Old World (The Survivors Book Eleven)

by Nathan Hystad

  “I count one-twenty, but it’s dark, and there could be more inside the structures.” Magnus passed me his binoculars from his pack, and I pressed the metal to my eyes. “See beyond the fires? Those three stone buildings? I think that’s where they live. The ones on the right have vehicles.”

  “Where did they find fuel?” I asked, knowing gas would have spoiled or evaporated long ago.

  “I’m going to guess they stole tech from the cities. You know those reports Paul sends once a month?”

  I nodded, watching the people around the bonfire in the middle of their camp as I did so. “Sure. I see them.”

  “Those are reports from each colony. They have all sorts of information in there, and I opened a file once to see what the heck he was really sending to us. It had details of missing inventory, but I thought nothing of it. I bet if we look close enough, the Restorers and these other groups have been bribing colonists, or stealing what they can.”

  “I think you’re right,” I told him. “I’ve never looked at them.”

  “Have you located Amada yet?” Magnus asked me.

  I moved the binoculars around, trying to see the Spanish woman, but came up empty. “Everyone is heading into the barn at the end of the road.” They were filing away from the fire, heading toward the old barn. In the darkness, it was tough to tell what color the barn was, but I had to guess classic red, judging by the shade.

  Magnus accepted the binoculars from me, and I grabbed my pack. “I think we know where to find Amada.”

  “We’d better take the long route around. I didn’t see anyone along the south edge of their camp. Since there’s no roadway there, they probably don’t guard it. I don’t suspect a lot of people come trudging into camp from that hillside.” Magnus slipped the binoculars away, and slung his pack over his shoulders. He patted the Glock strapped around his chest.

  I held my rifle in my hands, and we began the trek around the base. We were off the gravel road, climbing over a short stone fence. The ground was uneven here, the shrubbery tall and angry. My arms were scratched as we walked past the layer of prickly plants, finally breaking free into open air on the other side. It would be difficult for anyone watching from camp to see us here, and that was exactly what we wanted.

  “How far is this engineer’s place?” Magnus asked.

  “I’m not sure. Amada was supposed to lead us there. I’d guess only two or three kilometers,” I suggested quietly.

  “Then we better get her out of there,” Magnus said.

  I had no idea how we were going to accomplish that, with over a hundred of the villagers surrounding her. She might already be dead, but that wasn’t likely. People like this would want answers, and something to better their livelihood. They’d probably spotted the hovertrain, and were hoping to score big with Amada. Or they thought she’d been sent to spy on them, which was a higher possibility.

  The ground grew harder to traverse, and I had to watch each step as I avoided rocks and animals’ burrowing holes. Something moved behind me, and I stopped, aiming my rifle at the source in the dark.

  “Dean, it’s a cow,” Magnus said in a rushed whisper. He added a light laugh, and I saw the cow walking over toward us.

  “Great. I have to watch out for cow pies too?”

  A gunshot rang out. The loud bang carried over the fields, the hillside making it difficult to hear where it came from. Magnus didn’t seem to have that issue. “That was from the barn.”

  “We might be too late,” I said, hurrying my steps. The night was fully upon us, and the sky was cloudless. The moon was over three quarters full, and the stars were bright and sparkling, guiding our way over the edge of their camp. It took another ten minutes, but we arrived behind the barn. It was the last structure on their property, and we stopped, sweating and out of breath, trying to regain some composure before sneaking the rest of the way.

  Magnus pulled out his binoculars again, crouching in the bush as he scouted the next part of our mission. “There’s one guard behind the barn, and another in front.”

  “What’s the play?” I asked.

  “Bait and switch,” Magnus said, and I nodded, understanding. I removed my bag, kept my rifle, and stepped closer to the barn, staying beyond the bush and fence. Once I was close enough for the guard to hear me, I began to rustle in the brambles.

  “C'è qualcuno??” a voice asked in what I could only guess was Italian.

