Relentless Savage Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Epilogue

  Author’s Postscript

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Relentless

  Savage

  a Peter Savage novel

  Dave Edlund

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2014, by Dave Edlund

  Relentless Savage (Peter Savage, #2)

  Dave Edlund

  www.petersavagenovels.com

  [email protected]

  Published 2015, by Light Messages

  www.lightmessages.com

  Durham, NC 27713

  Printed in the United States of America

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-61153-129-9

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61153-130-5

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 International Copyright Act, without the prior written permission except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Dedication

  In loving memory of Mom and Dad… may you forever share the peace and love that was so elusive in life.

  ***

  To our service men and women, wherever they may be, thank you for your patriotism, your sacrifice,and your dedication.

  Acknowledgements

  Writing a book requires the contributions from many, and Relentless Savage is no different. So, as I am acknowledging those contributions, I have to begin with my best buddy, Gary.

  Thank you, Gary.

  Although language is the primary means of expressing emotion, in this case it is inadequate. Even before those words escape my lips, it is clear how insufficient they are. Gary, your extensive comments, edits, feedback, and suggestions made this story so much better. You were instrumental in pointing out plot deficiencies and incongruities, and you found many mistakes that I am embarrassed to have let slip.

  Many thanks are also due to my very good friend Gordon, also a writer and a gentleman, who freely gives with no expectation of return. Not only have you given me motivation, but your insight and critical review are highly valued. There is no doubt your feedback has shaped this novel for the better.

  No novel may be considered complete without the help of an editor. There’s editing for grammar, punctuation, spelling—and there is editing for content. Both are difficult tasks—and the later borders on mystical in my opinion. So I am once again indebted to my editor, Elizabeth, for her significant contributions, encouragement, nudges, and suggestions that have refined this story and helped me find my voice.

  Finding and correcting all the typos, misspellings, etc. that an author places in a manuscript is an exceedingly challenging task, and any errors that remain are solely my responsibility because I put them there.

  This novel, and its predecessor Crossing Savage, have strong elements of real science and engineering woven throughout the adventure. I have to acknowledge my parents, Barbara and Melvin, for their willingness to not only encourage my studies, but to nurture that interest, which evolved into a lifelong passion. Mom and Dad died in 2011, but they are never far from my thoughts.

  Last, but far from least, I wish to acknowledge my wife for her never-ending support and optimism. From the time we met, she has been the light in my life, my cornerstone. I cannot imagine what she ever saw in me, but her influence has made me a better man.

  Finally, I want to offer my deepest appreciation to you, the fans of Peter Savage, James Nicolaou, and the rest of the crew, for your support. I write these novels for your enjoyment and it would be great to hear from you on my web site www.PeterSavageNovels.com.

  Author’s Note

  DNA. Deoxyribonucleic acid. The double helix. We have come to know this essential biological material as the unique identifier of every man, woman, and child. It has become the most damning of all possible evidence in criminal cases; yet equally powerful in freeing those wrongly convicted and imprisoned for crimes they did not commit.

  Although I’d argue that science has not unequivocally proven that no two persons can possess the same genetic code, there is no doubt that DNA defines the characteristics of not only people, but all plants and animals. Every physical feature—the color of your eyes and hair, your height, the tone of your voice, how strong you are, even the freckle on your left shoulder—is defined by the sequence of only four nucleobases in your DNA.

  Over the past six decades, beginning with the discovery of the double-helix structure of DNA by Watson and Crick in 1953 (based on pioneering X-ray images taken by Rosalind Franklin a year earlier), genetic research has produced phenomenal results, ultimately yielding a map of the human genome.

  As breakthroughs laid the foundation for further and more rapid achievements, we now understand that our DNA not only dictates our physical characteristics but also plays a pivotal role in mankind’s susceptibility to disease. A prime example is the so-called ‘delta-factor’. There is compelling evidence that this genetic mutation, traced back to survivors of the Black Plague, lends extraordinary resistance to HIV infection.

  Of course, DNA is also the key ingredient of cloning—the insertion of foreign DNA from a host into a recipient. The cells of the recipient accept and incorporate the foreign DNA, and gradually the recipient becomes biologically defined by this new genetic material. Although the ethics of cloning will be debated for generations, the scientific capability to clone plant and animal species has been firmly established.

  Will genetic engineering ever be applied to humans? Never say never.

