The Dead Worlds: Set in The Human Chronicles universe (The Adam Cain Chronicles Book 1)

by T. R. Harris

  “Such a convenient story.” Adam could hear the pain in each word the alien spoke. “Blame it on the raiders. I suppose you will next charge the Gradis with being the culprits. It will not work.”

  “I just thought you should know. Riyad’s going to tell you the same story. We don’t have your weapons … never did.”

  “And yet you admit you sponsored a salvage operation for the very weapons you have previously said you know nothing about. Your lies have only revealed your other lies. I thought Humans were smarter than that? Your admission may have just spelled your fate. Knowledge of the weapons has been a death sentence in the past. I suspect Sirous will insist on a consistent policy going forward.”

  “Is that a fancy way of saying we’re going to be killed at the end of this?” Sherri inquired.

  “I believe I just said that.”

  “Thanks, Adam,” she griped. “Next time you want to volunteer information, don’t.”

  Adam spent the rest of the ride in silence.

  21

  Jay kept a sharp eye out for any pursuit. It was twenty miles to Balamar along a single road. He could run, but he couldn’t outrun electronic communications. Lion/El was from Balamar; he knew everyone and news of Jay’s escape would already be the highlight of the bad-guy news channel. They would know where he was headed and would do anything they could to keep him from hooking up with the other Humans. There may only be a handful of Humans in this part of Liave-3, but the three he was attempting to join up with were the most famous and accomplished of his entire race. Still, Jay had no idea what he expected them to do against an army of pirates and gangsters. But it was more than he could do alone.

  The car crested a ridge that provided a narrow view down into the town and the shimmering sea beyond. There were two vehicles up ahead; one parked on each side of the road, barely visible in the overgrowth. Jay slowed and steered his stolen transport onto a rough-cut trail into the jungle. There was logging in the area, with several such roads reaching far into the interior. Most of these trails didn’t last long unless they were used frequently; otherwise the jungle reclaimed the land.

  He continued for about a quarter-mile before stopping. It was still a couple of hours before dark. Those watching for him knew his route and the timetable. When he didn’t show up, they would start to worry that he may have slipped past them somehow. At that point, they would abandon the roadblock and go into town. When they did, he would return to the main road and get in as close as he could in the transport before walking the rest of the way. He knew the area around Balamar fairly well; it shouldn’t be too hard.

  The jungle was strangely quiet; even the constant buzzing of insects was gone. He sat up in the driver’s seat and looked out the front window. The shadows were deep, bringing an early night under the dense jungle canopy.

  Jay shifted in the seat, the pain from his various injuries making it impossible for him to get comfortable. That’s when he heard the first rustling. It was accompanied by a low vibration radiating through the ground. He let out a deep sigh. He knew what it was. It was also the reason why most sane people didn’t venture into the deep jungle after dark.

  A few stray shafts of light broke through the canopy, with one landing on a massive, fang-lined head emerging from deep in the foliage. Huge nostrils sniffed the air, as large golden eyes locked on the unfamiliar shape of the transport. The beast moved forward until it stood in the center of the dirt road directly in front of where Jay sat.

  The creature stood twenty feet tall and resembled a T-Rex, yet with the tusks of a rhinoceros and a spiny plate of bone encircling the thick neck. It was just his luck that he would encounter the king of the beasts on Liave-3, a thing they called a Cryonous. Occasionally, one of these huge beasts would pass through town, creating havoc. Most people didn’t fear them; they could be easily scared off. At least in town they could; in their natural habitat, it was harder.

  Jay remained frozen in place, not wanting to draw attention to the car. But the great beast was curious. Hopefully, it wasn’t hungry.

  On massive haunches, the Cryonous stepped closer, lowering its terrifying head barely above the ground as it sniffed the strange electronic smell of the intruder. It moved beside the car, a single leg half the width of the vehicle’s length. Jay wasn’t too worried; these transports were tough. Then the gigantic head discovered the broken out back window, allowing for the unfiltered presence of the living creature inside the vehicle to reach its acute food sensors. It was just his bad luck.

