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The Emissary: Homeward: Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse, #3
The Emissary: Homeward: Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse, #3
The Emissary: Homeward: Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse, #3
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The Emissary: Homeward: Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse, #3

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Bethany McLeod is the Emissary - bringing the remnants of humanity together in an alliance to save the human race. 

Bethany McLeod, her younger sisters Dani and Julie are homeward bound for Dunvegan castle. To cement the shaky alliance between the McLeod and Davidson clans, they're bringing former soldiers Zack Hetzier and Hector Sanchez back to Dunvegan for training.

However, Sanchez has infected wounds, a storm is coming, and the best shelter is a storage yard claimed by starving refugees.

Can Bethany strike up a true alliance with these refugees or is she putting her sisters and the horses at risk? Pressed for time, but determined to do what's right, Beth makes  decisions that will change her life forever. 

This story is suitable for all ages. 

LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 15, 2018
ISBN9781540181404
The Emissary: Homeward: Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse, #3
Author

K. A. Jordan

K. A. Jordan was a refugee from the Rust Belt who escaped to the Blue Grass Kentucky in 1992. She writes and blogs from 'Jordan's Croft' a small farm where she lives with her husband, three horses, three dogs and a herd of alpacas. She says of her writing: "There are no 'ripped bodices' in my novels, but you will find charming criminals, wounded heroes, mad artists and the occasional haunted motorcycle." Her debute novel "Let's Do Lunch" spent 10 weeks on the Amazon UK Romantic Suspence Best Sellers list, peaking at #3, in December 2011. She followed that success with "Swallow the Moon" and "Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse."  She holds a degree in Applied Science, spins her own yarn, gardens and can often be found on the back of her husband's Suzuki M109 motorcycle.

Read more from K. A. Jordan

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    The Emissary - K. A. Jordan

    The Emissary - Homeward

    Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse Book III

    By K. A. Jordan

    BETHANY MCLEOD IS THE Emissary - bringing the remnants of humanity together in an alliance to save the human race. Proving to everyone that women aren't just helpless zombie bait.

    Bethany McLeod, her younger sisters Dani and Julie are homeward bound for Dunvegan castle. To cement the shaky alliance between the McLeod and Davidson clans, they're bringing former soldiers Zack Hetzier and Hector Sanchez back to Dunvegan for training.

    However, Sanchez has infected wounds, a storm is coming, and the best shelter is a storage yard claimed by starving refugees. Can Bethany strike up a true alliance with these refugees or is she putting her sisters and the horses at risk? Pressed for time, but determined to do what's right, Beth makes  decisions that will change her life forever.

    This story is suitable for all ages.

    The Emissary - Homeward

    Horsewomen of the Zombie Apocalypse Book III

    By K. A. Jordan

    Copyright © 2016 by K. A. Jordan

    Published by Icy Road Publishing

    All rights reserved.

    ALL THE CHARACTERS in this series are the products of the author's imagination, except for Brother Erazmus Hamilton IV who is based on the Reverend Deuteronomy Jackson, and the horses. Bless you, Reverend Jackson for joining us in the Zombie Apocalypse.

    The names of the horses have been changed, since they can't read, they don't mind.

    Electronic Edition, License Notes:

    THIS E-BOOK WAS LICENSED for your personal enjoyment.

    If you would like to share this e-book with another person, please purchase an additional copy. If you're reading this e-book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your exclusive use, then please return to the e-book store and purchase your own copy.

    If you enjoyed this story, please leave this book a positive review somewhere. Positive reviews are as precious as money to an independent author.

    Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Prologue III

    THE METEOR WAS DISCOVERED by a couple honeymooning at the Gulf of California, December 21, 2012. The meteor was large, round, and light for its size. They brought it home to Mexico City and sold it to an amateur collector. It was the prize of his rock collection until he died, then his heirs threw out the rock collection.

    The meteor got stuck in the garbage truck mechanism and jammed it so thoroughly, three guys needed a sledgehammer to break it into pieces.

    The next morning, all three men were dragged to the hospital, raving, biting, and foaming at the mouth.

    It was too late for the human race.

    The infected, dubbed the muerto viviente — living dead —  spread the infection from Mexico City to the rest of the Americas. Los Angeles, California and Phoenix, Arizona went up in flames before they became cities of muerto.

    In one summer, the infection took out fifty percent of the population of North America. When winter came, another thirty percent died from lack of electricity, clean water, and imported food.

    Those who survived were scattered in rural areas or isolated pockets, mostly the rural poor, small farmers, survivalists, and militias; all but the strongest communities were prey for ruthless marauders.

