Shield [New World Book 1]

NEW WORLD

BOOK 1: SHIELD

by

C.L. Scholey

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

 
Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright
Ó
2012 by
C.L. Scholey

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN 978-1-
61160
-173-2

Credits

Cover Artist: Gemini Judson

Editor: Melanie Billings

Printed in the United States of America

D
edication

I would like to dedicate this story to

Whiskey Creek Press Torrid

and my amazing editor, Melanie.

Chapter 1

“Get in, Grace,
now
!” a voice screamed at her.

Grace couldn’t move, she was too terrified and her feet felt like lead beneath her. Catastrophic events paralyzed her movements. Fire blazed around their space shuttle. Explosions were to her left and right as a meteor shower exploded around them. Trees were reduced to matchsticks as the bomb-like fireballs struck. The small pond to her left was invaded. The meteor hit and then sizzled producing a mist of cover. The water exploded with a cannonball-sized mass. The waves rose high in a cascade shower, dropping brackish water onto all within reach. Everywhere Grace looked people were falling to their deaths, being blown to pieces. Running flames that zigzagged in no apparent destination didn’t register. She could see the legs moving under the blaze. How could fire run? It was surreal how the burning mass slowly dropped to the ground, haloed in dancing shades of red and orange. Burnt flesh seared an imprint in her memory with what her eyes were seeing. She gagged.

Grace turned her head slowly. She could hear the voices of those around her, they registered, but slipped from her ears like water. Too many sounded at once. It was like being in a crowded stadium. Before long, her heartbeat pulsed like a dripping faucet in the dead quiet of night. She felt dizzy then remembered to breathe. Her breath was a whoosh of intake. It cleared her thoughts and muddled mind and she could hear again. Women were begging Grace’s pilot to take their children onboard. Pitiful hands clutched at him, screaming toddlers wailed and clung to their mothers with hands like vice grips. Tiny faces filled with panic and betrayal. Why would their mommies give them away? To Grace it was the ultimate test of a mother’s love, to let go of someone you desperately love for their well-being. Grace could feel her heart break as the mothers pleaded. But Grace knew the captain of the shuttle wouldn’t, couldn’t take them. There wasn’t any room.

Earth was dying and only a select few could be transported to a new world colony. They didn’t have much time—even less now.

A hand gripped Grace’s elbow, fingers digging into her soft flesh, and spun her forcefully around, up into the shuttle. She stumbled and was hauled upright. Captain Chase was breathing hard when he flung her into one of the ten seats. The hatch was slammed into place and Grace almost vomited as reaching, clasping fingers were sheared off and dropped to the shuttle floor. Captain Chase raced to the front of the craft where he and the co-pilot sat in two additional seats.

“Go, damn it, there’s nothing we can do!” the captain shouted.

“We can’t lift off. People are on top of the craft. Bloody hell, Chase, if we go, we will take twenty people to their deaths,” the co-pilot, Adams, replied in a high-pitched frazzled tone.

“Then boost it, and the lucky sons of bitches will be close enough to the ground to survive when they hit. The shuttle is a sitting duck with the meteors. Now go,” the captain said through gnashed teeth.

To Grace’s horror the captain put his hand over Adams’ and gunned the throttle. The craft jumped forward. People fell to their deaths, some incinerated in the tail fire. Worse were the others who hung on. Grace sobbed as she watched a man screaming he would get off now if they would just please land. But they wouldn’t land and he was going to die. Both Grace and the man looked down at Earth at the same time. They rose higher than the mountaintops, up past the cloud. The man was gasping in tiny puffs of air, his eyes wide in horror.

