The Inroad Chronicles (Book 1): Legion Seed Read online

  Legion Seed

  Book 1 of The Inroad Chronicles

  Brian Erickson

  Copyright © 2020 Brian Erickson

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  In no way, shape, or form may this text be construed as encouraging or condoning any harmful or illegal act. In no way may this text be construed as giving any sort of advice or encouragement in any sort of defensive response, or that pertaining to any sort of natural disaster, nor should it be viewed as encouraging, condoning, or instructing anything whatsoever having to do with firearms, ammunition, self defense, combat, or any sorts of laws in any place.

  ISBN: 9798602159868

  Cover design by: Brian Erickson

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  “These dark skies look like rain.” Captain Gruger cranes his neck to look through the top of the windshield.

  “They’ve been dark every day, Sir, since it started.” Private Walsh looks at the sky through the windshield and steals a glance at the captain out of the corner of her eye.

  “Not like this, this is storm dark.” Captain Gruger straightens his hat. “You believe in omens, Private?”

  “Omens, Sir?”

  “Yeah, superstitions.”

  “Maybe, I never really think about it, Sir. You?”

  “I’ve learned not to ignore it, and I’ve got a feeling today might get interesting.”

  “Interesting-good, I hope.” Private Walsh flashes a sideways glance and tightens her grip on the steering wheel.

  “Only one way to find out, drive on, Private.” He crosses his arms, and silence engulfs the cab.

  ✹✹✹

  A man rams a broom stick through metal handles and slowly steps back from the hatchway doors. He wrings his hands and looks over his shoulder at his wife and sees her eyes glued to the clacking doors that serve as the only barrier between the cellar and what lies beyond.

  They hear groans outside as the doors rattle and whine from the hands pounding on them.

  “Do you think it’ll hold?” The woman’s eyes don’t leave the doors.

  “Not if they keep bending under the weight like that, somethin’ll give.” The man scans the cellar. “This must be the only cellar for miles without one two-by-four I could use to brace the damn door.”

  “You can’t let those things get in here, not now!” The understated, yet attractive woman, with matted blonde hair, rests a trembling hand on her swollen belly. How long do I have? “Find a way out of here!”

  The man’s fist crashes on his leg with a thud as he stares at the doors, and a tear blazes a trail through the muck on his face. “Everything moved so fast once we got in the middle of ‘em. At one point it was clear in my head and then...I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I got us trapped down in this hole. I just couldn’t see out there. I couldn’t see the way through them. I know there must’ve been a way.”

  “Jackson!”

  He whips around and jumps to brace her as she clutches her stomach.

  She gasps and squeezes his arm. “I think my water just broke!”

  Jackson’s shoulders slump, “Oh my God.”

  Moments later the the broom bracing the doors whines and bends as more fists join in, and the groans crescendo to the pitch of a bee swarm.

  “They can smell it, Jackson! They can already smell my baby!”

  Jackson places his hands on her head and looks her in the eyes. “You’ve got to block that out, okay? This is happening now, this is real. The doors will hold. Focus on this. Stay with me, alright?”

  Tears drip from her jaw. “Okay.”

  A soft drumming blends with the groans and clacking doors, and a flash of light outside brightens the room, if for only a second, as a booming crack bellows from the heavens. She grabs his arm and pulls him closer as she rests her head on his leg.

  “Jackson?”

  He strokes her hair. “Shhhh...I’m sure it’ll pass soon. We just have to hold on awhile.”

  Chapter One

  One Week Earlier

  In space an asteroid raced through time and infinity, a mere chip off an alien rock with countless millions of years of history trapped in its core seemingly lost in the maelstrom of infinite splinters hurtling through the cosmos. Its inertia drove it forward faster and farther unto its destiny, a set course. It would not pass the blue planet growing in the distance but headed straight for it.

  Fragments vaporized as it lanced the atmosphere. Terminal velocity looked sluggish, by comparison, as it left the icy void of space behind. Deep in its core a dormant presence reawakened and stirred.

  Impact! Earth, fire, and water burst out across the terrain. The planet’s surface shivered and quaked.

  The asteroid merged with the crust and dug out a smoldering crater. Plumes of debris raced to the trade winds of the upper atmosphere’s bitter fury. They brought darkness, a harbinger of sorrow. Night covered the Earth as daylight hammered hopelessly on the polluted veil. The forces of nature had betrayed the planet, so it seemed. Summer became winter. All manner of creatures ran for cover hopelessly as a choking cloud unfurled over the land.

  Chaos wore the diadem, pestilence its chariot, and affliction its sword.

  A rumble rolled over the planet as countless millions fell dead.

