Dead Galaxy Swirlin': Volume III: The Wolf Of Wolves

By Julian Massaglia

The Dead Series comes to its conclusion through the eyes of a familiar foe.

Joseph William Gunnite has dethroned history’s greatest villains in his crusade of blood, treachery, and genocidal mania that took place in the previous installments of the Dead Series. Callous, calculated, and unforgiving, hell-bent on becoming the predator that exterminates the human race once and for all, with a few swipes of his Claymore and a few blasts from his revolvers, Josey has rewritten the archetype of pure malice.

But he wasn’t always that way...

It happened while he was out on a hunt in the swamps of Northern Florida one day with his Pa, Sister, and fellow villagers of post-apocalyptic, Fire Age America, and it set him on a lifelong sequence of doubt and rebellion that led to the development of the man he is today—or the monster. But is it all his doing, or does he really have the curse of deeper, unseen forces upon him that have twisted his nature? Moreover, screams echo across the cosmos, screams of the Vespid Queen who has learned of Gabriel’s victory over Vespiter, and she’s coming for revenge. Will Josey settle his inner demons and solve the puzzle of his life on time to be of any use to humanity? Or will this Fire Age, Florida Cowboy gone-the-Devil get his macabre wish of standing over the embers of the earth?

Only time will tell...

So come along for the last ride of the Dead Series Trilogy. Live through every hack and slash, every pull of the trigger, and every malevolent thought that crossed this man’s mind and set him on a pathway to destruction or to his unforeseen destiny. Gritty, novel, cerebral, and epic—Dead Galaxy Swirlin’ ties the entire series together and brings it to a consummation so vicious—that it actually lives up to its title.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Julian Massaglia
• Release date: Jul 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370746828

Julian Massaglia

Julian Massaglia is an author from the Western U.S. He is the author of the “Dead Series Trilogy” and specializes mostly in Epic Science Fiction and Westerns. Drawing influence from history, philosophy, music, nature, 80s movies, and more, his characters are often complex and his novels grit-ridden as his protagonists struggle against monumental odds.

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INFORMATION

Copyright © 2017 by Julian Massaglia

Contact: [e-mail]

Published by Julian Massaglia and Order Of The Corvus Publishing, April 2017.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof shall not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For more information about Dead Galaxy Swirlin’, see the In Close section of the book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Artwork:

Arranged, edited, and conceptualized by Julian Massaglia drawing extensively off of legally obtained files:

Front Cover Art:

A Howling Wolf

Cynthia Kidwell/Shutterstock/Licensed

Scenic Florida Landscape In DuPuis Management Area

William Silver/Shutterstock/Licensed

Clearly Milky Way Found In Australia Outback

Structuresxx/Shutterstock/Licensed

Human Skull On Isolated White Background

Baimieng/Shutterstock/Licensed

Custom Font:

Rio Oro

Neale Davidson/Pixel Sagas/Licensed

Page Breaks:

Line Art Drawing Of A Wolf

Public Domain

Dead Series Art:

Galaxy Barred Spiral Galaxy Eridanus Constellation

Public Domain

Scottish Claymore Replica (Albion Chieftain)

Søren Niedziella/Creative Commons 2.0

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

~Background altered

Back Cover Art:

Vector Celtic Cross For Use In Templates And Samples For Tattoos And Various Designs

Rudvi/Shutterstock/Licensed

~Colors altered

**In no way are the aforementioned sources associated with the author or publisher, or supportive of the expressed content within this work.**

Author Photo:

Julian Massaglia

Music:

All Music Is © Julian Massaglia

Dead Galaxy Swirlin’: a novel / by Julian Massaglia – 1st ed.

1. Epic – Fiction. 2. Science Fiction – Fiction. 3. Western – Fiction. 4. Post-Apocalyptic – Fiction. 5. Action/Adventure – Fiction. 6. Alien Invasion – Fiction 7. Space Opera – Fiction 8. Fantasy – Fiction.

ISBN: 978-0-9960647-8-1

Patch Version: 3.0 – 2.26.18

Smashwords Version

TITLE

By

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INFORMATION

TITLE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART I: FLORIDA IN THE FIRE AGE

