A New Age Dawns Read online

  SILVER:

  A New Age Dawns

  Written By

  Keira Michelle Telford

  Copyright © Keira Michelle Telford 2012

  Venatic Press

  All Rights Reserved

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

  Chimera & Cover Artwork by

  Kitt Lapeña

  www.facebook.com/scarypet

  scarypet.deviantart.com

  Other Books in the Series…

  SILVER: Acheron (A River of Pain)

  SILVER: The Lost & Damned

  SILVER: Entropy

  WWW.ELLACROSS.COM

  JOIN THE FIGHT

  Amaranthe & Surrounding Area

  (Circa 2349 CE)

  Chimera

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ZERO

  I Am What I Am

  Leonine District (3rd Reclamation Territory)

  Amaranthe, 2349 CE

  – Present Day

  Purge fluid oozes through the cargo net and drips down onto dew covered blades of grass beneath.

  Hoisted into the air with steel rope and suspended between two metal rods, the net hangs six feet off the ground. Inside it, three human corpses slowly rot. Rats have found the feast and they scale the rods, tightrope walking over the steel wire to get to the meal inside.

  But the lure isn’t meant for them.

  The corpse on the bottom is in black putrefaction: the stage of decay in which the flesh is slipping off the bone and the innards have turned to mush. Loose, black, wrinkled skin sags through the holes in the cargo net, beginning to tear. Where the flesh is already torn, the juicy purge fluids leak out.

  The rats love it, but so do elderly Chimera. Losing their teeth due to age and bad dental hygiene, the decaying meat is easy to pull apart and the fluids can be lapped up without the need to chew.

  The next body in the cargo net is green. In the stage before black putrefaction, the purge fluids are still mostly contained within the body. Some intestinal fluids have begun to leak out through the anus, but the body is still in full bloat.

  Swollen to twice its original size around the torso and lower abdomen, the corpse looks like an ugly balloon, waiting to be popped. Baby Chimera love this stage of decay. Their small talons can pierce the skin easily, and the insides are gooey and warm, fermenting for many weeks inside the human shell of an oven.

  The third body is fresh.

  Pale skin is blanched, and rigor hasn’t yet subsided. Male Chimera and healthy adult females crave the taste of fresh meat. There are more nutrients in it, and the males need the protein for energy to hunt, and to support their considerable muscle mass.

  Of course, first, they have to figure out how to get it down. Pawing at it from the ground, the cargo net is just out of their reach. They whimper and whine, one Chimera shrilling into the air to draw in others of their kind.

  But the meat isn’t the only lure.

  Testing out a new kind of bait, the Hunter Division has synthesized a Chimeran estrus pheromone. Atop the metal rods, a diffuser emits the pheromone into the air, drawing all sexually mature males toward this very spot.

  And it works.

  Horny males, their penises already erect, their testicles swollen with anticipation, swagger around looking for receptive females. When they find one, they fight over her. Two live-or-die brawls are already taking place just a few feet away from the cargo net. Just a few feet away from Silver.

  In the ruins of Old World Manhattan, Silver’s standing in the southwest corner of what was once a park. A long time ago, it was called Central Park. Soon, it will become the Leonine District. For now, it’s an Out District wasteland, populated with Chimera.

  And Silver is alone.

  Watching them.

  Her regulation Hunter Division boots are muddy and scuffed, but the rest of her uniform is pristine. As usual, her regulation helmet is conspicuously absent.

  Standing perfectly still, the Chimera—distracted by the rotting meat and the stench of sexual readiness—are oblivious to her presence. One lonely male, unable to find a willing mate, his undersized erect penis dribbling pre-ejaculatory fluid onto the ground, rubs himself against a tree stump for sexual gratification.

  Another male, equally frustrated by the lack of suitable females, mounts another male—a younger, weaker male—and forces himself inside the other’s asshole. The younger male shrieks in pain and digs his talons into the dirt, blood dripping from his mouth as he bites down on his own tongue.

  Silver looks away.

  As the first rays of dawn break over the crumbling remains of humanity, a breeze ripples through the air and her scent is carried into the nostrils of any Chimera standing downwind.

  The male on the tree stump ejaculates and collapses into his own mess. He’ll be out cold for a few minutes. Meanwhile, the dominant male of the other fornicating pair is momentarily distracted by Silver, and the younger male exploits the chance to get free.

  He bucks, kicking the other male in the testicles, then pulls forward. The other male loses his balance and falls back, tearing the younger male’s asshole open as he quickly withdraws, spraying his load into the air—and his own face—as he tumbles to the ground unconscious.

  A baby Chimera is the first one to take a proper interest in Silver.

  By the others, she’s almost completely ignored.

  There have to be thirty Chimera within eyeshot, but none of them offer her even so much as a glance. One young female, utterly disinterested, yawns and lies down on the soft grass.

  A single tear rolls down Silver’s cheek.

  They should all be huffing and posturing and preparing for an attack.

