Survivor (Rewinder Series Book 3)

by Brett Battles

  Steps? I do as he says, and maybe another three feet down the passage, my toe finds the drop-off.

  “As you go down, the tunnel will widen but there’s no need to rush. And if you count your steps, you should hit the bottom on twenty-three.”

  Five steps down and the passageway expands enough for me to finally face forward. Ten additional steps and I can extend my arms a little to the side.

  Nineteen.

  Twenty.

  Twenty-one.

  Twenty-two.

  Flat ground.

  I stop. “Where are you?”

  I hear a match ignite, and suddenly we are in light.

  “Now you light it?” I ask.

  “I wasn’t carrying it before.” Jovan picks up a stick with some cloth wrapped around one end that was lying in a pile of similar branches in an alcove. He touches the flame to the cloth, and we have a torch.

  “It’s not that far,” he says, starting down the tunnel away from the stairs.

  We go maybe a hundred yards before we reach another set of stairs. We climb up, and reenter the world through a hole covered by planks of wood that Jovan moves out of the way after he douses the torch.

  I see the lights of the nearby town again, but they’re on the other side of the fence now. We are in the dark land.

  “There’s some shelter just a few miles from here.” Jovan looks toward the eastern horizon. “It’s going to be close, but I think we can get there before daylight.”

  We pass through several shallow indentations in the land before I become curious enough to stop and look back. There are dozens of dents stretching out on either side of our path, nearly uniform in size but with no pattern to their placement. In fact, several appear to overlap.

  It’s as if a giant knelt beside this place and poked a finger against the ground over and over.

  Or—

  “Jovan,” I say. “Where are we?”

  “Loopon Beach.”

  He pronounces the name with surprising reverence, in a way that assumes I know it. I don’t, but Clora clearly does. She slowly turns to take in the sight, her arms wrapped around her chest, a look of apprehension in her eyes.

  I want to ask what happened here, but Jovan has started walking again so I decide to wait. There will be plenty of time for questions when we reach our destination.

  The dented ground is soon replaced by something that catches me even more off guard—a cracked roadway liberally covered by soil and plants. As we continue, I notice the foundations of houses off to the sides.

  This land is not unsettled. It’s abandoned.

  Jovan leads us to a cluster of low hills. By the time we near them, the eastern sky has begun to lighten. When we come around the base of the nearest hill, I’m surprised to see the husks of several buildings tucked into the shallow valley.

  If this is where Jovan wants to hide, I can’t deny it’s remote. But how are we going to survive out here for even a few days? Where will we get water? And food?

  I ask him this, but he acts like he doesn’t hear me and continues weaving through the ruins.

  Five minutes later, he stops next to a pair of rusty metal doors embedded in the ground, grabs the handle of one, and pulls. The door seems reluctant to open, so I reach down to help.

  The hinges whine as we move the door out of the way. I can see the top step of concrete stairs inside, but everything else is black.

  “Wait here,” Jovan says before descending into the darkness.

  Based on the sound of his footsteps, I figure the stairs don’t go down very far and he’s soon moving around a room. He curses a few times as he bangs into objects. Suddenly a glow pushes back against the darkness, growing steadily brighter until Jovan appears at the bottom of the stairs, holding a candle.

  “Come down. And close the door.”

  To say Clora looks dubious would be an understatement. I’m sure the expression on my face isn’t much different, but I say to her, “It is okay.”

  She hesitates, and then starts down the stairs. When she’s out of my way, I step inside and pull the groaning door shut.

  “This way,” Jovan says when I reach the bottom.

  He leads us across what was once a basement. The room is still large, though the building above has partially collapsed into the space and much of it is taken up by shelving units, some tipped on their side. I get the feeling this was a cellar for a business, not a home.

  Jovan takes us to an aisle between two of the units where there are a few chairs, a short stack of dirty blankets, a box that seems to be acting as a table, and several items stacked neatly on nearby shelves. All the stuff is dusty, like it has been sitting here untouched for a long, long time.

  Jovan pulls two more candles out of a box, lights them with the one already burning, and sets them in small pots filled with sand.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  “My home, I guess.” He looks around almost wistfully. “It’s where I hid out.”

  “Hid out?” Clora asks. “From what?”

  Unless a general announcement was made back at the research facility that let everyone know about Jovan and me, Clora is likely unaware of our imprisoned past. I’m not sure how she’ll react to the truth.

  Jovan says, “When I ran away.”

  “Why did you run away?”

  He shrugs. “I was young. It was…many years ago. Lucky for us, it looks like no one’s found this place since I left.”

  “Of course no one has,” she says, her expression hardening. “No one’s allowed here.”

  “There are many things people aren’t allowed to do that they do anyway.”

  She frowns. “I shouldn’t be here. I need to go home. My family will be worried.”

  “We’ll get you home,” I say before Jovan can answer. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. How about we get some rest first and give things a little time to calm down?”

  As I hoped, she’s smart enough to realize she won’t get far in her current condition. She reluctantly nods.

