Awakening the Mare (Fall of Man Book 1)

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Authors: Jacqueline Druga

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The Fall of Man

Book One

Awakening the Mare

Jacqueline
Druga

A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK

Published at Smashwords

 

ISBN: 978-1-61868-565

ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-558

 

AWAKENING THE MARE

The Fall of Man Book 1

© 2015 by Jacqueline Druga

All Rights Reserved

 

Cover art by Quincy Alivio

 

This book is a work of fiction. People,
places, events, and situations are the product of the author's
imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
historical events, is purely coincidental.

 

No part of this book may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without
the written permission of the author and publisher.

 

 

Permuted Press

109 International Drive, Suite 300

Franklin, TN 37067

http://permutedpress.com

To my daughter, Roni, I dedicate this series
to you. Thank you for all your support and for literally being my
right hand, when my own wasn’t working.

Table of Contents

 

1. Beginnings

2. Getting Ready

3. Iry

4. The Show Line

5. Rite of Passage

6. History

7. The Day

8. Being Chosen

9. Being Mare

10. The Bag

11. The Ceremony

12. The Run

13. Floating

14. Car Contraption

15. Camp

16. Cowboy Chili

17. Starry Night

18. Last Leg to Angeles

19. Arrival

20. Davis

21. The Stroll

22. Three Times

23. Oceans Wide

24. When the Moon is
High

25. Comprehending

26. Knowing

27. Hollow Man

28. The First Step

29. The Time Bunker

30. Deconstructing

31. Projecting

32. Release

33. Lyon Estates

34. The Jail

35. Plan B

36. Receiving Iry

37. Nightfall

38. Humbled

39. Advice from Marie

40. Warning

41. Deciphering the
Truth

42. Riding with Marie

43. The Quarrel

44. Almost

45. Day Stalkers

46. Aftermath

47. Dawn Decision

About the Author

1. Beginnings

My existence began in the back of an old
pickup. Ironically, the truck was dead and it was there I took my
first breath of life.

That was always the way the story started
out, the tale of my beginning that I had been told many times.

The truck was tucked and hidden in an
underpass west of Lordsburg, New Mexico. My young mother staggered
as she walked, crying and holding her stomach. Her agony carried in
the dead of the night, echoing loudly in the vacant and silent
world, still reeling in the aftermath of the global catastrophic
event.

There were two reasons the men came to her
aid. Neither of them was because the two men felt sorry for her.
One, for their own wellbeing, they needed her silenced, and the
other reason was an offering. Something that would satisfy ‘them',
and buy safety for the men and their families that were hiding not
far away at a camp. That alone earned my mother a place, even if
temporarily, with the Lordsburg camp.

I know not of my mother’s roots, because she
only told of her journey. She and my father had traveled from the
ravaged zones of war and plague to make it to an area free of
destruction, only to be racing for safety.

The only place to go at the time, was said to
be the southwest.

My biological father barely made it half the
trip and my mother, not much older than I am now, still a teenager,
yet with child, thought only of that baby. She thought only of me.
She didn’t want to cry or scream, but the pain was too much.

Shadows of the prowling cast around the
Lordsburg camp, the refugees had been spotted and my mother’s cries
led them like a guiding light.

There wasn’t much time, and before my
mother’s body wasn’t even ready to deliver, keeping her a distance
from camp, they brought her to the back of the truck.

One man covered her mouth to muffle her
cries, while begging her to please be silent. The other impatiently
prepared for my arrival. Perched ready between my mother’s legs, he
got a grip on my head and yanked me from mother’s ill prepared
body, handing me off a split second after he cut the cord.

My mother told me he said, “Quiet, the baby
is fine. We need this afterbirth.”

With his brutal and forceful assistance, the
afterbirth and remaining cord was expelled from my mother. He made
her stand, allowing blood to pour into the bed of the truck, then
he carried her quickly to the camp.

It was there my mother witnessed it
firsthand.

They encompassed the truck, their beings
distorted shadows of decrepit creatures. They didn’t speak, only
groaned out animal sounds. So many of them, like starving ants
flocking to one grain of sugar.

I arrived eight days after the event and
three days following the eve of their rise.

My beginning was their beginning.

They rose from the ashes and dark to reclaim
a world they say was once theirs. A world that man had stolen from
them. Man’s demise became their rise.

They gathered their strength by preying on
the weak, and at the time, the weak was the human race.

How pathetic. Man had a chance to defeat
these…
things
before they reached an unconquerable level.
But he chose to bow and feed instead of taking a stance. Humans
abandoned the fight.

That fight stirs everyday inside of me.
Somewhere out there, there were others like me, ready for the
fight. Ready to take back our world.

The creatures are strong, almost
invincible.

Almost.

They are not unbeatable. History shows it. We
defeated them once, we will defeat them again.

2. Getting
Ready

 

“Vala.”

I stayed in my corner of the bedroom, hoping
she’d give up calling me. Maybe I if pretended I didn’t hear…

“Vala,” my said, drawing the privacy curtain
aside. “Didn’t you hear me?’

“Um... yeah.” Lying on my bed face down, I
stashed the magazine under my schoolbook. “Sorry, I was
concentrating on my essay about Sybaris kings and queens.”

She gasped. “Vala! I have told you to stop
using that term. It’s bigoted.”

The thought, ‘whatever’ came to my mind, but
I didn’t speak it. “Sorry. The Ancients kings and queens.”

“Better.” She reached down to my book and
lifted it. With an exhale, she shook her head, discovered the small
magazine of the previous world. “I have told you about forbidden
material. Hide that or take it to the end limits and get rid of it.
Especially today. It’s the first of the month. They come.”

I rolled over, finally facing my mother. I
hesitated because she looked tired, really tired. “Are you
unwell?”

“No, I’m tired and prefer to look that way
when they come.”

“It’s working,” I said.

“Vala—”

“No, Mother, you look pale.” I sat up,
swinging my legs over the bed. “Too pale.”

“Good. I have another year and then I won’t
have to worry, I’ll be too old. But you are on the cusp.” She
reached her hand out, cupping my face. “You’re a beautiful young
woman and that scares me.”

I shrugged away her touch. “I’ll run home
from school and not have water, so I look worn.”

“That may work. It’s only once a month.”

“Once a month inspection by a warden.”

“Vala, please stop reading forbidden
material. This isn’t a prison.”

“It isn’t? They teach us what they want us to
know, forbid us from learning anything remotely from our past.
We—”

“Are not on the run,” my mother abruptly cut
me off. “Not starving and not hunted. Be grateful. Finish up, tend
to the horses, position them away, you know the routine. And walk
with your sister to school, she’s scared today.”

I nodded. Her fear was understandable. I was
scared for her too. That was why I didn’t mind walking her to
class, just in case.

My sister Sophie seemed so young. Too young
for school. However, the Elders thought her old enough at four, and
rules of the Ancients said she had to be educated early.

My mother paused in the doorway of the
bedroom. “Vala, I know this is tough. But it is the best way. I did
this for you. We lived the runners’ life. I know you remember. It’s
not easy. This is the best way.”

With that, she turned and walked out.

Maybe for her it was the best way. Not for
me.

For some unknown reason, a small part of the
country was saved from the events that destroyed most of the world.
That area is where The Ancients, or as many call them, the Sybaris,
rebuilt for the purpose of saving mankind. You see, they need us to
survive. Our extinction would be theirs as well, and so they
pocketed us together, making towns where there weren’t any.

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