Sol Shall Rise (The Pike Chronicles Book 1)

SOL SHALL RISE

G.P. Hudson

© 2014

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This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in the book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form, other than for review purposes, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

Cover art by Justin Adams

For Corynn, Aidan, Evan and Laurel

With All My Love

Sometimes life isn’t short enough.

Jon cursed as his eyes opened. Cursed at the light, and at the weapon pointed at him.

He closed them again, hoping to fall back into oblivion. No luck. He struggled to figure out where he was, but his memory remained thick and unyielding, the blackness oppressive. He searched the crevices of his mind for a clue, something to make sense of things. But nothing came to him.

Jon opened his eyes again. The weapon was still trained on him. An energy weapon. How did he know that? Black and sleek, it conformed well to the gunman’s hand. But the hand trembled. The man wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t a real threat. Jon looked up at a swollen pock marked face. Gray eyes looked back at him, wide and panicked. There was something about them. Something familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

He tried to clear his mind and some memories trickled through. Not enough to understand things yet, but he started to get his bearings. A sweet smell filled the air. A scent he knew. Red Dust. That made sense. The confusion. The memory lapse. Everything would come back to him soon enough.

Disjointed memories continued to flash in Jon’s mind. His wife. His children. The grief of their loss. His heart pounded violently against his ribs, the memory almost too much to bear. More memories flooded his mind and he saw a myriad of faces. Frightened, pleading faces begging for mercy. A familiar cold detachment took hold and stifled his grief.

He heard yelling behind him and he switched his attention towards it. He turned to see a large bearded man pointing a gun at someone else. Thick well defined muscles roped across the man’s arms and shoulders. Dark eyebrows snapped together bordering cold, murderous eyes. The bearded man pointed his gun at a third man sitting in a chair. Blood poured from the seated man’s nose and his eye had swollen shut. Jon watched a meaty hand pound the side of the injured man’s head. Despite the swelling Jon was sure he knew him.

Just then something alien inside Jon stirred and his stomach lurched. Dread climbed up his spine and he almost panicked, but forced the feeling away.

What the hell was that?

He tried to shift his focus and looked back at the man in the chair. He recognized him now. His name was Max. They were friends. Max had a lost look on his face. The poor bastard was taking a good beating. But for what?

He looked around and realized he was in Max’s apartment. The room itself looked like it had taken as much of a beating as Max. Glass shards littered the floor, a table was upended, the holo-emitter destroyed. 

How long was I asleep?

Jon’s mind became more lucid as the effects of the Red Dust continued to wear off. He recognized the alien creature inside his belly again. His muscles hardened as it continued to awaken.

Red Dust. That must be what they want.

No surprise, it was what everyone wanted. Red Dust was instant insomnia. It made the real world disappear. Most people used it to forget their wartime haunts. Jon was no different. He wanted to forget the wars and his part in them.

It also subdued the creature, an added perk.

Looking back again in Max's direction he saw things had deteriorated. The bearded man had wound an electrical cord around Max's neck, and twisted and pulled from behind. Max tried to dig his fingers in between the cord and his windpipe, desperate to save it from being crushed. Anger spiked through Jon. His rage fed the creature.

Adrenalin surged through his body and cleared his mind. He recognized the attackers now. He had seen them at Max's place before. Red Dust customers. The shaky one pointing the gun at him was Roch and the big one strangling Max was Azzan.

Fucking junkies.

Azzan pulled on the cord with all his strength now and the force yanked Max off his chair. Azzan dragged Max gagging and thrashing across the floor, his face turning a bluish purple. He didn't have long. Maybe a few seconds at most.

“You're going to kill him. We're not supposed to kill them!” said Roch.

Azzan ignored Roch's pleas and didn't let up, his mouth widening into a savage grin. Max’s life ticked away.

Jon's hands balled together into hard fists. He looked back at Roch. His gun pointed straight at Jon’s head, finger tight on the trigger, knuckles white from the tension.

The creature awoke. His body coiled. Time to act.

Roch focused on Azzan and his gun shifted enough to give Jon an opportunity. In a blur of movement Jon sprang up, grabbed Roch's wrist and twisted. The gun discharged harmlessly, and Jon ripped it out of Roch's hand. Jon drove a heel into Roch’s knee and the sickening sound of snapping cartilage filled the room. He released his grip and let him crumple to the floor, screaming and clutching his broken knee. 

Jon felt the creature's silent roar and moved as if set off by a hair trigger. Spinning round he saw Azzan reaching for his own gun. Azzan had no chance. Jon streaked across the room and hammered the gun's stock into Azzan's jaw. A molar launched into the air and Azzan collapsed, the sheer force of the blow leaving him unconscious. Jon wanted to crush Azzan's skull under his boot, but suppressed the urge and turned to Max.

The sight made his stomach drop. Max's limp body lay inert on the floor. Had he acted too late?  Cursing himself for his weakness he reached down and placed a hand on Max's carotid artery, feeling for a pulse.

Still alive.

Jon exhaled in relief, but his body flexed, coiled in anticipation of more combat. He knew he would remain like this, his entire body like a tight spring, and there would be no respite. The creature would see to that.

