The Bitter Earth: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (Graham's Resolution Book 5)
The Bitter Earth
Graham’s Resolution, Book 5
A. R. Shaw
Apocalyptic Ventures
Copyright © 2018 A. R. Shaw
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN 13:
Library of Congress Control Number: Pending
LCCN Imprint Name: Apocalyptic Ventures, LLC, Coeur d’Alene, Idaho
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator.”
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Designs by Hristo Argirov Kovatliev
Edited by Dr. Vonda of First Editing
Dedicated to the fans of Graham’s Resolution…at long last.
Contents
Books by A. R. Shaw
1. Lincoln
2. Wong
3. Clarisse
4. Lincoln
5. Wong
6. Clarisse
7. Lincoln
8. Clarisse
9. Lincoln
10. Paige
11. Lincoln
12. Clarisse
13. Lincoln
14. Paige
15. Sam
16. Lincoln
17. Clarisse
18. Paige
19. Sam
20. Clarisse
21. Lincoln & Paige
22. Sam
23. Clarisse
24. Paige
25. Sam
26. Clarisse
27. Lincoln
I. Eight Years after The Malefic Nation
1. McCann
2. Bang
3. McCann
4. Graham
5. Clarisse
6. McCann
7. Graham
8. Sam
9. Rick
10. Clarisse
11. McCann
12. Graham
13. Rick
14. Graham
15. Rick
16. Graham
17. Rick
18. Graham
Afterword
About the Author
Untitled
Untitled
Books by A. R. Shaw
Graham’s Resolution Series
The China Pandemic
The Cascade Preppers
The Last Infidels
The Malefic Nation
The Bitter Earth
The French Wardrobe
Surrender the Sun
Book 1
Book 2
Book 3
Perseid Collapse Kindle Worlds
Deception on Durham Road
Departure from Durham Road
Wayward Pines Kindle Worlds
Kate’s Redemption
1
Lincoln
July 13th
Seattle, WA
A knife lay on the dewy grass before them. It was a neglected old blade by anyone’s standards, somewhat misshapen, with a couple of small rust spots visible upon it. The black resin hilt was in no better condition. In a flash, the thief reached for it. Then, a low dangerous growl. In a firm voice, Officer Lincoln Asher said, “Touch it, and I’ll release the K-9. Stop resisting. I don’t want to hurt you.”
The thief’s shaking hand instantly retreated.
With one knee in the suspect’s back, Lincoln gave Enzo a swift hand signal after he placed the handcuffs on the man’s wrists. Then he rolled the prisoner onto his side and helped him sit up. Supporting him under the arm, he helped the prisoner into a standing position and dusted off the stray blades of grass clinging to the suspect’s stained and torn gray t-shirt and baggy denim jeans.
Enzo came and sat directly in front of the man, continuously threatening him with the caveat of an attack; giving the thief the idea that at any instant he’d become the canine’s lunch. That was the point. To keep the man wary so that Officer Asher could perform his job. That way, no one got hurt.
While Enzo kept the man busy, Lincoln drew out a plastic baggie and flipped it inside out to retrieve the knife on the ground. Enzo’s growl intensified, which meant the man broke eye contact with the dog or that he’d moved his foot or dared to twitch a muscle. There were times Officer Asher thought that his partner might even hear the private thoughts of men and perhaps the guy would run for it.
No sooner had the premonition crossed Lincoln’s mind that the guy might be that stupid, a flash of brown fur scrammed after him. Shaking his head at the audacity of some criminals thinking they could outrun a K-9, Officer Asher leisurely strolled over to where Enzo had quickly taken down the guy for a second time, jerking at his inner thigh while the man wailed, “Get him off me!”
“Trying to make things worse for yourself?”
“Ah, please. He’s ripping my dick off!”
If you run again, I’ll let him, thought Officer Asher and called Enzo off. “Stop resisting.” Again, he helped the man up and this time, after checking the suspect’s pockets and waistband for any other weapons, he walked him the three blocks back to his police car. Had he not run off in the first place, Lincoln would have gone easier on him, but after catching him trying to jimmy open the second-floor store window, he gave Asher no choice. He caught the robber in the act. On the way there, he radioed but “Suspect in cus...” was all he got out before the guy took off the first time.
After the chase and then the walk back, Officer Asher was breathing as hard as the suspect. The weather in the Seattle area rarely peaked over eighty degrees in the summer, but when it did the humidity made it feel like you were swimming in your own sweat. With his hand protecting the thief’s bald, shaven head he helped him into the back seat of his patrol car, typically Officer Enzo’s domain. Waves of heat poured off the man. The guy’s face was filthy, with trails of sweat making clean rivers through the dirt on its way down. “Squad 6113.”
