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  EVOLVE

  A Logan Reed Thriller – Book 2

  By Matthew James

  Description:

  After a recently uncovered virus desolates the Serengeti, current game warden and former Australian Special Forces soldier, Logan Reed, is asked to travel west to the Congo and investigate its origin.

  Haunted by horrific nightmares filled with sorrow and death, Logan leads what's left of his elite anti-poaching outfit, the Serengeti Defense Force. With the help of the American military and a local guide, the remaining SDF members are starting to feel semi-ready for what's to come. That is…until they reach their objective.

  For within the unexplored jungle is something modern man wasn't meant to find, and if it's up to the Verbraucher—the Eaters—it'll stay that way. Plus, they aren’t the only things lurking in the shadows that want to stay unfound.

  ALSO BY MATTHEW JAMES

  The Hank Boyd Adventures

  Blood and Sand

  Mayan Darkness

  Babel Found

  Elixir of Life: A Novella (coming soon)

  The Logan Reed Thrillers

  Plague

  Evolve

  Standalone Novels

  Dead Moon

  PRAISE FOR “PLAGUE”

  "PLAGUE erupts from the pages in a steroid-filled tornado of terror and shock!"

  —SUSPENSE MAGAZINE

  “PLAGUE is filled with action, monsters, and our new favorite hero, Logan Reed. Need a cup of coffee and the next book!”

  —THE MR. CAFFEINE SHOW

  “A triumphant series opener that will leave readers chomping for the next installment!”

  —Richard Bard, Bestselling author of BRAINRUSH

  "PLAGUE is a monstrously thrilling read!"

  —John Sneeden, Bestselling author of THE SIGNAL

  PRAISE FOR “THE HANK BOYD ADVENTURES”

  “Matthew James and the Hank Boyd series have been added to my must-read list!”

  —J.M. LeDuc, Bestselling author of SIN

  “BLOOD & SAND takes readers on a spellbindingly treacherous journey that also manages to have fun along the way!”

  —Rick Chesler, Bestselling author of HOTEL MEGALODON

  “The next Hank Boyd Adventure can’t come soon enough!”

  —David McAfee, Bestselling author of 33 A.D

  PRAISE FOR “DEAD MOON”

  “DEAD MOON is a high-octane thrill ride filled with action, suspense, sadness, and of course, monsters! An amazing read!”

  —Zach Cole, author of KAIJU EPOCH

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  So, book six is here and done (obviously, you’re reading this, aren’t you?). I ran into my first case of writer’s block/fatigue when putting this together too. It was a strange and terrifying experience for me. I sat down one day and couldn’t write. My mind and will just wouldn’t let the words come out. I had zero concentration and no drive to break through it at times either. I was so afraid that it wouldn’t go away and I’d be stuck in a hellish limbo forever.

  A lot of really awesome people have helped me with my book writing endeavors since my first novel (Blood & Sand) was in its infancy, none more than an old friend of the family, Courtney Glen. She made a dream come true and brought a handful of my books into her Barnes and Noble store in South Carolina. I was shocked when my wife got a text from Courtney showing off my work sitting next to some really big-time authors like David Baldacci, Daniel Silva, and Justin Cronin.

  Awesome, right?!

  Thank you so much for making this happen, Courtney. It’s something I’ll never forget.

  This novel is dedicated to my favorite fictional men of action, as well as the authors who brought them to life.

  Jeremy Robinson

  Jack Sigler

  James Rollins

  Gray Pierce

  Matthew Reilly

  Jack West Jr.

  EVOLVE

  A Logan Reed Thriller

  Book 2

  By Matthew James

  PROLOGUE

  April, 4th 1875

  Stuttgart, The German Empire (Modern Day Germany)

  He dreamt of blood and death. He dreamt of shrieking chaos. He dreamt of…them. No, that wasn’t right. You had to sleep long enough to dream those things. This was a living memory—a living nightmare—one that tormented him daily whether the sun was up or not. As a result, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept—let alone slept sound enough to even call it anything more than a short rest. Each time he did slumber, however, he’d see its face once more. He’d also see the blood again too.

  Not since that dreadful night, he thought, leaning out over his third story balcony. He desired many things in his life, getting most of what he asked for, but fame and wealth did very little to mend a broken mind. Now, what he desired more than anything was peace of mind.

  And soul.

  Karl Mauch was not usually easy to scare. He was a renown explorer and singlehandedly responsible for charting much of Africa for his homeland. With the help of a German-American hunter, he had even discovered the Great Zimbabwe. It was a beautifully ancient settlement in the southern region of Africa and Mauch believed it once served as a gold mine for none other than King Solomon himself.

  But I have yet to prove my hypothesis about Ophir to be true…

  He knew that some of his peers thought his supposition to be foolish. Some even openly ridiculed him, publicly calling for his job, christening him The Fool—a court jester. But he knew better. He believed his find to be so.

  The archaeological site was previously mentioned as such in the writings of the 16th-century Portuguese historian, Joao dos Santos, only he called it by a much older name, Symbaoe. Mauch also remembered how dos Santos described the place in one of his many recordings about the ancient city.