  ✹✹✹

  One Week Earlier

  Ronald Hawkins sank his teeth into butter-soaked toast and shoveled the last of a fried egg, dripping with yolk, into his mouth as he scrolled through messages on his phone. “Total bullshit!” He barked through his food as he read an insurance claim update from work. “You're lying, Mr. Baker.” He laughed at his phone and crammed the remaining toast in his mouth and licked his fingers. “That's a lie, a stupid lie. Receipts are a bitch.”

  He stood up and set his plate in the sink and emptied the coffee pot into his mug and stirred in milk. “Gonna be one of those days.”

  He sipped his coffee and set it on the counter. His eyes drifted off to another place as his body stilled. After a couple seconds his muscles tensed, and he threw his utensil drawer open and reached in deep. In the blink of an eye he pulled his hand out holding a pistol magazine and threw open the cupboard under the sink, reached behind the front panel, and Velcro sang to life as he ri
pped out a Glock 26. He slammed the magazine in and slid up against the wall as he cocked it. This gave him a low profile with a favorable vantage point as he aimed at the front door. Peering over the sights with one eye he uttered, “Bang. Dead. You picked the wrong house you dumb fuck.” Just as quickly he returned the gun and magazine to their places and rested his frame on the counter and sipped his coffee. He looked at the time on his phone and downed his coffee in big gulps.

  Forty-five minutes later he sat at work on the phone rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, Mr. Baker, I'm sorry to say that not everything in your report adds up.” He pulled the phone a few inches away as a man’s voice boomed through the microphone. “All I'm saying is, we have to check some more things before we…” He listened and shook his head. “Unfortunately not right now, we have to satisfy all concerns before we can cut you the check.” The voice on the other end boomed again as Ron pulled the phone away. “Specifics? Okay. Mr. Baker, how do you explain the claim on your report that, and I quote, ‘The fire must've started to burn slowly while I was out of town, because, after driving eight hours, I returned home to charred remains and angry firemen.’ When, according to your receipts, a positive photo identification from a witness, and CCTV footage, you purchased suspiciously flammable items in town on the same day shortly before your house caught fire?”

  Silence.

  Ron smiled. “So, as I said, we just need to look into a couple more things and get back to you as soon as possible. And, unfortunately, we will not be able to remit your insurance funds at this time. We will be in contact should there be any changes or further questions. Good day, Mr. Baker.” Ron hung up and shook his head, “badgering idiot.”

  A husky lady, with a helmet of blonde hair, leaned back in her chair so she could see Ron past a divider between their desks. “Open and shut case then, I take it?”

  “Mornin’, Amy. Aw you know how it goes, mountain of paperwork either way.” He started to write and lifted his pen in the middle of a word. “Everyone’s a damn liar it seems, too many in this world.”

  Amy cocked her head, “Don't be so cynical. This is the insurance business, we attract ‘em. Just ‘cause we have to see it every day doesn't mean everyone's like this. Hell, most people we deal with aren't liars. But they lie to us. Comes with the territory.”

  “Don't I know it. Did you get…”

  A man in a white shirt and blue tie with glasses pressing into rosy, round cheeks rested a hand on Ron’s desk. “Mornin’, Ron. Nothing urgent, but when you get a chance swing by my office.”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Dunn.”

  Ron bottled up a smile as his eyes gleamed.

  “Smartass, it's Billy, everyone calls me Billy.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Billy. Won't happen again.”

  Mr. Dunn’s face tightened, and he walked back to his office.

  Ron and Amy looked at each other and smirked.

  “Guess I'll just go see what Mr. Billy wants then.”

  “Good luck,” Amy chided as Ron walked away.

  Ron knocked on Mr. Dunn’s door and got waved in as he hung up the phone.

  “Close the door, Ron, have a seat.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Billy?”

  “Not at all, I have exciting news for you.”

  “Um, okay,” Ron sat and his eyebrows pushed together.”

  Mr. Dunn leaned forward and smiled as he planted his thick, round forearms on the desk and clasped his small hands. “Ron, you may be a pain in my ass sometimes, but, dammit, you do good work. Corporate has taken notice, and one of the first things they always do is ask a branch manager like me about a person’s character. You follow?”

  Ron’s brow crinkled, “sort of.”

  “Before a promotion, Ron, a promotion to corporate headquarters in St. Louis, they're vetting you. Now, I can tell them the good and the bad, just the bad, or sing your praises all day long. It’s up to you.”

  Ron raised an eyebrow, “Sorry, what's up to me? I'm lost.”

  “You see, I just write a report, and it decides your future at this company. Now, despite how good you are at your job, we've never gotten along, have we?”

  “I like you just fine, Billy, no problems. I just joke with people sometimes, meant no harm.”

  “Meant. No. Harm. You've mocked my weight. I can only imagine because I'm not fit and muscular like you. Singling out the weak, Ron?”

  “No, uh, nothin’ like…”

  Mr. Dunn pressed on, “You continually, DAILY, show no respect for my authority by mocking my name and whatever else comes to mind.”