  Jovan picks up an unopened box of crackers, gives it a shake, and grins. “As long as bugs haven’t gotten inside, these should be good to eat.”

  No bugs, but no taste, either. We’re so hungry, though, it doesn’t matter. We polish off two and a half boxes, washing them down with three bottles of a sugary drink that Jovan pulls from a case in the next row over.

  We spread the blankets out, and Jovan and Clora fall asleep only seconds after lying down.

  As tired as I am, I can’t help but lie here for a few minutes, thinking about Dumont and the chaser.

  I must not let myself be caught.

  I must locate Dumont.

  I must find the chaser, extract my blood, dry it, rekey the chaser, make things right.

  I mu…

  __________

  MY EYES OPEN slowly, and for a moment I think I’m in my room at Trinity.

  I tilt my head toward faint light coming from my left, and am confronted by the shadow of a shelf half a foot away.

  Jovan’s hideaway.

  Right.

  As I sit up, I stretch out the kinks gained from sleeping on a concrete mattress, and then turn again toward the light. It’s coming from a flickering candle near the stairs, at the other end of the basement.

  I check my friends, and see Clora’s prone silhouette but not Jovan’s.

  I get to my feet and tiptoe over to the candle. The door at the top of the stairs is open, and the light breeze drifting in is what’s making the candle dance.

  I climb to the top and step out into a cool night. I see Jovan, but don’t know it at first. His shadow is part of the hilltop across from the basement opening. It’s not until he lifts something to his face and sets it back down that I realize it’s him.

  He acknowledges me with a nod as I hike up to the ruins of a wall he’s sitting on.

  “Been out here long?” I ask, taking a spot next to him.

  “Since about sunset.”
/>
  “When was that?”

  “An hour ago, maybe. Not really sure.”

  The scattered street lamps of the town on the other side of the fence dot the land maybe four or five miles away, while the glow of Saint Jakup pushes into the night farther to the south.

  I look north and east and am once more struck by the total absence of light.

  In Iffy’s world, this location would be no more than forty miles or so from the beginning of the Orange County/Los Angeles megacity. Between here and there, with the exception of a military base that stretches for several miles, her coast would be lined with towns whose lights we would at least see hints of from here. But there is absolutely nothing. It’s as if we are at the edge of the world, and if we go any farther north or east, we’d fall off.

  “You called this”—I pause as I try to remember what name Jovan used—“Loop Beach?”

  “Loopon.”

  “What happened here?”

  “I thought they taught about this place everywhere.”

  “Not where I come from.”

  He considers this but doesn’t seem surprised. He’s lived around me for months now, and has been working hand in hand with me on the book translation, so he knows I’m different from others in many ways.

  When he speaks again, his voice is low, like he’s worried his words will offend the hills around us. The story he tells is of a great war. I’m not sure if it started as an internal conflict or one between nations, as the names of the battling factions mean nothing to me, but what I do get is that the fighting spread across oceans and continents. Their version of a world war.

  Though the hostilities ended forty years ago, I get the impression that, in some ways, the conflict is still going on. He tells me of the unsteady peace in places like Saint Jakup and Rome and Jerusalem and Kabul and Tokyo and dozens of places with names unique to this reality.

  In western North America, battles raged up and down the Pacific coast, and at some point weapons were used that made the land to the immediate north and to the east unlivable. He tells me the closest bomb went off about an hour to the north. I assume the weapons were nuclear, but when I try asking, he doesn’t understand.

  The farthest south the fighting came was here at Loopon Beach, where scars of the fierce battle remain.

  “Everything north of Tolovic was declared off limits,” he says, motioning toward the lights of the nearest town. “The fence went up, and even today people are told there is only death on this side.”

  “Is there?”

  “Yes, farther north. But here, no.”

  “How can you know that?”

  He stares at the vista for several seconds. “My father.”

  “And how did he know?”

  “Because it was his job to know. That’s why they killed him. That’s why they killed my mother, and my brother, and my uncle, and aunt, and their kids.”

  “I don’t understand. They killed your family because your father knew it was safe here?”

  “He was an official in Eurus Sum. It’s an eastern district of the Saint Jakup Protectorate. He saw the reports. He talked to scientists. He knew there was good land beyond the fence, and he started pushing to expand into it. But those higher up liked the fences where they were. The barriers created just the right amount of fear to keep their people in line.”

  “Why weren’t you killed, too?”

  “Simple. I wasn’t home.”

  “So when you found out what happened, you came here because you knew you’d be safe?”

  “I hid out a while inside Saint Jakup, but eventually, yes.”

  “How did you end up in prison?”

  “I told you. I’m a thief.” He smiles without humor. “This area might be a good place to hide, but there’s no food or supplies. I’d sneak back to the other side through the tunnel and take what I needed. I was in Genoa Park—that’s just south of Tolovic—when I was caught stealing some vegetables.”

  “Why didn’t they kill you, then?”

  “If I was in Eurus Sum, they’d have probably recognized me and done just that. But Genoa Park is part of Boreas Sum, and they believed the fake name I gave them so they had no idea who I really was. I was just a drifter and a thief who needed to be punished.”

