Life After War Wednesday-3-The Twins


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The Twins



Dean and Dillan Kelly

Age: 34

Hair: Bald

Eyes: Black

Height: 6’

Weight: 220 lb

Birthday: 12/30/78

Like to use their knives

No known twin connection

Before war: Awaiting extradition for rape and murder

AW: Ruthless hunters stalking Angela & Safe Haven.

Quote: "Look for holes in their defenses. We only need one mistake."

Strengths.

- Until the Witch, they feared nothing.

- Their twin connection allows them to function as a perfectly lethal team.

Weaknesses.

- Their over-confidence hinders them to some threats. Like Adrian.

- They have loved no one but themselves and each other. Ever.

FBI Notes:

Dean and Dillan Kelly are 36th on the Top Most Wanted list. Report their whereabouts immediately upon confirmation.

Back-story.

Dean and Dillan were born evil. At 5, they tortured small animals. At 10, they were in juvenile hall for attacking their prostitute mother with baseball bats and became wards of the state. They are remorseless killers who, if it can't be found, will make it.

Operating mostly in Mexico, the brothers were the men who could find anyone, kill anyone, and they worked with a lot of mad men. Like Cesar, leader of the Slavers now stalking American survivors.

The twins were captured only two days before the War of 2012. Surrounded, with a hostage, they barely survived their standoff with border patrol. Their captive hadn't.

Current Status: Deceased as of books 3 and 4.

Cause of Death:

Dillian- Killed by Brady with a blazer in book three.

Dean- Killed by Kenn with a single bullet in book 4.

Vote

The twins don’t seem to have any goals beyond revenge. They have no heart or mercy, and barely any compassion or emotion for even each other. They are evil, in one of its many forms.

Question to consider: Why do you think the twins turned out this way? Go here to vote.

Something else I wonder about: Are the failed health, poverty, parenting, security, drug, law, and school policies of our world to blame for the disrespect we’re currently putting up with from the younger generations? If so, do we then deserve it?

Excerpt:

Arriving before dawn, Cesar’s men had the lone twin surrounded before the gold convertible was fully stopped. Dean’s eyes dared one of them to touch him. He had come to talk but he would kill right now with little provocation, much like a wounded animal.  There was no doubt the Mexican’s had heard what went over Safe Haven’s radio channels and this time, the waves of energy shooting from the Witch would have been impossible to miss. The Slaver now had his proof of their words but would he still want Dean’s help?

Cesar considered these things as he moved toward the twin who’d been sitting in the center of the muddy, abandoned campsite. Safe Haven’s last site. He’d been sure both brothers were dead after hearing the witch’s voice checking in. From the look of the muddy man in the rutted center of camp, only one of them had survived the encounter.

Why would Dean come back? Vengeance for his brother? To try to take over his men and attack recklessly? The Slaver had no intentions of killing the brother if he could avoid it. After seeing and hearing the enemy close-up, he now wanted every deadly hand he could get and there was no doubt that Dean was a killer.

“You should have called us. We could have taken her from a group that size.”

Dean’s face was a mask of hatred that Cesar was careful to ignore for the moment. Business first, always. There would be time for lessons later.

“We saw an opening and took it. They weren’t away from camp long enough for you to get here.”

Cesar shrugged, stretching tiredly. “The only question that matters, is what you planned to do once you had her.”

Dean looked up from his seat on the muddy ground. “Get our share of the pie.”

Cesar frowned, unfamiliar with the saying and the twin blew out a sigh of disgusted contempt. “Her first orders were to destroy that camp. Yours next if you tried to take her from us.”

José drew his pistol and stepped forward but Cesar only laughed and waved him back. The Witch would be theirs to make suffer and then this mercenary would no longer be needed.

“Your hermano was the balls, si?”

“Always.”

“Now, maybe you are both.” Cesar extended a hand that Dean took warily, letting the Slaver help him up.  “Come, let us share a whore in your brother’s honor. At dawn we will go meet the tank team I sent out. They’re ahead. We’ll meet Safe Haven in the middle.”

