Pale Horse

Book 3: Project Eden

by Brett Battles

Genres: Apocalyptic; Suspense

Synopsis

From USA Today bestselling suspense master Brett Battles comes the third book in the Project Eden thriller series.

And I looked, and behold a pale horse;

and his name that sat on him was Death,

and Hell followed with him.

—Revelations 6:8

A simple push of a button and the world will never be the same.

Martina Gable returns home from college to spend Christmas break with her family, but the relaxing vacation she expects is not even close to what she'll get.

Sanjay, a young man in Mumbai who knows more than he should about Project Eden’s plan, will do whatever he can to keep Kusum, the girl he loves, alive and safe.

A boy named Brandon Ash runs for his life in the hills of Montana, wanting only to see his family again.

But first there is Daniel, the boy’s father, who watches Olivia Silva’s finger hover over the enter key that will decide the fate of humanity.

Do you think you’re safe?

Pale Horse is part of the Project Eden continuing sage, which is best read after completing volumes 1 and 2 (Sick and Exit 9)

Release date: June 15, 2012

Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

Print pages: 280

Sample

CHAPTER ONE

 

 

BLUEBIRD, YANOK ISLAND

11:03 AM CENTRAL STANDARD TIME

 

DANIEL ASH LOCKED eyes with Olivia Silva, his gun held out in front of him.

 

For a moment it was as if time itself had frozen solid.

 

Then the corner of her lip curled up in the slightest of smiles.

 

Oh, God. No!

 

Even as he thought this, he squeezed the trigger, but her finger was already plunging toward the ENTER key.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

 

RIDGECREST, CALIFORNIA

8:25 AM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME

 

MARTINA GABLE’S PLAN had been to sleep as late as possible. She’d arrived home the previous evening, after spending the first few days of her winter break getting in some extra workouts at Cal State University Northridge’s athletic facility. Like most freshmen, she had wanted to come home right away, but she knew if she put in a little more time at the gym, it would go a long way toward scoring points with Coach Poole and the other members of the softball team’s staff. As good as she had been at the game in high school, she was just one of a hundred or so equally talented players at the university vying for a spot on the squad.

 

It had been a good move. Only two other freshman girls and one sophomore had hung around, and the coaches seemed both annoyed that more hadn’t stayed and pleased that Martina and the other three were there.

 

Instead of trying to one-up the other girls, Martina had gotten them to work together, helping each other like teammates would. It wasn’t any kind of strategy on her part; she was just good at that kind of thing. But it was clear from the comments she received from the coaches before she left that her leadership skills had not gone unnoticed.

 

Finally, once the staff had left for the break, she drove the two and a half hours back to her hometown.

 

Sleeping in her own bed for the first time in months, she was sure she wouldn’t open her eyes until noon, but by eight o’clock she was wide awake. With a groan, she pushed the covers back, swung her legs off the bed, and pulled on the running clothes she'd laid out the night before.

 

Five minutes later, she was out the door, and heading east toward town. When she’d left for college that August, it had been blazing hot. That was to be expected, of course. Ridgecrest was located at the northern edge of the Mojave Desert, so blazing hot in summer was the norm.

 

Winter was a different thing altogether. Most days wouldn’t rise above fifty degrees and many were considerably colder. On this particular morning, three days before Christmas, the temperature was hovering just above freezing. If it had been cloudy, there would have been a good chance for some snow, but the sky, as it was most days, was clear.

 

As soon as she reached that blissful state she always felt when she ran, the cold became a distant memory and her mind turned to other things, like the gifts she still had to buy for her parents and a couple of her high school friends she was getting together with that evening. And, of course, Ben.

 

On she went, past the track homes, the churches, then down through the old business district on Balsam Street. Would it be tacky to get her dad a gift card to Home Depot or someplace like that? Probably, but it would be so much easier, and he’d undoubtedly be happier in the end.

 

You can’t do that, she told herself. Just talk to Mom. She’ll know what he wants.

 

A car horn honked, the driver waving and smiling as the vehicle passed by. It was Mrs. Henson, one of the secretaries at Burroughs High School.

 

Martina waved back, then returned to her thoughts of Christmas and her parents and her almost boyfriend. There had been several days that previous spring when she was sure she’d never see another summer, let alone Christmas, but she’d been one of the lucky ones who’d survived after contracting the Sage Flu during the outbreak. That was a nightmare she never wanted to live through again, yet if it hadn’t been for the quarantine, she and Ben would have never met.

 

The truth was, though she didn’t know it, she could never live through a hell like that again. At least not in the way she did before. Her exposure to the virus had given her immunity. So if the Sage Flu bared its fangs again, she would not fall victim.

 

Of course, the same couldn’t be said about nearly everyone else she knew.

 

MONTANA

9:35 AM MOUNTAIN STANDARD TIME

 

LIZZIE DEXEL WAS not a typical recluse. She had lived, if not quite thrived, for many years right in the middle of Denver, Colorado. It hadn’t been easy, and she had been prone to the occasional panic attack, but she had made it work. She’d even had a couple friends. Well, one work friend, anyway. When she left for the day from the accounting office where she was employed, she would go straight home, make some dinner, and watch Animal Planet until it was time to go to sleep. She had no pets. She liked cats, but was allergic, and dogs took too much work. So she contented herself with watching them on TV.