  “Mr. Billy, I can call you anything you want.”

  “Billy!” Mr. Dunn smacked his desk and rushed to compose himself as people outside turned their heads. “Just Billy,” he forcefully lowered his tone.

  “Billy, it's just my upbringin’. I was taught to show respect to elders and authority figures. I'm sorry.”

  “But it's not respect, is it? You use ‘Mister’ to mock me.”

  “Just playin’, I'll stop.”

  “Doesn't matter now, I just wanted to let you know. I'm writing you a glowing review and getting rid of you.”

  “With all due respect, Billy, this is my home. Promotions are nice, but I've got everything I could ever want right here, and I own my house.”

  “Do you know what the salary increase is?”

  “No, what's the job anyway?”

  “Turning it down is saying no to a lot of money. They want you to be their corporate training officer, training investigators like yourself. They want your secrets passed on. You’ve uncovered a lot of insurance fraud and saved this company a lot of money. I may not like you, but numbers don't lie, and I won't miss you, but that's beside the point.”

  “I don't want it. I'm happy here.” Ron frowned.

  “It's practically done, it's really a transfer. If you want to stay with the company, you take it.”

  Ron squinted, “You written that report yet?”

  Billy nodded and raised a file and shook it gently., “Pretty much done, just need to send it.”

  “What would I have to do to get you to change it? Change it so they think my character isn’t a fit for corporate.”

  “Oh I said your character is perfect for corporate.”

  “It'll reflect on you. You know I'm a bad fit. I piss people off, and I like to work alone. You should put the truth in that report.”

  “Look, you're great for numbers, but that wouldn't get you outta my hair now would it?”

  “Please.”

  Billy smiled. “What to do then, what to do?” He snapped his fingers. “Got an idea!”

  “Anything.”

  “Marie.”

  “Your sister?”

  “Yeah, you went to high school with her, right?”

  Ron scratched the back of his head, “Yeah, don't really remember a lot about her.”

  “You were in different circles. So here it is, she's man-less, jobless, and, if not for me, homeless.”

  “She lives with you?”

  “Yep, sits around and eats Reese's all day, big as a whale now! But not after she moves in with you.”

  “Moves in!?”

  “Well, gradually, she's a lady. You have to date her first.”

  “Billy, with all due respect, this won't…”

  Billy cut him off, “Off to corporate then?”

  “No, I mean, just hold on a sec…”

  “You think about it. Not too long though, corporate is waiting. And, Ron, this is just between us. The success rate of your word against mine is very low. My career is blemish free, and the history of dissatisfied, greedy employee claims of outlandish demands from their bosses favors me, strongly. Don't try it.”

  Ron closed the bathroom stall and stared at the floor, a thousand-yard stare. White faced with sweat beading up, he sat on the toilet and buried his face in his hands. He stayed there awhile.

  Gradually he composed himself as much as possible and
sat down at his desk. He slowly typed a few words and found it comforting somehow.

  After banging away on his keyboard for over an hour Ron’s constricted pupils made his eyes look stronger than the skin surrounding them, almost ready to leap forward. He leaned back, but kept his idle hands on the keyboard, the blinking cursor on his monitor waiting. His buzzed hair, the color of hickory, revealed his entire brow, and seemed to stand on its own as if reaching up at something. His lithe body stretched out but seemed ready to snap back into action. He looked up to catch his thoughts before they could escape, and his skin glowed an unnatural white in the phosphorescent wash.

  His nostrils flared as a smell, accented with flowers, tickled them. He stared into empty space in a room full of coworkers, but he was too busy with perfume and images of lingerie and cleavage to care. The smell faded away. He blinked and saw a saucy red-head, with cream colored skin and a body that curved in the right places, walking past. Every day he noticed her smooth skin and loved that she allowed it to flourish without cosmetics. She walked away swishing her hips, and he shook his head and forced his eyes back to work.

  Ron’s senses refocused and settled on the office TV where a voice grabbed his attention, and he leaned forward as his green eyes focused. He noticed that everyone else in the office stared at the screen with wide eyes and arched brows. Only a minute before the rambling of the news station had been background noise, but in the time it takes to have a daydream it had everyone riveted.

  “Did they find that little girl?” Ron looked over at Amy whose eyes did not waiver from the screen.

  “No, they’ve moved on. This seems more serious.”

  “They make ‘em all sound serious.”

  “This seems real.”

  Ron noticed that she had not taken her eyes off the TV. He first thought it was a follow up related to the kidnapping of a little girl which had run for weeks. His heart had gone out, only two days before, to the mother telling the story, trying not to show her exasperation at the questions. He had watched and nearly felt ill at the delicate game the network played as it coaxed her emotions from her while appearing to help solve the crime with the authorities, all the while reaping massive ratings. Ron had shaken his head and looked away. Leave her alone.