  “When, and by whom, these edifices were raised there is no record, but they say they are the work of the devil, for it does not seem possible to them that they should be the work of man.”

  The work of the devil…the Verbraucher.

  He shuddered as he swirled his drink. It contained his third such refreshment. Mauch lifted the generously-filled ornately decorated glass to his nose and smelled the malt, deeply inhaling it before once again wrapping his lips around its rim and tasting the calming nectar. The scotch’s warming embrace had become his trusted ally in the days following his historic discovery. It had also become his confidante, helping him sleep however long possible.

  Damn you, he thought again, unwillingly reliving the fateful encounter. He, unfortunately, remembered every detail.

  It was September, 3rd 1871, and Mauch had just gone to bed, laying face up in his tent. He had no real intent on sleeping that night, too excited for the next day’s happenings. He and his team would scour the site clean, searching every nook and cranny for anything related to the people who built such a majestic place. He loved the countless mysteries the continent offered. It’s why he continued his search of it—particularly for the gold mines of the biblical region, Ophir.

  Mauch heard a rustling sound outside his tent, rapidly changing in volume with every breath. It reminded him of an elephant or a rhinoceros romping through the dry grasslands, the stalks bending and cracking under each’s prodigious girth. His skin broke out in a nervous sweat and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. As far as he knew, there weren’t any of those species near this site. At least not near our camp. Predators on the other hand… He didn’t want to think about it, instead focusing on something else. It may have just as well been another of his expedition’s crew going out to relieve themselves. But again, he knew it wasn’t. Everyone had gone to bed and there were no external lights to see by. Had someone been awake like him and gone out to use the restroom, but not light a lamp
, or at the very least, a torch?

  No, he decided.

  He knew no one in his group was foolish enough to wander out into the wilderness surrounding them without a light to guide them by. And yet, he heard the disturbance again. Something was definitely alive…and fairly close from what he could tell.

  Has no one else heard it?

  He sat up and fumbled for his oil lamp, eventually striking a match and lighting it. He quietly crawled out on all fours, careful not to tip the lit flame. Slowly, he edged out of his shelter, taking in the surrounding landscape. From his experiences, he knew the only thing out right then that wasn’t human, was one of the many nocturnal hunters that roamed the fields of south Africa. Large cats were what worried him the most. Everyone was instructed by their guide to never go out unarmed. Following the local’s advice, he carried a rifle on his shoulder.

  He witnessed a leopard once, gliding like a demonic wraith towards an unknown catch. It had seen him too but quickly vanished into the darkness. The cat was both frightening and beautiful.

  Breathing hard, Mauch stood and faced north, towards the outskirts of the site. He then held his next breath and listened for the sound again, but heard nothing. All he did hear was what he’d come to love. The savannahs of Africa brought with them a charming amity, one only found in the unexplored wilds of the world. The winds constantly swept back and forth through the surrounding tall grass, creating a soothing white-noise. It’s what helped him sleep when away from home. That and the occasional drink.

  I may need another shortly.

  As he was about to let out his held air, he finally heard it, choking him up some. He coughed, frowning at the noise. He quickly calmed, though, cursing himself for being so emotionally unsteady, and again held his air. It was only a couple of heartbeats before he once again heard it.

  He turned right, heading east, and marched out into the dark, oil lamp lighting his way. Its reach was minimum, but it was better than nothing. After covering a distance of fifty paces, Mauch heard it again, just out of the reach of the flame’s glow. Whatever was causing the rustling sound, was no more than a dozen paces further in front of him. Soon he’d—

  A moan tripped him up, causing him to curse inwardly. He’d encountered all sorts of primitive beasts while traveling. Why was this any different?

  He took another step and saw it.

  Still half in the shadow of night was what he dreaded. The cat was smaller than some, an adolescent, but still large enough to rip him limb from limb. It lay on its stomach, facing away from him. Only its hindquarters and tail were visible for him to see.

  Breathing in deep, Mauch took one more nervous step forward, gasping at what he saw. The reason that the hindquarters were the only part visible, was because they were the only part there. The rest was gone.

  Blood coated the plains around him—fur and entrails too. It was easily the most horrifying scene he’d ever witnessed in his years of exploration. He’d seen other animals shot and skinned, and even more fight to the death, but this was so much worse than those instances. This was an anger-filled massacre. This wasn’t just a kill for food or survival. It was one bursting with abhorrence.

  A small green light bloomed ahead of him, further into the darkness. It was intriguing, maybe the size of a coin, but he dared not move. Mauch had seen enough to know that whatever cut this cat in two, could easily do worse to him in a blink of an eye.

  Another small light came to be next to the first. Then, the two lights again disappeared and, just as quickly, reappeared.

  They blinked.

  Eyes… he thought, his bladder emptying in terror. They’re eyes!

  The owner of the eyes hissed and stepped forward into the outer reaches of the light. Mauch could do nothing but stand there and stare, waiting for his own demise.

