Children of Wrath: Land of Tomorrow, #2

By Ryan King

The Land of Tomorrow 
Series Continues...

Nathan and the new nation his friends have built has defeated the aggressive dictator to their south, but new challenges loom. A predatory and ambitious slave nation to the west has designs on their source of power while internal intrigue simmers. Meanwhile, the spymaster and master manipulator Ethan continues to pursue his secret agendas. 

Filled with suspense, action, and an horrifically realistic picture of post-apocalyptic tomorrow, Children of Wrath does not disappoint.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Three Kings Publishing
• Release date: Jan 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386595335

Ryan King

Ryan King is a career army officer with multiple combat tours who continues to serve in the military. He has lived, worked, and traveled throughout Europe, Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. King is married to fellow author Kristin King and they have four young and energetic boys who keep them constantly busy. Ryan King writes post-apocalyptic, dystopian, thriller, horror, and action short stories, short novels, and novels. He has also published the first book in his post-apocalyptic Land of Tomorrow series called Glimmer of Hope. Ryan King also writes under the pen name of Charles R. King for historical non-fiction. He has published 22 works, primarily covering the Punic Wars and late Roman Republican Era which was the focus of his graduate degree. Five of these works are currently on seven different bestseller lists. King is also writing a historical fiction series about Hannibal and the Second Punic War. The first book in that series debuts 2013.

Book preview

Prologue - Knights of the Apocalypse

It was safe in the caves. Cool also. Always the same no matter what temperature it was outside. Jacob Daniels appreciated the perfect predictability, a haven from what went on outside. Oily torches and smoky lamps cast more shadows than light. Jacob liked that too; the dark had always been kind to him.

The large cavern was filled with wondrous geological structures. Stalactites hung down like descending teeth from a ceiling so high that it couldn't be seen. Jacob knelt on the hard stone floor with six other robed figures. Hooded men and women stood back along the edge of the cavern, mixed in among the rock formations.

Jacob's heart soared. He could feel his companions’ fear, but he was ready for what was to come. Never in his life had he ever belonged, but he was about to belong to something, to become something.

He had nearly died the previous year while fleeing from Hancock Prison. Locals and other prisoners had hunted him through the woods and fields out of sport or fear or boredom. Hiding in a giant pile of horse manure had kept him warm and hidden. The smell had also limited men bent on sodomy to a simple, yet brutal beating. Stumbling into the massive Mammoth Cave complex had been fortunate for him. There the knights had found him.

God first destroyed the world with water, said the Grand Knight, and promised to never do it again. This time he has destroyed the world with fire. We are living in the Apocalypse and eagerly awaiting the final destruction of Satan and his evil puppets. Thus we are the Knights of the Apocalypse.

Thus we are the Knights of the Apocalypse, intoned all those in the cave in unison.

The Grand Knight walked toward Jacob, who could have reached out and touched the man's robe if he dared. Never had he been so close. He felt a wave of gratitude and humility so great that he almost wept. The Grand Knight stretched out a hand toward the seven kneeling figures on the floor. The extended hand was missing a finger.

These have chosen to be part of our order and dedicate themselves to God's work. What is that work?

To hasten the Apocalypse and thus God's return, they all said together.

Viewing the seven in silence, the Grand Knight picked up a small axe from the Table of Truth that was before him. And our Lord said if your hand offend you, cut it off, and if your eye betray you, pluck it out. Better for one part to perish than the whole. He held up his hand with the missing finger. Other knights around the room did the same, pointing to missing ears, toes, or even a rare hand.

God will reward our sacrifice, they said in unison. Let the evil world see our mark, yet not comprehend, so that we might hasten the end.

Each of you before me has come far and endured much, the Grand Knight said. God has led you here, but the final test awaits you. Many have faltered. He glanced toward a dark cave to his rear, as did the rest of the group. A dank dead smell whiffed out with the interior cave breezes. If you pass the test, you will be selected to serve as God has chosen you, like one of His angels.

Michael, boomed one of the knights to the left as he stepped forward, who is like God. Filled with knowledge and wise in His ways.

Gabriel, said another knight loudly on the right, who is the strength of God, protecting the defenseless.

Raphael, said a knight to their rear, healer from God to take away the pain of the world.

Uriel, said a voice in the front shadows, almost like a whisper, fire of God, instrument of God's furious anger and vengeance.

The Grand Knight smiled. If you pass the test, you will join one of these orders and serve until the end or until God blesses you by taking you to be with Him. May you serve well.