Next Week: Adrian & a Sneak Peak

"This is Safe Haven Refugee Camp. Can anyone hear me?

Hello? Is anyone out there?"

The Survivors

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Under Attack (DF Tuesday Excerpt)

“Don’t move!”

Her tone froze him with his hands splayed out in the dirt. He sensed movement near his fingers as she slowly drew her weapon.

“Roll to your right when I start, and come up firing. Targets at ten, two and three.”

Marc heard the soft pad of paws, more than one, and watched her eyes for the moment to react.

“Shit. Two more at 12 o’ clock,” Angela watched the three lanky, gray-and-white wolves, trying to judge their intentions. When a big black-and-gold animal she hadn’t seen lunged toward from the shadows, there was only time to react.

Angela fired, a bit wildly on the first few shots, and one of the rounds caught the wolf in mid-leap, slamming into its chest. It landed on the ground with a hard thud as Marc rolled and hit his feet, began to fire.

“Watch your six!” he warned, immediately sure they were pack-hunting. He put them back to back as the brittle stalks around them swayed with barely seen movement. The sky had begun to darken as they worked out, but neither had worried, used to being in the dark, but this time they had let dangerous predators get close.

Suddenly, they were under attack, moving eyes gleaming at them through the dusk-tinted rows. They fired at the same time, dropping two wolves that had jumped from opposite sides.

A dark shadow appeared at her hip, and Angela stopped herself from shooting as she recognized Dog. Her eyes narrowed on a stocky white wolf running in and out of the distant, yellow stalks. Before she could take aim on the leader, another shadow streaked past her.

“Damn it!” Again, she kept herself from firing by only a hair. “Dog just went to my right, chasing the white one.”

Marc nodded, turning them to face another duel attack meant to separate. They came in low, lunging for legs, and both shots killed, but two more hungry hunters jumped at Angela, coming fast.

“Duck!” she shouted, firing. She got the low animal in the chest as the other went sailing overhead, and she heard Marc take care of it as more and more eyes shined mercilessly in the dimness. Wolves were now streaming through the corn like rats.

Making sure they stayed tightly against each other, Marc moved them in half circles, firing and kicking at those not hungry enough to lunge, but still bold enough to snap. He could feel Angela doing the same behind him, her grunts and shots mirroring his.

Flames rose up behind them suddenly, Marc catching a tall shadow from the corner of his eye as he turned, shot a leaping wolf in the chest, turned, and killed a snapping wolf going for Angie’s leg.

More fire erupted, along with the pungent smell of gasoline as full darkness fell over them, and some of the wolves hesitated, but not those hungry frontrunners.

Angela jerked forward, stiff-arming a determined predator in the throat. Her gun was empty and she knew by the silence behind her that Marc's was too. Drooling, fur bushed up, the wolves moved closer with hungry eyes.

Angela fumbled for the speed loader on her belt, and Marc turned them again, slamming his in as two more wolves lunged. He caught one in the neck, blood spraying, and shoved them backwards in time to let the second animal go sailing by.

“Incoming!”

Reloaded, Angela shot the wolf as it hit the hard ground and fired at eyes in the air, then the flames were between her and the corn as Marc rotated them again. Shadows lunged, coming through gaps in the wall of fire, and she picked them off, assuming Brady’s silent gun meant he was reloading.

Marc stared intently at the hulking man intently, the 3/4 circle of flames discouraging many of the animals. The newcomer was gigantic, eight by five it seemed like, and yet he was light on his feet as he poured the last of the gasoline to close the gaps.

“Stay inside,” the big man instructed gruffly without turning, voice heavy under his furs and hood.

Before Marc could say anything, Angela spun around, six shots gone. She gasped in surprise at the big man, but just like Marc, her fingers didn’t stop. She had to be ready when he turned them again.