 

When her brother Owen died, things had changed. He’d been even worse with crowds than Lizzie. The one time he had visited her in Denver, he had barely left her apartment, and when he did, his eyes watched every face he passed. He was much happier in his isolated home in Montana, where he was able to feed his paranoid belief of a coming war.

 

That’s where his body had been found. He’d been chopping wood behind his house and had apparently suffered a heart attack. If Lizzie hadn’t become worried because he wasn’t answering her calls, it could have been months before anyone found him. As it was, his body lay on the ground for nearly two weeks before the sheriff drove out and checked, giving the bugs and the animals plenty of time to take what they wanted. Needless to say, it was a closed casket funeral.

 

Being the only one Owen kept in contact with, Liz had inherited his house. At first she thought she’d sell it, but after spending a week there going through his things, she found she liked the solitude. She thought if she did a little redecorating, and lost the survivalist theme, his place would actually be nice.

 

Back in Denver, she had worked out a deal with her firm to work remotely from Montana.

 

It didn’t take much to convince her bosses that it was a good idea. She did great work, but was a bit of an oddball in their view, kind of a loner who had a paranoid streak in her. She, of course, would have said the description fit her brother, not her, but she never really had been good at seeing the truth about herself.

 

At the end of summer, she moved permanently to Montana, and settled into her new life. The only times she saw anyone in the months that followed were on the two occasions she’d gone to town for supplies. No one ever visited her house, and she believed no one ever would.

 

It was probably for the best that she didn’t realize how soon that belief would be shattered.

 

OUTSIDE MUMBAI, INDIA

9:12 PM INDIAN STANDARD TIME

 

THE ROAD SANJAY and Kusum had been traveling on was really no more than two rutted tire tracks running through a stretch of wilderness outside their home city of Mumbai.

 

Sanjay had been forced to drop their speed to a crawl, so that the front tire wouldn’t get caught in a hole and fling them both to the ground. Kusum’s arms were tight around his waist, but he knew she was only trying to hold on, not showing him any kind of affection.

 

Despite his protests, she’d been right when she accused him of kidnapping her. But what choice did he have? When he’d found his cousin Ayush dying in a makeshift hospital room, then learned the truth about the “miracle malaria spray” they had both been hired to help douse the city with, he’d had no other option. The spray had nothing to do with saving lives. In fact, quite the opposite. They and others hired by Pishon Chem would be covering Mumbai with the same deadly virus from which Ayush had been dying. Sanjay had stolen some vaccine, talked Kusum into joining him for lunch, then kept driving the motorcycle he’d rented until they were well out of the city.

 

He’d done it to save her. He had to save her. She was all he ever thought about, all he cared about—especially now that Ayush was surely dead. If that meant kidnapping her, then so be it.

 

When he’d stabbed the needle into her arm, and injected her with the life-saving vaccine, she had all but flown into a rage, thinking he had drugged her. He’d tried to explain what he had seen and learned, but naturally she didn’t believe him.

 

“I promise if I’m wrong, I will take you back and turn myself over to the police,” he told her. Finally, she had reluctantly agreed to stay with him.

 

As they came around a turn, Sanjay immediately jammed on the brakes. The back of the bike fishtailed right, then left, before stopping at an angle to the road.

 

Kusum immediately released his waist. “What’s wrong?”

 

“There.” He nodded at the road ahead.

 

A pool of water, perhaps twenty meters across, covered the road. He didn’t think it was very deep, but knew it would be better to cross it in daylight to be safe.

 

“We’ll stay here.”

 

She looked around. “Stay where?”

 

“Here.”

 

“In the jungle?”

 

“It’s not that much of a jungle. We’ll be fine.”

 

“Are you crazy?”

 

“It’s just for one night.”

 

“I’m not sleeping here.”

 

“Fine. You can stay awake.”

 

He gunned the engine, circled the bike around to the way they’d come, then turned into the wilderness and drove them back amongst the trees and bushes until he found a wide spot that would work for their camp. Killing the engine, he flipped down the kickstand, but Kusum didn’t move.

 

“Please,” he said. “Get off.”

 

“I will not.”

 

“Well, I’m getting off, and when I do, you’ll fall.”

 

She huffed in frustration then climbed off the seat, making sure her foot kicked him as she did. Once he was off the bike, he stretched, and retrieved the bag he’d strapped to the handlebars that contained the food they picked up earlier.

 

He sat down in the small clearing and opened the bag. “Have something to eat.”

 

“I am not hungry,” she said.

 

“You need to eat. It’s important.”

 

“I told you, I am not hungry.”

 

“All right.”

 

He pulled out the container of vada pav, quickly ate two pieces, then took the bag with the remainder back to the motorcycle and hung it over the handlebars so insects would be less likely to find it.

 

“When you get hungry, it’s here.”

 

He stretched out on the undergrowth and glanced at Kusum. “If you’re not going to eat, you should at least try to sleep.”

 

“I told you, I am not sleeping here.”

 

“Kusum, please. I am not your enemy. What I have done is only because I care about you.”

 

She glared at him, her eyes full of fire. “If you cared about me, you would have taken me home already.”

 

In a few days, you will see how much I care, he thought, but he said nothing, hoping he was wrong.

 

Hours later, he stirred, his eyes opening for just a moment. Kusum was on the ground a foot away from him. Tentatively he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. At first she tried to pull away, but then she stopped. A moment later, she scooted back against him, and he could feel her body shake as she cried.