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  EARTH

  To Ava, Hollin and Nayte – thanks for being awesome cousins. Movie parts are yours, as soon as Hollywood comes calling!

  EARTH

  Jaymin Eve

  Earth

  Copyright © Jaymin Eve 2015

  All rights reserved

  First published in 2015

  Eve, Jaymin

  Earth

  1st edition

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Eva

  Six months.

  It had been six months since Eva Walten had witnessed the brutal destruction of everything she had known and held close to her heart. Six months since she’d heard the laughter of her parents, wrestled in the grass with her younger brother, or lived in her country home. Six months since her heart had shattered and she had become nothing more than the shell of a human.

  She existed, but it could barely be called living.

  Most days Eva wished that she had died with them. That would be a hell of a lot easier than living with the pain which ate away at her insides. Like a cancerous growth, malignant and deadly. She knew her hurt and anger was destroying her, but she was at a loss as to how to find the light at the end of this hellhole. She couldn’t eat, sleep or halt the nightmares.

  There was one thing she had, though. One thing which wiped all thought from her world.

  Battle.

  Her father had taught her to fight – he was the toughest person she’d ever known, and she still couldn’t believe he was gone. An unseen knife had ended Craig Walten – well, removed him from the mortal plane, anyway. He had died a hero, engaging the gangers long enough to ensure that the rest of them escaped.

  Except not all of them had; the men who’d waited at the end of the path ensured that.

  Eva was the only one not to fall. She was a good fighter, but hadn’t been strong enough to save her mother and brother and, even though she’d suffered what should have been mortal wounds, had somehow awoken the next day sore but alive. She still did not know what had happened, but knew somehow she must have misjudged the extent of her injuries. Of course her family hadn’t been as lucky.

  Eva cut the thoughts off. If she spent any longer dwelling on this, she’d probably lose her shit and start screaming and rocking in the corner. Something which she was doing less of thankfully. A cold numbness was starting to replace the agonizing heat of loss. But the pain never really dulled.

  Right then she was in a warehouse on the edge of New York City. Living the life of a nomad. Wandering the streets. Looking for a fight. She wasn’t alone. There were others who shared the same life. A bunch of girls who had found her a month ago when she was attempting to slice her way through a dozen tattoo-faced assholes. They had helped, and for now she stayed with them.

  A crack like lightning shattered the silence.

  Eva shot up from her half-asleep pose. That was definitely gun fire. Her hand automatically closed around the blade secured in its sheath beside her sleep sack. The sword, Mortem, so named for its ability to bring death to any too slow to escape its razor-sharp edges. Edges which never dulled, edges which seemed to thirst for the taste of blood.

  The sword was unusual in other ways: shaped with double blades, curved slightly at the tip, it was reminiscent of weapons from many years past. But still unlike any in the history books.

  Eva had never seen a blade like it, and she’d done a lot of research over the years. Her father was a scientist and he loved books. Their old farm house had a room completely dedicated to history, but even though she had scoured through facts on all the world wars and battles, there was no weapon like Mortem.

  The blade was even red, as if the metal it was made from was naturally a deep burgundy color. And there was the subtlest glow to it when she was in the presence of those meaning her harm.

  Mortem was a gift from her father, and had saved her life more than one time. She rarely let it leave her sight. Craig, her father, would clam up whenever Eva pressed him about its origin. But he had taken the time to teach her how to use and respect the blade. Despite his nerdy scientist persona, her father was actually a third Dan black belt and had been trained in more than one martial art. He was a complicated man, and her best friend. Her mother had been her best friend also, but the bond with her father was special.

  Fingering the ornate hilt, gilded and with three tiny jewels deeply embedded, there was no glow to the blade right then.

  The gunshot had come from one of ‘them’. A misfire. Something which would not go down well. Bullets were rare and prized – oh, and the dumbass could have killed someone.

  A gleam of pale skin caught her eye. Eva had no problem seeing in the half-light, and recognized the hard, lithe figure of their leader. Kata. The tall, brunette female was young, but she was in charge of this operation. Of course, what she lacked in age she made up for in hardassness.

  The willowy, dirty-blond female who had misfired the small handgun – and was still waving it around like an incompetent miscreant – started to back away in slow, measured steps.

  “Shit, sorry, Kata,” she said, her voice emerging as nothing more than a squeak.

  Eva turned away from the ass-chewing that idiot was about to receive. She rubbed at her face, her eyes as gritty as sandpaper. You got two chances in this group. Waste them and you were out on your own. Gangers, rebels, homeless – the streets of New York were not a place you wanted to find yourself alone. Something Eva had discovered the hard way. Although, Mortem had had a few fun months feeding its blood lust. Still, without this group, she’d have fallen by now. No doubt.

  There would be no more sleep that morning, and since the creep of light could be seen through the grime-clad windows, she pulled herself up.

