The Wild World

By James Hugh Comey

It's 374 years after earth and everything on it was clobbered by quadruple cataclysms. Life has a twistedly medieval flavor in what's left of Pennsylvania. Literacy and possession of texts is a capital crime, except for the Federation of Librarians.

 

A ruthless, retail monarch holds the hodepodge culture together. But, all is not well. Mutants, Haters and Horrors are on the move. They've waited centuries to strike down those responsible for their unnatural condition ... Humans. Things are looking bad. Very bad!

 

A kick-ass Warrior/Librarian, her massive war horse, and a whip-smart border collie must unravel a riddle/warning, travel with a crew of unexpected companions, and save humanity. The heroes have issues; the villains surprising backstories. Violence erupts. Hearts are broken and sometimes mended. And relucant friendships are forged in an unforgiving but wickedly funny, wild world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Comey
• Release date: Jan 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9780983105114

James Hugh Comey

James Hugh Comey is an award-winning writer and retired educator. Over 100,000 children have seen his musical plays. His CDs were awarded a Parents' Choice Award, and his adapted film received two Silver Telly Awards. He's been published in national and international journals and acted in industrial and corporate films. He taught from middle school through graduate school levels and holds a doctorate from the University of Pennsylvania. When not writing, he's often found riding his motorcycle on twisty, country roads. His novels are available at most sites.

Book preview

Chapter One

‘Nadian Geese

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All things counter, original, spare, strange ...

~ Gerard Manley Hopkins

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Masso farted loudly. The surface of the large pond puckered as foot long tadpoles dove for the murky bottom.

He waited. He knew what was coming.

What the mangy lizards’ lips? Splinter blasted into his brain. You just announced us to half the Mutants, Haters and Horrors in West Nottingham!

Masso tried to keep his mind calm.

Splinter was pissed. They were on assignment and all, but, come on!  The plump shoots he had been nibbling just inside the thick woods were so damn sweet and tender. It wasn’t his fault he ate too much. Or had a sensitive stomach. Or needed a serious amount of stuff to fill up his massive frame every couple of hours.

Pre-QC (Quadruple Cataclysms), his ancestors had been Belgian draft horses for the Amish in Lank-Aster County. Busting their asses all day, six days a week, plowing and hauling and tearing out stumps. At 19.5 hands and 3,200 pounds, Masso was a substantial war horse.

He knew better to send back attitude when she was this riled. They had been waiting hours for the ‘Nadian Goose to show, and that was after half a day’s searching through prickly brambles to find this damn spot.

It had been a credible enough tip from Manny Yunk, one of Splinter’s better Canaries. Manny was one step away from a long term stay in the less than plush accommodations in the King of Prussia’s bargain basement cells. He knew better than giving Splinter crap intel.

It’s comin’ in on a ‘Nadian Goose, the package is, Manny said. Don’t know what’s inside but given the drop’s at the only clear pond someways north off Balty Moor, that pre-QC road what snakes its way down toward the Susquehanny Bay, it’s got to be prized. That area’s West Nottingham. You’d better watch yourself down there. Lots of Bandit types hittin’ the Freighters on Balty Moor hallin’ goods to the King and his ilk.

He then leaned in close to Splinter and whispered, I’ve even heard some Haters are workin’ for some of the Mutants and Horrors in those parts.

She wasn’t overly concerned.  She was Splinter Long Oar, Librarian, Mind Scanner with gold eagle palms, and Slayer. The nasty scars on her and Masso from years of going into places that most sane people ran from had given her brass and stone confidence.

They never gave her patience, though.

If you scared off that feckin’ ‘Nadian Goose, Splinter sent, you’re in deep shit, you big...

Masso’s ears lifted at the same time Splinter’s sending went silent.

‘Nadian Geese were honking. They were approaching high from the north east, moving fast.

Masso and Splinter immediately sank lower into the shadows of the thick woods. Their heart beats and breathing went into synch. This was pre-battle. This was the calm before the shit storm.

Feck, Splinter whispered into Masso’s ear. Three of them. You know what that means.

Masso did. And he wasn’t happy about it. Not one bit.

Taking a package away from one ‘Nadian Goose took some savvy. Dealing with three was seriously stupid.

They were in a tight V formation. There were two males, both six foot at the head, maybe 150 pounds each, and a female just a tad smaller. They wore body armor crafted from the scales of water snakes. The armor would stop an arrow from piercing. Its electrical properties thwarted efforts to enter their minds.

