Vengeful Earth: Book Two in the Earth's End Series, #2

By E.M.G Wixley

After the almost complete annihilation of humankind, small pockets of survivors remain in the southern hemisphere, clinging to life. Except for those fortunate enough to find a place behind the walls.

Imogen returns to the refugee camp in the Australian outback to look for her mother, Pippa and is devastated by what she discovers. While within the confines of 'the wall', her husband Teb adjusts to his life as a doctor under the new regime. Greg, his sister Tilly and a group of friends are on the run from the New Zealand authorities and discover an insurmountable enemy.

In this post-apocalyptic world, they all struggle to survive and adjust to the different systems while overcoming personal demons and discovering the nature and true intent of their formidable adversaries. If they fail to learn and establish a new way of being, the whole of humankind will collapse.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.M.G Wixley
• Release date: Sep 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393934752

E.M.G Wixley

Elizabeth Wixley was born in Hertfordshire in the United Kingdom but has moved many times during her childhood. She attended the Camberwell Art School and joined a design studio in Convent Garden. Moving to Bristol, some years later, she worked full time for the Local Education Authority supporting children suffering from emotional and behavioural difficulties, whilst ensuring that the transition into a mainstream school was done in a supportive and nurturing manner. Whilst providing children with a safe haven for learning, she raised two sons as a single parent while studying for a degree in education at the University of the West of England. Her love of fiction started at the age of six when Elizabeth’s grandmother died of cancer and to ensure that the rest of the family was safe, she would spend the nights roaming the house looking for the 'C' monster to make sure that he did not claim any more victims. One sunny bright day, her sister told her that fork lightning would come and strike her down after which she would spend her days hiding in the garage and when she heard that the sun was falling out of the sky, well needless to say, she very seldom ventured out. With trial and error, Elizabeth soon realized to fight her foes, she had to stare them straight in the eye, explore them and conqueror the inner demons in order to stand righteous. This helps fuel her love of horror and the many mysteries of the world. Creating a why and what if scenario that runs prominent in her fascinating fiction. Throughout Elizabeth’s life, creative arts have been her passion whether it is visiting galleries, painting or writing. She enjoys nothing more than sharing a compelling horror story with others and holding the sanity of her readers in the palm of her hand.

Book preview

Chapter One

THE SMELL HAD INFORMED them of what they might discover in the container. Imogen gave out a muffled cry and placed her hand over her mouth. The carnage was incomprehensible. On the sofa where she’d sat with Teb almost six months to the day, two children of about four years old clung together in deathly silence. Their stony eyes buried in bony sockets could be seen beneath their half-opened lids, their lips pulled back, baring milk teeth in a hideous grin, and straggly abundant black hair hung around their marble faces. Lost lives perished but preserved in the cold, dry atmosphere. Imogen rushed from the blood-smeared slaughterhouse.

The clawing wind tugged at her sheepskin cloak, which she pulled tighter around her body. Then she dropped her goggles against the constant dust, which was like a cataract blinding the sun's light. Automatically, she pulled her large hood over her head and lifted her scarf over her mouth. It was a natural thing to do when outside, but fear and the dust caused everyone to cower behind a veil.

Erik's tall, robust, stoic figure emerged from the hellish interior, rested his hands on her shoulders, and looked down at her sympathetically.

Don’t worry about me – I’m used to these horrors! she said, angered by his need to try to offer comfort. In the current chaos, speaking of your inner thoughts wasn't done, but Erik always seemed to understand all the hidden things in people’s lives. He was her mentor and music agent and had shown kindness towards her and Teb, but she often felt it was stifling.

I will search the other containers, he said in a deep, perturbed voice. Some of the children could be hiding, and your mother may still be here.

The abrupt manner in which they’d abandoned Pippa, her mother, had been gnawing at her mind since they’d left. I’ll come too; I’m fine – I’m immune to hideous sights. He nodded his head, and they moved towards the next container.

A strange singing-clicking sound broke the silence. On high alert, they both turned in the direction of the sound. A linear shape burst through the concealing haze, springing high into the air as it moved and then disappearing. Erik hastened towards the creature, pushing through the carpet of dirt, and Imogen trailed behind, considering what she’d just seen.

There’s no sense in looking in the rooms, Erik called back, slowing his pace so that she could catch up.

What did you see? she said as she drew closer. It looked to me like a giant praying mantis standing upright.

It was nothing, he muttered, gazing into the distance. There are some tracks. We’ll follow them for a while.

Still in shock, Imogen walked on with her eyes cast to the ground. They hadn’t travelled far when she spotted fabric lying in the dirt.

It’s my mother’s fleece! she shouted, picked it up and held it to her face. She breathed in the poignant, familiar smell, a reminder of her loss, both sweet and sad. Her daily life was a dichotomy of constant raw remembering and mechanical forgetting. At least before, she’d lived in hope, believing her mother was far away, waiting, but now she was convinced she was dead.