  They should be eager to feed.

  The baby Chimera runs toward her feet, enticing her to play.

  She kicks it away, dropping cross-legged onto the damp, crisp morning earth. Her head hung low, another tear escapes. She wipes it away with the back of her hand and reaches for her hunting knife.

  Pulling the blade from its sheath, she admires the sharp, clean steel. This weapon, bathed in the blood of victory a thousand times before, begins to glisten with her own blood as she runs it deep against the palm of her already scarred hand.

  Dark red liquid spills from the fresh wound and stains the ground below. It rolls delicately down individual blades of grass in tiny, perfect droplets and quickly soaks into the thirsty dirt. A daisy’s petals catch the droplets like rain, holding them on their surface like tiny oceans.

  Still, the Chimera do not come.

  They raise their noses into the air, acknowledging that blood has been shed, but they make no attempt to attack … until one young female from the back of the pack gets to her feet. It’s an adolescent, perhaps only eighteen months of age. Shy at first, it smells the air and approaches Silver with its head placed submissively low to the ground.

  Silver senses the movement and looks up at the Chimera, her vision blurred by tears. Crawling forward, the Chimera lies down at Silver’s feet and reaches out its neck toward her bleeding hand.

  Silver doesn’t even flinch.

  The Chimera pushes its nose against Silver’s palm, smearing her blood all over its face, and Silver waits for the grin of teeth about to bite, or the first snarl of intent.

  She’s disappointed.

  At first, the Chimera’s eager tongue explores the blood upon its own lips, licking itself clean. Then, it nuzzles itself back into Silver’s wounded palm, lapping up the blood with as much tenderness and care that a monster could ever
possess.

  Silver withdraws her hand from the beast and breaks down into countless, uncontrollable tears. She pushes the animal away and gets to her feet while it cowers in fear before her, soon running for the safety of its mother.

  Silver turns and walks away. As she makes her exit from the park, a massive herd of Chimera parts in front of her, showing displays of deference all around. Stepping into the street, she pulls a small object from her vest pocket.

  A remote detonator.

  Wiping the tears away from her eyes and drawing up strength back into herself, she pushes the button. Behind her, Old World Central Park is decimated by a series of C-4 explosions, and the Chimera within it are blown to pieces. The air is filled with their dying howls, echoing in the empty Old World streets as Silver makes her way back toward the Sentinel District.

  The Third Reclamation is now well underway.

  PART ONE

  Action

  CHAPTER ONE

  Disconnect

  The Sentinel District

  Amaranthe, 2349 CE

  – Present Day

  Alex checks his watch for the hundredth time.

  Forty minutes ago, the explosion in the Leonine District shook the foundations of the Dual Division Headquarters where he was prepping his Agents for the day shift, and it hadn’t taken him long to isolate the cause: Silver.

  She should be back by now, and he’s about thirty seconds away from picking up the phone to the Deputy General—Rachel ‘Red’ Jenkins—and insisting that she send in some reinforcements.

  Twenty …

  Fifteen …

  Ten …

  When at last his continued patience is rewarded with the creaking and grinding of the rising gate to the Bin—the containment area between the external and internal city gates—he’s flooded with relief, quickly followed by anger.

  He folds his arms and waits for her at the head of a small group of armed Police Division Agents, all standing in formation in front of their armored trucks, facing the gate. As Silver emerges, Alex’s jaw tightens. He locks eyes with her, hoping for a pleasant exchange of words, but prepared for a fight.

  She looks him up and down and his appearance makes her visibly tense. In fact, she becomes nauseous at the very first glance of him. She can’t help it. Finding him dressed in the expensive tailored suit and shined leather shoes that have become commonplace of late, he lacks any semblance of the heart-swelling virility that a Police Division combat uniform might provide. Her stomach fails to perform even the faintest hint of a somersault.

  Not even a weak tumble.

  Every inch of him is immaculately groomed, and it seems as though he looks less and less like himself every day. His salt-and-pepper hair, the gray now slowly overtaking the black, is usually perfectly unkempt, but today it’s seen the teeth of a comb. He’s clean shaven, and the scent of his cologne drifts into Silver’s nostrils on the breeze. It masks the odor of a late night spent in a bar, and of all the debauchery that comes with it.

  Masks it, but doesn’t eliminate it.

  She tries to conceal a sudden swell of revulsion at the thought of it, but she can tell by Alex’s clenched teeth that her attempts to hide her emotions have failed. He can read her too well. He can see that she’s repulsed by him, though he doesn’t know the reason why. He doesn’t know how acute her senses have become in recent months.

  He doesn’t realize how she’s come to expect to find the stink of dishonesty lingering on his clothing beneath the cover up of cigarettes, or to see the same sour expression on his face every time he looks at her.

  He’s not the man she fell in love with.

  He’s not the man she married.

  She tries to move past him without offering him any acknowledgement, but he has other ideas. He reaches out and grabs her by the arm with force, jerking her roughly back in toward him.