May we serve well, they intoned.

The Grand Knight stepped aside and a smaller hooded figure stepped forward and pointed to the first kneeling figure. Casey of Bowling Green, rise and approach the Table of Truth.

The man hesitated slightly, as if in prayer, and then rose. At the table he was confronted by a wide assortment of tools. In addition to the small axe, he found various knives, hammers, awes, pliers, and of course the small brazier containing the brands they would use to cauterize the proof of their devotion to God. Casey reached out toward the hatchet with a shaky hand and lifted it. He held out his left hand before him on the table its rough surface scarred and stained from countless trials before.

Lifting the axe, Casey brought the edge down on the surface, severing his left little finger, a popular choice among the other knights. The man let the axe fall from his other hand, reaching out slowly for the burning brazier to pick up a small brand. Lifting his bleeding hand, he deliberately pressed the hot end of the wood against the stump. He moaned loudly as the blood and flesh hissed and smoked.

Behold, said the Grand Knight. A Chosen of God. A Knight of the Apocalypse. What shall his name be?

A tall and thin old man with blind eyes and silver hair falling out from his hood reached into a small bucket and pulled forth a white smooth stone.

Welcome, Michael, said the Grand Knight. From this day forth you are made anew and will shed your old ways. You will strive to know and understand God and His purpose.

Holding his maimed hand, Casey stumbled off into the crowd of awaiting knights.

The Master of the Table stepped forward and pointed at the next kneeling figure. Elise of Tennessee, arise and approach the Table of Truth.

The beautiful woman rose confidently and strode forward. Although the knights had all taken vows of celibacy, they were moved by her clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, and athletic bearing. She reached out for a large set of garden shears and with the other hand grabbed her own nose. So swiftly that many did not know her purpose, she began to slice.

Jacob could hear the crunch of cartilage and had to concentrate to keep from getting sick. If he were to defile this ceremony, they would crucify him. He heard the shears strike the table with a clatter and looked up.

Elise was pressing a burning brand against where her nose had previously been. Although her jaw was clenched tight and cords stood out on her neck, she did not cry out.

Behold, said the Grand Knight. A Chosen of God. A Knight of the Apocalypse. What shall her name be?

The blind man reached into the bucket and pulled out a smooth red stone.

Welcome, Raphael, said the Grand Knight. From this day forth you are made anew and will shed your old ways. You will strive to heal the hurt of the world.

As Elise strode away, the next man was called forward. He reached for the small axe and all could see that his intent was to sacrifice a pinky. Raising the axe high, he brought it down swiftly.

There was a gasp in the room. He had missed.

The man attempted to raise it again, but was grabbed from behind by strong arms as the Master of the Table pulled the tool from his hands.

Let me try again, he pleaded. I can do it. I want to do it.

The Grand Knight shook his head. You have not been chosen by God and are rejected in his sight. You will wander in darkness until you die. Two men tied his hands, blindfolded him, and then dragged him off into the dark tunnel in front of them.

Jacob shuddered. He knew the Mammoth Cave complex stretched hundreds of miles under the ground and contained thousands of tunnels. Once you lost your way in that unforgiving blackness, there was no hope. He hardly even noticed the next three members undergoing their trial.

Jacob of Hancock Prison, the Master of the Table said. Arise and approach the Table of Truth.

Startled, Jacob stood and walked forward, mumbling a prayer for strength. He knew what he had to do. God had told him, but he was afraid and his fear shamed him. Jacob looked into the master's eyes, but they stared back impassively.

Reaching out for a large shiny spoon, Jacob pulled down the lower eyelid of his right eye. He knew this was going to hurt. Pain beyond imagining, but being worthy of God was about proving devotion. The knights had taught him this secret.

With quick resolve, Jacob slipped the spoon between his lower eyelid and the eyeball. Not thinking about the pressure and pain, he levered the handle of the spoon down and pulled outward, bringing his eye out of its socket.

He was not ready for the disorientation. The agony was immense, but he nearly fell from the confusion. Both eyes still worked, but one was staring straight ahead and the other was now looking down at the table. His brain was trying unsuccessfully to make sense of these two images and reconcile them into one picture. His knees buckled to the floor.

Behind him he could hear murmurs. Heavy footfalls approached, and he knew they would drag him off into the darkness to die.

Grabbing the edge of the table, Jacob pulled himself back to his feet. He closed his eyes to blot out the disorienting image, but only one of the scenes disappeared. His disgorged eye still hung on his cheek attached by the stalk of the optic nerve. He could clearly see the tools on the table before him.