The dispatch didn’t answer right away. Lincoln looked at the mic as if perhaps he screwed up the call when dispatch answered after a delayed pause. “Go ahead, 6113.”
“Squad 6113, I need a 10-16 for a male C-1…going to…D6,” Lincoln said as he tried to catch his breath.
As he awaited a response, he eyed the prisoner. He wished he could offer him a bottle of water. He looked pretty rough. But procedures prevented the offering. Running on a day like this was hell on anyone, even thieves.
Though he wasn’t supposed to engage in casual conversation he said, “Hot day, huh?”
The guy nodded and when he tried to reply, he coughed instead; a phlegmy congestion filled his mouth. He spit the thick wad to the side as Lincoln watched him, making sure he wasn’t about to do something stupid. Then the prisoner sort of leaned against the squad car, letting all of his weight rest there.
Sweat began trickling down the sides of his face as he glanced up at the broiling sun overhead. Before he could respond, he noticed the prisoner sliding downward slowly. “Hey,” he ordered. “Get out and stand, please.” The prisoner con
tinued his unconscious descent so that Officer Asher reached out and held him still by the shoulder.
The prisoner opened his eyes halfway then.
“I said, stand please,” Lincoln warned him, though it seemed the prisoner was really out of it. Then he felt the waves of heat coming off the man through his grasp on his t-shirt. “Damn, you’re hot. Are you ill?”
The prisoner nodded weakly and even that seemed to be a challenge.
“Squad 6113 to dispatch.”
“Go ahead, 6113.”
“Any word on my conveyance? And how about medical? My prisoner is starting to lose consciousness.”
“Sorry 6113, the closest conveyance got called to a combative prisoner.”
“What about medical?”
“Medical can…but we had to activate mutual aid. It’s going to be at least thirty minutes.”
He looked at the prisoner. Damn…that’s not going to work. “6113 to dispatch, I don’t think this guy has thirty minutes.”
As if on cue the prisoner slumped slowly down to the side along the squad car to the ground.
Lincoln pulled him back up to a standing position, with his hands still handcuffed behind his back. Lincoln said, “Here…” He opened the back seat of the squad car. “Lie down.” He helped him inside and shut the door after moving his legs inside.
“6113 to dispatch, I’m conveying my prisoner to Harborview Medical Center myself. I’m running out of options.”
“10-4 on that, 6113; I will advise a supervisor to meet you at the hospital.”
After that, Officer Asher looked down at Enzo and said, “Guess what buddy, you get to sit up front today.”
Lincoln situated Enzo in the front passenger side of his unit and closed the door so that he could retrieve a few bottles of water from his cooler in the trunk. He twisted open one of them after setting the others on the roof of the car. He took in a deep breath and said, “Ah, hell with it.” He opened the back door, where the prisoner briefly glanced at him before shutting his eyes again. “Here, have some water before we get going.”
The man no less than guzzled down several large sips before he fell back into the seat shutting his eyes again. “Okay, I’m taking you to the hospital first.”
The prisoner nodded, only this time he didn’t even try to open his eyes.
Then it was Enzo’s turn, knowing there would be little time to give the dog water while he stayed with the prisoner in the hospital until he was relieved by another officer.
“Hey, great job, partner,” he said and poured water into a bowl and sat it down for Enzo to drink. Patting the dog and rubbing his fur vigorously, Lincoln wished he could remove the fur coat for the dog, perhaps with a zipper, to make him cooler in the warmer months. Though Enzo didn’t seem to complain about the heat, Lincoln thought it had to be uncomfortable to wear a fur coat in such warm humid temperatures. Damp heat had a way of getting to the best of men. And to Lincoln, Enzo was the best of men.
Opening his own bottle of water finally, Lincoln tilted his head back and let the cool liquid quench his languishing thirst. The paperwork, or reporting as they called it now, would wait until after Lincoln conveyed the prisoner to the hospital. So much for protocol. Seemed everyone was making do with limited resources today.
After rolling down the windows of the car to keep cool while he cracked on the air conditioner, Lincoln felt heat swath over to the front seat in a hot, wet breeze. He found the air too stifling to sit inside with the excessive heat emanating off the suspect and his partner’s panting making conditions worse. Finally feeling cool air coming out of the vents, he closed the windows and drove the few blocks to the hospital.
He wasn’t sure what it was about the hot, muggy weather some were calling an Indian summer, but it was making the general population crazy-stupid. Every call he’d gone on the last few days, people were at each other’s throats. They’d had more domestic violence calls than in recent history. One thing was for sure, since they lived in the Northwest, few homes had air conditioning and on the rare year when they needed it, violence rose with the temperatures at a fever pitch.
