Hope

Evernight Publishing

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2013 Sam Crescent

 
ISBN:
978-1-77130-357-6

Cover
Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor:
Karyn
White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
 
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a
work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

HOPE

2225

Copyright
© 2013

Prologue

The Beginning

No-one anticipated the effects of the M3 drug. The tiny
tablet should have helped save the world not be the main catalyst to end it.
When M3 was first introduced it was supposed to solve a problem, but the small
tablet should never have been unleashed on an unsuspecting population.

Starting at the beginning, in the year 2100 the world
population had grown to a point that there was not enough land to supply the
volume of food to every person within the world. This was a major problem. The
first choice to resolve the problem had been to go to war. The country that won
the war would get the bulk of the food. However, instead of an act of genocide
by wiping out entire nations and risking the frailty of the planet with nuclear
action, a scientist
 
by the name of Mason
John Creek the Third came up with a revolutionary idea. One tablet was to be
taken in the morning that gave everyone their nutritional needs. The tablet was
designed to be slow dissolving, so a person didn’t need anything other than
this one tablet for food. To put it simply, the use of the M3 was to replace
the need for food.

Mason demanded a minimum of ten years testing in which time
the government was supposed to put a ban on reproduction. Men and women were
supposed to be injected by doctors with enough contraceptive so they didn’t
risk increasing the population. Rationing was also supposed to be introduced,
along with legislation banning the ability to throw away food. There would be
punishment for anyone caught wasting food.

These were all reasonable requests and advice from Mason to
allow
him the time to test the drug he’d developed. The
leaders of all countries refused to take notice and decided the M3 tablet was
safe and sound to take. They saw no threat over one small tablet.

Against Mason’s reasoning, mass production of the tablet
spread worldwide. M3 suddenly became the cure to starvation.

For the first year everything seemed fine. Mason demanded
more tests to be done. At each appeal he was denied.

By the second year there were some side-effects. There was rage
in males and lashes of temper, but nothing that couldn’t be explained by a
person’s circumstance.

The years melted away until finally after the fifth year the
effects were too great to change.

A chemical within M3 that should have dissolved somehow
managed to mutate when mixed with a person’s stomach acid. Once the mutations
started there was no stopping it.

Mason hadn’t perfected the M3. He’d expected many years of
testing to get the formula just right. If the government had given him the
necessary time and allowed him to perform the extreme tests that his
predecessors invented, he would have seen the effects much sooner and been able
to change the outcome. But it was too late for him to do anything.

Placid men became monsters. M3 affected behavioural patterns
that soon spread worldwide. The babies born were no better than wild beasts.
Men turned on each other. Towns and cities were torn apart in fits of rage.
There was no reasoning. The only solution was survival of the fittest. M3
became like any other drug.
Addictive.
People who were
on it refused to stop. Forced rehabilitation saw people killing themselves and
each other with their need to escape.

Leaders of countries were no better. They had more weapons
at their disposal. The fighting continued for many years. The few people that
M3 didn’t affect were forced underground. They survived away from the fighting.
M3 never affected their behavioural patterns. Their only survival was staying
out of sight.

The wars on the street and between countries raged for over
ten years. There was no stopping it.

When everything grew silent above, the
remaining survivors ventured up to the surface.
What remained of a once
great nation was nothing. The sky was aglow with burning flames with many dust
clouds blocking out the sun.

There were survivors who appeared dazed by the death and
destruction before them. Other survivors tried to kill the rest as their thirst
for blood was never sated.

New York
City
became one of the worst affected places. For
the safety and survival of the people the city was separated into four areas. These
four areas were ruled by one man in each area. The city went to the strongest
four men, and the story of death and destruction was passed on.

The M3 would never be forgotten. The tablet alone became
popular for all the wrong reasons.

In order for people to survive they started rummaging around
in the chaos that had been left behind. Factories had long since been shut down,
but the product left behind was usable. The few glass bottles that remained
were kept safe. Plastic became a reliable source as well. Clothing was taken
from these finds and used. Everything of any value was kept and used.

The main focus of the areas was to create farms near the
outskirts of the city. The farmers were responsible for introducing food back
into their environment. Over the years, and very slowly, a semblance of order
was brought forward, but nothing was ever like it was before the M3.

The world was not what it seemed, and a new fight was about
to begin.
 

Chapter One

New
York City
,
2225

Damon “Mad Dog” Wright stared at his bruised knuckles as he
walked down the dark city street. It was past midnight, and the night had been
a bad one for him. He worked at the only place where sex was available in Area One,
and it was owned by Don Michaels. It was the one place a guy could guarantee he
wouldn’t be killed during a fuck. The bar where he worked offered a small space
for men to go and have a good time. Don didn’t want to only offer sex but a
good time. People who went there were treated to the women on offer, dancing.
The dancing gave the men a chance to eye up the goods. Some places were all
about sex. Don offered a little something more. Several women were lurking on
the street corner trying to catch any passing man’s attention. No matter where
he went at this time of night, trouble could be found in every street corner. Men
and women took their business to the streets. He hated the streets, but that
was where he lived, and every day that passed he felt the acceptance of his
situation washing over him like a plague.
 

Since the M3 nightmare over a hundred years ago, the world
had gone to shit. He’d heard the tales where people were civilised and the
nation ran smoothly. The teachings of money, the government, and order were a
blessing that he hoped maybe they could one day have again. People had no
choice but to fend for themselves, and he was one of the poor saps who had no
choice but to do what he could to eat every night. With the wars that raged
after the effects of the M3 the entire city was nothing but a mass of crumbling
rubble. There were still some buildings around, but electricity no longer
worked within the city. After the last hundred years many of the survivors were
slowly learning to adapt. Damon had been told that hundreds of years ago the
human race did survive without electricity and with food rationing. He’d seen
evidence of it in certain books that had somehow survived the wars.

Tucking his bruised knuckles into his jacket pocket, he felt
the small plastic bottle-like containers in his pocket. Don was an expert in
moonshine, and he’d given the small bottles to Damon to exchange. Don wanted
him to sell the whole lot and get back some kind of book he wanted for tomorrow.
Before Damon went home, he knew the people he needed to sell to. The moonshine
was potent shit. Don sold the stuff at the bar to many of the customers. Don
also sold tobacco to anyone who had anything of value to exchange for it.

At thirty-five, Damon had no other choice but to do as he
was told by Don. For a short period of time moonshine could help a person
forget about their current situation. There was no medicine around, and Damon
knew all too well about the lack of medical care. The M3 had affected everything
even down to hospitals and doctors. In 2215 many people had died from the flu
virus. No matter what people did, they fell ill and died soon after. He’d never
seen such carnage before in his life. His family hadn’t survived the flu. When
he’d gotten back home over ten years ago he’d found nothing but dead bodies.
He’d been away at the time doing business for Don, but he’d been the one to
take care of his family’s bodies.