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Soldier
Soldier
Soldier
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Soldier

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Fledgling militia officer Tommy Thaxton is used to scavenge missions in the ruined city. He’s not used to being in charge of his team of young men...but he can handle it. They all can handle it. It’s just a simple scavenge mission.

Until things go horribly wrong, and Tommy’s team finds themselves facing a full-scale gang attack – something their superiors never anticipated.

Now, getting home on schedule is the least of Tommy’s worries. Getting the entire team home alive is much more important.

White Mesa Chronicles
Fifty years after the collapse, the gangs fight in the waste of the city for survival and resources, while a rising city-state tries to define its own version of “progress.”
It’s safer in White Mesa – the place that saw it coming. There, a God-centered worldview encourages personal responsibility and the value of human life...all human life...even the zombies.

While each book is intended to stand alone, the series chronology is as follows:
Soldier
Zombie (coming 2017)
Gladiator

LanguageEnglish
PublisherKimia Wood
Release dateJun 29, 2017
ISBN9781370770335
Soldier
Author

Kimia Wood

Kimia Wood grew up under an aspiring writer, so spinning words and weaving plots is in her blood.The child of missionary kids, she currently lives with her family somewhere in the American Midwest, preparing for the collapse of civilization as we know it by knitting, hobby-farming, and reading as much Twitter as possible before the web goes dark.You can connect with her on Twitter (@KimiaTheAuthor), Facebook, Goodreads, and her blog.Find out more on the website (KimiaWood.com) and subscribe to the mailing list for special updates on future writing projects!

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    Book preview

    Soldier - Kimia Wood

    White Mesa Chronicles

    Soldier

    Kimia Wood

    Dedication

    Soli Deo gloria, because …in him we live, and move, and have our being… (Acts 17: 28 KJV).

    Special thanks to my Dad – from whose mind sprang much that has become mine.

    Thanks also to Ben Smith and Ava Page, beta-readers,

    Rev. J. David Wood, proofreader,

    Charles Medley, military consultant,

    and my incredibly supportive family.

    Copyright © Kimia Wood 2017

    Cover image of Chicago skyline courtesy of Tyler Sichelski via Wikimedia Commons. No endorsement implied.

    Table of Contents

    Prologue

    1. A Friend in Need

    2. Rendezvous Point

    3. Apartment Battle

    4. Feral

    5. Recapture the Truck

    6. Truck Run Amok

    7. White Mesa

    8. The Officers

    About the Author

    Note: a list of the team members is included at the end of the book, for the reader’s convenience.

    * * * *

    Prologue

    When the sun was up, Lucy Pollock was up. As she stepped lightly up the fire-escape-stair, she breathed in the cool, early morning air. It was going to be a beautiful day – bright and sunny. She reached the top floor and stepped through the gap in the wall, avoiding the part of the floor that was shaky. Her father had repaired it with boards and sheeting, but she was still careful.

    Here in this roofless square of space, she and her father had their little farm. A wooden trough to one side grew vegetables, and on the other side stood the coop he'd built for the chickens. While gangsters and coyotes couldn't reach up here, there was still the danger of hawks and bobcats, so Lucy always shut the chickens up in their house for the night.

    She released the door and clucked at the girls as they stepped out, bobbing their heads in their search for bugs and other morsels.

    Lucy sprinkled the crumbs from last night's supper among the hens and stepped to the vegetable plot to tug out what weeds had taken root since she last checked. The green beans were starting to ripen, and she pinched one off and took a bite as she looked over the carrots.

    She wished she had planted more. Although her dad tried not to worry her, she knew business had been bad. The Grasshoppers had always been very active in the area – since it was their turf, after all – but she hadn't seen them for several weeks. They usually sold Dad most of the food they ate, in exchange for tools and other things.

    They hadn't had many outsiders, either. Shifting turf her dad had said. People didn't feel safe heading to a shop when they had to keep a watch on their territory.

    The Bigshots had been around some. She didn't like the Bigshots — Dad had her stay upstairs whenever they were around. Randal Bigshot tended to make inappropriate comments; so she stayed upstairs, where he couldn't reach her. She even had a crossbow hanging beside the stairs, and a lever Dad had built to collapse the approach if things got dangerous. And Dad had that gun that he said would (probably) even work, in a last emergency. She hoped it never came to that. (She'd seen the rust on it.)

    Lucy straightened, tossing some ripe green beans into a basket. A few years ago, she wouldn't have worried about it. But then her father had told her, You're a woman, now. You need to be aware of your surroundings. And he'd told her which customers to avoid.

    She couldn't ask for a better dad.

    The Grasshoppers were different, of course. Her mom had been Grasshopper, so they were practically family. And the Truckers were different.

    Some day, Lucy would take a man…marry, the Truckers called it. Like her father and mother had. She knew Dad couldn't take care of her forever, but she really didn't want to leave him, yet. Dad said it was worth it to wait for just the right one.