Only their eyes and ears were uncovered. An archer would have to be an incredible shot to bring one down. A Mind Scanner would seriously hurt herself if she clipped even one of the scales attempting entry while the birds were in flight.

Their beaks were long with ridges of razor-sharp teeth. If one of these birds struck her, either from the air or ground, it would kill her.

Plus, ‘Nadian Geese had grown to favor meat, when they could find it. She would add a tasty variety to the pond vegetation and grasses nearby.

Still locked into pre-QC instinct, they honked loudly and swept over the pond.

Splinter watched the lead male, concentrating on his eyes. The bird was looking down, assessing. With barely more sensation than the wind rushing over his nose, she entered his left eye membrane. She was in.

She closed her own eyes. Masso inched closer to her. She was completely vulnerable now, and he’d be damned if anyone or anything, human, animal, or Mutant, would ever harm a hair on her thick, stubborn head.

Water clean, the male lead goose honked to his companions.

Splinter understood him. She could feel his back muscles driving long, arched wings. Blood was surging through his broad chest. She was part of this powerful animal now, a Warrior connected to a Warrior.

No scum, the male off his right wing honked.

Splinter understood the double meaning. No scum: there was no algae for a Horror to hide under before it grabbed them. Also: no immediate sign of humans.

Catfish maybe, the female off his left wing honked.

The female was smart. She knew that catfish, some 15 feet long, often waited without moving at the very bottom of a pond when they sensed shadows above. Catfish had also developed a taste for meat.

She’s carrying the package, Splinter thought in the cloistered part of her brain.

The lead goose didn’t sense her thought. This was her secret place, her no admittance sanctuary. Nothing was allowed. No Mains or Mods. No Mutants. Not another Scanner. Not even Magister Kwai Chang Caine.

Some over the years had tried to enter it and failed. Most had no clue it was even there.

The geese circled the pond and thick trees three times.  Splinter could feel they had come a long distance. They were tired and wanted to land. To be rid of the package.

But the woods were still uncertain. The dense tree canopy blocked their vision, but it also meant a winged enemy had to break through it to reach them.

Their wings were giving out. She ever so gently probed for who had sent them here.

She felt a tinge of revulsion. Whoever was paying for this was...

She backed off when her vision began to blur. The ‘Nadian Goose was shaking his head.

Danger? the female honked, alarmed. Fly away?

He shook his head again. Splinter relaxed her contact until it was almost gone.

Too fast. Too high, the ‘Nadian Goose thought. No scan.

Nothing, he honked. Drop wings. Land.

The ground was coming quickly. They were all coming in hot.

They landed in a cluster on soft grass on the north side of the pond. Splinter’s nose was flooded with something moist and earthy. Her human mouth began to water.  The other male was standing at full extension, his neck stretched to maximum. He was tracking the entire area.

We’re standing point, Splinter thought in her cloistered place.

The surface of the pond and the woods beyond kept appearing in quick bursts. She heard bird sounds and pond sounds. There was a calm breeze. All seemed safe for the moment. That could change in a heartbeat.

The female turned her head to the left and immediately half flew toward a tall clump of weeds away from the pond.

She quickly bent her neck and released bindings that held a black tube to the armor on her left leg.  She placed the tube on the ground and glanced over at her companions. They were still tracking, their handsome black heads turning, ever vigilant.

She had known them since they were goslings. They had trained together. They had flown and fought together. They were swift and strong and would protect her as she would them.

She plunged her beak in the weeds and made contact.  She pulled back hard. A wide flap dropped, some weeds getting pulled down with it.

Splinter’s vision turned to look at the female and the flap. She saw faded red letters just below it.

Fe Ex.

Splinter felt muscles tighten. Her ‘Nadian Goose was sensing something.

The ‘Nadian Goose to his right suddenly bobbed his head up and down.

Scum! it honked loudly. Fly! Fly!

Oh, shit! Splinter thought and started to pull out.

Her world exploded into searing-white pain.

Chapter Two

Warm and Wet

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Rule number one: Don’t f*ck with librarians.

~ Neil Gaiman

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Warm and wet was striking her neck.

Her head was fractured. No, not her head. Her mind. Her mind was fractured. It felt like it was ripped open by jagged metal.