  For example, cancer cells are very much like normal cells, except that cancer cells don’t know when to stop replicating. That part of their genetic code that would normally stop cell division does not function properly. The result is massive tumors and the disease, as we know it. Conventional treatment attempts
to target the cancerous cells and selectively destroy them. Of course, the problem is that cancer cells and normal cells are very much alike—so killing cancer cells without killing the normal cells is a delicate task.

  Enter genetic modification. Imagine being able to insert new DNA into cancer cells. The new DNA would have the correct base sequence—literally, the genetic code—that causes runaway cell replication to cease.

  No more cancer.

  Impossible? Outrageous? We’ve mapped the human genome. We know that many diseases such as sickle cell anemia, cystic fibrosis, hemophilia, Parkinson’s disease, and breast and colon cancer—I could go on—are caused by mutations to normal human DNA. Now apply cloning—insertion of correct DNA into the cancerous tumor—and it is easy to imagine where this is going.

  But science has no morals. That is why people must exercise their conscience. Science is knowledge. And knowledge can be used for good or bad. It is our choice.

  This is the moral of Relentless Savage. I hope you find hours of enjoyment on these pages…

  DE

  Prologue

  Late Pleistocene Era

  27,000 Years Ago

  Lightning flashed again, lighting the cave entrance. A moment later the thunderclap resounded like canon fire. The adult females and children had retreated deeper into the cave, fearful of the passing storm. It was early morning and the approaching sunrise painted the eastern horizon a deep crimson purple. The two younger males who would be part of the morning hunting party warmed themselves by the fire, preparing for the hunt.

  Multiple lightning bolts split the dark sky silhouetting the lone figure at the mouth of the cave. Tok was the undisputed leader of this clan. He was large for a Neanderthal, standing a full hand taller than the other mature males; he was also much stronger and heavier, weighing a third again as much.

  Tok had ruled this clan for the past six winters; ever since his father had been killed hunting the wild boar. Like most of the large mammals of this period, the wild boar was much larger and more aggressive than any modern porcine. A large boar could weigh upwards of 1,300 pounds—four to five times Tok’s weight. Combined with outwardly projecting tusks measuring over ten inches long and four inches around at the base, this animal could eviscerate even the largest predators, including the short face bear and saber tooth cat.

  Tok did not fear the heavenly pyrotechnic display. He stood at the mouth of the cave, gazing at the dark sky, wearing a warm bearskin cape and holding his short spear. The shaft was made from a young, sturdy hickory tree he had selected for its diameter and straight growth. To the end of the spear shaft Tok mounted a massive obsidian thrusting point, eight inches long and five inches wide at the base, securing it in place with bison sinew.

  The massive thrusting spear weighed close to 20 pounds, but to Tok it was a natural extension of his arm. He wielded it with fluid grace and tremendous power. When thrust or swung like a sword, the razor-sharp point could effortlessly penetrate and slash the toughest hide and muscle.

  Soon it would be light, and Tok would lead his party of three hunters, not returning to the cave—to the clan—until they had killed their quarry. Without turning his gaze from the plains and patches of brush mixed with deciduous trees, Tok lifted his thrusting spear and tapped it firmly on the ground once, then twice. The two other males rose and gathered their spears to join Tok.

  The group walked down the slope away from the cave, following a familiar path toward the expansive plain, rich in flora and fauna. Flashes of lightning periodically illuminated the well-worn path. They walked quietly in single file, Tok in the lead. Their senses grew keenly aware of the surroundings. As sunrise drew nearer, the sky lightened to a dark shade of gray. There was little sound save for the occasional rodent scurrying to the safety of a nearby bush.

  The hunting party continued to walk forward in silence—watching, listening, scenting the gentle air currents. Like all beings in the wild, each relied on finely developed senses, brute strength, and cunning to survive.

  Tok was now moving very deliberately, although still walking at a reasonable pace. He swung his head slowly from side to side, eyes penetrating deep into the bushes and clusters of trees. Flaring his nostrils, he drew in a deep breath.

  Suddenly, Tok froze; the two hunters behind him followed suit immediately. There was a faint odor, a familiar and distinct musky scent. It was the smell of the beast that had killed his father many seasons before. Although Tok had no fear of this creature, he did respect its strength and agility. This would be a worthy prize.

  The air swirled gently, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for Tok to get a crude bearing on the direction the scent was coming from. He turned slowly to his right while giving a discrete hand signal to the other two males to hold their positions. He concentrated on the scent, listening for any sound of movement, eyes searching for any indication that the boar had detected the presence of the hunters. They had arrived downwind from the boar and had approached without a sound.