Max stirred and Jon turned him over onto his back. He tried to speak, but heaved a groan of pain instead.

“It's ok, just relax for a minute,” said Jon.

He propped him up in a sitting position making him cough in violent spasms. Jon inspected his neck. Other than it being heavily bruised, he found no permanent damage.

“Ok buddy, your neck looks good. Just some bruises. You'll just need to rest for a bit.” Max nodded.

Jon got up and walked over to Roch, who lay in the corner sobbing. His leg jutted out in an obscene angle where Jon broke it. Jon wanted answers and Roch was going to give them to him.

“Why are you two lowlifes here?” said Jon.

Roch continued to wail.

“Stop crying or I'll break your other leg.”

Roch's eyes widened and he bit his lip, his cries now just whimpers.

“Why are you here?”

“We came for the Red Dust.” Said Roch.

Roch was lying. After hundreds of interrogations Jon knew a lie when he saw one. That these two were trying to steal Red Dust seemed the obvious answer, and yet Roch lied. Jon stepped on Roch's broken knee, digging the heel of his boot deep into the mangled flesh. Roch screamed in agony.

“Let’s try that again and this time I want the truth. Why are you here?”

“Please! I already told you the truth. We came to steal the Red Dust.”

Jon grabbed Roch's ankle and pulled upwards, still grinding his heel into his battered knee.

Roch howled. “Ok! Ok! I'll tell you the truth!”

Jon ignored Roch's pleas and continued wrenching his knee. He screamed and writhed in pain as Jon taught him the cost of playing games. When it looked like he would lose consciousness, Jon stopped.

“Mr. Yang sent us.”

Jon looked back at Roch in disbelief. “Mr. Yang? The Triad? What does the Triad want with me?”

“They want that thing inside you, they –”

“My symbiont? How do they know about my symbiont?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t tell us anything else. They just said to make sure we didn’t kill you.”

“Kill me? That’s funny.” Jon laughed. He was losing respect for the Triad. “Why would they send you two idiots? Why not send professionals?”

Roch didn't answer. Jon moved to step on his knee again.

“To make it look Red Dust related. They didn't want the blowback.”

Jon understood. A professional operation would attract unwanted attention. The creature was military property after all, and even the Triad couldn’t withstand the onslaught its theft would trigger. Still, this was a ballsy move, even for the Triad. But it didn’t make any sense. Something wasn’t right. Roch seemed like he was telling the truth, but his story was ridiculous.

Jon left Roch whimpering on the floor and went back to check on Max. “I have to get going. I'm going to take these two with me. Just get some rest ok?

Max nodded and forced a smile.

Jon went back to Roch and Azzan. He found some rope and hogtied their hands and legs behind their backs, effortlessly lifted both men, one in each hand, and carried them outside. The darkness shielded him from curious eyes. Max lived in a less populated section of Hong Kong, one that had been hit hard during the wars. Many buildings were mere shells, and the few people who did live here didn't ask many questions. It made sense for Max, considering his line of work.

Jon lugged Roch and Azzan down a narrow street. The darkness almost complete. Azzan was awake now and they both groaned with each step.

Roch pleaded again, “Please don't kill us. We'll disappear. You'll never see us again.”

“Oh, I'm sure I won't. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to dump you off somewhere and you can figure the rest out on your own. Now shut up before I change my mind.”

They continued to moan but didn’t dare speak.

Jon soon came upon the bombed out shell of an old building, one of the many scabs left on the landscape from the wars. It was a bizarre mix of mangled steel and concrete. The roof had a gaping hole, and the entire left side of the building was crumbling and blackened from fires that had long since burned out. In contrast, the right side was still solid and seemed structurally sound. At least it didn't look like it was going to collapse anytime soon. As good a place as any. Jon hauled his two captives into the structure and threw them onto a pile of garbage left by the building's previous occupants. They couldn't do much harm here and someone would eventually find them and let them go.

“You know what’ll happen if I see you again?” said Jon.

The two nodded.

“Good.”

Jon turned to leave, feeling the creature's protests as he stepped toward the exit. He knew it still considered Roch and Azzan a threat, but he didn't care. They weren't a threat and he wouldn't kill them. Ignoring the creature he continued to leave.

A searing pain started in his bowels making him bend at the waist. Lurching forward, he took a couple more steps. The pain spread in violent waves through his intestines, into his abdomen, attacking his kidneys and then his lungs. Unable to withstand anymore, he collapsed. He writhed in agony as the creature punished him for his obstinance.

Jon endured the pain for several minutes. He had given in and agreed to comply, but the pain continued, punitive in nature, ruthless in execution. When Jon had suffered enough the pain stopped. Curled up in a fetal position he gasped for air, relieved that the ordeal was over. In the same way the pain had ripped through his body now a comforting warmth washed over him bringing with it much needed relief.

A few minutes passed. Jon stood, turned and walked toward Roch and Azzan. They gaped back at him, a look of shock on their faces, trying to comprehend what they just witnessed. Standing in front of them Jon apologized and then, in two quick motions, snapped each of their necks.