Warm and wet was running down her chest.

Feck, she thought, wincing. I’m bleedin’ like a bitch.

It wasn’t the first time she’d bled. It wouldn’t be the last.

Gauge injury, then find the fecker who hurt you, bubbled up from her Combative Arts Federation training memory.

Open your eyes, Splin’, Masso sent. Get up.

Splinter tried to open her eyes but they weren’t having it. Oh, no. Not today.  Not going to happen.

Do it! Masso pushed.

Splinter’s eyes flew open.

Masso’s willy was pointing down toward her.

What the feck!  You’re pissin’ on me?

You were out. I couldn’t risk dropping my head to lick your face.

Why the hell not?

His willy retracted and his whole body shifted slightly.

We have company.

She lifted herself up on her elbow with a grunt.

Four humans, two males, two females, were 15 feet away, each with a drawn longbow.

She tried to stand and bumped her head on Masso’s belly. He didn’t move.

She glanced toward the ‘Nadian Geese. They were down, an arrow protruding from each of the birds’ ears.

Sleep well, she whispered.

She unsheathed an 11 Sawback Bowie on her right hip. The 9 Knuckleduster on her left was for more intimate encounters.

One of the male humans stepped forward.

He looked to be a Main. He was clothed, and there were no extra eyes or ears or other body parts she could see. Nor did he have the markings and slobbering ferocity of a Hater.  

We thought you were dead, the man said with a strong voice.

He’s their leader, Splinter sent to Masso with a slight wince.

They’ve been watching us since they killed the ‘Nadian Geese, Masso sent. They could have attacked but didn’t.

You were linked with one of the ‘Nadian Geese when we shot them, he said. We saw you drop.

Splinter ducked behind Masso, lining herself with his front legs. His massive neck and head blocked lethal shots.  She was less of a target now.

Her lance, bow and quiver of arrows, secondary sharps, and reinforced giant snapping turtle shield were toward the rear of the saddle, too far to reach quickly.  She could numb one, maybe two, with mind-pushes. But that was under optimal conditions, and she was close to vomiting.

One of the females stepped forward, next to the man.

She was a Main, as well.

You should be dead, she called. Why aren’t you dead?

She was at ease next to the man.

Masso’s nostrils flared.

I smell them, he sent. They’re intimate.

This was vital information. She would be Splinter’s first target. It would delay the man a second or so when he turned to look at the Sawback Bowie lodged in the woman’s throat.

The other two, also Mains, fanned out behind the couple. None had changed the pressure on their bow strings. They were strong and experienced. Their shafts were straight, their points sharp.

Your war horse is brave and well trained, the man in the front called. He stood over you and stomped and bared his teeth at us. He wouldn’t leave you, even with four who could have killed him.

He paused.

Clever way to revive you, too.

You pissed on me, Splinter sent.

Your mind was shut down tight, Masso answered. I had to startle you and protect you at the same time. No choice.

Why aren’t you dead, the woman asked again. Scanners die when their connection dies. You didn’t.

Oh, feck this, Splinter sent to Masso and stepped around him.

She faced them full on.

She was well over six foot, her hair wild, filled with nettles and brambles, souvenirs of their day’s journey. Her eyes were blue, the color of the pond, and her face and neck sun-bronzed. There was a birthmark on her left cheek.

She was wearing a beat-to-hell leather jacket. The metal-studded image of a finger in front of a mouth above the left pocket was gouged and missing studs.

They froze.

A Librarian, the man in the back whispered.

Masso moved quietly next to Splinter.

They both stared coolly at the humans.

The man in the front lowered his bow. The others quickly did likewise, tense and uncertain.

Please excuse us, Librarian, the man in the front said.

Splinter stepped toward them, Masso at her side.

The woman in the front saw the gold eagle palms on both shoulders of her leather.

Now you know why I’m not dead, Splinter said to her. I kind of wish I was. My feckin’ head’s killin’ me.

The second woman began to speak when the ground behind her opened up. A yellow jacket the size of a pre-QC hawk burst from the hole. It plunged its stinger into her neck, killing her instantly.

Chapter Three

Lucifers

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Fate was working its ass off when it got us together.

~ Elmore Leonard

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All hell broke loose.

The man next to the dead woman released an arrow, driving it straight through the yellow jacket as it tried to lift off her. Then, without hesitation, he plunged the woman’s body into the opening, blocking it. Yellow jackets furiously grabbed and stung the body from below, trying to dislodge it.

