The Afterworlds (The Fleet, Book 4)
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About this ebook
"Think Expendables, but in space!"
Adam and Dalton prepare the gang for one last job. With a
new face joining up, things begin to get complicated. The Vampires are rebuilding, the Benzans are once again on the rise and, as the fleet's heroes are about to discover - no one lives forever.
John M. Davis
John M. Davis is the bestselling author of Gunship, as well as Wicked, and the novelization of the motion picture REDD. Also known for his popular Book Commander Podcast, John is a former writer for the Legends Football League and owns a minority share of the Canadian Football League’s Saskatchewan Roughriders. He currently lives in Virginia with his wife of 18 years and their two spoiled kids. When he isn’t writing or podcasting, John enjoys reading, studying history, and listening to his favorite band, Evanescence.bookcommander.wordpress.com#bookcommander
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The Afterworlds (The Fleet, Book 4) - John M. Davis
THE AFTERWORLDS
Gunship XV
by John M. Davis
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical people, events or places are used fictitiously. Any other names, places, events or characters are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 John Michael Davis
Editing by: Russo Archer
All rights reserved, including the right to copy this book or portions of this book in any form.
Manufactured in the United States of America
johndavisbooks.wordpress.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Winds of Change
Chapter 2: Coming Back to Haunt
Chapter 3: Walk the Line
Chapter 4: New Kind of Evil
Chapter 5: Against the Stars
About the Author
Chapter 1
Winds of Change
As much as I'd like the past not to exist, it still does.
-Amy Lee
The winds of change have been fierce and unrelenting. As our last remaining fleet departed the Skyla System nearly a year ago, much has changed. The infected have started to die off in mass numbers. Starvation, from the best we can tell. As tormented as the souls of the infected are, the human body needs nutrition in order to maintain its essentials. Muscles, tendons and the like. Those among the infected who haven't been able to feed their appetite have withered away to nothing more than a pile of bones wrapped in skin. No longer a concern for anyone among the living.
What is of concern is the small percentage of infected that have fed themselves. While the weaker, unfed have died off, those that have fed themselves have not only maintained their strength – they have grown. Much faster, stronger and even more cunning. They now have the ability to organize themselves, which is something we never saw coming.
As for those left to survive on their own, it's been tough at times. Dozens of worlds and their accompanying moons just sitting, filled with needed supplies. No universal government has been established as of yet. But there are plenty of local communities, each setting their own rules and guidelines.
And so our heroes find themselves in familiar territory once more. As they strip the needed supplies from its source and transport it to those in need. Of course, there is no longer a need to side-step the law. But that doesn't mean danger isn't lurking about. In fact, some would argue that the Skyla System of present is much more dangerous.
What do we have?
Adam asked. Talk to me.
Got a crate full of ammunition. Standard magazine rounds, mostly.
Dalton replied with a sigh.
Motioning Red Wolf to begin dragging the large aluminum crate through a narrow hallway, illuminated only by the bright round lights mounted to their spacesuits, Dalton eased over to a wooden desk of fine polished wood.
Anything else?
Adam questioned.
He stood on the cozy bride of his own ship, standing behind Meg, who ran the communications board during the exchange.
Not really. Just some odds and ends.
Dalton had hit the money load. Slamming his empty backpack to the floor of the derelict ship, Dalton began stuffing it with fists full of cigars. The good kind too, making it an early Christmas in the eyes of the wily warrior.
Well let's speed it up a little, then. I don't like being out here in the middle of wide open space. Especially attached to a damn Legion ship.
Adam requested.
Fuck you, buddy. Dalton thought.
He'd scored a pile of smokes and even three large bottles of vintage vodka. Not his first choice, but a damn luxury compared to his current stash. Easing the bottles into his backpack and mumbling curse words as he tried to zip it back tight.
The Legion-marked ship was certainly old. Adam had estimated it was in service during the first Glimmerian War. After that, it was anyone's guess. After life scans ran across the ship thoroughly, Dalton and Red Wolf had made the trip. They would pick it clean and then get back to the nearest friendly colony. Hoping to unload what they didn't need – bartering it for what they did need.