CHAPTER I Welcome To Florida—Population Dead

CHAPTER II Demoralization

CHAPTER III Destabalization

CHAPTER IV The Bainbridge Incident

CHAPTER V Into Crisis

CHAPTER VI A House Divided

CHAPTER VII The Wolf Of Wolves

CHAPTER VIII Off The Reservation

PART II: CARIBBEAN IN THE NOVA AGE

CHAPTER IX Wolf Meets World

CHAPTER X The Bloodbath Begins

CHAPTER XI A Tale Of Two Cowboys

CHAPTER XII The Fatal Slip

PART III: EARTH IN THE END AGE

CHAPTER XIII The Wolf And The Witch

CHAPTER XIV The Disillusionment Of Malice

CHAPTER XV Get The Hell Out Of This Solar System

CHAPTER XVI Monadology

CHAPTER XVII One Last Night In Shepherd Town

CHAPTER XVIII Battle Of The Planet Wielders

IN CLOSE

PART I: FLORIDA IN THE FIRE AGE

CHAPTER I

WELCOME TO FLORIDA—POPULATION DEAD

2036

Streaks of emerald darkness spanning an eternity whizz on by as the roaring V8 at full-throttle slices through the forests of Highway 72 in the coniferous regions of Northern Florida. The many occupants of the heavily militarized SUV are frantically fondling maps and other gadgets, desperately suckin’ on cigarettes in between vicious bouts of swearing at one another, and nervously looking out the rolled-up windows for anything lurking in the air, like paranoid crows surveying the sky above in between pecking the ground. All of them are camo-clad including the women and two children seated in the far back clutching assault rifles with panic-stricken faces. Behind the children, a large Russian Bear Dog vacillates back and forth in the cargo hold.

The situation is tense.

Suddenly, one of the men seated in the back, a black man with a burly build in woodland camo with his face buried in a satellite feed and large headphones on his head, frantically screams to the driver, SWERVE LEFT! THEY’RE UP ABOVE!!!

The driver, a middle-aged white man in a cowboy hat responds and instantly jerks the wheel left as the vehicle continues at full-throttle. They swerve off of Highway 72 and plow into the wiregrass and ambitious clumps of vegetation flanking the road. The occupants latch on to the grips inside the vehicle as the tires mow through boulders, grass, and baby trees. In the far back, the dog starts its deep barking frantically.

Then.

A squadron of three low-flying F-16s surge overhead and nearly hack off the rugged canopy of longleaf pines flanking the road as they make their ascent to Tallahassee in the distance. As soon as the jets are out of sight and devoured by the eternity of towering pines, the rugged, woodland camo-clad driver in the cowboy hat rimmed with alligator teeth swerves back on to the main road and wipes the sweat from his brow.

Good job, Jesse, he says, in a slight southern accent, gritting his teeth and shaking his head in annoyance.

Hopefully that’s the last, Austin, he replies, as he immerses himself into the satellite data tablet again.

Another man with a slender build and horse teeth seated next to Jesse, replied as he examined an unfurled map, Should be. We’re about seven miles out.

Seven miles ain’t close enough one of them damn Feds comes around and tries to wipe us—!

It’s ALL RIGHT, Trisha! said Austin, cutting her off. She was jittery, her maternal instincts running haywire as she coped with the reality that she and her two children seated in the back, Colt and Madelyn, may lose their skin today. He reached his arm over to her and grasped her hand as she sat in the front seat nervously scouting the cloudy skies with her eyes for more drones and jets. We made it this far and escaped Tallahassee by the grace of God. And now he’s gonna’ lead us to our New Canaan out in the quiet forest where we can put all this behind us.

She clenched his hand and sighed heavily. I know… I just is worried about the children is all… She suddenly looked at him and gasped, Austin…, I—I—I don’t know what I’d do if they got killed by the Feds or… by that, that, thing…

Austin looked confidently down the lonesome road lined by pines and abandoned vehicles as the setting sun pierced between the clouds. It’s a plague…, Trish. Ain’t the first time God sent them to punish us. Lord knows we were long overdue. And it looks like this may not be the rapture since we’re still here… The V8 hummed steadily in the backdrop. I think we’re just… headin’ to another Ark for a different time.

She scoffed nervously and replied, No, Austin…, what I seen happen to Kevin…, that was ungodly… Looked like he had a damn porcupine gestatin’ inside of him and I—.

Shhh… shhh… easy, we’re almost there…

Papa! PAPAAAA!!! screamed Austin’s son, Colt, nervously from the back as he and his sister glared out the back window.

What!? he responded, as he and Trisha jerked around in their seats to ensure their children’s safety. The five men seated in the intermediate seats were looking back as well, their haul of guns and equipment blocking the view. But the children were fine.

FIRE! THEY BOMBED THE CITY! screamed their daughter Madelyn, frantically.

Austin glanced at the rear view mirror and saw a massive plume of smoke billowing into the northeast skyline from afar like a volcano. HOLY SHIT! screamed Dane Morris, as he glared at the burgeoning black cloud.

They’re bombing the damn city! yelled Jesse, as he glanced at the incoming data on his satellite feed.

Them fuckin’ Feds! cursed Trisha, as she jerked around in her seat and clutched her M4 carbine modded with a drum magazine and other accessories. Intersecting bullet straps laden with 5.56 rounds decorated her chest over the pink top she was wearing. She had red lipstick on and her blond hair was scrunched up into a camouflage hat.