  Twenty or so strides to his front, Tok saw a dark tangle of scrub trees and thorn berries. This is where the boar would be lying. Shifting his gaze to the soft dirt, Tok could see the tracks left by the boar. He motioned for the younger hunters to move carefully around the dense brush lair. They would approach from the opposite side and drive the boar out to Tok.

  The hunters split and each circled around the brush from opposite sides, giving it a wide berth so as not to be scented by the boar. The air was very light this morning, so the odor of the Neanderthals would take time to diffuse to the boar’s den. The hunters intended to be moving toward the den before the boar realized it was surrounded.

  Tok waited patiently, spear low at his side, ready to thrust the black obsidian point into the chest of the boar. The hunters did well, demonstrating countless generations of instinct and training. Upon circling to the far side of the dense cluster of brush and trees, the hunters slowly approached the boar’s den.

  The party spread apart and advanced on the thicket with sufficient stealth that it was their scent, more than sound, that eventually raised the awareness of the slowly awakening boar. The animal rose to its feet, alert. It looked in the direction of the two approaching hunters. Seeing them, the huge boar became agitated. Although the boar was easily eight times larger than either of the smaller male Neanderthals, the animal instinctively avoided these predators whenever possible. If they could not be avoided, the boar would fight to the death with a primeval ferocity that had earned the animal great respect from Tok and his hunters.

  Not sensing any other threat, and with a clear path of egress out the opposite side of the brush, the boar stealthily snuck out and trotted away. The creature did not immediately see or smell Tok, as he was crouched close to the ground, looking much like a rock or stump in the gray predawn light. When the boar was almost upon Tok it scented him and startled, turning to run.

  Tok jumped to his feet and lunged, driving his spear into the chest of the approaching boar. The heavy obsidian point penetrated deep into the animal’s chest just behind the front shoulder, piercing the beast’s heart. Blood gushed from the wound, saturating the spear shaft in crimson. Tok forced the point deeper. The beast howled and cried in surprise and pain. It quickly retreated, pulling free of the spear and causing the obsidian point to slice further through both lungs and severing the aorta. The boar twirled in confusion and then collapsed to the ground—dead.

  Tok approached his fallen prey, spear pointed at the beast, ready to deliver a final blow if necessary. It was not.

  The other two hunters trotted up to Tok and the dead boar. They nodded and grunted in their primitive language. There would be plenty of food for the clan. Nothing would go to waste. The meat would be consumed before it spoiled. Bone and sinew and hide would be used for clothing, rudimentary tools, and strong binding cord.

  The youngest hunter, observing his place in the clan hierarchy, laid down his spear and removed a flint hand-blade from a pouch at his si
de. He began the laborious process of gutting and quartering the boar. The other hunter exchanged words with Tok then left for the cave; the hunters would need help to quickly bring this magnificent prize back to the safety of the cave. Soon, the scent of blood and entrails would draw in other predators that would fight for this carcass.

  Tok stood watch, spear at his side, his head constantly scanning the brush and trees for movement. It was easier to see now as the clouds began to part, the thunder now distant.

  The youngest hunter worked steadily and swiftly. As he scooped out the intestines, he glanced at Tok. He could see by the way he stood, ready and able, that there was no fear—only confidence. The young hunter had only recently reached the age when he was recognized as an adult. He still had much to prove, and much to overcome, especially his fear. He took comfort in knowing Tok was standing guard. Surely, Tok could defeat any creature—even the most terrifying this world had to offer.

  The young hunter returned his attention to the work at hand. He began to split open the breastbone, especially hard work on such a large animal. His flint and obsidian blades were razor sharp and unyielding. He pried open the chest and braced it with a stick, and then he removed the remainder of the internal organs—the heart and lungs. The hunter was bloodied up to his shoulders, and he smelled musky of boar sweat and urine.

  The sky was much lighter now. Tok listened to the familiar morning sounds as the animals inhabiting the plain became active. Birds chirped and flitted about; squirrels began scampering in search of food. In the distance, Tok saw a deer bounding away, tail raised in alarm. He wondered what had frightened the deer.

  No sooner had this thought entered his mind when the familiar morning sounds grew quiet. Tok was immediately on edge, unconsciously tightening his grip on the spear shaft. What had caused such widespread fear in the animals? Then, he heard the low growl.

  The sound came from behind him, and he spun around searching for the source. Tok tensed, his legs in a crouch, ready to move swiftly in any direction. He still could not pinpoint the sound, but he knew what had made it—a saber tooth cat.