Grace lifted her hand to splay her fingers against the window. The man’s desperate eyes met hers and Grace felt her tears fall with his. The man was going to die and there was nothing she could do but offer comfort through her gaze, meager as that would be. She could see her terror mirrored in his pitiful gaze. His mouth was wide trying to breathe. His eyes were liquid pools of fear. Grace wished she could toss a pebble into his fear, to send a ripple so she wouldn’t see. To distort his impending agony. She couldn’t look away. Slowly his eyes closed. He had tied himself on with his belt but he slipped across the window and dangled. He caught fire as they left the atmosphere. Grace felt her heart pounding in her chest. It was mercifully quick. His burned body stuck to the side of the window. Grace’s eyes remained fixed until the burnt mass sizzled into a bubble and slipped off.

“Damn it,” the captain snarled. “Damned stupid fools have burnt the hull.”

All around, Grace heard quiet sobbing. She wiped at her own eyes. The craft was equipped to hold twelve people and a reasonable amount of supplies. They had almost no supplies. Adams had snuck in eight more people instead. As he scanned the shuttle, the captain claimed his co-pilot’s softheartedness would be the death of them. From the corner of her eye, Grace watched as a woman crept up beside her. She was tiny and the two of them were able to share her seat with another man seated to their left. The man was studying the tiny woman with interest. Grace wasn’t much taller than the woman beside her, standing at five foot four. Grace’s one hundred and twenty pound frame pressed against the hard shuttle wall to make room.

The shuttle was equipped with a shower and one toilet holding ocean water. They couldn’t waste their precious fresh water supply. The chair she was in would recline into a small bed with a built-in pillow. One thermal blanket was issued to each of the ten passengers and the captain and co-pilot. Grace had been allowed one small bag with her belongings. She didn’t have anything; the flood had wiped everything out.

Grace looked out into vast darkness. Then looked back at Earth as it diminished in the distance. A dark cloud covered it like a smile from hell. Sparks lit every few moments as meteors hit and exploded—the devil’s pimples. Another shuttle trailed them; it too looked damaged, defeated, as they slunk away like dogs with their tails between their legs. To her far right, she saw two more shuttles. The light showed a male and female pilot in one, two males in the other. All looked overcrowded. How small they appeared in the vastness of the universe. Grace felt small. She felt alone.

They were running out of shuttles as the Earth became too volatile to enter and exit. Soon no more would venture there again. Earth was a lost cause. Grace had been lucky to get out alive. Nothing in her future was certain and her past was but a blur.
When did it all go sour?
Too many whys were dangerous thoughts when she was so vulnerable.

Grace felt an odd sense of betrayal toward Earth. It was home.
How could home do this to us?
She felt like one of the children the mothers had tried to save—or damn. Nothing was certain. Slowly the flooding had increased in some areas of the world. It crept up on them. Oh they oohed and ahhed and felt pity like all the other times when across the seas their homes were lost. Money poured in to the suffering nations. Soon enough, the money stopped when it hit home. Parts of the world were hit with a devastating drought and soaring temperatures. Infestations of rats and insects clouded other parts. Earthquakes wiped out most of Asia. Tsunamis struck, battering the shorelines. A volcano erupted in Yellowstone Park. They knew they were doomed as California and Florida slipped into the ocean. Hawaii and Australia sank like fallen Atlantis. Meteor fires wiped out crops and orchards. Starvation was rampant. The sun shone less as the smoke from raging fires rose heavenwards. Mother Nature had turned rabid.

The first shuttles out a few years prior carried scientists and heavily armed marines. When news came of a new world able to sustain human life, people were amazed. They had been gifted with salvation. The problem was they were unable to make larger crafts. The smaller ones could maneuver around falling meteors; the larger ones were unable to. The shuttles left more frequently, but it took two weeks for them to return and there weren’t many. The people worked double-time to create more but they became damaged quickly. The last of the shuttles that now flew were so battered from years of painstakingly transporting the few survivors that a person was taking their life in their hands when they climbed aboard. The death toll had climbed into the billions.

Grace’s family hadn’t the money, power or position to buy into the shuttle rides. When finally it came to their turn, the pilots had said they would take only Grace, since she was of childbearing years. Her parents were too old. Grace refused to leave even though her parents had begged her to save herself. Grace had watched as the shuttle had flown off without her. Soon after, world communications went down. Phone lines were useless. There was nothing on radio or television. Electricity that had been scarce before became nonexistent. They were completely alone. No one knew how the rest of the human race was faring—or dying.

