The Eden Plague
Plague Wars - Book 0
by
David VanDyke
The Eden Plague
Plague Wars - Book 0
Sixth Edition
Published by REAPER PRESS for Kobo
Copyright 2012 David VanDyke
All Rights Reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62626-047-4
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Kobo to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, or by any means whatsoever (electronic, mechanical or otherwise) without prior written permission and consent from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Books by David VanDyke
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Reaper’s Run Excerpt
Books by David VanDyke
Plague Wars Series
The Eden Plague - Book 0
Reaper’s Run - Book 1
Skull’s Shadows - Book 1.5
The Demon Plagues - Book 2
The Reaper Plague - Book 3
The Orion Plague - Book 4
Cyborg Strike - Book 5
Comes The Destroyer - Book 6
For more information visit http://www.davidvandykeauthor.com/
Cover by Jun Ares
-1-
“Just do what I tell you, Elise,” she heard Jenkins say as she stared at the weird weapon. Growing up on her father’s ranch, she’d fired handguns and shotguns and rifles before, but this thing…he said it was an automatic shotgun, but it looked more like a blaster from one of those Star Wars movies.
“Hold it tight in to your shoulder. It’s going to kick like a mule but you shouldn’t have any problem with that.” His unsettling eyes locked with hers, and she asked herself again why she didn’t point it at him and use it once he gave her the ammo.
Because I can’t, she answered herself half-bitterly. Even if I ever was a killer, that option is closed to me now.
She’d made her peace with that feeling, even if it did mean she was under Jervis Jenkins’ thumb. Her current jailer, she loathed him to the limits of her ability. She considered biting him and seeing how he’d like to deal with the consequences, but then others would come and stash them away in some deep hole, and throw away the key.
At least now she was a pampered pet. At least now they needed her.
For a while.
“Come on, Elise. Focus. Show me how you like to hold it.” Jenkins played with the ziploc bag of special shotgun shells, relishing his cheesy sexual double-entendre.
Ignoring him and his innuendo, she snugged the weapon in tight like any other shotgun, dry-fired it, then cocked it again. “Nothing to it,” she said confidently. Bravado kept Jenkins happy. Sometimes. She had to play his games, and the Doctor’s games, and even though they never took advantage of her that way, she was still emotionally dead to them, enslaved as she was. Though she was an atheist – I’m a scientist, after all, dammit! – at the end of her rope, she had recently begun praying the same prayer, over and over, to the Universe or whoever: somebody save me.
Jenkins snapped his fingers, master to bitch. “Okay come on, step in there, and let’s go over the plan again.”
***
Daniel Markis thought back to that first meeting as they winged their way southward. It’s a bad day when you shoot your future wife. Laughing ruefully to himself, he remembered…
Something seemed out of place when he came home from work that afternoon. The side door to his house stood open. Turning into his driveway, he pulled his beat-up old van to a stop and switched it off right away, listening. Suburban Dale City was quiet, just the thwock - thwock of tennis balls in the court across the street.
Daniel stared at the open door. Something was wrong, because he lived alone. Ever since Becky left so long ago...alone.
Echoes in his head: crazy brain-damaged loner.
Reaching under his seat, he pulled out his car gun. The stock full-sized Springfield Arms XD rested comfortably in his hand, with two extra mags in a clip-on holder. An XD compact, his carry piece, became his backup, nestled on his right rear hip.
God bless Dixie, the Commonwealth of Virginia and the Second Amendment.
Daniel lived on a corner – generally a bad idea, he thought, far too much traffic – he’d usually lived on military bases before – getting off track. Keep it together, DJ. They’d said it was the organic damage, so that he couldn’t think like he should. Explosion, concussion, brain injury, three-two-one-boom.
Focus, Daniel. He forced his mind back to the now.
Debating calling the cops for three seconds, he realized his phone was dead. Forgot to recharge it last night in the house, stupid car charger’s broke, gotta get a new one. Hell with it.
The serpent in the back of his head woke up.
Chemical concentration... Pharmaceutical brainpower, that’s what he needed. Daniel pulled a ziploc bag full of jelly beans out from under his seat. The purple ones were gel-caps. It was a good way to hide his stash from the cops, and he couldn’t afford to get busted. He chewed two of them, along with some of the candy to kill the taste. The stimulant-painkiller combo flooded into his bloodstream while he sat there wishing he had a cortisone syringe handy for his knee.
Taking a deep breath, he readied himself.
Exiting his van onto the concrete, he kept the XD in front of him and low in a tactical crouch. His left knee was stiff, courtesy of that Taliban IED, but the pain was dulling now. Gritting his teeth, he concentrated on the job in front of him and powered through it.
Probably some kids doing a daylight break-in, though they were stupid to have left the side door open to be seen. They hadn’t broken the glass storm door, so he opened that with his left hand and looked at the inner door, ajar. Nothing seemed damaged. Letting his eyes adjust for a moment, he then eased in, listening.
Quiet.
He took a quick look at the door hardware. It didn’t seem broken, and the deadbolt was intact. Did I forget to lock it this morning before work? What if I hadn’t come home early? Maybe they’re already gone. Yeah, that’s it. Odds are they already ripped me off and they’re long gone. Still, Daniel Markis goes by the book. Always do the right thing.