It normally took flying bullets to pull Dalton's attention from cigars and alcohol. So when the man saw flickering movement to his left, it took several moments before he realized something was off. Pulling a shotgun to the ready with ill intentions. Dalton's breathing growing a bit more intense.
Come on out, you mother fucker.
Dalton said quietly.
Patiently, he waited with a shotgun at the ready. It was in his nature. Expect the worst until proven otherwise. He'd adopted that way of thinking after a life of running from law enforcement and anyone else who wanted his hide.
Whoa!
Red Wolf said, hoisting his arms into the air.
Fuck man, I almost shot you!
Dalton blasted.
For what? Coming back to help you carry more cargo?
No!
Dalton said. For tip-toeing around like a fucking primitive!
Oh,
Red Wolf replied. Sorry about that.
With a mane of bright red hair and the comfort of a crossbow in his hand, rather than a standard combat weapon, the name Red Wolf had come very easily. Invented as an insult, no doubt, but Red Wolf took to his name. Finding honor in it.
Don't sweat it,
Dalton said. Here's your take.
Smiling wide, Dalton handed over one of the bottles of Vodka. An act of friendship for anyone who knew Dalton James and his longing for man-drink.
I don't really like vodka.
Then trade the shit. Get yourself a headdress made of feathers for all I care. You brought your ass over here and watched my back, so you get a cut of the good stuff.
Dalton said, insisting Red Wolf take the bottle.
Alright.
Red Wolf said, grabbing hold of the half-gallon sized glass container.
And hide the shit. You don't want everybody on the Gunship to know you have it. You know what I'm saying?
Red Wolf knew exactly what Dalton was saying. The bottle had been gifted as hush money, so to speak. Had Red Wolf not of caught Dalton with a hand in the cookie jar, the brown coat laden smuggler would have kept all three for himself. By handing one of the coveted bottles of vodka over, it made Red Wolf an accomplice.
Yea. I think I know what you're saying.
Red Wolf replied.
Good. Then this stays between us.
Dalton smiled a bit, slapping his friend on the shoulder with respect.
Dalton, what the hell is going on over there?
Adam asked.
Nothing, why?
Dalton replied. Barking his response into a comp mounted inside of his suit's helmet.
Because we heard yelling. It sounds like a parade over there.
We're leaving any fucking way.
Dalton scoffed.
Several of the crew members had gathered near the tunnel bay doors, which linked the Gunship to any ship it decided to attach to. With a bit of good flying, the Gunship could maneuver in such a way that the tunnel bay lined up perfectly with another ship's hatch. Using the strong magnetic lining embedded into the tunnel bay walls, the Gunship would then kiss the second ship, allowing its crew to enter the ship. Usually by way of blowtorch, without losing precious air..
They're in.
Rex shouted.
Alright, Meg,
Adam said. Detach us.
Pressing a few keys in front of her, the Gunship reversed the power supply feeding into the magnets surrounding the tunnel bay. In turn, reversing the magnetic force and immediately pushing away from the abandoned Legion ship.
Good work.
he replied with a grin.
As Meg stood to her feet, preparing to embrace her lover, she stared at Adam for several long moments.
I love taking orders from you.
Meg said playfully.
Is that a fact?
It is, captain.
Well now,
Adam replied with a grin of his own. I can always find someone to cover the controls for you. Just in case you'd like to-
Slow down,
Meg said with a smile. When I'm done here, I'm hanging out with your son. Remember? I promised him.
Oh that guy.
Adam said.
He hasn't picked up on the fact that his daddy's a ladies' man just yet. Otherwise, I'm sure he'd back off.
Meg jested.
I'm not a ladies' man,
Adam said. I'm your man. You are all I can handle.
Sure. I bet you say that to all the women.
Meg replied playfully.
What other women?
Adam asked, turning to look around the ship's bridge. The only other woman on this rig is Dalton's-
"You better go check on him,