“On your right, woman!”

She slammed the clip home and fired without looking, almost able to hear the slobbering jaws about to clamp down on her ankle. A heavy body thudded to the ground.

“Dog! Guard her!” Marc shouted, firing.

The wolf appeared at her side, bloody muzzle snarling viciously at two more animals trying to sneak through a thin gap in the fire wall.

"This is Safe Haven Refugee Camp. Can anyone hear me?

Hello? Is anyone out there?"

The Survivors

*Free on all retailers

Author’s Website    Diesel   iTunes   Kindle   Kobo   Nook   Smashwords   Sony

Character Profile: Kyle Genovesi (DF Tuesday)

Kyle Reece Genovesi     

 

Age: 35

Eyes: Blue

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 185 lb.

Birthday: 10/6/77

Hair: Short Black Curls

Race: Italian American

Career before the War: - A Captain the Mob. 

After the War: Level 6 in Adrian's Army.

Quote: "Whatever you need, I'll see to it."

Strengths:
- He was raised and trained to anticipate, prepare, and handle problems.

- Loves America, almost as much as Adrian.

Weaknesses:

- He has a fear of failure that often makes him fall short of others around him.

- He secretly likes his women young. Very young.

FBI Notes:

-There is no record on Kyle Genovesi.

Backstory

Kyle was raised in a family where he was expected to kill upon an order. It's never set well and kept him from rising above a captain. He has always longed for more and his restlessness has made him very perceptive to the vibrations around him.

Considered the black sheep, Kyle can be ruthlessly cold and calculating. He may not like delivering senseless death, but has never refused or failed an order.

Never married and without children, he expected to die alone and young until the war came and freed him. Sent him to Adrian's side.

Kyle dreamed that he and his family were destroyed by an attack, and was so afraid that he warned his family and took a trip to CA. He was the only surviving family member.

Check out this book.

Dear Red, White, & Blue

Dear red, white, and blue

Is there still hope for you

I wonder

Perhaps with someone in power

Who slaves by the hour

to remain true

A person of dignity

Who's not a give-me

or quota-fill

No reek of greed

No corruptive seed

growing unchecked

A leader who can inspire

Who raises people higher

than themselves

A soul with grace

Not colored by race

of any kind

A take-charge warrior

An environmental voyeur

who loves this planet

A Hero to lead

With only one creed:

America

Where do we find such belief

When do we get the relief

of being loved in return

We'd die for the President

Would he pay the same rent

of course not

Your sacrifice we don't require

we serve willingly sire

If you're worthy

If you'll get you hand a bit dirty

to further our lives

and enrich our minds

To earn our trust

It's all or bust

and always

America first

Life After War. 

"A Hero with enough strength, enough hope, to give us back some of what was stolen."

Soul Mates (Story Sunday)

We'd gotten away clean.

My death grip on the steering wheel eased but I didn't slow, instead, switching to an empty lane so I could go faster on the dark highway. I'd expected the police to be chasing us by now and my heart gradually returned to normal. We'd gotten away!

My eyes went to his face in the passenger seat and I grinned, unable to believe it was finally happening. We could be together now! I took another exit at top speed and forced myself to slow and blend into the light traffic as we crossed the state line. It wouldn't do to draw attention right now.

I patted my lover's hand comfortingly, able to smell his aftershave and the leather of his coat. He'd played hard to get for a long time, saying he wanted me but it wasn't right, telling me he loved me, touching me, bringing me pleasure I hadn't known existed, and then backing away, saying he couldn't leave his wife. My grin widened. It didn't matter now. She was gone and we could be together!

I drove smoothly despite my excitement and I couldn't wait to be alone with him. The things I had planned! I took another look at his face. He was incredible to me, even in profile. I'd been in love with him for years and the affair had slowly consumed me until my job and family had faded from view, and then, The Plan. How could we be together had been the question but I'd answered it. Now, we were.

