Living for War: The Collin War Chronicles Read online

  LIVING FOR WAR

  The Collin War Chronicles Book Two

  By

  W.C. Hoffman and Tim Moon

  Copyright © 2017 W.C. Hoffman and Tim Moon

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, products, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the authors.

  Connect with Hoffman: Website | Twitter | Facebook

  Connect with Moon: Website | Twitter | Facebook

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Become a Warrior

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  THANK YOU

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Collin War nodded slowly as he watched three helicopters approaching town from the southeast, backlit by the orange and yellow glow of the morning sun. Helicopters could only mean one thing – Hathaway Agricultural Genetic Sciences, or HAGS, was coming.

  “Things are changing quicker than I anticipated,” Collin said.

  Beside Collin stood his son, Brady, a young man he’d met for the first time in years just the night before. Now they perched on the brink of a landmark coalition, uniting their warring factions. A few weeks ago, no one would have thought a merger of the Vipers and Goshen was possible, but true to Collin’s words, things were changing quickly.

  “You expecting a drop?” Brady asked with a curious glance at Collin.

  Gary Kobyashi, Goshen’s resident master technician, looked nervously at the two men, knowing the answer to Brady’s question. Doctor Julie Horner stood back a little, transfixed by the sight of the aircraft.

  Collin shook his head.

  “This can’t be good,” Collin and Brady said at the same time.

  “I’d jinx you, but we need to do something,” Brady said with a grin as he was reminded of a game they played together years ago, in what seemed like another life.

  Collin turned to Doctor Horner. “Go and make sure your research is secure. Take a couple of Eagles with you.”

  She looked at him and nodded silently before melting into the crowd. At this point, if HAGS knew Goshen didn’t need BT76 to prevent the fever that destroyed the world, they might decide the world didn’t need Goshen.

  “What can I do?” Kobyashi asked. Ever since Pastor Pendell had appointed Koby as Collin’s number two, he’d fulfilled his role diligently.

  “Get everyone back behind the wall,” Collin said above the growing whump, whump, whump of the helicopter’s rotor blades.

  Brady already turned toward his Vipers, motioning for them to disperse. Without a word, they began to spread out and take cover.

  The helicopters passed by overhead in formation, like a flock of angry geese. Leading the trio was a Blackhawk, flanked on either side by a Huey. As one, they banked along the ridgeline behind Goshen and came back toward them.

  Cries of surprise and fear punctuated the steady thumping noise. People ran under trees, behind rocks, anywhere they could to hide from the helicopters.

  Collin scowled as he stood on the bridge and watched as the choppers dipped their noses and came in fast and low. He crouched down instinctively when they passed overhead.

  Rotor wash sent up dust and wood shavings from the construction of the wall, like a small sand storm. His hand covered his face, blocking the worst of it as the remnants of their most recent defense project punished his body in a tornado of hate.

  Collin pivoted to watch as the choppers raced away down the valley. Even as they raced away, he could see they were armed for battle with mini-guns. They meant business.

  With the sound fading, he heard the frantic whinnies of horses spooked by the mechanical roar. The choppers banked again and turned their noses back toward Goshen, toward Collin’s town.

  He understood the point of this show as well as he understood the tension in his muscles and the sound of blood rushing in his ears. It was a threat, a display of power, of intimidation.

  The convenient timing wasn’t lost on him either. Somehow, HAGS had known they were gathering.

  Collin raced over to the guard shack to retrieve his rifle, just in case the chopper pilots meant to fight it out. Then he ran to his son, Brady, and shouted above the din, “You want to tell me how they knew we were meeting this morning?”

  Brady scowled at him, obviously hurt by the implication. “We had nothing to do with it. I can vouch for my people. Believe me when I say we are with you, Dad.”

  Dad. That one little word nearly had tears springing into Collin’s eyes. He gave Brady a serious look and nodded.

  Collin knew it was entirely possible HAGS had an informant somewhere among the hundreds of people they both led. Recent experience proved it was not only likely, but damn near inevitable.

  The formation swooped down, kicking up dust in the farmland across the river from Goshen, and hovered in place.

  As always, Eagles were in their nests ready to defend Goshen, although no one could have guessed they would be facing off against three well-armed helicopters. Collin gave them a signal to hold their fire. No sense in kicking off a battle that didn’t need to happen. A battle that he was pretty damn sure they would lose.

  Nothing happened. The helicopters just hovered in place with the barrels of their guns aimed in their direction, ready to sling thousands of rounds per minute at them. It was unnerving to say the least.

  When no attack came, Collin stood up and crossed the bridge. He had a vague sense Brady and possibly Koby followed him.

  The Blackhawk slowly descended, coming straight down from where it hovered ominously above the field.

