The Chronotrace Sequence- The Complete Box Set

by D J Edwardson

  The shifter finished and Adan let the new plugs fall inside.

  “Tell me why—why are they doing this?” He drummed his fingers on the shifter impatiently. Will’s answers were making him uncomfortable. Going back to the Institute was out of the question.

  “For the same reason you and I just drank that water—to survive. They need us, or at least they think they do.”

  “For what? What could they possibly need me for? I don’t know anything.” Adan’s voice broke with emotion. He hadn’t even been here one day and already Will was wanting him to go back. The hopeful feelings from before were unraveling inside him.

  “They see us as a resource. That’s how they see everything. They need people who can help them administrate their society, help them keep the Collective under control.”

  A resource? That certainly fit with the way Adan had been treated.

  “But why do the other people, the ones who aren’t Developers, listen to them? I can’t believe everyone in that place thinks the same way they do.”

  “You don’t understand. The rest of the Collective doesn’t know they exist. The Devs control everything: their thoughts, their memories, their emotions. The other people only see what the Developers want them to see. But even if the Collectives knew about them, or about us, they wouldn’t care. The Devs give them everything they want. The Collectives don’t have to worry about anything. The viand stream keeps them in the prime of life, and the Devs erase whatever problems or negative experiences they have. The people who live in Oasis will never know pain or sadness or death. Would you give that up if someone offered it to you?”

  “They can’t die?”

  “Not unless the Devs let them. They can do that with a thought, though. They can kill with a whisper.” Will stiffened his jaw, a dark look clouding his eyes.

  “I wouldn’t want anyone else to have that kind of power over my life. Even if I could live forever. You shouldn’t force people to do what you want, even if you believe it’s in their best interest.”

  Will inspected his latest plug. He gazed at it far longer than usual, as if he were looking at his reflection in its metal surface. Then he turned to meet Adan’s gaze.

  “If Oasis had different leaders, people who respected human dignity, it would be different. There’s potential there—good that could be done. Their technology is just being used in the wrong way.”

  “Are you sure about that? You said you learned all this from—from that thing around your neck?”

  “Yeah, most of it.”

  “And from your friend, the one who helped you escape? What happened to him? Where is he now?”

  Will walked back to the barrels to get a fresh batch of salvage. He stared at the scraps, a blank look on his face.

  “He’s dead,” he said flatly before grabbing a handful of scrap and heading back to where he’d been working. He went more slowly this time, his mind clearly elsewhere.

  Adan tried to get an idea of Will’s relationship with this person by studying his face. Was he sad about his death? Regretful? Did he feel as grateful to him as Adan did to Will? He couldn’t tell. Will’s face was as rigid and unreadable as one of the metal plugs.

  “I didn’t really know him that well, so I guess it doesn’t matter,” Will said in monotone. “That’s one thing about life in the Vast—it hardens you. There’s no time to mourn the dead out here. If you stop too long, death will take you as well; you have to keep moving.”

  Silence swept across the compound. Will kept working quietly, his movements subdued. Even the sound of the scraps being positioned on the barrel seemed softer. Adan hoped he never turned out like that—hardened. Life was too precious to let yourself go numb.

  Will tossed the final plug in with the others.

  “Anyway,” he said in a lighter tone, “enough about all of that. We better get this char made before the next storm hits. These walls won’t fix themselves.” Picking up the pace, he set about gathering more scrap.

  The char dribbled ponderously out of the shifter each time Adan poured it. It had a dark, grainy texture flecked with bits of white. The pungent, burnt smell took some getting used to.

  After the bucket was filled, Will told Adan to take a rest. He carried the bucket over to the wall and began dabbing char onto it with a flat, triangular metal tool, filling in wherever large chunks had been torn off.

  Adan leaned up against one of the barrels and closed his eyes. His mind went back to his conversation with Will, especially the part about why he had rescued Adan. If the scientists were guilty of half of what Will accused them of, then maybe Adan could see why he’d done it. But part of him wondered if Will was really all that different from the scientists. Weren’t both of them just using him for their own purposes?

  And yet, Will wasn’t like the scientists in other ways. He seemed willing to let Adan think for himself for one. He wasn’t forcing him to do anything he didn’t want to. At least not yet. And Will had been up front about his intentions. Adan couldn’t say the same for the scientists.

  It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to help. But what could he do, really? He could barely walk. He wasn’t even sure where he was. And if he could help, if he did go back to the Institute, he knew he’d never get out again. That much was certain.

  Going back made no sense at all.

  Eight

  A New Kind of Longing

  Another storm vented itself outside the shelter, but it was more subdued than the thundering rage of before. Adan squirmed out from where he was wedged between two pieces of equipment. He banged his head on something dangling above in the process. That sent his inner membranes thumping. He massaged his temple until the pain died down to a tolerable level.

  Enough light was sneaking through the crack around the door that he could see Will, sitting hunched nearby. He didn’t acknowledge Adan’s movement, though Adan was sure he must have heard him hit his head. Will’s brow was scrunched and his mouth was a tight thin line.

  “What’s wrong?” Adan asked, quietly sitting up.

