She stood and grabbed his arm, hiding her face against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Bandits. They’re the ones who took you?”
“Yeah,” she sniveled. “They killed Legacy, too. He might’ve been nuts, but he was only an old man.”
She held on to him. Minutes later, the riot going on outside faded to silence. Norven tromped back in, a spritz of blood across his face. Kiera stared at him, shivering, unable to speak.
The shopkeeper walked around behind the counter, set the sledge down, and patted Teryn on the shoulder. “Come on in back.”
Kiera clung to her father’s forearm while he limped around to the gap in the counter and stumbled after Norven. A doorway led to a room with plain cinder block walls and a long wooden table that took up most of the space. Shelves full of canned goods, satchels, and other bottles lined two walls. Another corridor led to a smaller room with a bed in it.
Norven helped Teryn climb up on the table and lie down before heading over to search one of the shelves. Kiera stayed by her father’s side, still shaking. He’d killed someone, right in front of her, but he could’ve died, too. That he’d risked his life to protect her got her crying in silence.
Teryn let out a sigh and chuckled. “I don’t like bows.”
“Ehh, no sense worryin’ ’bout them.” Norven walked over with two bottles and a pack of gauze. “You were a little off on yer count. They got about thirty steps.”
Kiera stared at the aluminum shaft sticking out of Teryn’s thigh. “They’re dead?”
“Yep.” Norven put his left hand on the leg and grasped the bolt with his right. “Very dead. All right, on the count of three.”
Teryn closed his eyes. “You’re going to―”
Norven ripped the bolt out.
Her father shouted a whole mess of bad words, banging his fist on the table. Blood welled up from of the hole in his leg. Fortunately, the crossbow bolt had a thin point, and left a neat finger-sized puncture. Norven tossed the weapon aside, pulled the end of Teryn’s shorts out of the way, and wiped at the wound with gauze. The shot had broken one of the wooden rods decorating the old army fatigues. After tweezing splinters away from the wound, Norven opened one of the bottles and dribbled clear liquid into it.
Teryn howled in agony, his face reddening.
Kiera wrapped herself around his arm, muttering, “I’m sorry,” again and again.
“Hurts a bunch, but it keeps away the sick.” Norven squeezed the leg, forcing it to bleed, and dribbled more liquid in before it could fill back up.
Again, Teryn screamed.
“Almost done.” Norven opened the other bottle, which had a dropper on the lid. He applied the dark brown fluid within to the injury site, which milked over in seconds. The white spot shifted toward pink as the liquid solidified into new skin. “There.”
“Wow…” Kiera stared at her father’s leg. “Is that a healing potion?”
Norven chuckled. “No idea what that means, but this stuff grows back skin real fast. He’s still got a hole most the way through ’is leg, but this’ll keep blood in and bad stuff out.” The shopkeeper closed up the bottles and grasped Kiera’s shoulder. “You all right, child? Seen them bandits before?”
“Yeah, I did… I’m scared, but okay.” She squeezed her father’s hand while telling Norven about her day of captivity.
He grumbled. “Well, they got what they deserved. You stay here with your dad. I gotta clean up out there. Nothin’ for a li’l girl ta see.”
“I will.” Kiera leaned against the table, clutching her father’s arm.
Norven put the bottles back on the shelf and headed for the door, pausing halfway across the room to pat Teryn on the shoulder. “Let me tend to matters. I’ll give ya a hand gettin’ home after.”
“’Preciate it,” gasped Teryn.
Norven brushed aside the curtain in the doorway and headed out front.
Teryn reached up to place his hand on her cheek. “You sure you’re all right? You’re still shaking.”
“You killed him.” She gulped. “A-are you gonna go to jail?”
“What’s jail and why would I want to go there?”
Kiera let out a nervous giggle. “A bad place. For bad people. You’re not bad, but the cops… Forget it. I’m being stupid.”
“Cops?”
“Police,” she murmured.
“The metal men?” Teryn brushed his thumb at the corner of her eye. “They’d have killed slavers, too. Much faster with their firelight.”