Jacob grasped the still bloody shears Elise had used to cut off her nose, and lifted them toward his face. Using his other hand to lift the eyeball away from his cheek he now saw through the detached eye the master gazing at him in something that might have been awe. Jacob slipped the head of the shears around the optic nerve and closed the handles sharply.

The world went black as agony exploded in his head. Jacob had endured pain before, but nothing like this. He could feel the severed optic nerve retracting back up into his socket and it seemed to contain every ounce and fiber of his being. He heard screaming, and the realization that the sounds were coming from his mouth caused him to clamp his jaws shut. He opened the lids of his remaining eye.

The Master of the Table and the Grand Knight were standing over him. Jacob had no idea what they were preparing to do, but he knew he must complete the ceremony. He rolled over on his stomach and climbed to his knees. Taking a moment to catch his breath and push down a wave of nausea, he wrenched himself up using the table edge. Jacob reached out toward the brazier to pull forth a glowing brand and shoved the hot end into his vacant eye socket.

It was almost a relief. His skin and blood boiled and smoked as the pain engulfed his face, but it was better than the agony pulsing from his severed optic nerve. The fire deadened the end of the nerve, and after a moment, Jacob removed the now black brand from his eye socket and dropped it on the floor. He nearly fell again, but caught himself on the table edge.

Behold, said the Grand Knight. A Chosen of God. A Knight of the Apocalypse. What shall his name be?

The blind man reached into the bucket.

Jacob smiled in anticipation. He knew what the stone would be. God had already told him.

Pulling out his hand, the ancient blind man held out his hand and slowly opened his fist. It was a black stone.

Welcome Uriel, fire of God, said the Grand Knight. From this day forth you are made anew and will shed your old ways. You are God's vengeance and fury upon this world. Let not mercy or kindness weaken you.

Jacob wanted to laugh and realized he was crying, but only from his good eye. The tear ducts in his right eye had likely been permanently damaged by the torch. No matter, he thought. I have cried enough in this life. Now I shall make others cry and hasten the day of God's arrival.

And Jacob knew just where he would start. With the man who he now resembled in one small but significant way. The man who was also missing his right eye.

Part I

Intrigue

Chapter 1 - Partners and Friends

Ethan Schweitzer didn't particularly like blackmail, which was why he went to such elaborate lengths to pretend it did not exist even when both parties knew that it did.

Good afternoon, Mr. President, Ethan said as he shook the man's hand. He noticed that Paul Campbell looked tired, but that could be from his long journey from Paducah to Jackson. Before N-Day such a trip would have entailed a car ride of a few hours. Now it took several days.

Paul Campbell smiled warily in return, but could not meet Ethan's gaze for long.

I trust you found our facilities are to your liking? asked Ethan. He was referring to the small oil field recently reopened in Milan that the president had toured that day. The oil wells hadn't been operational since before WWII due to their limited production, but N-Day had changed all of that.

The Jackson Purchase President nodded. Although the entire new nation was officially called Kentahten, JP still stuck. Yes, indeed. I also inspected the old Goodyear Tire Plant in Union City up north. I saw the first new tires rolling out of the Banbury Mixer.

Splendid, answered Ethan, clapping his hands together. Until recently I had no idea how hard it was to make tires. Beyond the complication of vulcanizing rubber, it takes seven gallons of oil to make one tire. Fortunately, oil is of little use for anything else, right?

Paul looked uncomfortable and glanced away.

Ethan's smile vanished and he began to walk away. After a moment, the JP President followed.

We have been directed to divert half of the produced oil to Murray State University. Why? asked Ethan.

Paul mumbled, I'm not really involved in—

Your son Bradley is such a wonderful lad, said Ethan, stopping and turning to face Paul. We have so enjoyed having him as a guest here, but guests by their very nature are temporary residents. One day Bradley will have to leave. I wonder where he will go? There are so many places out in the world. Sadly, many of them are unsafe.

The JP President sighed and looked down. They're working on finding a way to refine oil to produce gasoline and natural gas.

Ethan was silent for a moment as he processed the information. So in addition to the electricity from the dam, they want gasoline to fuel their tractors and automobiles. Seems like a lot of trouble considering the fuel supply they have at Fort Campbell.

It's running out, said Paul. We've even used up the supply that was originally supposed to be the backing for our currency. No one yet knows how little is left.