  The damn thing was hungry.

  The beast swung its huge head, using three-foot-long tusks to probe the inside of the car. The padded seat in the back was torn to shreds as Jay pressed forward, sliding to his right. There wasn’t much of a dashboard, but still he was forced up against the front windshield and in full view of the towering animal.

  The Cryonous withdrew its tusks from the back of the car, inadvertently hooking one on the metal frame. The car surged upward, the incredible strength of the prehistoric beast effortlessly lifting it off the ground. Jay rolled more to his right, ending up laying against the right-side door. His elbow accidentally pressed the release latch, spilling him out of the car and onto the muddy ground of the logging road. The dark mass of the transport hovered above him, like a giant anvil about to fall.

  Jay scurried away on his hands and knees, massive ferns slapping his face as he crawled deeper into the jungle. Behind him came a thud, as the transport fell to the ground, the deadly beast having shaken it free from the tusk. Jay had only just gained his footing when he felt a hot blast of foul breath on his back. He jumped to his left, just as a dirty, bone-colored tusk plowed the ground where he had just stood. He ran, blindly thrashing through the overgrowth, occasionally being thrown back when he hit something tougher than he.

  The jungle behind him was alive with horrific sounds. The ground vibrated underfoot, and a guttural groaning echoed around him. The damn thing was giving chase, and unlike the tiny Human, not bothering with having to find a trail through the jungle. It made its own.

  In the gloom, Jay saw a monstrous shape ahead. It was a junalle tree, similar to a banyan on earth, only about three times as large. Jay wound his way through the thick shroud of stalks, uncertain where the trunk began. The dinosaur reached the tree a moment later and began thrashing at the vines. Jay was small enough to get lost in the tree, working his way around it, keeping the huge beast on the other side as best he could. The Cryonous grew more frustrated by the moment, letting out huge puffs of air as the groaning grew louder. At one point, the creature lifted its massive head and bellowed a terrifying roar that echoed throughout the forest. Jay had heard the distant call before; it was fairly common during nights in Balamar. Now he knew it was more than just part of the mating ritual. It meant the animal was pissed, which could also be part of the mating ritual.

  It was also impatient. The tiny morsel of food was elusive and hardly worth the effort; there was easier prey in the jungle. After a few more defiant grunts, the Cryonous ambled off into the night, leaving Jay leaning against a house-size tree trunk, panting, drenched in sweat and rainwater, his feet caked in sticky jungle mud.

  The encounter was unexpected, yet on par with how his day was going. Now if he could just get to Balamar. On foot. Through the jungle. At night.

  Fortunately, Jay had an idea where he was. The ground sloped down from here toward the coast, and all he had to do was let gravity be his guide. He had about a mile to go to reach the outskirts of Balamar. It was fully dark now, which wouldn’t make the journey any easier or safer. But he couldn’t stay here.

  After listening for any further signs of the Cryonous, he set off, essentially feeling his way through the darkness. Bugs crawled on him, as other creatures of the night rustled leaves as they moved out of the way to avoid him. That was good. For anything with nasty thoughts, he would be easy prey.

  At this point, Jay didn’t care. His legs were on autopilot, his body staggering forward,
the constant downslope keeping him moving in the right direction.

  Eventually, the jungle began to thin out, unable to grow well in the sandy soil along the coast. He came upon a wide clearing with homes on the other side. Most had lights on, and dog-like pets began to bark and growl at him even before he could see them. They were used to keep the dinosaurs away.

  Jay knew there were five residential streets on the jungle side of the main road of Balamar, although most of the inhabitants lived north of the crescent-shaped bay, in a flatter tract of land that had once been part of the bay. He was approaching central Balamar.

  He passed between a couple of homes—the ones without dogs—and soon reached the backsides of the various restaurants and other businesses that lined the street known as Lans Road, the main thoroughfare through Balamar. Only a few aliens were in the restaurants, seated under canopies to keep the frequent rain showers off their heads and dining tables. He grinned at them as he emerged out of the decorative landscaping. These plants were placed here for aesthetics and were not a product of the dense jungle half a mile away.