  I stopped, waiting for him to come over. “Ciao?” His footsteps were close, and I stood as Magnus arrived behind the guard. He used the butt of his gun to clock the man in the back of the neck, sending him to the ground. I was there, catching the man and dragging him toward the bush.

  I unbuttoned the man’s dark green jacket and slipped it on. Magnus unclasped the man’s belt and used it to tie his hands behind him. He pulled a sock and tape from his bag, and gagged the unconscious form, leaving his body hidden in the bush. Magnus stuffed the gear into his pack and wiped his hands off. He’d done this all surprisingly quickly.

  “Been a while. I used to have a knack for this kind of thing.” His voice was so low, I almost didn’t hear it.

  “I think you still have it, my friend,” I assured him, slipping into the jacket. I took the man’s handgun, some old European thing I’d never seen before, and left my rifle with my pack, a safe distance from the barn.

  Voices carried to us from inside the outbuilding, and we moved to the side of the structure. The wood was musty, rotting slightly, and moss clung to the outer edges of the once-white windowsills. Magnus arrived first, pressing against the wall and staying low. I copied his posture, and we listened before looking.

  There was one person talking, and I couldn’t understand them. I suddenly wished for my translator earpiece, but we hadn’t brought them, because we knew the Restorers would search our bags. “Something about danger. They’re asking her if danger comes with her, or…” Magnus was good with languages and claimed to have worked with an Italian man for a few years. He mostly knew swear words, apparently.

  Magnus stood, peering into the window. He motioned for me to join him, and I did, staring through the grimy glass into the barn. It was full of people standing in a circle. It was hard to see her, but I spotted Amada in the middle of the group. Her hands were bound and pulled toward the ceiling. I hoped her feet were on the ground, and I saw the rope was taut around a thick wooden ceiling beam.

  One of the men was walking around the center of the group, talking. It was the man we’d seen on the street, with the round spectacles on. His hands were moving animatedly as he spoke in Italian, and finally I heard him change his speech.

  “How about English? Do you speak English?” he asked with a heavy accent. “What are you doing here? Where do you come from? Answer!” His hand snaked out, slapping her face.

  My nails dug into my palms as I made an angry fist. I might not be on the same side as Amada and the Restorers, but I definitely didn’t like any man hitting a defenseless person.

  Magnus grabbed my arm and shook his head. “We wait.” He stayed watching. “If we can.”

  I saw Amada turn her head, spitting out blood, and the man removed his glasses, folding them up and setting them into his breast pocket. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, this time stepping right up to her.

  She didn’t avoid his penetrating stare.

  “We have to act now,” I told Magnus.

  “They’ll leave her soon. I know how this works. They try to intimidate her with their full force, and when she doesn’t talk, they’ll desert her for hours, before one or two of them return to interrogate her.” Magnus seemed to have this all figured out, but I wasn’t positive he was right in this case. The man appeared ready to unleash fury on the bound captive.

  A gun appeared in his hand, and the crowd started to cheer. I glanced around them, really taking them in for the first time. They were an assortment of men and women, whose ages ranged from teenagers to elderly. They all had the same look in
their eyes: a sick kind of fervor at seeing their leader taunting Amada. I hated seeing our people in this condition but wasn’t sure what I could do about it. Maybe if they saw what it was like at one of the colonies, they’d understand that they didn’t need to live like this, in hate and lust for violence.

  But maybe that wasn’t right either. Maybe this group was together because of their mutual dissatisfaction with government and rules.

  My own gun was gripped tightly in my hand, and I watched as the man aimed his revolver at Amada.

  I started to move, but Magnus grabbed hold of me, pinning me to the wall. He shook his head. “Trust me.”

  I relented, trying to believe that Amada would survive the next few minutes. The man spoke more in Italian, and when I was sure he was about to shoot her, he lowered his weapon, receiving a few boos from his crowd of villagers. They began to file out, moving the half kilometer or so toward their fire over a well-worn path. Soon only the long-haired man with the bat and the glasses man remained, his spectacles perched on his nose once again.