  “Hmm?” Will stared intently at the door.

  “You look worried. Are you okay?”

  “Oh…” Will glanced at him, but his expression remained distant. “It’s the shifter. It’s the strangest thing…” his voice drifted off.

  “What happened?”

  Will rubbed his hands into his face as if trying to wake himself up.

  “The char wasn’t even dry when the next storm started coming. It was only a little one, but I had to get you inside to be safe. I tried to wake you up, but you were out like a bag of sand, so I dragged you in here. Then I heard a crash. I came back out to find the shifter under a pile of scrap. A gust of wind must have knocked over one of the barrels. But it’s never come that strong that fast. The rest of the storm wasn’t even all that bad. It was just some freak coincidence. The wind must have hit it just right.” His chin dropped to his chest.

  “So the shifter was damaged?”

  “It’s completely useless. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t have the parts to fix it. We have maybe one tumbler of atol left and after that I don’t know what we’re going to eat. That was our only means of food.”

  The significance of what Will was saying failed to register with Adan. He couldn’t imagine a single device being all that important, but he could tell Will was deeply troubled.

  “What about the people in the Vast—the ones you told me about? Aren’t there any who could help?”

  “Yeah, I’m just trying to think of what other options we have before we go that route.”

  “Why? You don’t think they’ll help?” Adan found it odd that Will would be reluctant to go to them after the things he had said about them.

  “The Waymen are too far out, maybe four or five days depending on the storms. And they don’t have what we need anyway. The Welkin are closer, but I’m not exactly welcome there.” Will’s upper lip twitched like he had meant to say more.

 
“I thought you said you lived with them.”

  “We didn’t part on very good terms.” The troubled lines on Will’s face deepened.

  “But they’d make an exception because of the circumstances, right? They’d have to.”

  “They think I’m a traitor. Well, most of them anyway.”

  “A traitor? I don’t understand. What did you do?”

  Will closed his eyes and leaned his head against a pile of equipment. “It’s complicated. But it doesn’t matter. We’ll just have to risk it,” he said grimly.

  For the first time since they’d met, Will seemed unsure of himself. That, more than anything, made Adan realize the trouble they were in.

  Adan took one last sip of atol before sealing the canister. It was not as refreshing as water, but it had a rich, grainy texture and it filled him up a good deal more. He tried to get Will to take some, but Will insisted that Adan have it all. Even so, it was only a single tumblerful. It did little more than take the edge off Adan’s cravings. Will had told him that what he was feeling now was called ‘hunger’. Like ’thirst’, this was not a word he was glad to have learned.

  After the atol, Will brought out a pungent-smelling green-brown paste and began rubbing it into Adan’s shoulder. He called it ‘almamenth’ and said it would help him make it through the journey to the Welkin. It had a damp, pleasant feel to it, and Adan felt its effects immediately. The pangs in his insides died away, along with most of his other aches. He was still aware of his need to eat and drink, but that awareness was no longer physical.

  Adan stood in the threshold of the shelter with the door open, watching Will finish the preparations for the journey. An absolute blackness had settled over the Vast, but inside the shelter, a glowing globe of white light lit up the room.

  “Does it always get this dark?” Adan asked. It had never been all that bright outside, but this was the first time he had been awake when there was no light at all. He found it unsettling, almost oppressive.

  “Always,” Will said.

  Adan pointed at the bright sphere inside. “What do you call that?”

  “It’s called a lumin,” Will said, moving aside several pieces of equipment to get at something in the back of the shelter.

  “It’s nice. So what makes it get so dark out there?”

  Will was rifling through a large satchel. “That’s just the way the world gets at night, when we’re not facing the star.” He handed Adan a large, black outfit. “Here, put this on.”

  “I’m sorry, but what’s a star?” Adan asked as he unraveled the bundle.

  Will stepped outside and put on a large black coat of his own, like the one he’d given Adan. It went down almost to the ground. Adan recognized it as the one Will had worn in the Institute.

  “It’s a huge ball of energy that sits beyond the sky,” Will said. “Its warmth and light are what keep this world alive.”

  A star. The word stirred Adan in a way he could not quite explain. “Does it ever get dark up there—beyond the sky?”

  “No, I suppose it doesn’t. It’s always light up there.”

  Never dark, always light. A comforting thought.

  “If it’s beyond the sky, how do you know about it? Have you seen it?”

  “No. I learned about it in the extractor.”

  Adan stood for a moment, thinking. “Is it sort of like that?” he wondered, pointing to the lumin hanging from the ceiling. He wished he could see what the star actually looked like.

  “I suppose that’s one way of picturing it. Like a giant lumin beyond the sky. Now hurry up and put on that garrick before our own little star goes out. And here’s your kaff.” Will handed Adan a folded black sash and a thick, rubbery band.

  Adan was having trouble with the long coat. He had managed to get it over the dingy gray tunic Will had given him, but he couldn’t figure out how to fasten it.

  In the end, Will had to fasten it for him. He helped Adan secure his kaff as well, winding it around his head so that it covered everything but the eyes. Lastly, he pushed the headband snuggly around his forehead so that the fabric stayed in place.