  There was a slight drizzle falling, which helped wash away some of the grime from his body. Even then, the strips of shirt that clung to his shoulders were just a suggestion, and the angry red marks along his back and right side were clearly visible. The guests eyed him with combinations of fear, curiosity and disgust. These were the sophisticated patrons, here for early dinners before the rowdies of late-night made their presence known. Most of them would still be in the bars, saturating their systems with intoxicants before beginning the nightly parade along Lans Road.

  Jay didn’t congratulate himself on his uncanny sense of direction when he looked across the street and saw the edifice of Cain’s Bar & Grill. He was too tired to care. But not too tired to be cautious. He hung back in the fan-like leaves of a grandor tree, hidden in the shadows, surveying the road.

  It didn’t take long for him to identify no fewer than six aliens watching the entrance to the bar, as well as the hotel and outfitting business across the street. He frowned. In the lights along the roadway, he could see that the interior of Tarazi’s Outfitting was dark, yet the front door was open, with broken glass and wooden planks strewn across the sidewalk. Cain’s also looked to be closed, with no one coming or going, as they should be at this hour. Even the hotel looked empty. A single light lit up the lobby, but all the windows to the guest rooms were dark.

  Jay plopped down onto the muddy ground, not caring as he soaked up more water and filth. His last hope of coming out of this alive just vanished. His powerful friends were gone, more-than-likely unintended victims of his greed and reckless behavior. And now the bad guys were waiting for him; undoubtedly, others would be inside in the dark buildings, hoping to catch him off guard—

  Just then, a light came on in Riyad’s store. Through the open doorway, Jay saw the Belsonian Kaylor Linn Todd approach from inside. The blue-skinned alien shut the door, having trouble keeping it closed because of a broken latch. Eventually he got it to stick.

  At least Kaylor was there. That meant Jym probably was, as well. What happened here was focused more on the dangerous Humans and not the aliens. Jay had to get to Kaylor to learn the fate of his friends.

  He slipped out from his hiding place and moved north along the road, taking advantage of any cover he could find. About a quarter-mile away, he scurried across the road and slipped between a couple of buildings to reach the beach. He headed south.

  There were few people on the beach, fewer than normal, becoming deserted as he reached the back of Cain’s. Whatever took place here earlier that day affected the whole town. Everyone was giving the place a wide berth. The portal in the back—that was usually open into the interior—was now covered with folding doors. It was obvious Cain’s was closed until further notice.

  Jay entered the water and dipped down until only his head was above the surface. The water was warm and refreshing, although the salt stung his burns. He stayed undercover until he passed the warehouse that was the outfitting business. He couldn’t see anyone watching the rear, so he left the water and sprinted across the sand, pressing himself into the shadows falling along the back of the building.

  There was a back door; Jay tried the knob. It was locked.

  But Jay wasn’t to be denied. He gripped the knob while laying a bruised shoulder against the wooden door. He pushed hard. The frame split and the deadbolt came free. He slipped inside the dark interior of Riyad’s private room.

  22

  It was dark when Riyad reached Balamar. He was exhausted, frustrated and angry—the trifecta of shitty emotions. He had been like this for a week, ever since leaving L-3 in search of answers. He was returning with only more questions.

  He’d tried to link with Adam after landing the Tirrell Joyner at the spaceport but received no answer. That was fine. He was probably so pissed off that he was avoiding Riyad’s calls. And that was before he thought of Sherri. Ex-wives were particularly cruel. This time, Sherri had a good reason for her anger.

  The detour to the planet Dasnon was a bust. No one had seen Jay or heard of any great salvage brought there recently. The place was so small, and the contacts he had reliable, that he believed them. He was convinced more than ever that Jay took the Ed Gibson—and whatever salvage he managed to extract from Hax’on—and left The Zone. Although Riyad tried to convince himself that Jay was fully at fault, he was more upset with himself than the kid.