Austin looked over and gazed into her green eyes that looked like they were cut from precious stone, and he said, They’re just doin’ what they gotta’ do, like we do. She nodded, and he spoke louder to address everyone in the car, All right…, aside from the bickering on the way out here earlier I’m proud of everyone so far… This is why we formed the militia, to be ready for shit like this. You saw that even though we were prepared, shit went down so quickly that we had little time to make sense of it. God knows if we would’ve stayed down in Tallahassee like the rest of the cattle and not had the sense to have prepared for something like this we’d be smoking with the rest of the slicks. This is what we were meant to do… He then turned his attention to a heavily modded AK-47 affixed to the dash at his side and pulled it out. Now, in just a couple minutes we’ll be comin’ up on our new home. Accordin’ to Jesse, the town was evacuated to Panama City when it first hit a week ago. We mapped off a little parcel away from the main road where we’ll set up camp and build our new home. First things first, we’re all gonna’ do a clean sweep of the perimeter. Anybody that stayed behind during evacuations is welcome to join us, but if they choose not to we got no choice but to requisition their homes and give em’ the boot.

Dane looked out at the forest anxiously as it streamed by and said, All right…, but what about if one of them is there.

Austin breathed in heavily and responded, Kill them.

Have any of them attacked? Do we know what they can do to us? asked Leo, skittishly.

Mr. Stone? asked Austin, looking for a better response.

Well, ugh…, just an ex-army medic…, so way beyond my knowledge but from what I’ve seen they can’t do anything other than spread it. Don’t get near them if you encounter them. Aim for the head and shoot and make sure you wear your masks.

Aye. Ya’ll hear Mark? Put on your masks, Austin said, as he and the group simultaneously wrapped their woodland camo handkerchiefs across the lower part of their faces. Austin’s handkerchief was embroidered with a skull, and together with the AK-47 in hand, a garland of bullets around his chest, gator tooth hat, and blackout sunglasses, he was an intimidating presence. Just remember your training, ya’ll, he said serenely.

Suddenly, a sign appeared along Highway 72 as the SUV sped onward:

Welcome to Wewahitchka, Florida!

It’s so empty…, Trisha said, as they passed the sign and came along a series of recently abandoned houses. The houses were few and far between, separated by large lots as they unraveled along the highway, but already the forest was tapering off and receding to telephone poles and small farms as they pressed further into the town. The occupants were silent as they observed the abandoned houses. Some of their doors were ajar, windows half open with the drapes flailing outward into the ghostly breeze, and there wasn’t a single soul in sight. They passed by another round of houses and then hit a wall of forests flanking the road before crossing over a bridge.

It’s out there, Austin calmly signaled to Trisha, as the SUV sped down the bridge over a large lake littered with dead cypress stumps.

Trisha crawled next to him and over the console to get a better view of their new home. All she could see was a vast lake of dead cypress and a heavily forested peninsula about a half mile away in the east where he was staring. Looks pretty much like a forest, she said unamused.

And that’s exactly why we picked it. It’s a sleepy little peninsula at the tip of the Dead Lakes. Just a dozen houses over there, good soil, tree cover; it’ll be a good place to live off the grid. In a few years when things settle down and we get used to this way of livin’, the town will be close by for us to go and loot supplies.

She nodded, and they sped south off of the bridge into the next part of town. They passed by a few more abandoned houses and then Austin made a left turn onto Jehu Road and tore down the gravel northeast toward the small peninsula. As soon as they turned on Jehu, a convoy of other militarized SUVs and pickups parked in the forest off of the road emerged from the trees and sped behind Austin toward the town.

All of them there, Mr. Caliver? asked Austin, scrutinizing his rearview mirror as a cloud of dust ballooned into the air.

Jesse Caliver finished his count of the other vehicles in their squadron and replied, Looks like they all made it…, and there are a couple other vehicles I don’t recognize.

Hmm, he replied. Well if they’re good enough for the others I’m sure we’ll have no problems bringing em’ in.

Together, the convoy of vehicles sped on down the rugged dirt road, past a few abandoned houses and a large cemetery off to the east, their destinations in the towering longleaf pine grove up ahead.

The lofty longleaf pines in the grove at the edge of Jehu Road bob in the hot breath of the gulf coming in from the south. Its sultry breeze howls through the treetops, caresses the wiregrass below, and stirs up the lake outside. Off in the northeastern horizon, a haunting plume of black smoke from Tallahassee trails into the sky and brings a haze over the jagged stumps of dead cypress rising from the lake. Below the mingled canopy of cypress and pine, a few dozen trailers, shacks, and houses sit abandoned in the grove with their doors ajar and windows open. Dropped suitcases with clothes spitting out of them litter the floor, neglected trashcans left out in the street have had their contents rummaged through from opportunistic birds, and untrimmed lawns are beginning to sprout with weeds and wiregrass. Although it’s late October, the air will be warm for a few more weeks, and usually this part of town is slightly noisy with the sounds of playing children, vehicles going to and fro, and people gathering for cook offs before the cold days take their hold. But today the grove is eerily desolate, and the only inhabitant is the faint wind blowing through the brush and abandoned houses below.

Then.