  Collin coughed out dust, buried his face in his elbow, and lowered his head as the billowing cloud of grime blew over him again. This time he remained standing, glaring at the interruption of the town’s unification announcement.

  He held his hand up as a signal to the Eagles to be ready in case of attack. Al
most as if sensing his intentions, the two choppers in the air drifted backward and just off to either side before settling back into a steady hover. Everyone spread out in the field, along the riverbank, on the bridge, and manning the Eagle’s Nests were effectively in the kill zone. If an attack broke out, they would face a formidable crossfire from the two Hueys.

  Then, as the Blackhawk touched down among the crops, an intense sound pierced the air, a high whine that seemed to reverberate in the skull.

  Collin gasped in pain as an inferno blazed in the back of his head. He clamped his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block the sound as he crumpled to the ground like everyone around him. Streaks of fire raced through his body. It was powerful, all-consuming, and paralyzing. Curled up on the ground, he clenched his eyes against the agony within.

  As he lay there, helpless against the waves of pain from the piercing sound, memories flashed through his mind like a flipbook, offering only the briefest of glimpses into his past life. He saw Brady as a young boy dressed in a tuxedo, a U.S. Marine pinning something to Collin’s chest and shaking his hand, an explosion in the dark of night followed by screams, and a burst of camera flashes as he shook a man’s hand in an old, historic looking room. Collin wasn’t sure what it all meant, but the slices of his history were like drops of water on parched lips.

  Slowly, carefully, Collin fought against the pain and forced his eyes to open. At first they only fluttered, but eventually he could open them enough to see Brady leaning over him. Brady was speaking, but Collin couldn’t hear anything except the screech of the weaponized sound and the muted whump of the helicopter rotors.

  Collin recovered enough to sit up with Brady’s help.

  Brady grabbed the rifle Collin dropped when he fell and aimed it toward the Blackhawk. A man’s head emerged from behind the door gunner, and then he hopped to the ground, walked out from under the rotors, stood up, and adjusted his bright green tie and cuffs.

  Apparently satisfied with his attire, he walked toward the bridge. The man looked down purposefully at his wristwatch. Within a split second, the whine ended and the pain subsided.

  Collin stood and drew his pistol.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” said the man in the suit. As he strode up to them, totally ignoring the guns still aimed at him, he smiled wide as if they were old friends.

  “Collin, Brady,” he said, nodding to each of them in turn. “I am Doctor Shane Denard, Chief Medical Officer in charge of PCS for Hathaway Agricultural Genetic Sciences. Pleased to meet you both in person. Finally, after all this time.”

  “What the hell was that all about?” Collin asked with a growl, gesturing at the people still recovering from the pain.

  “You mean this?” Dr. Denard replied. He pressed something on his watch and the searing pain began again.

  Screams rippled through the crowd. Collin cursed and shrank, but managed to stay standing.

  “TURN IT OFF!” Brady shouted.

  Dr. Denard smirked and shrugged. In an instant, the screams began to fade to whimpers.

  Collin’s breath came fast and heavy. Tiny pearls of sweat formed on his forehead and upper lip. The weapon this Denard guy was using against them needed to be stopped for good, whatever it was.

  The doctor was smiling once again. He stepped forward and offered his hand. Collin glared at the man and kept his aim on Denard’s chest. “Don’t do that again.”

  “Very well,” Dr. Denard said, rolling his eyes. “We both know it is time for you to lower that silly pistol.”

  “Is that so?” Collin replied.

  Dr. Denard sighed and pointed to his watch. “We both know if you pull your trigger, we will pull all of ours.”

  Before Collin could say anything, Brady cut in.

  “Why the hell are you here? And what’s PCS? We already know who HAGS is,” he said, spitting out the company’s name as if it was rotten food.

  “Ah yes, I suppose those are the million dollar questions. Well, half million dollar questions, since there are two and assuming we’re being consistent with the old saying,” Denard said.

  He pushed his thin wire glasses up his nose, impressed with his own statement. The round lenses matched his cherubic, boyish face. Dimples appeared when he smiled which gave him the appearance of a smart-ass child more than a doctor.

  Noticing the scowls on the faces of Collin and Brady, he cleared his throat and beamed at them, as though he’d just thought of something funny. “Anyway, PCS stands for Population Control Specialist. As for why I’m here, that’s self-explanatory now, is it not?”

  “Population control?” Collin felt giant red flags unfurl. There was no way a title like that in this day and age, from this company, was anything but ominous. He held his pistol low at his waist, stepped closer to Denard in case the two choppers still hovering overhead concealed sharpshooters, and jabbed the doctor in the gut with the barrel. “What exactly does that entail?”