  “You will talk,” Glasses said in English, and turned, leaving the man with the bat alone with her. I suspected the worst, but eventually heard the leader call for the other man. “Fretta.”

  The man with the bat tapped it to the barn floor and glanced around the room. I lowered quickly, hoping he hadn’t spotted us peering through the murky window. We raced to the rear of the barn, but no footsteps followed. They might search for the guard back here, but at least we’d have the element of surprise. We waited ten minutes, me hearing nothing but Magnus and my breath.

  Finally, Magnus raised his hand and indicated me to follow him. We moved the long way around the barn, heading for the side door. Magnus pressed the old handle down and pushed, the door opening with a creak. He grimaced as he stepped through, his Glock raised as he moved side to side, checking both directions once inside the barn. Amada was facing the other direction, and we waited along the edge of the barn’s open room, trying to listen for a sentry. When we were confident Amada was alone, I moved toward her.

  Her mouth was gagged, a thick rope tied tightly around her neck and between her teeth. Her eyes widened when I faced her, but I could tell she wasn’t shocked at seeing us. It was the person behind me who’d just entered the barn that nabbed her attention.

  Fifteen

  Jules woke in her tent, shaking as a result of the cold air seeping into her sleeping bag. It was dark outside, and she listened for the sounds of anyone active in their camp. Nothing but silence greeted her. She slipped from the bag and undid the tent; the fresh predawn temperature threatened to scare her back inside, but she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and headed toward their makeshift seats near the portable fire after relieving herself.

  “You’re up early,” Dean said, appearing from the far edge of camp. He was gripping a weapon and had dark bags under his eyes.

  “And you don’t look like you slept at all.”

  “I managed a couple hours somewhere in there.” He sat beside her on the log, resting his head in his hands.

  Footsteps approached from behind them, and Dean swung around, aiming his pulse rifle in that direction.

  “You better lower your weapon,” Slate said, and Dean obeyed. “Sun will be up soon. Let’s gather the troops, disassemble camp, and start moving. We have some serious time to make up.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dean said.

  Jules saw Slate’s tent was already folded up and likely tucked into his pack. She set to the task of waking the others, and within a few minutes, they were all groggily checking camp to ensure they hadn’t left anything behind.

  “When do we eat?” Kira asked.

  “When we have a few kilometers behind us. Plus, fasting is good for the body,” Slate told the girl, but she only frowned and pouted at the news. Jules heard a couple of stomachs rumbling, and found herself hungry too. By the time the star’s dim morning light had emanated through the trees, they were lined up, ready to start their journey.

  “This isn’t going to be simple, students. The trees will grow denser, the ground more uneven and pitched as we near the mountain ridges in about ten kilometers. Then we’ll have to find passage through a ridge before making it to our destination. But we can do this because…. Why?”

  “We’re Gatekeepers!” Canni said with a smile and a fist to his chest.

  “Well, you’re almost Gatekeepers, but yes, that’s the spirit I’m after,” Slate told them, and he started forward.

  Jules heard another of the animal cries behind them, from near the lake, and she could only hope the creatures stayed behind near the large water source. From the sounds of their shrieks, they weren’t a friendly bunch. Normally, Jules wouldn’t be so afraid, but with her Iskios powers gone, she felt like a scrawny, helpless thirteen-year-old. No wonder Kira was so worried about everything all the time.

  The first few kilometers went slowly, as they had yesterday, and Jules saw the normally upbeat Slate take on a new persona. He was usually so patient with them in class, but being out here, wondering what had happened to Loweck and Suma, charged with the protection of their little team, he was tougher, more apt to quick snaps. It wasn’t a side she liked to see in her uncle.

  “Is everyone okay?” Jules asked as Slate finally let them take a break. He went ahead to scout the land, taking nothing but his gun and leaving his pack.

  “Okay?” Wentle asked. “I think my feet are going to fall off. I wish I had wings like my father. Then maybe I could fly out of here.”