A loud hum of roaring engines pierces the haunting silence and grows closer by the second. A lone crow up in one of the pines over the grove, perched on some Spanish moss, hears the roar of the growling engines and darts off into the sky startled. Seconds later, the caravan of SUVs and pickups thunder into the grove like a herd of stray cattle and swerve around at the edge of the small peninsula where Jehu meets Burks Road. Instantly, the camo-clad occupants swarm out of their vehicles with their weapons drawn and congregate inside the circle of trucks and SUVs. The militia was a motley bunch, composed of a few dozen men and women of every race, color, and creed, united under the core ideal of apocalyptic-preparedness and anti-communist sentiment. Everyone was decked in their woodland garb, clutching their guns, and staring at each other with surreal faces as they shuffled in the circle of cars under the tall trees and blaze of Tallahassee in the distance.

All right everyone, said Austin, with his mask on clutching the AK-47. A Scottish claymore was slung over his back. Although he felt the claymore was obsolete compared to his AK-47, he was fanatical about his Scottish heritage and would not be seen in battle without it. In fact, he had even placed several books on Celtic Mythology in his preparedness bag. Get into Formation! he yelled suddenly.

Instantly, the militia shuffled into several rows. Even the children formed into their own row, clutching their assault weapons and gazing at each other wide-eyed from under their oversized helmets.

Austin noticed a few dozen misfit Indians huddled around each other by the pickups with dumbfounded looks on their faces. Who brought the tribe along with them? he asked the assembled militia before him.

I did, responded Jimmy Zebbelin, a heavyset man wielding a Saiga-12 shotgun at the front row.

Austin ambled over to him and asked further, I’m sure you got a good reason for that?

Yes Sir, found them stranded on Ninety-Eight on my way out of Panacae. They was lookin’ for a band to tag along with. Says they’s familiar with bush-craft and know how to make medicine from most of the plants round these parts.

Austin examined the tribe, and they glared at him with indifference as they stood there waiting for their fate to be decided. Seminole? he asked.

Yes Sir. From the Panther Tribe down south. Said they fled the area when the Feds started bombing Miami.

You check them for infection?

Yeah, all of them are clean, I reckon.

How many of them?

My tally was twenty-five.

All right, good work Jim. Patch em’ in tonight when things settle down and give them some firearms.

Sir.

All right everyone, listen up! said Austin, returning to the center of the grove. He gestured for the Seminoles to head over. These here people are from the Seminole Panther Tribe down south. They’re gonna’ join up with us! They’re good with medicine. Let’s give em’ a welcome.

Most of the militia members gave the Seminoles a warm welcome as they stepped up to the front of the line, but they received a few jeers and odd looks from a few of the men. A leader, wearing a garish tunic embroidered with various patterns over jeans, with a cowboy hat of feathers, stepped forward and extended his hand to shake Austin’s. Thank you for hospitality. I am Lootkah, Lootkah Eslapota, the Chief of our tribe.

Austin examined him for a moment; he was entering old age and stoic wrinkles had carved themselves out under his eyes. He had long grey hair tied up into a ponytail that shot down the back of his heavily ornamented dress. Austin gripped his hand and shook it, replying, With a hat like that you’ll fit right in, Mr. Eslapota. Good to have ya’ll on board. We gotta’ do a sweep of this perimeter now. I’d like you folks to stay back until we’re done and we’ll get better acquainted after.

Before Austin could turn away, Lootkah asked, Will you kill them if you find them in the houses?

Austin breathed in heavily and replied, Gonna’ kill them and burn the houses down that have any of them inside.

Lootkah shook his head and gazed up at the canopy of pines, replying, No, the poisonous spirits are already in the air. You and your tribe must take the medicine. He rolled up his exotic tunic’s sleeve and revealed a missing swath of flesh that was freshly hacked off. Austin narrowed his brow and analyzed the wound. Many in Miami die because they don’t take medicine. We live because we take immunity right away… Many in your group will die, possibly you, if you do not take the immunity.

Mr. Stone, over here! Austin gestured. Mark Stone removed himself from the formation and walked up to them as Austin continued, They’re saying it’s airborne and we need to inoculate everyone stat.

Mark gulped nervously and replied, Well, ninety-five percent of Miami-Dade was wiped out in a few days. Most of them didn’t take anything for it… These folks look like they’re in one piece so if that’s what they suggest I’d go along with it. We know it’s moving up from the south.

Austin turned and glared at Lootkah suspiciously, saying, All right… I guess this will be how you earn your stripes among us if this works… But I’m warning you, Seminole…, he continued, glaring into Lootkah’s eyes. If this is some sorta’ trick to kill us off and loot us I can assure you there’ll be hell to pay before we leave this world… Now, what do we need?

Indifferent to his threat, Lootkah extended his hand and gestured for one of the other Seminoles to come forward. A mystic-looking one emerged from the group and wandered over to Lootkah and Austin. He was heavily ornamented in gator necklaces, feathers, face paint, and animal skins. This is Hasse, Hasse Huppalwe, our shaman. He will tell you what you need.

If you find one in house, said the mystic, do not kill. Get me and I will extract the medicine from it. While you are sweeping perimeter, I go and collect the herbs to be mixed. Call me when you find one.