  It took her mere minutes to tuck the insulated bedding into her backpack, and secure Mortem in the sheath across her shoulders. It sat just behind her neck and on the right-side of her shoulder blade. Easy access. She was reminded of the hours she’d spent practicing, just to make sure she could rip it free without losing an ear.

  Shadows rose around her, the rest of the group waking up. Three days ago they had moved on from their last stronghold and were now in another of the millions of abandoned buildings in the outer areas of New York City.

  Already the warehouse was heating up; the summer months were not enjoyable in the derelict city. She didn’t have a watch. Time had ceased being relevant, but judging by the trailing of light, it was just before dawn.

  June had always been her favorite month, before the fall. Eva remembered lazy days beneath large trees, growing food, storing for the winter, laughter – she cut off the thoughts again.

  Those days were gone.

  The innocent child she had been growing up in the country was gone. Now she was focused on ridding the world of the scumbags: the gangers who smuggled humans like they were nothing more than property.

  “Ladies!” Kata had finished her scathing attack on slippery-gun-fingers, and was now focused on the rest of the group again. “We move out in ten minutes.”

  The tone brooked no argument. And more than one female had learned the hard way that if you weren’t outside, suited up with weapons concealed, then the group would leave without you. And since they never returned to the same building twice, you would not find them again.

&
nbsp; Eva took a moment to brush her teeth; no matter how filthy she was, she had to have clean teeth. Her paste was getting dangerously low, and it was a real bitch to replace supplies. She’d have to keep an eye out. Shouldering her small pack – the bulk of it rested on the opposite side to Mortem – she strode out the door. They would eat rations as they traveled. Hunger was their constant companion.

  Stepping through the rotting, termite-ridden barn-style doors, Eva crossed the concrete area to wait outside. Kata was already out, facing into the rising sun, the glow of light washing over her porcelain features. Eva stood beside the leader. Neither of them spoke, both lost in thought.

  Kata never indulged in small talk. She kept her distance from everyone, ruling with iron control. She was not without compassion. Eva had seen her express softer emotions, but she had a personal space that was all encompassing and unyielding.

  Which was totally fine with Eva; she could not afford to care. Emotions made you vulnerable, and she had no more energy to be caring or losing people. She could barely keep herself going most days.

  Plus she was harboring some pretty large craziness in her head, something she had never told anyone. And never planned to reveal.

  Within minutes they were joined by the other females. No one would be left behind today. They were silent as they all waited to receive the brief.

  Kata wasted no time. “We’re moving back into downtown. There are two missions for this week. One is to take out the stronghold in the left quadrant of Central Park, and the other is to interrupt a convoy of smugglers that will be moving through Manhattan.”

  Her dark eyes swept across the faces and Eva knew what the leader saw. A group of well-trained females aged from seventeen to about forty. Their numbers were at eighteen right then, but that changed pretty frequently. It was a tough life, not recommended for the elderly. These were seasoned fighters, features hard and weary, but determined.

  “Alright, Vigiladies. It is time to move out.”

  Vigiladies was their code name; vigilante females who had made it their mission in life to clean up the streets of their city.

  The females had silent-stepping down to an art form. Vehicles were scarce, controlled by the few highest in power, so for the rest of those trying to survive on the streets, it was horseback or foot. And horses were almost as rare as cars.

  Eva’s mother had often spoken about the world before the downturn, when animals had existed alongside humans. Tracey Walten had been a vet. She’d had to stop when the cruelty became too much for her. Most of the animals in this state were either eaten or destroyed, now extinction threatened every breed. Eva hoped in other parts of the world they protected their precious creatures, but she doubted it.

  As they continued heading toward downtown, the sparseness of the area faded into a more urban landscape. It was still derelict, though, and massive shells of skyscrapers now formed the basis of the city.

  “This anything like where you come from?”

  The question came from the stocky brunette marching along beside her. Eva flicked her eyes across, just briefly, before resuming her diligent observance of the landscape around them. Janice, who was in her mid-twenties, was a collector of information, pushing and shoving her overly large nose into places it was not welcome.

  Kata asked none of them about their past. All she cared about was their plans for the future. Their plans to clean up the streets of New York.

  Janice, on the other hand, wanted personal information. She started subtle, but Eva was reaching the point where she was ready to use Mortem to shut Janice’s mouth.

  “No,” she answered, just to quiet the female.

  Sometimes her answers were truthful, others flat out lies. It really didn’t matter. She only held one secret that was worth anything, and that was not one she would ever reveal.

  “No tags? No rubble? You can’t be from the city then; you from another country?”

  More questions, Janice’s tone acting uninterested, but Eva could sense that she desperately wanted to know.

  “No.” Eva reached back and rubbed the hilt of her sword, taking comfort in the fact that if Janice didn’t shut up soon, she could remove her head in one swift movement.