  “This is traditional Waymen gear. Your kaff protects your head and your garrick protects everything else. You don’t ever want to go out into the desert unless you’re properly dressed.”

  The outfit felt surprisingly loose and comfortable considering that the only thing it didn’t cover were his hands, eyes, and feet. It had several vertical folds running down the front which seemed to serve as ventilation or pockets or both.

  Will finished wrapping his own kaff and, in addition to the rest of the gear, he hefted a small satchel onto his back.

  “What’s in there?” Adan asked.

  “It’s the shifter. Even if the Welkin give us food, it won’t be enough to survive for long. We need to get it fixed.”

  “Will they know how to do that? I thought they didn’t have much technology.”

  “Well, there is one of them who does. He‘ll have the tools I need.”

  Adan nodded. Hunger had given him a whole new appreciation for the shifter.

  “So will we be taking that lumin with us?” Adan asked, looking out into the darkness. “We’ll need some way to see out there.”

  Will reached into one of the folds of his garrick and pulled out a pair of small discs made of green-tinted glass, each surrounded by a rubbery edge.

  “We’ll use these,” he said, placing one disc over each eye. “These are lentes. They’ll provide us with artificial light and keep the sand out of our eyes.”

  Will produced another pair and handed them to Adan. Imitating Will, he set them over his eyes. They formed a perfect seal against his skin. Brilliant light flashed all around him, far brighter than anything he had ever seen, even in the Institute.

  Instinctively, he looked up into the sky to see whether or not the clouds had disappeared and been replaced by the star Will had told him about. The light did not reach that high, though. All he could see was a giant void above him. But nearer to the ground, the compound was lit up in such detail, it seemed like an entirely new place. The new light made things look even more run down than before. The barrels and the sacks huddled together like bloated bodies tossed out onto the sand. Even the walls looked rougher and uglier, if that were possible.

  Will fastened the shelter door. Wandering through the stark surroundings, Adan followed him to the outer door of the compound. Will pushed it open and the world of the Vast spread out before them.

  Stretching out before him loomed wave after wave of coarse, sandy slopes, the same gray color as the piles of scrap in Will’s barrels. The dunes ran together like a giant tool had sculpted them into one homogeneous pattern. The symmetry was marred only by occasional dark, rough-looking spots—small knobs of rock, pitted and worn, poking up through the sand.

  The sheer size of it pressed in on Adan. It was like the sky had fallen down around them, a daunting, gray expanse threatened to swallow them up.

  During the storms, the power of the currents hurling themselves against the walls had made him quiver in fear, thinking what it would be like without the shelter to protect them. While no windstorms were present now, Adan couldn’t help but feel a premeditated fear swelling inside his gut. Here and there a sandy mist floated lazily along the ground, as if it were merely a storm in slumber, ready to wake the moment he took his first step past the door.

  Will stepped in front of him and produced a black cord and tied it around Adan’s waist.

  “I’m going to link us together. It’s just a precaution. We won’t get separated. I promise.”

  His eyes flared from the thin gap in his kaff. If they were going to make it through this, it would be because of Will, not Adan. Taking several shaky steps, Adan fell in behind him as they passed quietly into the eddies of dust and sand which slithered across the great gray wastelands of the Vast.

  Nine

  The Viscera

  With each step from the compound, Adan’s hunger
and thirst deepened. But for all he desperately wanted to satisfy them, if he had not been tied to Will, he would not have kept going. Each moment brought him closer and closer to total collapse. Every movement was a test of will, every step, a victory. His head throbbed worse than ever. When he swallowed it felt like jagged rocks were forcing their way down his throat. He wanted to beg Will to stop, but he said nothing. Will had to be as thirsty as he was, and yet he pressed on, undaunted by the blowing sand and endless dunes.

  If Adan had not known it before, their experience of shared suffering made him see with unmistakable clarity the strength and resolve of the man in front of him. Will seemed to have the drive and determination of two people. Adan came to rely more and more on that inner resolve as the journey wore on. His life was now in Will’s hands.

  The Vast sprawled in every direction, but after a certain point, all Adan saw were Will’s footprints. He had no desire to lift his head and look at anything else. Those tiny impressions in the silt were all that mattered, each one a tangible reminder that they were still alive.

  Occasionally, little oddities popped up in in the sand beside the footprints: bumpy, hard-looking things anchored in the dust. At first Adan thought they must be rocks, but eventually he realized they were half-buried chunks of salvage, like the things Will kept in his barrels.

  With great effort, he lifted up his head to survey his surroundings. Everywhere he saw the same thing—the remnants of machines and chunks of metal littering the dunes. Will was picking a path through the sandy bits between them. Most of the scraps were all but completely buried in silt, but even if Adan had been able to see them fully exposed, he doubted he would have had any idea what they were.

  In other circumstances, he would have been intrigued by the endless assortment of bizarre equipment, but now they were just another obstacle between him and salvation. The metallic bits forced them to zigzag their way up the slopes and made Adan pay closer attention to where he placed his feet.