Satisfied that they were finished with discussing the uncomfortable reality, Austin nodded and wandered back to the militia. All right, let’s do a clean sweep all the way back to Highway Seventy-Two. There’re a few dozen houses and plots here. Search everything, secure the perimeter, and then convene back here in fifteen... If you find one, do not kill it—call me.

There was some uproar over this. Why not kill em’? They’s the devil! shouted one of the men in the militia.

They may be, Austin replied. But we need one for the cure.

Wha? What cure? Ain’t no cure! Yer’ redneck ass would be at the bank and I’d be on my ass sippin’ a beer watchin’ the game if you had a cure!

Just DO IT! Now all ya’ll move! The next one that opens their trap—be it man, woman, or child, is gonna’ get skewered on my claymore! Ya’ll voted me the leader, and YOU AIN’T GONNA’ QUESTION THAT NOW!!! GO!!!

Austin swiftly unsheathed the massive claymore slung to his back and pointed it at them menacingly. They needed no further coaxing; they fled from the gathering and dispersed in all directions with their weapons drawn to clear the peninsula.

Several minutes later, a distraught call rang out from one of the houses midway off of Jehu Road. Austin and Tabernacle, his giant Russian Bear Dog, dashed over and walked up to the small one-story that was nestled under a patch of tall cypress and pine. As they crossed the lawn and walked toward the entry a small gust of wind swept over and jingled the chimes swaying over the balcony. Austin paused at the entry and Tabernacle began growling viciously, sensing that something was terribly wrong inside. The house was dark and dreary, and with what little Austin could see, he saw things strewn about in disarray as if the owners had fled in a panic. He took one step inside and the floor creaked heavily beneath him. The smell of sickness, like feces and chemicals mixed together punched his nostrils and wafted from the corridor at his side. Instantly, he could hear the gurgling and anguished growls of one of them emanating from around the corridor.

Hurry up! yelled one of his men from the back of the hall.

As he yelled, the thing screamed and Tabernacle responded by barking viciously down the hallway. Austin detected misery as well as rage within the thing’s cry. Austin stepped out and looked for the shaman as Tabernacle continued baying. He saw him rushing down Jehu with a handful of freshly picked plants from the lake. Austin made an impatient gesture at him to hurry and then with his gun held out before him, navigated down the corridor toward room with the creature of God’s wrath inside. As he cautiously walked around the hallway, Hasse Huppalwe caught up to him and took his place behind Austin. Every inch of the way, Tabernacle’s mane of hair shot up more like spikes and he howled and barked in great protest at whatever lurked at the end.

Now around the corner, Austin could see a darkly lit room at the edge of the corridor and he saw Felix Sepulveda in the bedroom with his M4 nervously trained on the abomination. With each step he took forward, the vicious smell of the afflicted wafted through his mask and grated against his nostrils with terrible, vicious odors not meant for the noses of men. Austin had hunted all of his life and had smelled his fair share of spoiled meat… but this, this smell was unbearable, almost other-worldly, as if every smell that registered as reviling was packed into it. Now just several feet away from the open door, Tabernacle darted from his side and rushed into the room, barking and howling frantically. Austin passed the threshold of the room and saw the thing laying there on the bed, moaning and flailing its arms in protest over its own existence. Felix had his gun trained on it, and Tabernacle was barking at its side, keeping a safe distance. Of course Austin understood that the world was a cruel place, he was a militia man after all, and what he saw there lying on its back on the bed was proof of it.

A savage proof.

It lay there writhing on the bed, convulsing in shock, its belly split open by a series of jagged barbs as if it had swallowed a massive urchin. Blood and puss trailed down from the wounds over flesh that was now white as snow. When Austin entered the room and passed Felix, it swerved its head upside down and glared at him with possessed white eyes devoid of their former humanity. As it followed Austin’s movements it moaned in agony and bile trailed out of its mouth and trickled into its eyes. Austin could not believe that the abomination he was staring at had at one point been a human.

He called to Hasse who was chanting mantras at the beast in the corner. What do we do, Shaman!? I’m gonna’ kill it if you don’t act fast!

The thing sneered and tried to swipe at Austin with its withered hands. Hold it down! ordered Hasse, as he approached with a dagger drawn. Austin rushed the creature and pinned down its arms while Felix Sepulveda suppressed its feet with his elbows. The thing hissed and jolted erratically as if it were being electrocuted, angered by their presence. With its jagged teeth covered in vomit, it tried to snap viciously at Austin. Hurry up, doc! Austin protested. Damn thing is rabid!

Hasse moved in and sunk the dagger into the flesh by the spines where he proceeded to meticulously carve out a swath of infected flesh as best as he could while it thrashed. The reason we must keep alive, he explained, grasping one of the massive spines jutting out of its chest, is that spines will immediately calcify and suck up all liquids like sponge, killing all bacteria in the blood.

I don’t need a biology lesson, doc. Just get it done! screamed Austin, as he and Felix struggled to hold down the beast. It was withered like a corpse but the thing possessed significant strength, and it continued to struggle with all of its might to free itself from their grasp.