  “You’re not Jovan?”

  “I am now.”

  We sit quietly for a minute or so.

  “Coming here was a good idea,” I say. “Thank you.”

  More silence, then, “They were coming for you, weren’t they? You and the book and that box we were shown on our first day at Trinity.”

  “Yeah.” My guess is that Shim decided she wanted me and my device all to herself, so she violently terminated whatever uneasy alliance there had been between her group and Dumont’s.

  “We won’t be staying here long, will we?”

  “You should. It seems safe here.”

  “But you’re going after Dumont?”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “You really think you can find her on your own?”

  “I’m hoping Clora will have an idea of where she went.”

  Jovan snickers. “Okay. Let’s say she does. What then? You head through a city that speaks a language you don’t know? Never mind the thousands of soldiers who will be looking specifically for you. That sounds like an excellent plan.”

  “I know. I probably won’t make it. But I told you, I don’t have a choice.”

  “No, I don’t expect you do.” He leans forward, his arms resting on his knees. “What does the box do?”

  “Navigation. It’s…experimental.”

  “Top secret.”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. Don’t tell me about the box, but how about explaining the book. Pretty elaborate for a make-believe history.”

  “I agree. It’s very professionally done.”

  He considers me for a second, and then smiles to himself and rises to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”

  I jump up. “Whoa. Hold on. I didn’t ask you to. You’ll be safer here.”

  “I’m sure I would be. But you’re never going to make it alone.”

  “If you’re caught with me, I doubt they’ll just throw you back in prison.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t want to go back to prison.” He starts down the hill.

  “Jovan!” I say, following him. “I can’t ask you to come with me.”

  “You didn’t. But I’m coming.”

  __________

  WE EAT DINNER outside, crackers again, though this time we wash them down with a bottle of wine that’s surprisingly not too bad, and talk about nothing too important, Jovan translating for Clora what she can’t say in Latin.

  After a while, Jovan retrieves the radio he stashed here years ago, and I’m hopeful we’ll hear news about what’s happening on the other side of the fence. But the power discs—as he refers to them—are dead.

  Clora’s expression turns serious. “I’ve already stayed longer with you than I said I would. I’m going home. Tonight.” She pauses. “You…you both can come, too, if you want. You’ll be safe there.”

  She’ll be safe there. Jovan and me, not so much. From what I’ve gleaned during our dinner conversation, Clora’s family is…if not well to do then comfortable, and I have a feeling her folks won’t be interested in harboring “wanted criminals.”

  “It would be better if you gave it a few days to let things calm down,” Jovan says.

  “Why? Trinity and Skiron Sum are a long way away. Besides, the attack was over a day ago. No one will care about us anymore. We’re not important.”

  “What if they’re rounding up everyone who escaped?”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “I have no idea. Why would they attack Trinity in the first place?”

  She has no answer for this.

  “I don’t like it, either, but Jovan is right,” I say. “It’ll be better if we give it a little more time. I promise, we’ll help you get h
ome at the first opportunity.”

  She sulks for a moment before saying, “Two days then I go, with or without you.”

  “That’s fair,” I say.

  We sit quietly for a few minutes. When the tension has dissipated enough, I ask Clora some innocuous questions about where she’s from. This seems to cheer her up, and she smiles and describes life in her home district. The place sounds more similar to Skiron Sum than the areas I’ve seen packed tight with the poor. I guide her toward talking about how she came to be at Trinity, and about the courses she was taking. She mentions Dumont once but I don’t say anything. Eventually the conversation turns to the attack.

  “I just don’t understand what happened,” she says. “Trinity stays within the guidelines of the treaty. Even if Skiron Sum was being invaded, the soldiers should have never entered the outpost. We’re supposed to be protected.”

  I nod as if I’ve been thinking the same thing, then nonchalantly say, “When the explosions started, Jovan and I tried to leave with Professor Dumont but we didn’t make it to the roof on time.”

  “She was in the rotor?”

  The word stumps me, but Jovan rushes to my rescue. “Yeah. They tried to wait, but attackers were already at the gate.”

  “Not great for you, but lucky for me. I would have still been in the compound if you hadn’t still been around.”

  “I haven’t thought about that, but yeah, I guess so,” he says, and then looks at me. “At some point, we’ll have to go looking for the professor.”

  I want to grin at how he seamlessly steered the conversation. Instead, I say to Clora, “You wouldn’t happen to have any idea of where she might have gone or how we can get ahold of her, would you? Because I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Me?” She looks surprised. “Why would I know? I’ve taken a class from her but I’ve never talked to her.”

  I frown. “I thought as much. We’ll figure it out somehow.” I grab a cracker and take a bite. Then, as if the thought has just hit me, I swallow and say, “The outpost—that was number six?”

  “Five,” she says.

  “So it’s not the only one.”

  “There are seven outposts.”

  “And they’re all in Saint Jakup?”

  She almost laughs. “You really haven’t heard of Trinity Education before, have you?”