We have maybe five seconds for a plan or we’re dead, the leader shouted above the buzzing fury.

The ground was vibrating.

How’s your belly? Splinter shouted to Masso, who wanted to stomp and crush something. Anything would do.

Strange question to be asking just before we die, yelled the leader.

Not for us, Splinter said. You have Lucifers?

We do, shouted his companion.

The body was starting to shake.

Line up that butt of yours and do me proud, Splinter sent Masso.

I’m going to pull out your friend, Splinter shouted. My horse is going to line up. Toss lit Lucifers when you hear the cue.

What cue? asked the woman but the man’s lips rose in a slight smile.

Splinter grabbed the woman’s body by the middle of her back. Antenna were pushing up, trying to reach Splinter’s hands.

Sleep well, she whispered to the dead woman and the yellow jackets and yanked the body clear.

The head of a yellow jacket began to rise when it was shadowed by something large.

Masso exploded, his thick tail raised high, and shifted to the left. The leader threw five lit Lucifers into the opening.

There was a Wummpp. The surface of the pond rippled.

Greenish smoke lifted out of the opening.

My ass and tail are singed a bit, Masso sent, but my belly feels much better.

Never saw that one before, the second man said.

He coughed. The smell of rotten eggs and burnt bodies was in the air.

The leader bent down by the dead woman’s body. She had been smart and good with a throwing hatchet and she loved her two children. She was pierced everywhere, her skin red and black.

We owe you our lives, he said, lifting her as if she weighed nothing.

I’ll help bury her, Splinter said. But be quick now. Between the smell and the ground shaking, all kinds of Nasties will be coming to see what’s what.

Thank you. We’ll take her home to our woods, the woman said.

She looked closely at Splinter.

Please pardon me, Librarian, but I don’t think all this was a coincidence, she said. The ‘Nadian geese coming here. Us being here. The yellow jackets being here.

I’m listenin’, Splinter said.

I’m guessing you were given a tip about the drop off way out here. Something of high value. So were we.

Splinter could hear Masso back at the plump shoots by the thick woods. For a smart horse, he was as dumb as a fecking rock sometimes.

It would have taken time for these yellow jackets to dig out this lair, the woman said. And they didn’t come out right away. They would have heard and felt us long before they showed themselves. They were told what to do.

‘You think we were set up?" Splinter asked.

I’m a thorn in the side of the Constable of West Nottingham, said the leader. Too many tariffs. Too little help with known Haters. I remove things without payment from Freighters on Balty Moor so folks hiding out with me don’t starve nor freeze.

Splinter smiled. He was brave admitting he was a Bandit.

She decided to test him.

What’s your name?

He looked at her hard. He knew she was a top-level Scanner. If he lied, she’d know.

I’m Tuff Kenamon. This here’s my wife, Rose Valley. He’s Marcus Hook. The dead woman’s Abby Willowdale.

What the hell. She could play this fess up game, as well.

I’m Splinter Long Oar.

Their eyes opened wide. Rose pointed at the birthmark on Splinter’s cheek.

We’ve heard of you, Rose said.

Big whup, Masso sent.

He was back and getting restless.

Don’t get a big head.

Splinter ignored him.

She’s the eyes and ears of the King of Prussia and his Royals, Marcus Hook said.

No, I’m the eyes and ears of the Federation of Librarians. They have their agenda. We have ours. Sometimes they overlap. Sometimes they don’t.

Are you going to give us up, asked Marcus.

His hand started to move toward his hip knife but stopped. He’d be dead before it came out of its sheath.

Splinter touched the forehead of Abby Willowdale.

Rose was right. Secret hands were at work here. Those hands killed this woman. They’d arranged for Tuff and his people to be here the same time she was, fighting and maybe killing each other over this valuable drop. When that didn’t happen, yellow jackets were the back up. Planted to kill them, then eat their bodies. No evidence they were even here. Then the black tube would be picked up later by the intended receiver. Neat and tidy.

No, she said. I’m not.

She looked over at the three ‘Nadian Geese.

You can disappear and meet up with your companions with more than your dead friend. I’m going to give you the armor of the ‘Nadian Geese to refashion or sell, and their bodies for food. I’m taking the black tube.

You don’t need to do this, Tuff said. We already owe you our lives.