  “You broke protocol.”

  Silver shakes her arm free. “It’s not the first time.”

  Noticing the blood, he reaches out for her hand, but she evades his clumsy solicitation of closeness with ease.

  “What happened to you?” His voice is softer now, more concerned than angry.

  “Nothing a few stitches can’t fix, Commissioner.” She puts emphasis on his title, throwing in more than a touch of disdain.

  The last waves of anger begin to dissipate from his hazelnut eyes as he pins his gaze on her injured hand, her blood dripping onto the asphalt. He feels concern, but all Silver sees is pity. Her own eyes betray the remnants of her hopeless tears, and a persistent sadness that she hasn’t been able to shake in months.

  He can tell that she’s been crying, but she doesn’t give him the opportunity to engage her on the subject. Instead, she pushes past him and storms briskly away, leaving him alone, and with the eyes of his staff fixed unwaveringly upon him.

  Planting his hands on his hips, he knows he can’t go after her. His men await his orders, and even if he could leave, she’d only push him further away.

  “Tell the Governor the detonation was successful.” He sighs. “Prepare for the next phase of reclamation.”

  *************************

  Back at home, her self-mutilated hand now expertly bandaged, and all the blood washed off her simple, sterling silver wedding band, Silver tosses her weapons onto the kitchen table, followed by her jacket and Kevlar vest. She rummages around in the fridge, poking around behind leftover meat, cheese and bread, seeking out something to quench her thirst.

  A bottle of water.

  She downs half the bottle before she hears the front door open and slam shut.

  Alex is home.

  Appearing in the kitchen behind her, “What was that?”

  She ignores him.

  “Why all the attitude you gave me at the gate?” he persists. “I thought we were over this.”

  “I guess not.”

  Silence.

  Agitated, Alex subconsciously fidgets with his wedding ring: a sterling silver band with an Ella Cross symbol engraved into it. “The detonation wasn’t scheduled until this afternoon.”

  Silver shrugs. “You get a higher kill rate at dawn.”

  “No shit. You don’t have to tell me that—that’s Hunter Division 101—but you were the one who made the schedule, General.” He growls out her title with the same contempt she showed his earlier.

  “Oops.”

  She tries to take another sip of the water, but her nonchalance is pissing Alex off. He strides over to her and snatches the bottle out of her hand, accidentally spilling some on himself.

  “You think I’m new here, Silver? You think I don’t know you? You wanted to be out there alone, that much is clear. My only questions is—” He cuts himself off, smelling something on his fingers. “Wait, what is this?” He sniffs the bottle, then takes a sip.

  Rum.

  He tosses it in the sink, pouring the rest of it down the drain. “It’s eight o’clock in the morning, for god’s sake.” He leans on the sink, exasperated. “What’re you doing to yourself?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  He turns back to face her. “Do you even care?”

  She does. He can tell by the tears in her eyes.

  Risking rejection, he reaches out for her shoulders. “What were you doing in the Leonine District by yourself?”

  “Conducting an experiment.”

  He takes her wounded hand in his. “What kind of experiment?”

  Defensive, she pulls back her hand. “I don’t report to you.”

  “Fair enough, but I’m not asking you because I’m the Chief of Police.”

  “No?”

  “No.” He cups her face in his hands. “I’m asking you because I’m your husband.”

  Her tears almost break free.

  Almost.

  He scoops up her bandaged hand again. “What did you do out there?”

  This time, she lets him inspect the wound.

  “I had a minor disagreement with a sharp object.
”

  “You did this to yourself?”

  “Is that what I said?”

  She doesn’t have to; Alex has seen it before.

  The same cut along the same old scar.

  “Silver …”

  “What do you think I am, Alex?”

  He looks at her for clarification of the question. “You’re my wife.”

  Silver shakes her head, staring down at her feet. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  The tears finally fall. “They should’ve tried to kill me. Why didn’t they try to …”

  Alex lifts her head up to face him. “You’re my wife. Nothing else matters.”

  Silver sweeps his hand away. “It does to me.”

  Disappearing into another room, she leaves him alone with a flurry of concerns. Itching for relief of the tension building within him, he reaches for cigarettes and a lighter and steps out onto the balcony.

  Lighting up his fifth cigarette of the day, his cell phone begins to ring.

  He answers it. “What’s up, boss?”

  “I’m not your boss,” Maydevine’s deep voice booms back at him.

  “Whatever you say, boss.” Alex smirks.

  “You got some time today?”

  “Well, Silver finished up in Sector Thirty-nine ahead of schedule.” A puff of the cigarette. “I’ve got a few hours to kill before the paperwork is due for the next phase of reclamation.”

  “Good. I have something to show you.”

  “Will I go blind if I look at it?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Ooh, an element of risk. I like that.”

  “Are you coming or not?”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  By the time Silver gets out of the shower, he’s already gone.

  CHAPTER TWO