  The reality was that she was from the country, upstate New York. Her life had been green rolling hills, trickling streams, small weatherboard houses. No high-rises, no gangs, no violence.

  Until that one day.

  One moment could change everything. Take everything. Now, though, Eva had no more vulnerabilities. It was nice to know that there was nothing else for her to lose. It allowed her to fight without fear.

  Their group had split into two. One half went toward Central Park, the massive expanse of dead grass and shelled out structures which was all that remained of a once beautiful nature reserve. The Central Park vigiladies were going to infiltrate a stronghold rumored to be operating on the eastern side of the park.

  Eva was in the other group, the one going to intercept a shipment of smuggled humans. Trafficking was out of control. None of the humans who were taken were ever seen again, and no one had any idea where they ended up. All they knew was it was sure to be a sucktastic life. Kata in particular had a hate-on for this crime, and she focused much of the vigiladies attention on it.

  From the moment they split, there was no way for the two groups to communicate. All of the females knew the plan, and Kata expected that they would carry it out to the best of their ability. Rendezvous was scheduled for nightfall, which was about twelve hours from now. Any that were absent would be left behind. It might seem harsh, but if one fell there was no point in all of them meeting the same fate.

  The ten in Eva’s group were silent, stepping along the desolate streets, sticking to the shadows, using the rubble to hide their movements. Eva knew better than to relax her guard, despite the clear lack of human life in the area. If it was quiet, then generally the gangers had cleared the streets, and that was never a good thing.

  They had just crossed through what was once the humming hub of the city; all that was left now were the broken shells of technology. Shattered glass which used to flash advertisements: perfume, lingerie, blockbuster movies. The glitter of lights had enticed humans to spend their hard-earned money on stupid luxuries. Things they believed they needed for happiness and fulfilment. Ironic, when they already had everything they truly needed: food, water, and clean air.

  Eva stepped lightly, her scuffed boots so worn in they barely made a sound. Sensing eyes on them, she decided it was time to tap into her abilities. Never hurt to keep an extra “eye” out.

  It took no effort to lift the barrier she’d learned to keep tightly encased over her mind. Her sight flashed once and then twice, before settling down. A stream of mist caught her attention, the whiteness partially obscured by an upended dumpster.

  Two of them stood there. Not moving. Staring out into the alley beyond them.

  They didn’t scare her any longer, but these two weren’t worth lingering on. They would be no help to her. There wasn’t enough resonance there, just wispy memories of the humans they had been.

  For as long as Eva could remember, she had seen ghosts. The first time she’d realized she was a freak was when her friend Jolene had drowned. They’d been six, sneaking off to swim in the river. Of course, no one had known that a massive storm had blown up upstream, and the gushing torrent of water took both girls by surprise. Eva was pretty sure she had died too, but for some reason her body had managed to wash up on the bank and still be breathing. Eva was like a cat: she’d escaped certain death more than once. Jolene’s body had been found three days later.

  Eva hadn’t been devastated to start with, mainly because Jolene was sitting in her room. Sure, the sad, pale little girl hadn’t said anything to Eva, but to a six-year-old, that had been okay. She’d just played quietly beside her friend, all the time wondering why everyone was still searching, so distraught and panicked.

  When her parents had come to her room to exp
lain that Jolene’s body had been found, that she was no longer alive, Eva had tried to tell everyone they were mistaken, but before she could show them Jolene, the solemn, confused little specter had disappeared.

  It was then Eva realized that there was something wrong with her. Even at six she’d known better than to speak about ghosts.

  Now, Eva understood that Jolene had moved on. To wherever the dead go. On to the next life. Every soul is different. Some take a few hours, others linger for weeks before finding their way to the afterlife. And some never leave. In particular, those who had suffered greatly in the moments before death.

  The little Eva knew came from a few books she’d found on spiritual teachings. Teaming this knowledge with quite a lot of guess work, she sort of managed to understand the dead. For example, she knew that those two souls – also known as spirits and energy entities – which she had seen at the dumpster were nothing more than holographic projections now. Barely even there anymore. For the most part they had moved on. Only a faded resonance of them remained.

  But others … well, they could talk to her, warn her about things. It was how she kept her wits on the streets. It was why she was so valuable to Kata. And right then she was looking for a sign of what they were walking into. Where this smuggling ring was going to appear. Of course, that day there were no useful spirits around. Nope, they were never around when she needed them.

  Kata silently raised her right hand, palm vertical, indicating that they must halt their movements. The females reacted immediately. On these streets you had one chance, and Kata seemed to be blessed with a second sense of when danger was approaching. Eva often wondered if their leader harbored a secret similar to her own. Or she just possessed really advanced senses.

  The vigiladies were like shadows, their dark clothes blending into the rubble of urban landscape which surrounded them. The girls were great at silence. Damn, Eva couldn’t even hear them breathing. And they stood within five feet of her.