Lincoln never relaxed with a prisoner in custody. Having a K-9 unit, it wasn’t customary to transport one anywhere. He constantly checked his rear-view mirror in case the guy somehow slipped his cuffs and pulled a weapon—a constant threat. He even watched him on the MDC, (Mobile Data Computer).
“How you doing back there?” Officer Asher asked, but there was no response from the guy secured in the back seat. With his eyes flashing back in the rear-view mirror, Lincoln watched as sweat dripped off the guy’s jaw, running down the inside of his neck. He remembered having his hand on the man’s head briefly to keep him from banging it on the roof, and when he did, it felt like an oven. Even with the outside heat the prisoner was emanating his own furnace.
“Dayum,” Lincoln murmured to himself, knowing with the nip from Enzo and the fever, he and his partner were in for an investigation when the dust settled from this day. Usually, in case of a bite from a K-9 officer, a Sergeant was sent immediately to the scene due to use of force.
“This is going to take all day,” he said to his partner riding shotgun as they made their way to Harborview Medical Center. Enzo’s brown, soulful eyes met his. Reaching over, Lincoln scratched the dog under his police badge collar.
After losing his last K-9 during a home invasion call and subsequent firefight, Officer Asher didn’t think he could take on another K-9 again. The pain of losing Khan was too much. He’d loved that dog as if he were his own brother and stayed with him in the emergency vet hospital, stroking his fur and talking to him all night as he fought for his life. Eventually, the bullets that entered his body took his life. The feeling of sheer anger made him want to shred the assailant by himself, no weapons necessary; he could do what was necessary with his bare hands if only they’d let him. Lincoln Asher was a calm man by most standards but not then…then, he was a madman capable of the most heinous murder.
After a few weeks, they brought Enzo to meet him. Neither of them wanted anything to do with each other at first.
Then his Captain said, “Linc, give him some time. He’s just like you.”
It seemed both man and dog were mourning the loss of their latest partners and time was all they needed to shed the grief. Enzo too had lost his previous officer to a bad day on the job. The ones, if you lived through them, you never forget and if you don’t, the date becomes etched on your tombstone. No other private sector job was like that on a daily basis. You didn’t go to work as a cashier, banker or tech support and risk your life every day. Of course, there were exceptional days when a criminal walked into those businesses with a killing intent, but for the most part they didn’t put on a uniform and head into trouble like police officers did. Yet Officer Asher chose this job after his stint in the military. It’s what he knew how to do and he was good at it. As it turned out, Enzo was good at it too and they’d turned out to be a great team.
The first night that Enzo came home with him, he felt like he was betraying Khan in a way by letting Enzo sleep on his bed, play with his toys and piss in the same spot that Khan had done before. In time, Lincoln got over what felt like an intrusion and instead he and Enzo became more than partners; they’d become friends.
Not long after, he and Enzo were a team like none other. It was as if the dog read his mind. Enzo operated by hand signals unlike any other canines that Lincoln had worked with before. They became so in tune with one another that Enzo would act just on eye contact.
Once they pulled up in front of Harborview Medical center, Officer Asher parked near the entrance and blasted the air conditioner on high again so that Enzo remained comfortable inside the vehicle while he escorted the sick man inside. When the suspect awoke perspiration poured off his forehead and his eyes were wild.
“Where are we?” He looked around as if he had no idea.
“The hospital. Come on, let’s get you looked at. Can you walk?”
“What?”
“Can you walk on your own?”
“Yeah,” he said, but Lincoln doubted those words.
“Okay, just a second,” he said as he poured Enzo another bowl of water, sitting it in the backseat floor board, and moving Enzo to his regular area of the car. “Here you go, buddy. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” But when he pulled the man to a standing position, his knees buckled underneath him. “Whoa there, come on,” he said, hoisting the skinny guy up by the arms.
Department SOP (standard operating procedure) dictated that he leave Enzo in the running locked car while he brought the suspect inside for medical treatment. If it was going to be for more than fifteen minutes he’d call for someone else to take over babysitting the suspect. And, by the looks of the overflowing parking lot, and the size of the crowd in the waiting room, he went ahead and called for another officer while he waited in line.
People coughed and wheezed like in a tuberculosis ward. Mothers paced the floor with feverish children lying over their shoulders. An old man came in complaining of chest pains and collapsed while waiting in line for a nurse to evaluate him. Ten minutes later he and the suspect had barely progressed inside the doorway.