HURRY! Austin yelled, as the creature contorted and roared. Tabernacle continued snarling and barking.

Shit! Felix screamed, as the thing broke from his grasp and kicked him into the wall. Legs free, it thrashed violently and nearly impaled Hasse on one of its spines as he extracted the flesh and lunged away.

Then.

It whirled around erratically like a crocodile in a death spin and nearly snapped Austin’s arm as he struggled to get away. As he lunged back, the creature grabbed the muzzle of his gun and thrust it down as he misfired it into the ground. Austin crashed onto the floor by the bed and the thing still holding the muzzle of his gun down, lunged for his face with its mouth snapping. Tabernacle then lunged in and mauled the abomination’s leg, slowing its charge. Austin swiftly drew the claymore from the scabbard on his back and swung in a downward motion over his head. The blade smacked into the skull of the abomination and split the cranium in half before it could go for Austin’s jugular.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the thing let out its dying breath and slouched to the ground lifeless. The misshap’ then sprawled out over its spines and immediately hardened. Tabernacle let go of his grip and rushed to his master’s side to ensure he was okay. As the giant Ovcharka licked his face, he laughed and patted him on the head. Good boy, he said.

He let go of the claymore’s handle and it wobbled freely in the air, its blade still sunk into the abomination’s head.

He no longer considered the claymore an anachronism at that moment.

Bullshit they ain’t a threat! said Felix, astonished over the debacle.

Not dangerous, unless threatened, replied Hasse. A very advanced disease; more evolved than any we have ever witnessed. It keeps host alive for as long as possible, to improve success of transmission.

Austin rose up and glared at the corpse as the black blood trickling down from its slashed skull hardened into stalactites of gore. He then observed Hasse wringing the flesh he had cut off and draining the blood into a tube mixed with ground herbs from the swamp. He then corked the tube and shook the concoction until everything was mixed. It is ready…, he said, glaring at the formula in the dank light of the room. Gather your people for inoculation… You may want to consider giving the medicine to this one too. He is useful, Hasse said, pointing at the Russian Bear Dog. Tabernacle saw him point and he let out a single bark at Hasse Huppalwe.

Austin laughed and replied, Yeah, we’ll give him one too. It’s scary enough in a human and I’d like to keep it that way. He looked over the corpse of the abomination one last time then extracted the claymore from the monster’s head and together they wandered back to the circle of cars at the end of Jehu.

Several hours later after the premises had been cleared and inoculations administered, the militia and Seminoles once again congregated at the edge of Jehu Road where the circle of vehicles were parked and Austin began laying out the plans for the future. The light of the day was diminishing and dusk with its exotic hue was settling over the land as he spoke. I’m proud of everyone today! he said, marching up and down the line with his gun slung lazily over his chest and claymore hitched to his back. The others were not in formation, this time they were leaned against the vehicles and sitting in fold up lawn chairs around a small fire in the circle. We always knew this day would come…, and I think we did an outstanding job. Despite the horror of what we’ve experienced today…, and these past couple weeks, everyone should be proud of themselves… I want ya’ll to rest up for the night; we’ll wake up at seven hundred hours and start buildin’ a trench for a moat—.

Austin! yelled one of the militia members suddenly. He scrambled to the interior of the large SUV he was seated next to and turned up the volume on the radio inside.

They all turned their attention to the radio which was crackling on full blast, and suddenly, they heard the solemn voice of the President David Sabre over the airwaves:

"My fellow Americans, tragedy has befallen our great nation this week. There is no other way that I can express this than to say we have been fully torn asunder by the great scourge that is the Spiked-Death. I received a very grim report this morning that indicated we have lost over seventy eight percent of our population to Spinus Echinus within a matter of weeks. The southern states have been hit the hardest, but the disease as far as we can tell is making its rounds north and will have a significant impact there within the next few days. It is with great sadness that I report, most of the other nations around the globe have suffered the same fate. I have been told that some nations in Europe no longer even have a population. Many of the great powers of the world have fallen like dominos. China has fallen, Russia has fallen, the United Kingdom is ninety percent gone. In the south, Australia has fallen, Brazil has been wiped out, and many others are toppling as we speak. I will be fully honest with you… because at this point it does not matter… We no longer have a standing military. We do not even have the manpower to operate our proxy forces like drones and other robotic devices. Some of you may have seen a few F-16s flying over the cities and bombarding them. We did not issue that order, and there is a rogue group within the military that has taken it upon themselves to address the epidemic as they see fit. Unfortunately, we cannot stop them and absolute quarantine is their policy.