Ethan consciously kept his face neutral, but inside he was excited. What would happen if the citizens of JP found out their leaders had been lying to them?

Almost as if reading his mind Paul said, You can't act like you know this. Do you know what they would do to me if they found out I was talking to you like this?

Ethan flashed his most reassuring smile and patted him on the shoulder. Don't worry, Mr. President. We are partners, friends even. I would never let anything happen to you...or your son. As long as we remain friends. You do value our friendship, don't you?

Paul nodded dejectedly. Yes, sir. I do.

Good, said Ethan. Let's go visit your son. Such a splendid boy he is.

Chapter 2 - Retirement

Reggie Philips donned a sport coat and prepared to depart his house. The Saturday morning interviews with Tim Reynolds at WKPO had become tradition now. No one seemed to care that he was no longer the JP President. As a matter of fact, it had made him more popular, as now he was allowed to speak his mind.

You okay, dear? Reggie asked his wife.

Janice turned slowly from the sink where she was washing the morning's dishes. The crutch under her arm to compensate for her missing leg made the turn complicated, but his wife managed it with grace. I'm fine. You go play. See you for lunch?

Gonna run by the library afterwards, but should be back by then, he said.

She smiled at him. Turning into quite the scholar in your old age, aren't you?

Reggie kept his look neutral and nodded. He had been researching lately, but there was nothing scholarly about it. Reggie was concerned about the future of the JP, and what he'd discovered so far had been depressing. Hoping the knowledge of their lost world contained some answers, he kept reading.

You'll have to tell me eventually what's so interesting, she said, turning back to the dishes.

You bet, said Reggie, walking over to give Janice a peck on the cheek. Despite her age and gray hair, he still saw her as he had nearly forty years ago when they had first met at a little diner in Frankfort. Simply beautiful.

He left the little house and hopped on his bicycle before beginning to ride north toward downtown Murray. As usual, neighbors waved to him and greeted him readily, but he noticed there were fewer residents around. If people had relatives or family that lived out in the county, many had moved out of town. Food prices in the town had gone up as the cost of transportation had increased, reversing a centuries-old trend of people moving from rural to urban environments. On farms, you could get food easier, and the farms needed the extra labor. Even if the families in the city kept their homes, most only used them once a week when their entire clan made the trip to town to trade or socialize.

Other changes were afoot. Although electricity was still plentiful and free, Reggie knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. The JP was operating too close to the bottom line and needed funds to function. Thank goodness they had already abandoned the confounded trade system and gone to the use of money. So far they hadn't seen much inflation except for low-supply high-demand items.

Reggie slowed as he approached the station. He had started the radio addresses shortly after N-Day in order to put out information and try to calm nerves. While he was the JP President, it had been his means of communicating with his constituents. He had assumed his broadcast interest rested solely on his position of authority, and was surprised when Tim Reynolds had approached him to start a new regular broadcast.

Oh no, Tim had assured him. People want to hear from you. You still carry a lot of weight. They respect you.

Just not enough to vote me back into office, Reggie said peevishly.

Tim shook his head. You know that election was heavily skewed by the actions under General Anderson's command during our conflict with the West Tennessee Republic. People don't think you had anything to do with it. They were just upset about the Fulton Massacre and everything that went with it. The election was the only way they could express their displeasure.

Well, they had it all wrong, said Reggie. If it hadn't have been for Clarence Anderson, we would have lost the Battle of Fulton and be in a world of hurt. They should know that.

So tell them, Tim said. In fact, tell them anything you want.

Over the past few months, Reggie had. He took great pains to steer clear of any topics that might come across as critical of President Campbell's administration, but there were plenty of other items to talk about and he found the experience cathartic. In other ages, presidents had written their memoirs after leaving office. The radio broadcasts suited Reggie better.

He parked his bike and climbed the steps to the radio station and then walked inside. Reggie saw Tim Reynolds speaking into a microphone in the broadcast booth, and both men waved at each other. Walking over to the coffee pot, Reggie poured himself a cup of chicory and added a dollop of honey.

Beekeeping was making a huge comeback. It was one of the many free gifts of knowledge the local Mennonites had passed to the JP people. Unable to grow sugar cane in the Kentucky climate, honey and sugar beets were the only real source of sweetener. Before N-Day, processed sweeteners had been in everything and people's withdrawal from the substance had been nearly as bad as what Reggie imagined heroin would cause. There had been theft, fights, even murder over a small packet of sugar. The bees also helped pollinate corn and other crops and required very little upkeep.