    A network of doomsday prepper families communicate via ham radio, exchanging news and encouragement. In the spring of Year Three, on the edge of Kentucky's Daniel Boone National Forest, Clan McLeod offered to send Alexis McLeod, a healer, to help the Davidson clan, over one hundred miles away. Beth McLeod and younger sisters, Dani and Julie, offered to join Alexis on the dangerous journey to the Davidson compound on horseback.

    THUS FAR IN THE EMISSARY the McLeod sisters traveled over a hundred miles across Kentucky to Fort Chatten. Barely ahead of a muerto swarm, the sisters cross paths with the 'Fort Chatten Welcoming Committee' led by Tyler Davidson.

    The enlarged party was safer from muerto, but tensions inside the group divide them. The men prefer trucks and guns, they don't see the value of passing quietly through the countryside.

    The men go so far as to suggest leaving the horses behind, which puts the two groups at odds. Tempers flare. At the small town of Mill Creek the sisters and their battle-trained horses prove their worth. They clear the way to the bridge on the other side of town, killing the howler, that blocks their way.

    Arriving at Fort Chatten they find the apathetic Davidson clan in deep disarray. They have very little fresh food, subsisting on looted canned goods from grocery stores. Their alcoholic leader and most of the women are cowering in a fort made of shipping containers while the livestock runs loose and gardens are left un-planted.

    The McLeod and Davidson women band together to get the Clan back on track, but it's an uphill battle. Aaron would rather build a whiskey still than put in a garden or finish the wooden palisade that would expand their safe zone.

    Beth, Dani, and Julie go hunting at a nearby pig farm. Their successful hunt temporarily revitalizes the Davidson clan.

    Three feral horses follow the McLeod girls home from the pig farm. Julie catches the horses, increasing the number of livestock. Unfortunately, a hungry bear has also followed the McLeod women home, causing more havoc.

    However, time has run out for Beth and her younger sisters. They must take the long journey home. Beth says goodbye to Alexis, taking her two sisters, Dani and Julie and the two former soldiers, Zack and Hector back to Dunvegan.

    This is the tale of their homeward journey.

    The Emissary: Homeward

    Chapter 1

    IT WAS EVENING, RAIN clouds gathered overhead, as a party of five riders and seven horses survey the ruins of the burned houses below. The horses kept side-stepping, trying to put their rumps to the rising wind. Four of the horses were alike in color and compact build, with black stockinged legs and golden coats, two splashed with white patches. Two were tall, thin, bay Quarter horses; the last was a big bony Belgian draft horse, carrying packs.

    Atop the hill, Bethany McLeod, stood in her stirrups, scanning the landscape through binoculars. Below them the road led through acres of burned out houses. Three subdivisions clustered together, charred to ruins, including food marts, strip malls and assorted small businesses.

    The entire valley had been systematically torched. It was scattered with muerto — mindless walking dead who attacked anything that moved.

    This sucks, Beth said. All she could see were burned buildings and scorched grass. They had to find a safe way around this mess, or worse, go through it.

    She handed the binoculars to Zack Hetzier of the Davidson clan, who studied the situation, swore and handled the binoculars back. He was a big man, with dark hair and blue eyes, dressed in Army camouflage and a dark t-shirt. His bay Quarter horse was tired from the day's ride, but the smell of muerto made the horse fidget with his bit.

    Does the map show any roads around this? Zack held out his hand for the map.

    It's gonna rain, Dani, Beth's younger sister, grumbled. I hate riding in wet leather.

    Where are we gonna find shelter when everything is burned? Julie stood in her stirrups, shading her eyes. We need grazing for the horses, too. Her bony draft horse nuzzled her shoulder as if in agreement.

    The only place that's got grass is the storage yard. Dani pointed to the green spot in the landscape. It was a big storage yard, three sections of twelve foot high fence each surrounding an acre of sheds. The interior of the center section was obscured by slats threaded through the chain link fence.

    The section of yard closest to them had gone wild. The gravel was grass grown. The tops of campers, trailers, boats, cars, trucks and RVs peeked above last year's weeds. Row after row of storage units with block walls and metal roofing squatted behind the row of parked vehicles. The road to the storage unit was relatively clear of muerto — at the moment.

    Getting there would be another story. As soon as the horse's hooves hit the pavement, the muerto would hear and start swarming.

    Beth looked over at Hector Sanchez, also of clan Davidson, who sat slumped in his saddle, exhausted, as was the horse he rode. This was his and Zack's first full day in the saddle, they had to be hurting. Their horses had run wild for a couple of years and were in poor shape, carrying the men had exhausted them as well.