I and Washington have been rendered completely powerless by this pestilence. There is nothing I can do to halt this voracious disease. There is nothing I can do to stop the power outages and communication network failures that will ensue in the coming weeks. There is nothing I can do to supply you with shelter or food. There is nothing I can do to defend you from rogue military groups sterilizing the cities with bombs. I can’t even save you from looters or the evil that will arise in the absence of law. Therefore, it is with heavy heart, that I President David Sabre on this day of October twenty-one, two thousand thirty-six, under the auspices of the Contingent Disbandment Act—disband these United States from their Federal Union. As of now, the United States of America, the country that once was the beacon of freedom and prosperity for the entire world—is no more. It has been a great two hundred and sixty years, but now, fate would have it that you are better suited alone. To those of you that are alive, you must now band together and endure for the sake of the human race, as I fear within the next coming weeks our population will dip lower than it was before we even left the cradle of Africa. To those of you that are out there listening to me at this nadir of our existence, human society is now extinct, and we are threatened…; it will be up to you to determine if we will meet the same fate as our nations did… You are alone…"

The transmission cut out after his haunting words and left the militia dumbfounded with grave looks on their faces as they sat there by the crackling campfire. Some of them even jeered at the President. Yeah right, said Hunter Jameson as he fidgeted in his lawn chair, rogue military groups commandeered those F-16s and blew up those cities, my ass. That’s just what they want us to think.

I think it’s credible, replied Austin, still standing before them. He just announced to the world…, what’s left of it, that they don’t even have a military. That’s the last thing a bloodthirsty son of a bitch would do. It’s done, he continued, lost in his thoughts. The country’s over.

Serves them right, said Missy Allister. This is what they get for sendin’ them signals into space.

What? asked Sergio Firvidez.

She continued, Yeah, saw it on FLNN a year ago and remember thinkin’ it was the stupidest thing I ever heard of them Feds were up to. They sent some satellite into space broadcastin’ a signal to the entire galaxy. Is it any wonder a year later we’ve almost been wiped out off the planet!?

Fuckin’ Feds, hissed Dane Morris, shaking his head in disapproval.

And they say we dumb, Trisha chimed in. Don’t take a brain surgeon to figure out sending signals into space is a bad idea. Hell, Hunter’s sense is better and ya’ll know his head’s in the bottle twenty-four seven.

They erupted into laughter and Hunter shook his head, replying, Damn, survived the aliens and the damn apocalypse only to come out here and get roasted by a woman.

Papa? asked Colt, who was sitting on the ground feeding the fire with twigs. Was it aliens that did this?

Are they comin’ for us, Papa? asked Madelyn, his daughter, with frightened eyes.

Missy interjected before Austin could answer. Who knows, darlin’? Probably has somethin’ to do with aliens. Austin, did you catch the news before you left home today? They said they found a pod out in Chile pumping bacteria into the air that caused the disease.

Yeah…, I saw that on the FLNN warning today before we ran out, said Jesse.

Quiet, all ya’ll, said Austin, somewhat irritably. Ya’ll are just chasin’ phantoms. That don’t matter right now. Could be aliens, could be demons, could be the Feds that’re wreaking havoc on us right now but nobody knows. The aliens could be the size of mites, the demons could be invisible, and the Feds…, Lord only knows we’ll never understand what ungodly things they were up to. The time for philosophy and speculation is over. The country’s gone and the torch of posterity is in our hands; that’s all I know, and I’m gonna’ do everything to ensure our survival for the days, weeks, months, and years to come. Lord gave us the insight for this and that’s why we’re breathing right now—because we’re sheep dogs, and we’ll continue to be sheep dogs. Now as the wolves get their due for killin’ off the flock and destroying our nation for the past forty years, we’ll rebuild and make a society that won’t falter no matter what happens. He paused and then gestured for Lootkah Eslapota to come up to him at the front.

The sun was now fully out of the sky and the purple hue of dusk was fading fast. Quickly, their fire around the circle of vehicles was becoming the dominant light. With the glare of the dancing fire beginning to show on their faces, Austin took Lootkah’s hand and asked. Lootkah, your people survived and endured not only the fall of Miami-Dade, but also the wrath of a lot of history. As such, you’re natural sheep dogs and you’ll blend right in to our militia. You and your people will be given uniform, rifles, and jobs tomorrow. Do you accept this honor?

Lootkah nodded reverently and Austin shook his hand, saying, Welcome then, to the North Florida Sheep Dog Militia!

There was a round of applause and cheers from most of the audience, and after the warm handshake, Lootkah left the front and returned to the rest of the Seminoles which were lingering behind the gathering.

Now, we all know things had run sour between us and the Feds, but I’m still upset over the loss of our country. We can’t forget George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and all the great founders and soldiers that sacrificed their lives so that we could be here today… holding these. He gestured, lifting up his AK-47 with reverence. If it weren’t for the Founders we’d be heading into this dark age…, no. He pondered for the right words, glaring at the dancing fire, We’d be heading into this Fire Age with sticks and stones to defend ourselves if it weren’t for them. So while the country’s been doin’ us wrong with outa’ control taxes, communist subversion, and the chipping away of our Bill of Rights for the past forty years, we should still mourn the loss of what our ancestors fought, bled, and died for.

