her.

  "You haven't heard from her in months," Bo said, eyebrows raised in surprise by the comment. "I'd actually forgotten all about her."

  Sarah and Jade made a brief but memorable connection over the Internet five months earlier. They gave each other hope when both needed it most.

  "I think about her every day," Sarah said softly in reply. "I still believe she's just going to show up one day and our lives will be changed forever."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mason, “Mace” Marconi walked stiffly to the center of the street, staring at the open road before him. He closed his eyes and sniffed deeply, the freshness of the morning air touching his senses like a long forgotten dream. He was alive and finally ready to lead.

  Glancing behind him at the waiting caravan he felt a momentary sadness. They’d almost pulled it off. They’d almost made it a safe place to live. In the last six months he’d lost more than he cared to remember: His mentor, Father McCann, murdered by a gang of psychotic teenagers. The child he loved like a son, dead by his own hand. Numerous other friends or innocents murdered or infected.

  Then there was John and Maria. What happened to them was incomprehensible. His greatest fear was what happened to them would happen again.

  Suffering several gunshot wounds in the final gun battle with the gang, Mace still felt hampered by stiffness and pain. A long, thin scar ran across his cheek. Locking eyes with Jade, the love of his life, his lips parted in a smile.

  The destination was of her choosing: Kansas would be where they would start their new family. She was carrying his child. The baby was due in four months. They needed to complete the journey as soon as possible.

  They possessed the antidote that could stop the infection. The intricate web of design, as Father McCann called it, allowed it to fall into their laps. It was, however, sadly incomplete. While it did stop the infection from spreading, there were complications for those who were attacked after receiving it. John and Maria were victims of that complication.

  Traveling with them in the back seat of the car was Lisa, a single mother who’d been with them since the beginning and Chelsea, her child, who recently celebrated her fourth birthday. Chelsea stuck her head out the window once she noticed Mace turned back towards them.

  “C’mon, Mason Macaraboni, I’ve already got to pee!”

  In the backseat next to Chelsea sat Buster, a yellow lab they’d found months earlier, who now licked at Chelsea’s face.

  “Stop it, Buster!” she squealed with laughter.

  Behind them were six other vehicles, all carrying injured souls joining their quest for more than survival. Hannah, a 35-year old woman who faced the complication of the incomplete antidote, now suffered violent thoughts and barely restrained outbursts, coupled with strong sexual urges, especially during times of stress. Closely monitored by Jacqueline, a nurse, she remained medicated on valium to help control her mood swings.

  There were 23 people partaking in the journey; most who’d been with them through the worst of the madness. Newcomers to the group were the Turchett family; Paul, Noreen and their daughter Melissa, 11, who recently stumbled upon their group. None of them yet received the antidote.

  No one was exactly sure why they were heading for Kansas, except that Jade briefly connected through the internet with a woman named Sarah Thompson. She’d promised to bring the antidote to her community. In the tragedy of their surroundings, Overland Park became their nirvana, their place for hope, and as they fired up the vehicles, they left with a flicker of it burning in their hearts.

  Fifteen minutes into their journey, Chelsea’s excitement over their future could not be contained. “When we get there I want to ride the Ferris wheel!”

  Mace looked confused as he glanced at her in the rear view mirror.

  “What Ferris wheel, Chelse,” he asked?

  “The one in the big park!”

  Lisa immediately understood where Chelsea’s mind had gone. “Oh my God, honey, we’re not going to an amusement park.”

  Chelsea studied her face. “You said we were going to Wonderland Park.”

  “We’re going to Overland Park, sweetie. It’s a city. We’re going there to start a new life.”

  Lisa thought it best just to explain their departure the day they left. She wanted to avoid a million questions and anxiety on Chelsea’s part.

  Chelsea’s face scrunched up. “Oh.” After a second she said, “There won’t be any cotton candy?”

  The depth of her daughter’s innocence made Lisa want to laugh and cry at the same time. She knew she’d never be able to shelter her from the reality of their existence and their world. “I’m sorry honey. I don’t think so,” she said apologetically.

  “No kids rides?” Deflated, Chelsea’s eyes began to rim with tears. “I thought we were going to live in a big park.” She grew silent for a second. Quietly, she said, “Will there be other kids to play with?” No longer able to suppress a tear, one escaped down the side of her face. “I don’t want to be the only kid,” she explained as her bottom lip quivered. “I need to play with other kids.”

  Mace and Jade sat in the front, quiet and mournful, as Lisa stroked her hair slowly. They all felt Chelsea’s loss.