“Fire light?” asked Kiera, wide-eyed. “Light that makes fire? They have real lasers?”
Teryn let his arm drop. Sweat ran down the sides of his head. “Is that what they called them before Cloudfall?”
“I think so, but they didn’t use them as guns then. Not small enough to carry around.” Kiera glanced at the shelf. “How much will he want for the medicine?”
“He won’t ask trade. It was necessary.” Teryn chuckled. “And the bandits brought that cart full of junk, which he’ll keep.”
She frowned. “Sorry for thinking he was mean. I really wanted clothes.”
He mumbled, nodding. She stood by his side for a while, holding his hand as they waited. Eventually, Norven returned. He put Teryn’s knife back in its sheath and helped him to his feet, bracing an arm across his shoulder. Kiera followed them out past the store, taking a long jumping step over the blood where King fell. The sight of the rickety cart she’d spent most of a day on a short distance away from the store brought back the memory of tight ropes. She shied away from it, keeping her gaze on the ground until they’d walked past it.
Mala’s cry of alarm carried over the village from the end of the northwest path. She ran down, meeting them near the edge of the village center. “What happened?”
Norven explained on the way up the trail. A range of emotion radiated from Mala: rage, satisfaction, and finally worry. She grabbed Kiera in a protective embrace and followed the men past the yard and inside, where the shopkeeper eased Teryn into his bed.
“Is there danger?” asked Mala.
“Shouldn’t be.” Norven pointed at the leg. “Gave him some bottle skin and the wound cleaner. Be a while ’fore he can walk again without help, but ought ta be right soon. Watch the spot fer yellow or if he goes fever. May gotta take him to the Citadel.”
Mala sat on the edge of the bed, grasping her husband’s hand. “We don’t have the numbers for their medicine.”
“Fever ain’t much if we get it early. Can use my numbers if need be.” Norven grinned at Mala, ruffled Kiera’s hair, and walked out.
She watched him go, thinking about the Gathering. Everyone here knew her by name, and most of them had descended upon the bandits to protect her. She tried not to imagine what it looked like for fifty or so villagers to swarm the two idiots and beat them to death, but as much as the idea horrified her, it made her feel safe.
“Will you get some water?” asked Mala, handing her a large pitcher. “He will need to drink.”
“Yes, Mom.” Kiera took it and started for the door, pausing a few steps later when she realized it hadn’t felt strange to call her that. She stared into the empty plastic jug.
This is home now.
19
Petabyte
Kiera gathered parts and components from the worktable out back, sorting them into wooden trunks. It would be a while before her father could tinker again, and this stuff couldn’t be left to sit in the rain. Computers or electronics went in one box, appliances another, mechanical parts a third box, and anything else, the fourth.
Her parents’ voices carried out the back door. Mala hadn’t yet returned to the Citadel to check on her permit, and worried their garden wouldn’t provide enough to keep them going with him stuck in bed and unable to scavenge. Teryn suggested she go to Norven and pick up the food he’d traded for.
“That will help, but it won’t last forever,” said Mala.
Teryn groaned
. “You worry too much, woman.”
Fear knocked a giant chip out of her new life. They could run out of food and perhaps starve, or merely get sick. Her new tribal existence lacked the flaws of the life she’d almost forgotten: school, taxes for parents to complain about, jobs to keep parents away from her, pressure to get into a good college. However, her biggest worry had gone from not getting so much homework she had no time left for video games to ‘will we have enough food not to die?’
She ground her toes into the dirt. I have to help. I can’t just be a child all the time. Norven’s ruin! I’ll go check out this cursed place. Probably just a door they can’t open or something modern and scary-looking. She hurried along, packing the rest of the components in their boxes. Mala emerged from the back door and walked over, offering two thick pieces of bread and a pair of tomatoes the size of apricots.
“I’ll be back soon. I’m going to see Norven.” Her mother failed to hide the worry in her eyes as she looked away.
Kiera took the food and sat on one of the chests. “We’ll be okay.”
“I will try to share your hope.” Mala hugged her. “You are probably right. He will get better and I may get a permit.”