Many of them nodded on hearing this, as he continued, This is just another plague against a Pharaoh of a different Egypt, another meteor against a worldwide Sodom and Gomorrah, and another Ark for a different time. This is just another pilgrimage to a new promised land as God told Abraham long ago: Look around from where thou art, to the north and south, to the east and west. All the land thou see I shall give to thee and thy offspring, forever. I will make thy offspring like the dust of the earth, so that if anyone could count the dust, then thy offspring could be counted. Go walk through the length of the land, for I am giving it to thee… He paused for a moment, then continued stoically, President told us we’re alone. We ain’t alone. Go walk among the trees tomorrow, among the pines; see the lake, take in our peninsula and you’ll feel the presence of God with us here. He saved us despite the odds and gave us our own parcel of promised-land on this little peninsula in what was once Florida. He gave it to us because we followed him and trusted in him, understood his ways, and never turned away from him despite the sheep that went to live in the cities of the wolves. And for his benediction, as Abraham did, we’ll pitch our tents and build an altar to the Lord here.

Austin suddenly drew the claymore from the scabbard on his back. The unsheathing cracked the still of the night like a crash of lightning. Holding the blade in hand and marveling over its features, its glare in the flickering fire, he lifted it over his head and drove it swiftly into ground. The sword stuck halfway and wobbled when he removed his hands. It’s quiet here…, he continued serenely, gazing up into the stars piercing through the canopy of trees. If we continue to follow God, it’ll remain that way for over a thousand years… We’re gonna’ preserve this place for our posterity, and defend the border from incursion as much as we can, so we can keep the south empty and ourselves safe. We’re gonna’ make that our tradition.

Lootkah suddenly emerged from the back of the gathering that was now silent, contemplating his words, and he wandered up to Austin as he continued to stare into the night sky. You speak true and your words move us, he said to Austin.

Austin faced him and nodded slowly, saying, Thank you.

In the silence of the crackling fire and wisps of Seminole wind, Lootkah then said, Tell me Austin, whose words are true…, what is your full name that we may know?

"Austin William…, he replied…, Austin William Gunnite."

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In the year 3115 deep in a backwater of Northern Florida, a place still stuck in the darkest depths of the Fire Age of man, an infant, by the name of Joseph—IS BORN!

Audio Illustration

Go to Youtube.com/Go to Julian Massaglia Channel/Go to Dead Galaxy Swirlin’ Soundtrack: Dies Irae (Fire Age Mix)

CHAPTER II

DEMORALIZATION

3127 AD

I don’t know how he knows, but he knows…; sees the chemistry of the water changin’—a shade that doesn’t make sense, a shift in current that doesn’t add up, maybe he saw an air bubble zigzagging up from the bottom, desperately trying to reach the surface of the lake. It’s all speculation from here, concealed amongst the tall grass with a harpoon the size of a battering ram tucked at our side. I glance at his red, black, and yellow face slathered in war paint, and even though he’s sixty feet away perched up on one of the branches of a towering longleaf pine, I can see his eyes dart back and forth, vigilantly scanning the murky water of the lake below. Then, the concert of croakin’ bullfrogs dies down and the chorus of the hot wind howls through the glades and canopy of trees. And now I know it’s there…, close.

While scanning the language of the water, he cautiously raises his hand toward us and prepares to give the signal. In the clearing of the pines below, a man clad in ceremonial garb chanting mantras of our creed, clutching a Celtic cross and waving a cottonmouth snake by the throat, crawls around on all fours with a gutted-out deer head over his face. I can see the antlers swaying up and down as he dances erratically in the clearing, baiting the beast lurking in the waters behind the sawgrass and pygmy palms. His name is Ajax Morris, and it’s his turn to play rabbit with the fox of the swamp today. Aside from the empty mantras he’s shouting and the snake he’s flailing, he’s completely helpless against the foe we’re up against and reliant on us to deliver the one ton spear of sharpened tree trunk into the breast of the beast. I guess I’d be callin’ to the unseen forces too if I were in his predicament; not that I don’t believe they’re there, in fact, I’m a pious Christian, I just don’t think God concerns himself as much as we’d like to think with our little human anthill down here in the forest.

Endis Caliver, the man stationed up in the tree, suddenly flinches and raises three fingers to the rest of us below, signaling the countdown to the impending scuffle with the monster of the lake. Pa, nestled right behind me in the grass, places his hand on my shoulder and says stoically, Ready thyself, Joseph. He then veers over the rugged log and looks at sister, and says, Gemini, sharpen thy senses. The time is near.

She leans under the sharpened spike of the log and looks at me with her intricately painted face of red, black, and yellow, her brown hair streaked with red and braided into a series of ornate clips. She looks silly in all that warrior garb, but I guess I’m no different myself, painted red, black, and yellow in the colors of our flag like the rest of the folks in our hunting party. I can feel the log shakin’ all the way from over here, Josey, she says, with a snarky look gleamin’ outa’ her war-painted face.

Huh? I mumbled, annoyed.

You’re shakin’ in your boots, chicken.

I shake my head in frustration. Her joking… I resent her joking. "Better hush up or