  Lost in fright, he failed to notice something odd about the eyes’ line of sight. They had to look up at him. Was the devil crouching like an ape, or was it another four-legged predator like the slain cat? As it stepped forward again, Mauch got his answer.

  “Oh, my god…”

  It…was a girl. He placed her age to be that of a five-year-old. She would have reached his waist, at most, if she stood fully upright. But the blood-covered youth didn’t stand like he did. She stood like a hunched gargoyle, resembling that of something he’d seen many times on the precipices of buildings back home. He’d also read about similar creatures in the various historical and religious texts too. Mauch started praying to the god of the latter one, hoping he didn’t end up like the cat did—violently ripped in half.

  Suddenly, the girl sprang into the air, launching herself at Mauch. The lightning quick movement caused the larger man to stumble back and fall. As he landed his hand reflexively squeezed the trigger of his weapon. Even though the shot went wide, the concussive boom of his rifle still saved his life.

  The child shrieked in fright and pounded back into the encompassing darkness, quickly disappearing into the protective shroud of night. Mauch couldn’t move, lost in distress, uncaring that he was laying in his own urine.

  He wouldn’t be the same man he was before arriving in Zimbabwe. The real Karl Mauch was dead. What was left was a shell of a man—a frightened toddler who was scared of the dark and the monsters that live within it.

  Blinking out of the nightmare, he drained the rest of his scotch and tossed the glass down to the road. He had enough of living in fear. Continuing to live with the disturbing memory was no longer an option.

  Mauch climbed onto the reinforced iron railing and stood on wobbly legs. Then, like so many times before, he leaned forward, visualizing his landing spot next to the bushes below. But also, just like those other times, he aborted his latest attempt at ending his own life and leaned back towards the safety of the balcony. Whether it was the touch of Death himself or not, Mauch didn’t know, but a strong gust of chilled air caught his heavy frame, causing his weight to shift forward instead as his knees buckled.

  His already compromised balance and his slowed reflexes were enough to make him fall. He didn’t even scream either, plunging to his death in silence. He’d come to terms with his eventual demise, knowing it would be by his own hand one day if not an accident while further exploring the unknown world.

  Mauch had no regrets in his life except for ever finding that damn city in Zimbabwe. He cursed the evil living there that ruined his life, the one that ultimately drove him to such a hasty decision. Either way, he would finally be at peace.

  “Damn you,” he said just before hitting the sidewalk.

  Then…nothing.

  1

  Present Day

  Serengeti National Park, Tanzania

  “You’d figure these blokes would’ve learned a thing or two by now,” Fitz said, shielding himself behind a large boulder. FN SCAR assault rifle at the low ready, he watched as Logan quickly scaled the backside of the kopje, identical weapon slung across his back. By normal “koppie” standards it was on the smaller side. The two Aussie SDF agents weren’t concerned with how minute their cover was at the moment, though. They were just happy to get to it when they did.

  Brushing the dirt from his shoulder, of which Logan had just used to get a leg-up, Fitz peeked to the right, seeing one of their brand-new trucks riddled with bullets. It wouldn’t be a total loss, but it’d definitely be out of commission for a while.

  “Wankers,” he said under his breath. Luckily for them, it was an upgrade over the older Jeeps they had on hand only a month ago. The siding was much more resistant than that of a factory model and the glass was completely bulletproof. But tires were tires, and both front ones were done for. “Shoulda brought the new Rhino instead…”

  The Rhino was an armored Hummer—also brand new. It replaced the original two weeks ago, which was badly damaged during last month’s incident. The tank-like vehicle included a .50 caliber machine gun mounted in its rear hold, just like its predecessor, and it also contained comparable impervious glass like the
new Jeeps did. The biggest difference between it and the smaller Jeeps was the muscle of the engine and the bulkier tires. A simple bullet wouldn’t have done much to them.

  Could’ve just stayed in the AC and run the asshats over.

  Bullets ricocheted off the rock’s facing, some getting awfully close to their positions. Before the God Blood outbreak, only a handful of poachers carried weapons like these, but now they were scared and desperate for wares. And that combination made them even more dangerous than normal.

  Desperate times call for desperate measures I suppose. The saying was as cliché as it got but it had merit.

  The SDF normally had around ten to twelve anti-poaching agents on hand at any one time but the Americans tripled their ranks in the last few weeks, making it that much harder on the people who relied on killing these animals for a living—not to mention the number of animals killed off naturally by the virus. Yes, times were tough, hence the automatic weapons and itchy trigger fingers these men had just shown.

  Except, this wasn’t a fistfight—or knife fight for that matter. It was a gunfight and Fitz and Logan had one more ace up their sleeves…themselves. They weren’t your average men.

  Each was equally cunning and even more deadly. The former Australian Special Air Service (SAS) soldiers could take down a small city if they had the equipment and the desire to. Plus, it also helped that they knew one another better than most partners did. They were best friends and trusted each other to the fullest.

  “Just get ready, will you?” Logan whispered from above. “Once I get off a couple they’re gonna turn their sights on me.”