  After all, he was Riyad Tarazi, former Al Qaida commander, and later, leader of the dreaded Fringe Pirates. At one time, he was a force to be reckoned with, and even after hooking up with Adam and his merry band of renegades, he was often the most cunning, the most unscrupulous. Now a snot-nosed kid in his twenties had worked him like a marionette. It was obvious Riyad had lost a step or two along the way. He just didn’t like having it thrown in his face.

  But what bothered him most was that he would soon have to face his friends. He’d lied to them—actually it was an act of omission rather than an outright lie. But that didn’t matter. They would still be pissed. It would take time and a lot of effort on his part to regain their trust. And that was what really had him steaming—as well as nervous—as he turned onto Lans Road and pulled up to the front of his store.

  Although he was upset and exhausted, he wasn’t distracted enough to miss the broken window and splintered wood on the sidewalk.

  Fuck! Those damn drunks! What have they done now? Even the front door is broken.

  But what he saw when he stepped inside stopped him in his tracks. His store was a disaster, with every display, rack, and piece of equipment broken and cast about on the floor. He’d been robbed—no, not robbed—vandalized. Why?

  That’s when he saw a dark figure move in the shadows at the back of the store, coming out of his apartment. His private apartment. His sanctuary.

  All Riyad saw was red. He charged forward, slamming into the figure and throwing him back into the apartment. Pity the poor alien who tries to steal my stuff!

  But then Riyad was shocked when a powerful fist caught him across the chin, knocking him sideways. He tumbled across the floor, staggered by the force of the hit. On shaky legs, he scrambled to his feet, trying to make out the figure in the dark of his apartment. The thief then moved past the doorway, where the single light in the store lit up the face. Riyad’s mouth fell open from shock.

  It’s that bastard, Jay Williford!

  Riyad didn’t think after that; not why Jay was in his apartment or why he was still alive. All he did was react.

  Riyad tackled the younger man around the waist, tossing him to the floor, and in an insane fit of rage, began pummeling the kid’s face and body. But Jay was surprisingly strong. Or was he? Riyad hadn’t fought a Human in a long time. He was out of practice.

  To Riyad’s surprise—and his detriment—Jay fought back, kicking and hitting, moving faster than him while grabbing anything his hands could find and tossing it at Riyad. Dodging the
incoming wasn’t hard; he didn’t care, not until a metal lamp hit him square on the forehead.

  “Stop it, goddammit!” Jay yelled. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Fuck you, you lying goatfucker! I’m going to kill you!”

  “You, too?”

  Riyad dove at Jay again, and again they became a tangled pile of swearing, kicking, and fist-a-cuffs. This went on for another minute before the combatants were suddenly blinded by the lights in the room snapping on. By now they were standing in the center of the demolished room, wobbling on weak legs, eyes swollen and mouths bloody, with fists held out in front of them like a pair of bare-knuckle prizefighters from the early nineteen-hundreds. Jay was shirtless, having had whatever he was wearing ripped off early in the fight. Riyad wasn’t much better. The kid was a scrapper; Riyad had to give him that. On the scorecard, Jay beat the hell out of the older man.

  Just then, Riyad had a moment of panic. Using a bloody finger, he ran it over both rows of his teeth, breathing a sigh of relief to find they were all still there. His brilliant white smile was his trademark. It would have been a disaster to have it ruined.

  Coming to his senses, Riyad looked around to see who turned on the lights. Two aliens stood near the doorway, one pointing an MK-17 into the room. Both had their eyes narrowed and frowns creasing their foreheads, appearing confused.

  “Are you done?” the one without the weapon asked.

  Ignoring the alien, Riyad looked at Jay. Between heavy breaths, he asked, “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be dead.” The sarcasm in his voice was evident.

  “I survived,” the kid breathed.

  Riyad took in the variety of wounds and bruises covering most of Jay’s body and face and questioned that assessment.