  Denard swallowed hard, perhaps realizing for the first time how bad the situation could end up for him. “Uh huh. Yes. Well, you see, I didn’t want to interrupt this little family reunion, but I am in charge of population control here. I am sure you are well aware the population has been changing drastically since you woke up from your little nap. This is Grid Sector Delta, one of the sectors under my direct management.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Collin said. “Or how you intend to control our population, which, I might add, sounds like a bad fucking idea for you.” He prodded Denard’s stomach again for emphasis.

  The man glanced down at the gun, then back at the Blackhawk.

  “They might wipe us out, but they can’t save you,” Collin said quietly, yet stern. “Now, answer the questions.”

  “I don’t think you’ll like the answers, but nevertheless, I shall respond.” Doctor Denard straightened up a bit and held Collin’s gaze. “Hathaway, or HAGS as you seem to call it, is in charge. The company administers this region and decides who survives and who doesn’t. My job is to make sure the target numbers are met. I’m just a simple man, a doctor at that, doing my job to save the world, you see.”

  Collin was sick of dealing with manipulative bastards deciding who would live and die. He already lost a good friend that way, not to mention people he didn’t know. If he had any say in the situation, it wouldn’t happen again.

  “The BT76 supply shortages are bullshit then, is that it?” Brady asked.

  Doctor Denard shrugged. “Hathaway understands BT76 shipments affect population.”

  “You’re murdering people. Letting innocent people die for no good reason,” Collin said. His face grew red as he considered what Denard just admitted. “You need to go now. Get the hell out of my town and don’t come back.”

  It was the same thing he told Brady the night before, when Collin still believed the Vipers were Goshen’s enemy. Now the ultimatum was for HAGS.

  “We were under the impression there was to be a battle between you two, yet here we are, standing peacefully, chatting like gentlemen,” Doctor Denard said, sarcasm lacing his voice. He held his hands out wide and looked around. “No battle, no death, no problem. We just came to see you two weren’t going to war.”

  Brady scoffed at him.

  Collin shifted his stance, leaning back slightly. “So, now what?”

  “Well ...”

  “Wait a second,” Brady said, cutting off Denard as he cocked his eyebrow. “What was your plan if there was a war?”

  Dr. Denard looked at Brady with wide eyes and a smile that slithered into coils at either end. Collin noticed Brady regretting the question. Then, Denard pressed his watch and the inferno was back in Collin’s head. Like the hundreds of townsfolk and Vipers observing from a distance, the sonic weapon emitted the dreaded whine rendering him helpless.

  Brady reached for Collin to keep him from falling. Grabbing onto his arm, he managed to help his father take a knee to steady himself.

&nb
sp; Dr. Denard turned off the sound and looked pointedly at Brady as if that was sufficient evidence to answer the question. Which it was.

  Panting for breath, Collin glared up at Denard. The doctor would pay for unleashing this weapon on his people.

  The buzzing raged in his head again. Then it was gone just as quickly.

  Denard giggled like a boy.

  Residents of Goshen fled for the safety of their homes in an attempt to avoid another attack upon their tympanic membranes. Collin saw them begin to disperse while he caught his breath. The Vipers, with no homes to hide in, ran for the forest they knew so well.

  “Like I said, no battle, no death, no problem.” Denard adjusted his tie. “I thank you both for your peaceful ways. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  He spun on his heel like a corporate soldier and began to walk back toward his chopper.

  Suddenly, he stopped. Denard half-turned and looked back at the two men. “Oh yes, there is one more thing.”

  He looked at them with pity, lying on the bridge.

  “I have a gift for you. It turns out Grid Sector Charlie is not composed of the same peaceful nature as you are.” He sighed heavily, with a wistful look, as if he was missing out on something. “They won’t be needing these.”

  Motioning to the choppers again, a large case dropped out of each of the escort choppers still hovering at the far end of the field.

  Collin instantly recognized them as cases of BT76. He smiled, but not because they needed the medicine. He smiled because soon they wouldn’t need it at all. That was Goshen’s trump card. The one thing that kept them under the control of HAGS was the fever; soon it wouldn’t be an issue, and Collin knew keeping this hand close to his chest was vitally important. The less HAGS knew, the better.

  Pressing his watch, Dr. Denard activated the sonic weapon again and strolled back to the Blackhawk. The door gunner on the near side ran out, with a rifle aimed at Brady, to escort Denard back to the safety of the helicopter.

  “Don’t ...” Collin eked out through the pain. “Don’t ... shoot.”

  Brady looked down at Collin.

  The rotors on the Blackhawk sped up. A moment later, it was rising to join its security detail. They flew overhead and as they passed by, the sonic weapon stopped.