Red the First
Authors: C. D. Verhoff
Tags: #action, #aliens, #war, #plague, #paranormal fantasy, #fantasy bilderbergers freemasonry illuminati lucifer star, #best science fiction, #fiction fantasy contemporary, #best fantasy series
RED THE FIRST
C. D. Verhoff
~ ~ ~
Copyright © 2013 by C. D. Verhoff
All rights reserved. Red the First ©, a
GALATIA novel ©, and the Galatia Series © are trademarks of the
author. Smashwords Edition. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any
means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or
mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the
publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by
copyright law.
Visit the author on the web
at:
http://cdverhoff.blogspot.com/p/books.html
Or on Facebook:
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Red the First/by C. Deanna
Verhoff
The main category of the book
—Fantasy. Another subject category—Science Fiction. 3. More
categories — Religion, Post-Apocalyptic, Adventure, Plague, War,
Survivalist.
Second Edition
Formerly published under the title
Wakeland’s War.
~ ~ ~
Special thanks to Ginny
Eltzroth,
Josephine Henke and Chris
Ward.
~ ~ ~
Dedicated to my little
seedlings,
Lee Lee and A.J.
~ ~ ~
Table of
Contents
~ ~ ~
Chapter 1
Redmond Wakeland knew the end of
civilization was nigh when the mechanical wheel of fruit over
Schlotz’s Grocery stopped tumbling out of the giant cornucopia. Ten
months ago, this store had been a popular landmark in town, but now
the shelves were nearly empty. The putrid scent of rotten meat and
sour milk lingered within its walls. Except for the places where he
aimed his flashlight, the aisles were dark and full of rats. He
lugged a shopping cart along behind him, full of canned food, taken
from the shelves, and paper products which he had gotten from the
stock room. Then he shouldered his way through a set of sliding
doors, unwieldy without electricity to trigger their opening, to
step outside.
The morning sun cast pale light on a
parking lot dotted with abandoned vehicles. His sharp gray eyes
scanned the quiet storefronts, many with broken windows, stretching
out to the horizon. Litter blew down the street like tumbleweeds.
It was hard to believe this used to be upscale suburbia. Weeds were
invading every crack in the cement. Tangled bird nests burst from
every manmade nook and cranny.
Nature was rapidly overtaking the city,
just like the spreading flecks of gray in his sideburns. He used to
dye his hair, fuss over the clothes he wore, but petty things like
that no longer mattered.
“
Zena!” he called out. She
didn’t appear, but no worries. The girl liked to explore and knew
how to handle herself in a crisis. He envied her ability to live in
the present, never looking backward or forward, just accepting life
whatever way it came along. Red, on the other hand, still struggled
with the decay of everything around him. The deterioration had come
on quicker than he had thought possible. The worst part was the
overwhelming stillness.
He jumped at the sudden clang of metal
on metal. He hefted a big can of Pork N’ Beans over his right
shoulder and snuck up to the corner of the building.
“
Zena?”
A bushy-tailed brown rodent scampered
from around the corner. Whew, just a squirrel. Slowly, he lowered
the can.
What’s taking her so long? He left the
shopping cart where it was while he went around the corner to see
if his companion was investigating the rubbish pile, but he got
sidetracked by the garden center.
He was sure this was planting season,
but the last time he’d tried his hand at gardening was thirty years
ago in the third grade. Everyone in his class had been sent home
with a tiny crab apple tree. His had looked exactly like a stick.
His father shredded it with the lawn mower by accident. After that
dismal start to his gardening career, the prospect of having to
live off the land for the rest of his life filled him with
trepidation, but the manufactured canned goods wouldn’t last
forever.
Maybe the logical place to start would
be to get a hoe, some seeds, and then go from there. Lost in his
thoughts as he strolled toward the store’s garden center, the last
thing he expected to do was bump into a stranger.
They both froze at the sight of the
other.
The stranger recovered first. In a
flash, she pinned him against the store’s brick wall with a waxy
green hand. The stranger’s nose was a bump with two slits for
nostrils. Intelligent pink eyes with oval pupils and spidery black
lashes stared back at him unblinking. Wispy hair like a dandelion
gone to seed poked off her skull in every direction. His mind
seized with confusion. Such a thing couldn’t exist. This whole
situation was absurd. But how could he just stand there getting his
ass whooped, pretending everything was okay?
When he pushed her away it was like
trying to move a parked car. She backed up only because she wanted
to get a better look at him. His breath caught in his throat and
his heart almost failed, as they studied one another.