    Hector was also wounded, his thigh clawed by a bear. Beth had no doubt the wound pained him and she admired the fact that he was still in the saddle at all.

    Her horse and her sisters' were sleek Spanish mustangs, bred for endurance and harsh conditions in the deserts of the West. Beth's father, Kenneth McLeod had chosen the breed for its phenomenal endurance. They could do 100 miles in a day and be fresh as roses the next morning.

    Both Zack and Hector's horses were thin and shaggy. Beth figured it would take them at least four days to cover a hundred miles, a distance she and her sisters could have done easily in two, and if need be, in one.

    Her train of thought was interrupted by a splatter of rain on her face. Beth made up her mind.

    I guess we'll have to try the storage yard.

    They crossed the road next to the black ruin of a truck nearly buried by charred bodies. The smell of oil was an undertone to the pungent stench of charred muerto.

    Look at all the muerto, Zack pointed. There has to be a hundred at least. He turned his horse towards the torched truck. Beth stayed away from the center of the mess, her horse fastidiously picking her way around the edge. Hector rode his horse around the mass of charcoal muerto, pointing to the truck nearly buried in the midst of it.

    The sound of hooves on pavement echoed, eerily. A few muerto paused their mindless shuffling at the sound of hooves. They raised their heads, dead eyes searching for movement.

    Muerto were drawn by sound and movement; the louder the noise the more frantically they pursued it.  Rhythmic noises like engines or hoof-beats were especially attractive.

    The bar was rigged to beat on the can, Hector said, pointing at the scorched and melted metal bar on a pivot. It must have brought in the muerto, then someone set them on fire.

    Great idea. Too bad it didn't work. Beth stood in her stirrups, scanning the area. This area is crawling with stinkers.

    Not like it was, Hector said, looking at the piled bodies.

    "Let's go before they get here." Zack scanned the area, noting the muerto were shuffling in their direction.

    They took to the grass, zig-zagging down the streets to confuse the muerto. They crossed another burned area —  this one was much older — to get to the storage yard.

    Beth's horse, Mist, raised her head, her ears zeroing in on the enclosed storage yard. She nickered softly, as she often did when she smelled kids. The center section was obscured from sight by fiberglass slats, but Mist's ears were zeroed in like radar.

    A child's laughter floated in the air, like the kiss of spring after a long winter.

    Beth grinned, Mist always knew when there were kids around.

    There are people in there? Julie stood in her stirrups to see better.

    How do we make contact? Dani asked.

    Easy. Zack pulled out his rifle.

    Good God - don't do that! Beth protested grabbing his arm. You'll get us all killed!

    Surely the lookout has seen us by now. Dani stood in her stirrups, shading her eyes to get a better look.

    You stay here. Beth shot a disgusted look at Zack. I can do this quietly. She walked her horse towards the storage yard gate. The echo of hoof beats brought people peering at them through the slats. Beth held empty hands open, chest high, waiting for someone to come. Voices drifted through the fence - the word 'horses' was repeated several times.

    Soon two armed men came to the gate. They glared at Beth from a space between the two gates. Beth could feel at least a dozen pairs of eyes on her. Bobbing her head, Mist blew air through her nose in a soft, rolling snort.

    A child giggled at the sound.

    Hello, I'm Bethany McLeod from Clan McLeod, Beth said in an even tone. We're a party of five, with seven horses looking for shelter for the night.

    Sorry, can't help you. The speaker was a big, clean-shaved man, with a gaunt face and no meat on him. His clothes were ragged but clean and neatly patched. He held a shotgun across his chest, not aimed at Beth.

    A married man, Beth guessed. Someone made sure he shaved, cut his hair and kept his clothes mended. In contrast, the man beside him had long, tangled hair, a bearded face, and filthy, tattered clothing. No woman was looking after him.

    Beth pegged him for trouble.

    Mist looked up and down the fence, head bobbing, ears flickering.

    From the other side of the fence, a child asked Can I pet the horse? and was hushed.

    Beth engaged the leader again.

    We can pay you — in food, Beth said letting Mist step closer.

    Give us a horse to eat. The wild-haired man laughed. Then we'll talk.

    We've got kids in here, the leader said. Move on.

    Beth turned in the saddle, raising her voice so Dani could hear her. Dani, get me a sack of trade beans. She heard Dani rummage in the draft horse's pack. Most refugees ate from a common stew pot. It was the easiest way to feed a large number of people. Beans were protein, something people craved and filling.

    What if I gave you something besides horse for your stew pot? With a low whistle, Dani told Beth she had

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