  “Come on, guys. This isn’t too bad,” Dean told them. “Here, let’s split a couple rations.” He found two protein bars in his pack and broke them into pieces. Jules noticed how he ate a smaller piece than any of them, without complaint.

  “How much farther?” Extel Four asked. Her lower arms dangled uselessly at the side of her body, instead of moving around as she spoke.

  “We’re only about seven kilometers from the lake. At least thirteen to go,” Jules said.

  “Are we all rested?” Slate asked, nearing their position in the trees.

  “No.” Kira stood, taking a backpack.

  “No, sir,” Wentle said.

  Slate stood there, hands on his hips, and shook his head. “I’ve never seen such a sorry bunch in my life. Why are you at the Academy?”

  No one answered.

  “I thought you all wanted to be Gatekeepers. Do you think the Gatekeepers wallow in self-pity when something turns in a bad direction?” Slate paced in front of the group, looking each of them in the eyes as he went through this speech. “Do you think Sarlun gave up when he traveled to Tharsi, only to learn the planet had lost half its gravity? No. He adapted. He helped the last colony there escape, and returned home a hero.”

  “But we’re not heroes,” Wentle said meekly.

  “Some of you are.” Slate stared at Jules, and her heart swelled with pride at the praise. “And all of you have it in you to become great.” He tapped Wentle in the chest with his index finger.

  “Yes, sir.” Wentle stood taller. They all did, even Dean.

  “So when I ask if you’re ready to finish this trip, to land in our final destination and see if the Nirzu people are alive in the mountains, and if we can assist them, or convince them to leave their world before it’s destroyed, what are you going to say?” Slate asked, placing a hand behind his left ear.

  “We’re ready!” the group chorused, and Jules laughed at Slate’s expression.

  “Good. Grab your things, because we move out now.” Slate grinned at Jules before turning to take the lead, marching them between the trees and toward the looming mountains.

  Their pace was faster, and Jules had hope for the first time since they’d been attacked over the lake.

  ____________

  “What do we have here?” the man with the bat asked. It was dragging on the floor behind him, his greasy black hair long and limp, his face pallid. He was like something from a nightmare.

 
He stared at me, then at Amada. I didn’t think he’d seen Magnus yet, who was hiding among the shadows at the side of the barn. That was good news.

  “I wanted to check on the captive,” I told him.

  “Wait, you’re not Alex,” he said, pointing at me. “But you’re wearing his jacket.”

  “He loaned it to me. I took his shift for him,” I said, doubting this was going to work.

  The man’s face scrunched as his brain fired up, trying to decipher if I was lying to him or not. “Is that so? Why haven’t I seen you before?”

  I shrugged. “You haven’t been looking.”

  He hefted the bat up, resting it on his shoulder. “Maybe it’s time you went back to guarding the outside. I’ll take care of things in here.”

  I shook my head, disgusted at the idea of leaving the Restorer woman with the likes of this man. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  Magnus approached, nearly silently, but still managed to make enough noise to draw the bat man’s attention. He didn’t wait to see who it was. The guy was smart enough to sense an ambush. The bat swung hard, and Magnus dodged it. The bat swung again, this time striking Magnus in the arm. He grunted and threw his body weight at the rail-thin man, sending him to the ground. The bat flew from his grip, clattering to the floor.

  I raced over, taking the bat. Magnus was on the man, and he slipped a knife from the guy’s boot, tossing it near my feet. “The ropes,” he said.

  Amada let me cut the twine around her wrists, and groaned as she lowered her arms for the first time in a few hours. She stretched them out and nodded to Magnus. “Let’s leave. Now.”

  Magnus stood, his foot staying on the struggling man. “What do we do with this one? Tie him up?”

  Amada took the knife and walked over to the guy, his black hair stuck to his face, his eyes wide. She crouched, and a second later, the knife was through his eye. She twisted it, and his struggles stopped.