    Jace Grasshopper was very nice and polite, and had just become the Number Two Grasshopper; one day, he had even tried to give her a present. But if she was going to have a man, she wanted a Trucker. Truckers were smart, and read books; Truckers taught you things. She didn't want to stop learning.

    Lucy stepped to a break in the wall, where she could see up and down the front street. She thought she'd heard the low, growly sound the Truckers' machine made when they came. They never came this early in the day, but there was always a first time.

    Grabbing her basket, Lucy hustled to the chicken coop to gather the day's eggs. Dad was trying to fix a bicycle they'd bought from the White Socks a few weeks ago, since if it worked it'd be worth twice the rusty hatchet they'd paid for it. She had to make breakfast before any customers showed up – assuming any came today.

    Lucy held one of the small, beige eggs in her palm. She hoped the Truckers came today. They were always polite, and they would buy the strange com-pu-ter devices that no one else wanted. It made it worth accepting those old things, since the Truckers would re-buy them. Lucy wondered what they did with them sometimes…

    As her father always said, Knowledge is power. The Truckers had vehicles, and weapons from the before-time…because they had knowledge.

    * * * *

    1. A Friend in Need

    1330 hours

    Tommy eased the motorcycle to a stop, his teeth clattering as they jolted over one last pothole.

    He flicked a look over his shoulder, bracing as his partner jumped down and swung his rifle up and down the street.

    Clear, called Ricco Dobson.

    Tommy eased forward to be more in the lee of the torched cop car, and engaged the kickstand. Below the smashed roof lights and burned-out interior of the vehicle, the door still bore the peeling words Chicago Police. It had to be five decades since that had meant anything to anyone except history geeks like Tommy.

    Creaking to a standing position, he also scanned their surroundings, tugging off his driving gloves. The road looked deserted except for the dog corpse they'd passed a dozen yards back, its mangey skin stretched tight over its skeleton. Three or four crows stared down at the two young men from tree branches or power poles, waiting 'til the coast was clear to return to their meal.

    He slipped his helmet off, watching Ricco unclip his own and toss it toward the motorcycle's back-rack.

    Tommy sucked in a breath and grabbed the saddlebag that carried their goods to trade.

    Your watch, he told Ricco.

    Ricco nodded. I know, he retorted.

    Tommy suppressed a reply. He knew Ricco had made this run before, but they'd never done it together. All he'd meant was to make sure Ricco had the routine down.

    He preferred doing this run with Ben McConnell. Ben was perfectly content to avoid needless adventures – and he didn't drive like a maniac hyped up on sweet tea. But Captain Dempster had asked Tommy to keep an eye on Ricco, and the least he could do in the absence of their commanding officer was honor his wishes.

    As Tommy moved toward a boarded-up building across the street, the door squeaked open, revealing a middle-aged man in carefully mended legacy clothes.

    Morning, Mr. Pollock, said Tommy.

    The same, Mr. Pollock answered. Real glad you guys came in today.

    Thanks. How have you been?

    Mr. Pollock shrugged and led the way into his shop. A fat-lamp glowed on the counter, as the two-by-fours over the windows blocked most of the sunlight.

    Haven't seen Percy Grasshopper for a while, he remarked. Heard what happened to him?

    The Grasshoppers haven't had an election, have they? asked Tommy.

    No, more like…he's been laying low, Mr. Pollock answered, rounding the counter.

    Tommy frowned, sucking his lip. They were toward the border of Grasshopper territory, but it still didn't make sense for the gang captain to be lying low. It could mean he had the wind up about one of the neighboring gangs, which would mean bad news for Tommy and his team. The Grasshoppers were the friendliest gang they'd met in a long time.

    I've got more preserves, Tommy began, pulling jars out of the backpack.

    Mr. Pollock smiled. I found something extra special I thought you'd be interested in. Lucy!

    Mr. Pollock specialized in legacy tools that someone or other had scavenged from the buildings around, then brought to him for identification. Other people came and bought the tools and containers with other things, such as deerskin clothes, distilled vinegar spirits, and the occasional tin can of ancient preserved food.

    Tommy and his team, on the other hand, specialized in fresh foods (in season) and recently preserved pickles, beets, jams, and peanut butter when that year's farm produce wasn't ripe yet. Mr. Pollock was polite enough not to ask where the fruits and vegetables were grown.

    A girl appeared in the inner doorway, her hair glinting in the gloom of the back room. A few years younger than Tommy, he estimated, Lucy was already developed as a woman – but had not yet taken the protection and provision of a boyfriend, as the gangs called it. Though it would surely have benefited both her and her father to connect into a gang that way, Tommy couldn't help being happy she hadn't moved out.

    Do me a favor – go grab the special box? asked Mr. Pollock.

    His daughter smiled. Sure. Hi, Tommy.

    Hi, Lucy.

    She turned and disappeared into the back room.

    Are you doing all right? asked Tommy, watching the creases in the shopkeeper's forehead.

    Mr. Pollock held a jar of preserved pears up to the lamp, and set it down. Oh, fine. Just…they've been late collecting our protection payment this time.

    "And you haven't seen the officers

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