Sorry to keep you waiting, said Tim as he came out of the booth and looked at the cup in Reggie's hand. I had some instant coffee, but the sound engineer drank it all last night while replacing a switchboard.

It's okay, said Reggie. I never liked instant coffee anyway.

"No one liked instant coffee, Tim answered. Not when we had real coffee. Now it's like the most amazing cup of high-end java that has ever passed your lips, believe me."

Reggie smiled and sipped from his cup. I actually like chicory. In time, everyone will accept the loss of coffee and sugar and fast food.

Tim sighed. I guess you're right. Want to come on in?

Reggie nodded and stepped into the booth, taking his usual seat. Any agenda topics today?

He picked up a clipboard and flipped up a page. This is the first Saturday, meaning it’s medical and practical items as usual. After that, I'd like to ask your thoughts on a number of other issues that seem to be of interest to people. You want to see them first?

Shaking his head, Reggie answered, No. I like the spontaneity of it all.

Tim nodded. It adds realism and I think it helps you connect with the listeners. Comes across as more genuine. Tim looked up at the clock. You ready?

Sure, answered Reggie.

Tim pulled the microphone close, watched the clock closely for perhaps thirty seconds, and then flipped a switch. Good morning, friends. It's that time again where we get to visit with our very own Reggie Philips. The first JP President and the man many claim saved our bacon after N-Day. Welcome, Reggie.

Reggie waved a hand dismissively at Tim's introduction. Thank you, Tim, but I didn't save anyone's bacon. We all did it together.

As modest as ever; answered Tim. One of the reasons we love you. Can you talk a little bit about the health situation? I know you have many friends at the hospital.

Certainly, answered Reggie. You will be excited to know that Dr. Bobby Wilson has been able to conduct successful blood transfusions lately for people suffering serious blood loss.

How is that possible? asked Tim. The hospitals can't do lab work anymore.

That's not exactly true. They don't have the technical capability to do advanced laboratory work, but simple tests are possible.

So, how do they determine blood type? asked Tim. From my understanding, giving someone the wrong type of blood is sometimes fatal.

Indeed it is, answered Reggie. Dr. Wilson and his team have been able to determine blood type by analyzing samples under a microscope. Different blood types each have very distinct shapes and can therefore be differentiated.

That's amazing, said Tim. But it sounds like something that takes time.

True, answered Reggie. It is best if people know their blood type, but we have discovered that many don't. This test allows us to find out.

And determine who can be a blood donor, said Tim.

Reggie nodded. Yes, Bobby is also building a database of all patients' blood types and is asking anyone who knows their blood type to register. That will allow us to reach out to people when there is a need. He is also offering free blood-type tests for anyone who wishes to know.

I certainly would, said Tim. And I encourage our listeners to go to the Murray Hospital and see Dr. Wilson for this new test. What else in the medical realm, Reggie?

Bobby also told me that they have recently seen more cases of typhoid.

Typhoid? said Tim. That comes from drinking bad water, right?

Yes, said Reggie. More and more people are drinking water from streams and ponds, but there could be runoff from farms or livestock in the water. Dr. Wilson wanted me to encourage everyone to get their water from a trusted well or to boil their water for at least ten minutes before drinking it. He also wants people to wear sunglasses when they go outside during the day.

Sunglasses?

He's seeing more cases of severe sunburns with people who work outside extensively, far more than usual, Reggie explained. Although he can't prove anything, Dr. Wilson believes that the nuclear explosions from N-Day may have somehow harmed the ozone layer, allowing in more ultraviolet rays from the sun. These rays are normal, but too much can cause severe sunburns and harm your retinas over time. With that said, he doesn't want to alarm anyone. This is nothing like the Nuke Blindness we saw early on from refugees who had witnessed an actual nuclear explosion. Simply a prudent precaution.

Better safe than sorry, I guess, said Tim. Bobby Wilson sounds like a busy man.

Reggie nodded. Indeed he is. He wanted me to dispel the rumors and myths going around about the unclean conditions at the hospital. The staff there takes great pains to keep the facility hygienic.

I haven't heard that one, said Tim. What is that about?

Reggie sighed. We are short on antibiotics and Dr. Wilson has been exploring more...let us say...traditional methods to prevent infection and to clean wounds.

Could you expound on some of these traditional methods?

Reggie looked a little uncomfortable. Well, the primary one he uses—and please hear me out, folks—is maggots.

Maggots! said Tim.

Yes, answered Reggie. "What most people don't realize is that