For a while Grace and her family had clung to life, finding small amounts of food in the wreckage. The people of their small community banded together to aid one another. For a time there had been hope. In packs of tens, the little community would forage. Their numbers kept them safe enough. If a house crumbled during an earthquake, they would be welcome into another’s home. Tents were pitched. Guards wandered with machine guns keeping intruders out. Grace had belonged to a family of sixty. Men, women and children all had familiar faces. Grace knew everyone by name. Even in adversity they were a family of strangers who grew to care for one another. Grace had been happy. Then tragedy struck.

From a window in her home Grace had waved to a little boy on a bicycle that fateful day. Little Mikey. Mikey’s stare was fixed past her head and Grace had been so confused, because he had looked so scared. A guard had raced to the child yelling. The eight-year-old had been scooped up under a strong arm. The Earth had trembled, the guard and child fell. The ground split, sucking man and boy down. Horrified, Grace had watched her family and neighbors die in a flash flood and mudslide. The only reason she had lived was because her room was in the attic. The house had careened down the side of a hill. Grace had struggled to her bedroom door. Down a flight of stairs she had fled, her body pitching and slamming into the walls, but when the door opened beneath her, all she could see was mud and water. Her parents and the people living with them were gone. Grace was alone.

The house had hit the overflowing river and floated for a while into what looked like a vast lake—an abyss of despair. Grace had made it out to the rooftop. She had climbed from her window and scaled the building, looking down into the rolling mass of muck and filthy water. Rooftops of other houses could be seen but no one else sat atop them like her; everyone else had perished. Grace had called and yelled for hours, but no one answered. Solemnly she had gazed in all directions and knew the true meaning of being alone. She had sat for a long time, with her legs pressed tight to her aching chest watching the water rise until her feet, then ankles, then legs were soaked. Her feet had slipped on the slick rooftop. Higher the water rose until one lone watercraft approached. Grace had been grateful to pile into the overfilled vessel. It had taken days with no food or clean water until they had reached land.

It had been then that Grace was introduced to Adams and Captain Chase. She had fainted at the men’s feet. Starving, dehydrated and desolate, Grace had thought she was finished. When she awoke wrapped in a wool blanket, Grace was given water and bread. She had wandered aimlessly through the camp until she realized her parents would be furious with her if she gave up. She was down but not out by a long shot. She tried to make friends, but most of the people there had given up. Grace came to know why.

The shuttle she was now on had previously crashed to Earth in a secluded area weeks prior to this take-off. Captain Chase and Adams had fixed the battered vessel, but there were too many people to fit. No one had known they had even fixed the craft, since they had kept it quiet insisting it was a lost cause. The two men had quietly informed the lucky ones they were taking on their last trip the night before take-off. Only the ones they felt stood any chance of survival were offered a seat. Grace had told the captain she would give up her seat for a child, but the captain said where they were going was untamed. He explained the little ones would be better off in the comfort and care of their parents. Most were unhealthy and diseased and malnourished. They didn’t stand a chance in a foreign unknown, let alone a familiar unknown.

Grace had shuddered with the thought.
What kind of place are we headed to?
Adams had said to claim it was primitive was downplaying it. Grace lay back in her seat and closed her eyes, tired of her thoughts. The trip would take four to six days. There was little water and almost no food, but they were reassured there would be some on the planet. Primitive though it was, it was flourishing.

“My name is Stacie,” the woman beside her whispered.

Grace’s eyes snapped open. She turned her head to look at her. The petite woman was dark-haired and dark-eyed. Grace had seen her and a few others arrive at their camp only two days ago. She hadn’t gotten to know her. Grace didn’t know what to think. Because of the eight stowaways there would now be even less food and water.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Stacie said in a tiny voice. “Don’t worry. The only way we could come aboard was if we agreed not to eat or drink anything.”