  “Why do we have to go away?”

  Jade turned around and spoke from the front, hoping to change the mood in the car. “I grew up in a place like Overland Park, Chelsea. I grew up on a farm and I want to raise my baby there.” She looked at Chelsea in all seriousness. “I want you to help me raise it. I want you to be its big sister.”

  Chelsea sniffled and considered the proposition. “Is it going to be a boy or a girl? If it’s a boy he’ll probably want me to teach him how to play baseball and I don’t know how to play baseball.”

  They all laughed.

  “Don’t worry, Chelsea. If it’s a boy you can just help me take care of him,” Jade said. “I never had a brother or sister and I don’t want my baby to grow up without one.”

  “I’d like to have a brother or sister,” Chelsea said quietly. She thought of something and said, “Are we going to live on a farm?”

  “That’s the plan,” said Jade. “How does that sound?”

  “It won’t have a Ferris wheel but I guess it could be okay,” said Chelsea.

  Feeling relieved, Lisa said, “I still can’t picture you growing up on a farm in Kansas, Jade.”

  Jade was of half-Asian, half-Caucasian descent. With shoulder length black hair and dark brown eyes, she was beautiful in an exotic way.

  “Neither could anybody else. I was different, that’s for sure. It was a small farm and I was adopted, Lisa. My parents were older and never had kids.”

  “What’s adopted mean?” asked Chelsea.

  “It means I didn’t know my real mom.”

  Chelsea’s draw dropped. “You didn’t have a mommy?”

  Mace watched Chelsea’s reaction in the rear-view mirror and couldn’t help but smile.

  “I did, honey. I just didn’t know her. My adopted mom was very good to me.” Jade turned her attention back to Lisa. “It was hard in some ways. I got teased a lot. It made me strong, though. I took up boxing and then mixed martial arts.”

  “I call her my lethal weapon,” Mace joked. “She was actually a golden gloves champ.”

  From the backseat came more amazement from Chelsea. “You have golden gloves? Are they real gold?”

  Everyone chuckled. “No, Chelse. I used to box when I was younger and I won some awards.”

  “You box?” Chelsea was now floored. She stayed silent for a second and then said, “Could you teach me?”

  “You bet. Once we get to where we’re going I’ll give you some lessons.”

  They all grew silent after that: Chelsea trying to absorb all she’d heard and the rest wondering just what they were
in for. They’d made the decision to head for Kansas, but weren’t sure what they would find or if they’d even make it there alive.

  Behind Mace, in the 4x4, the conversation revolved around the coming winter.

  “I’m not sure if Kansas is a good choice. I grew up in San Bruno and only head to the snow for skiing. I never considered living in it, especially now.” San Bruno was a suburb just outside of San Francisco.

  Yvette seemed surprised by the revelation. “Jim, you should have thought about that before we left.”

  “I’m only here because of you. Where you go, I go.”

  “And I am so glad you’re here,” she replied, her eyes turning soft as she squeezed his thigh.

  In the driver’s seat, Shawn started to chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing. It’s just the dating pool isn’t what it used to be.”

  “That is so rude!” declared Yvette, offended.

  Shawn tried to cover his ass. “I just mean that if this was six months ago, Jim here wouldn’t be traveling 1800 miles through God knows what for a girl he’s only known for a couple of months.”

  Yvette turned towards Jim. “Well,” she asked, crossing her arms, her head tilted at an angle, a smile barely contained. “What do you say to that?”

  Jim looked past her, mouthed “asshole” to Shawn, and said, “I’d go anywhere for you, Vette. After what we’ve been through we’re joined at the hip.”

  They were both in their teens and were attracted to each other the first time they’d met. The teenage gang beat her and set her up as a trap in their final battle. She’d come within seconds of having her head blown off. Jim helped rescue her.

  “Thank you. I agree.” She turned to Shawn. “So, why are you going? I don’t see you with a ball and chain wrapped around your ankle.”

  Shawn chuckled again. “This group has become my family. I never would have dreamed of traveling that far myself, but we know there is a community set up and waiting for us. Besides, I got nowhere else to go.” His faced slowly grew slack as he reflected on his life. The car grew silent as Yvette and Jim waited for him to continue. Shawn said quietly, “I had a wife and two kids. I raised those kids to stay away from drugs and gangs. Even though we were in the projects they had a bright future.” Shaking his head, he added, “I got nobody anymore.” Realizing the mood he cast in the car, he tried to lighten it up. He forced a smile. “You think them Kansas farm girls are ready for a brother?”