I have nothing of my past, she said in a choked whisper. My father and mother wanted only the best for us – there’s nothing more valuable than that, she said wistfully, clutching the precious item in both hands.

Parents are truly altruistic, but don’t dismiss Teb. He cares deeply for you, and so do I.

I miss my mother’s soft voice calling me in the mornings, bringing me hot tea in bed, the girls talk, the quiet within all the noise.

You’ve been content, he smiled. You’re one of the lucky ones and have a good circle of friends. Remember, many good people have died, and some are still gallantly toiling for renewal.

And then there are the ones who want to sit on the throne and thieve off the starving, Imogen said, not wanting to be appeased. You think she’s dead?

We’ll go back to the containers and see if we can find any clues.

Wait! In the distance, Imogen saw a child dragging himself in their direction. They watched as a boy of about seven walked past them in a trance. His clothes were torn, but otherwise, he had a sturdy appearance.

Are you lost? Imogen said and, following, reached out for his arm. He stopped but remained dumb. You’ll be safe with us—we’ll help you.

They all froze as, in the distance, they heard the strange singing and clicking.

Erik marched over and swept the child into his arms. Despite our broken lives, we need to keep going. We should get back to the plane before it gets dark.

They walked across the pathless vast expanse, aware of their long distance from home and what might be stalking them in the defused light.

I thought we were going to stay over, Imogen said, alarmed.

Where would we stay? he asked sternly. I expect all the containers to be in the same state. The rule is that we take care of the children first, as you and Teb did with my precious daughter Faith.

It’s already too dark and the dust too thick, Imogen said.

Erik nodded his head in response and turned towards the faraway noise of the refugee camp. Through the murk, Imogen saw a stake fence made from felled trees and figures strutting backwards and forwards on a makeshift battlement.

Nothing remains of our past lives, Imogen said as fear and anxiety rattled along her bones. Teb was right; we shouldn’t have come.

She felt cold skin on her cheeks, hot breath and a knife to her throat.

No, you shouldn’t have come. Imogen immediately recognised Hunter’s voice. Stand down, men; they’re harmless. The blade was removed, and Imogen felt her lungs fill with air as she turned to face their assailants.

The raiders were travelling back from a hunting trip. Their numbers had increased to ten men, along with their kill of two deer, a wombat, and an emu. Hunter drew in front of the outsiders. Beneath his animal skin hood and the layers of fabric wrapped around his mouth and head, she saw wild, fiery eyes.

Your names and why you’re here? asked the man who’d, from the beginning, placed himself above his peers.

Imogen and Erik, the tall man replied, unaware that Imogen’s eyes had flashed him a hostile warning. We’re looking for her mother and found this child who seems scared and lost.

The boy stepped behind Imogen and wrapped his arms around her leg. Hunter stepped forward and roughly pulled back her hood and laughed, So you’ve returned – the world outside our walls was too tough?

Imogen looked at the rifle resting on his arm and the blood on his boots. An Aboriginal man stood a few steps behind, his face downcast, with a rope around his neck and Spike holding the other end.

We don’t much tolerate outsiders, those who have shunned the need for a secure settlement. We choose who will stay and thrive alongside us.

We only want one night, and then we’ll be on our way, Erik said confidently. At least take the child.

We’re not slaves to fate or desperate. We don’t need our community to have contact with toxic thinkers or anyone who could sabotage our futures. Be warned, those who try and dribble poison into the ears of others will soon find their heads on a spike, displayed by the gate.

One night is all we ask, and I promise we will honour your hospitality without any slanderous words.

We’ve worked hard, rolled all our strength into one power, and made our island fortress the only security and source of food and water in this mighty and dreadful land.

Imogen saw the ragged group stiffen as a mournful low-frequency sound blasted out three times from the settlement. In the sickly darkening light, Hunter nodded his head in the direction of Spike and Rolly, who, brandishing knives, moved forward to roughly escort the outsiders. The child hanging onto Imogen was grabbed up into someone’s arms as Hunter led them quickly through the now silent wasteland. 

What was that for? Erik asked as Rolly pushed him along.

This is a cursed place, he muttered. Every time we leave, we expect to die. Much has changed since you and the girl were last here. We fight against the warring natives, the poison, sickness, and now something far more sinister—shadows that cross our vision—the mantis or whatever name you want to give them.

I don’t know what you mean.

If you are around long enough, you will find out.

INSIDE THE BARRICADE, Imogen coughed, and her eyes streamed because of the drifting smoke from the constantly burning fires. In the vast courtyard, tents had been mostly replaced by wooden huts or structures made from other materials pillaged from abandoned properties.

You can stay with your old friend over there, Hunter said, shoving Imogen toward one of the flaming braziers. The boy was dropped to the ground and, unhindered, ran up behind her. We expect all men to contribute, Hunter said, thumping Erik on the back. You can take a watch from the tower.

What for?