The two lane dirt road was full of deep ruts and I was careful not to let the wagon bounce too much. Always working The Plan, that was me. The farmhouse was dark and would be cold but it was out of the way and I had my lover to keep me warm. I parked by the back door and patted his big hand again.

"Wait here for me."

I chuckled as I dug the white tarp out of the back, leaving the blow gun responsible for my success, and I covered the wagon completely. With a few dozen shovels of snow on top, it looked like the vehicle hadn't been moved since before the last winter storm, and I turned my attention to the tire tracks.

I went all the way to the bottom of the driveway, ignoring the cold and the screaming of my arms and back. There'd be time to rest later. Right now, I had to stay on Plan. I worked with careful eyes as I went back to the wagon, making sure it didn't look like anyone had been here for a long time. It didn't and the nearest neighbor was an Irish Dog Kennel. They'd never hear the screams.

I pulled the cellar door up with a grunt and lowered the plank I'd had to cut twice to make a perfect fit for rolling and sliding things down the steep stairs. No way he was going to be able to walk it. 

I rolled back the tarp on the passenger door and when I opened it, I smiled comfortingly into his dazed green eyes.

"Don't worry. We'll be safe here." 

He mumbled, drooling, and I changed direction, heading for the back and the blowgun. He couldn't come out of it yet. I still had to get him below, get him chained, and recover the cellar door with snow. The Plan wouldn't work if he escaped before learning to love me. 

I moved toward him while loading the dart. Things would be just perfect once he understood we were Soul Mates.

Closer (Story Sunday)

She knew she was being followed and her heart pounded, mind racing.

Echoes came to her. She was outnumbered.

Her steps faltered and she took a quick look over her shoulder to verify it but the street was in total darkness except for a dim, cloud-covered moon and her tiny flashlight. 

She moved a bit faster, sure it was the four men from the stadium. She'd only needed a moments escape from the thousands of tensely beating hearts crammed into the Super Dome and instead, had found a young girl's abused body and her attackers standing nearby, talking about how to hide it. All fresh from the act, they'd turned to see her and when she'd fled, they'd followed. Now, they were stalking her, getting closer.

The New Orleans street was debris-covered, empty except for broken tree limbs and power lines, and she heard the footsteps on her trail change. They'd split up, she realized, trying to surround her, herd her. She walked faster, sharp eyes still unable to pick even a single shadow from the darkness but it didn't really matter. She was a witness. They couldn't leave her alive.

Soft laughter rang out on her right and she flinched to the left, almost running now, and hit something heavy lying in the street. She fell hard, light flying out of her grasp and smashing against the ground. Blood dripped from her hands and she pushed herself up began to run through the total darkness.

A shape appeared on her right and she spun left again, running through a muddy yard, and glass crunched under her feet as heavy footsteps echoed openly, closely. 

She threw herself over a high fence and hit the ground again, almost dazed from the impact. She stayed still, hearing them close in, and then she was surrounded, looking up at four angry leers. 

Her cloak had fallen open to reveal a short, black dress over pale, flawless skin, and she felt the air shift. Their eyes darkened with need and she closed her eyes, listening to them decide who would be first and how they would clean up after.

Shadows moved silently in the darkness as the first man knelt in the mud, and unseen hands moved toward for his companions as he dropped his body onto hers. The woman immediately slid her hands around his neck.

"Closer." She whispered hungrily, lips searching, and then she was plunging her fangs into his sweaty skin and he was screaming. Her grip was like stone, relentless, and the shrieks of the other men echoed his as the small family of Hunters fed.

The woman belched loudly and giggled at herself as she pushed the body over and staggered to her feet, intoxicated with her meal. Hunting during the aftermath of human suffering was always the best. Few lights to give them away, no authorities patrolling every alley, and best of all, a perfect food supply. Tragedies brought out the worst mankind had to offer and with no one to protect their rights, these remorseless Killers were finally serving a purpose and getting what they deserved at the same time.