She grinned. “Yep.”
“Your father is asleep. Try to let him rest.”
Her mouth stuffed with bread, she nodded.
Mala walked around the trailer end of the building to the front yard. Kiera ate the tomatoes in three bites each, stood, and closed the remaining trunks with her foot while chomping down the last of the bread. With her lunch done, and the salvage safe from an unexpected rain, she dusted her hands free of crumbs and headed past the garden to the trail that would take her into the forest. Her home stood at the northwest corner of the village, the last building at the edge. Norven told her the ruin sat to the west, after a left fork in the trail. He made it sound close by, so she didn’t carry any provisions other than an empty canvas satchel in case she found stuff worth bringing back.
She crossed a field of powdery silt that ended at a patch of coarse grass with twigs that hurt to step on. Soon, she found a noticeable trail headed west. It took about three minutes of walking to reach the edge of the pine forest. The air remained warm, but either she’d gotten used to ninety-degree heat plus humidity or the trees blocking even more of the sunlight than the thick clouds made it cooler. Still, she couldn’t claim to be comfortable, and after walking for a while more, wanted to find that lake so she could jump in.
Somewhere up ahead, the artificial river ended at the center of the spreading growth, creating a lake. She wondered if any fish lived in it, or if they had also disappeared. Over a few minutes of walking, she tried to dig up memories of the world as she remembered it, like reports of animals going extinct on TV two and three times a week. She paused where the trail split with a fork up ahead. Remembering Norven’s instructions, she veered left.
A heavy grunt came from the foliage nearby. Kiera froze. Dogs!
Barely moving, she eased her head around to the right, searching for the source of the sound, and stared into the eyes of a great, shaggy mass. The beast had to be thirteen feet tall at the shoulder, covered with reddish-brown shag. Its overall shape resembled that of a bison, but it lacked the hump behind the head, having more of a bull’s stature. Black horns, tiny compared to the animal, curved upward from its head. Strands of greenery dangled from its chewing mouth.
“Uhh, hi.” She waved at it. “Please don’t step on me.”
The massive animal twitched at the sound of her voice and took a few steps back.
It’s afraid of me? She blinked in disbelief.
The creature stared at her for a few seconds more before hurling itself into a turn and bounding off among the trees. The ground shook, and its passage knocked pinecones from high branches. Scars along its hindquarters made her imagine a pack of wild dogs biting at it while it fled.
“Wild dogs. They’re out here, too.” She looked around. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I can get up a tree… maybe. I’m not too far away. I can scream and someone will hear me. If I don’t find it in another five minutes, I’ll turn back.”
Kiera hurried along the road, looking around for any trace of motion. Before her nerves got the better of her courage, she spotted a large gully on the left, almost a gorge. Trees continued on the other side fifty or sixty yards away. She approached the edge and peered over. A steep, rocky wall studded with tiny bushes led down to a shallow creek dotted with round stones. Two of those bison-like creatures lay a distance farther to the west, exploded into gore. From the look of it, they’d slipped and fallen and popped like water balloons when they hit the ground. She cringed from the gruesome spectacle, and caught a flash of silver closer on the far side.
A metal plate shaped like a trapezoid bore the Citadel Corporation logo as well as a door with a steel half-sphere protruding above it. The video gamer in her saw a laser defense turret, but she giggled at the idea. It’s only a camera. Two ventilation grates occupied the bottom corners of the metal wall section, probably too small for a man to fit into, but maybe she could.
She squatted, turned her back to the canyon, and lowered herself over the edge. Fingers and toes sought solid rock for purchase. Though steep, the ridge wall never became a vertical drop. It felt a lot like the climbing place, and looked much safer than the inside of that apartment building. She scaled down with ease, barely worried about falling.
Upon reaching the ground, she rested for a moment, flexing her hands and rubbing her feet. From here, the vents did look big enough for her to crawl into, if she could get the covers off. A few dents and dings didn’t give her confidence, as it appeared someone had already tried that.
Maybe they were too dumb to understand screwdrivers?