You’ll know when you see it, Hunter laughed.

Sombre women and girls, their faces white, were milling around, carrying out light tasks or sitting near the fires to keep warm. As a woman sweeping the dust away passed from Imogen’s vision, she spotted a familiar face. Coral was sitting on a log and carefully pouring liquid into a container. Nervously, Imogen approached and perched beside her, hoping to receive a warmer welcome.

Coral, do you remember me? the girl peered up at her through grit, sore eyes.

Imogen, you’re back, she said, smiling weakly. You look well. What a lovely cloak.

Thank you, she said and, embarrassed by her health, glanced away. So much seems to have changed here. The boy squatted by her legs and pulled a flap of sheepskin over his head.

Yes, I’m filtering the water, which we must then boil before drinking. We all have our jobs. Hunter rules with an iron fist. She paused from her task and took Imogen’s hands in hers. Your skin is still soft. Where have you been?

We went to Sydney. Things are good there, but they are very strict about who they allow in, she said. I’m still hoping I’ll find my brother and sister. They may have been amongst the lucky and evacuated from England to Australia or New Zealand. Perhaps you could tell from your cards.

On that last sunny day when I happily read people's fortunes, I didn’t see any of the unfolding events, she said wistfully. Instead, I saw snippets, people begging for blue skies, people frantically building, digging tunnels and praying over sick children – nothing on this scale. I no longer look into the future, and few people ask anymore.

I don’t know how anyone’s survived nature's holocaust – I’m surprised I have so far, Imogen said.

Few have, and those who have remained are mostly mad, Coral whispered. Do you see the woman over there? She nodded in the direction of a hunched skeletal figure. She picks threads from old rags and clothing, anything coloured. She says she needs to weave back the light.

The sun will return, Imogen said, smiling as she gently squeezed her hands out from Coral’s tightening grip. In Sydney, they’re saying the darkness should only last a year in the Southern Hemisphere, and soon there will be a re-birthing of nature.

I hope so. As the woods die, so do the game animals.

The heat from the fire warmly burned Imogen’s cheeks, and her body beneath the many layers of clothing relaxed. She stared silently into the flames and considered how all their troubles started from the sun's treachery; it had turned against them most devastatingly.

Coral’s soft voice interrupted her meditations, and she turned to meet her gaze. The girl had a deeper stare than before, full of horror and despair.

Why have you returned? she said, her eyes penetrating as though searching for lies.

My mother. I’m here to find my mother, she said, shivering and uncomfortably casting her eyes to the ground. Have you seen her?

She left with Heather, the nurse and a small group of children, she uttered with resentment. Most of our children have died of sickness. I used to lie awake at night listening to their heartbreaking cries. Jude said they were staying in some containers in the hills.

Later that night, Coral snuggled up to the boy who was sandwiched between herself and Imogen as they slumbered on the straw, listening to the wind beating against the wooden shelter. It’s good to have a child around again, she whispered, brushing his forehead. I will take care of him, and maybe he’ll speak again one day.

What’s Jude doing? Imogen asked.

He’s working on the tunnel, which they hope to join with some old mine workings. I think that’s when he saw your mother, but I don’t think Hunter knows.

Imogen, stop looking for Pippa, go home, she whispered. Hope is dangerous; it leads you away from the vital needs of the moment. We only briefly glance at the future when necessary and never look back. The only way to survive is to live in the present. Everything else will lead you off the path.

IMOGEN AWOKE TO THE commotion of daily life and the pop, pop, and ratter-tat of gunfire from the towers. She warmed her hands over the embers as she waited restlessly for Erik, irritated by the continuous shooting, the foul odours, and the oozing mud.

Men with their hands behind their backs and bound to each other with ropes were herded through the front gate. At the head of the group was a slender figure who turned and caught sight of Imogen. She gawped back. His eyes had lost none of their dancing light, but he had a beard, his hair was long, and his skin was caked with red dirt. He broke away from the group and rushed up to her, grabbed her arm and twisted her away from the stares of the other men.

What are you doing here? he said with a panicked expression. The best thing you did was leave.

Why are those men tied up?

We put those who attack us to work – would you rather we killed them? The slaves dig ditches, traps, and defences. Believe me; they’d rather have access to the safety of our walls than be out there with the Mantis.

What are they? she said, unable to disguise her alarm.

If you don’t know – return to the City, and you’ll never have to find out, he said, his eyes darting around looking for listeners. You must go this morning – Hunter has no intention of letting you leave – you’re a prized resource.

I’m with Erik; we’re searching for my mother. We came by plane and were waiting for the light and weather to improve.

I can get you out – I’m the tunnel builder, and only I know the secret routes, he whispered as he glanced to his right and straightened. Hunter and Erik were striding in their direction.

Quick, say you’ll both come with me.

Imogen briefly nodded and then turned and flashed a smile at the sturdy men confronting them.

"Jude, I was explaining to Erik that they might have to stick around