Red was taller than average, but this
strange creature towered over him by at least a foot. Its delicate
facial features made him think it was a female, but he couldn’t be
sure about anything. It wore a form-fitting, seamless, gray
garment, and was barefoot. Bare-rooted. Whatever. Long toes ended
in woody talons, but what concerned him most was the utility belt
around her waist, from which dangled sleek gadgets born of a
technology he’d never seen before. One looked like a futuristic gun
from a sci-fi flick. Orange lightning roiled around in its chamber,
making him think it was a real weapon.
Heart racing, breath coming in shallow
spasms, he struggled to call out for his missing companion.
“Zena!”
No response.
He scanned the ground, looking for a
brick, a piece of pipe, a shard of glass—anything he might use as a
weapon.
The creature held her forearm up to
her mouth and spoke into an elliptical device attached to her
wrist. Her voice went into one end of the device as high-pitched
squeaks and came out the other side in monotone English. He could
see in its mouth bristly thin teeth like the claws on the inside
rim of a Venus flytrap.
“
Answer my questions and
you will not be harmed. Are you alone?” The pitch of the translator
made Red think the creature was female. She extended her arm so
that her wrist and the strange device on it were only a few inches
from his mouth.
“
Wh-wh-what are you?” His
words went into the translator as English, but were converted into
alien squeaks.
Yellowish spittle flew as she spoke in
agitated squeaks, but her translated words were devoid of
inflection. “I ask the questions. You answer. How is it that you
survived the cleansing? Are there others like you? What are their
coordinates? What is a Zena?”
The creature’s body looked sinewy and
tough, but having spent four years in the Marines, Red wasn’t the
kind of guy to shy away from a fight. He lowered his head and
barreled straight into her stomach. The impact felt like running
headfirst into a tree trunk. They rolled head over heels,
struggling, in the parking lot.
She reached for the gun in her belt,
but Red held her wrist with both hands. Slowly, he lost the battle
of strength. She disentangled herself from his limbs and rose,
standing over him, legs apart, futuristic-looking gun pointed at
his head. He covered his face with his arms, waiting to be
zapped.
“
Tell me,” he heard her say
as she turned the translator in his direction. “If men and women
truly believe they possess immortal souls, why do they fear
death?”
Red cautiously lowered his arms. “I am
not afraid to die,” he said. “It’s all the stuff that comes just
before dying that sucks.”
“
What is sucks?” She cocked
her head to one side as if confused. “The translator cannot define
the word.”
“
Who are you?” was all he
wanted to know.
She squeaked into the translator. “I
am the commander in charge of settling this sector. Humans no
longer have a place here.”
Red didn’t know if this creature had
any sex organs, but he brought up his foot hard into its groin
area. When she crumpled to her knees, he slammed his into her back.
She collapsed to the pavement, flat on her face. He darted across
the parking lot toward his four wheeler ATV.
Streaks of orange light whizzed past
him. One hit a dilapidated truck. For a millisecond, a net of light
covered the vehicle. The metal exterior fell to the ground,
shattered into thousands of pieces. The alien had recovered from
the assault and was quickly bridging the distance between them. Red
zigzagged. Light beamed past him, looking like equally spaced
dashes painted on the highway, only they glowed orange hot. At this
rate, his luck wouldn’t last much longer. He yelped and ran
faster.
Suddenly, a deep growl sounded from
around the corner. Ear-piercing screams came from the alien as a
huge dog with mottled black and tan fur sprang at the alien,
knocking her down. The dog locked onto the alien’s neck, shaking
vigorously. Yellow liquid dripped from the dog’s muzzle.
The alien creature struggled to her
knees, punching the animal aside with a closed fist. She found the
space to aim her gun at the dog’s head.
“
Fass!” Red yelled in
German, which loosely meant to
take hold
or
bite.
The one-hundred-ten pound mongrel
clamped her jaws down on the alien’s wrist until there was a
gruesome crunching sound, shaking the weapon out of her hands. Red
ran toward the fight and scooped up the gun. He leaned over the
groaning alien as close to the translator as he dared.
“
Commander,” he said smugly,
patting the dog’s head, “THIS…is a Zena.” He hurried away,
encouraging Zena to follow.
“
Aus!” he ordered,
instructing the dog to let go.
Zena released the alien. Red slapped
his hand on his knee, urging her to hurry.
“
Come on, girl!”
The time he’d spent teaching her
Schutzhund commands had really paid off.
Man and dog ran back to the four
wheeler. Red hopped aboard, and scooted to the edge of the seat,
leaving room for Zena to jump in beside him. Wrapping one arm
around his furry companion, he revved the engine, and then squealed
out of sight.
Chapter 2
Two weeks later, Red Wakeland sat alone
on a plush sofa with a pistol in his lap. The sun burned brightly
through smudged Palladian windows. He felt lost in the two-story
great room—like a shipwrecked man on a deserted island with no
chance of rescue.