Once she caught her breath, she got up and walked over to the door, staring at the camera ball. The place radiated an odd sense that didn’t strike her as being abandoned. Like standing next to a turned-on stereo emanating silence, it felt as if power somehow still existed here.
“Whoa.” She crept closer, reaching out to touch the metal door. “What is this place?”
The sphere rotated, revealing a black lens that trained on her.
“Motion detected,” said a robotic voice. “Do not tamper with facility entrance. Lethal force is authorized.”
She gawked. “That is a laser?”
It didn’t respond. She pressed her hand against the cold metal.
“Please move away from the facility or provide authentication,” said the robot voice. “Aggression will be met with force.”
“I’m Kiera.”
It didn’t react.
“Hmm. It’s not an AI like that robot… or it can’t hear me.” She felt around the door. When her hand reached the middle of the right edge, a chirrup beeped from overhead.
“Authentication accepted. Welcome, Quinn, Kiera A.”
She gulped. “Whoa. What the heck?”
The door emitted a hiss and slid sideways into the wall, revealing a hallway of brushed steel. Lights along the corners of the ceiling winked on in sequence, banishing the dark, segment by segment, into the distance.
She stepped in, the floor smooth and neither warm nor cold to the touch.
“What is this place?”
When no answer came, she walked in farther. A door on the right led to a room with four cubicles. Computers, chairs, a printer, art on the walls—everything looked clean, functional, and from her era. Most unusual, none of the cushioned chairs or cube walls appeared decayed or rotted. Whatever contamination had affected the world outside hadn’t leaked in here. She crept forward, mystified by the sensation of carpet on her bare feet being simultaneously foreign and familiar. A peel-away calendar on one desk displayed June of 2034. She touched a finger to the screen and it winked on showing a news website. A yellow error at the bottom read ‘No Internet connection.’
Kiera climbed up into the chair and started reading. The article was dated 2026, and had a panic-st
ricken tone. The reporter spoke of mass unrest among citizens at widespread damage to the environment. People became divided into corporatists and environmentalists. Both sides hated the other so much it blossomed into actual war. Militaries split apart on the same lines as well as a third faction still loyal to the governments they served. The article described the systematic breakdown of world order and nations fragmenting into independent regions and towns, everyone shooting at everyone.
She stared at pictures. One showed dusty rioters screaming at the camera somewhere in the Middle East, the center man’s face covered in a blood-soaked bandage. In another, college-aged men and women sat on a curb, bloodied and handcuffed with plastic ties. The caption read, ‘Unrest at UC Berkeley.’
When she tried to scroll down, the page went blank with a ‘server not found’ error, and suggested she contact her network administrator for help. She laughed at it.
Kneeling on the chair, she rummaged the desk, tossing a calculator, pens, a notebook, a stapler, a small digital clock, and a few other gadgets into her satchel before repeating the process at the second cube.
“It’s take your daughter to looting day,” said Kiera in a singsong. Desk two had some jewelry in the drawer, a couple of pairs of earrings, and two bracelets. She’d never had any interest in getting hers pierced, but they would trade for food. People always wanted gold. “Nice.” Into the satchel they went.
Desk three had a printout on the wall with a picture of an iceberg. The article below, dated August 18th, 2030, described panicked citizens fleeing inland from the US coasts. A giant chunk of polar ice had fallen off, melting into the ocean. Rising sea levels surged inland, despite the corporatists’ continued insistence that the scientists lied about the danger. Between the first and ninth of August, hundreds of thousands died as the sea altered the coastlines. Hawaii vanished except for mountain peaks.
She looked away, taken by a sudden memory of hiding under a table while her parents screamed at each other about some project they’d been involved with. Dad had been frustrated at endless lawsuits trying to shut them down. The corporations had been afraid Citadel’s effort to clean up the planet made them look bad. Mom wanted more time before ‘those idiots kill us all.’ He hadn’t been angry with her, rather angry in general, but the screaming had frightened her. Kiera almost remembered being about eight at the time. Mom kept mentioning the coastal flooding during that argument.
Citadel: The Concordant Sequence Page 19