by David Meyer
He veered to the table. Tossing away his mostly-empty canteen, he quickly helped himself to four full ones. They weighed him down, but he grabbed a fifth one anyway.
Podey, Sanza, and Stanner ran to other tables. They began taking canteens, stuffing them under their cloaks.
Titus sprinted to the platform. He hoisted himself on top of it, then ran up to the cylindrical well’s guard rail. Over one hundred feet below, the four aqueducts were clearly visible. Two were sealed by heavy metal hatches. The other two were wide open.
Twisting around, he spotted Podey. “One and Two need to be opened,” he called out.
Shooting him a nod, she hoisted herself onto the platform. Weaving through a maze of tables, chairs, computers, and various pieces of machinery, she made her way to one side of the bridge. Then she darted across it.
Sanza climbed onto the platform, then ran up to Titus. Gasping for air, she bent over at the waist. Seconds later, Stanner arrived.
Titus shot a glimpse at the stairs, at the curtained entryway. Had Cormella seen them run to the reservoir? If so, she could arrive at any second.
“Get down there,” he said.
Stanner frowned. “But Sir—”
“That’s an order, Private.”
Stanner exhaled, then ran to a gate. He unlatched it, then started down a long ladder.
Sanza picked another gate and threw it open. Twisting around, she descended into the well.
Titus fixed his gaze on the elevated bridge. Podey stood at the center of it, her attention focused on the console. With well-practiced movements, she hit buttons and flicked switches.
Seconds later, the two metal hatches creaked open.
“Nice work,” he hissed. “Come on.”
“I just need a few minutes to—”
“Forget it.”
“But—”
“I said, ‘forget it.’ We’ve got to go.”
“Fine. Let me just get the keys.” She fished her hands around the console, grabbing up a couple of objects. Reluctantly, she left the bridge, then made her way to a gate. Opening it wide, she started down a ladder.
Titus hurried to a fourth gate. As he peeled it open, he snuck another glimpse at the entryway.
Still no Cormella.
How much longer did they have? How much longer before she invaded this hallowed place?
Deeply troubled, he descended into the well. Cormella wouldn’t let him escape with the tablet. He was sure of that. She’d come after him, hunt him down. He didn’t stand a chance against her wrath.
His sandals splashed into a couple inches of water. Releasing the ladder, he twisted around. The four aqueducts yawned before him, illuminated by torches mounted around the well.
Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cormella, about how she’d target him. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t stand a chance. She’d hound him until both he and the tablet were gone.
His mouth crinkled at the edges. In that moment, he finally understood why Stubbels had sacrificed himself. He hadn’t done it to save Titus. Rather, he’d done it to save the tablet. Or, more specifically, the Luminites.
Kayden and her friends were the only people alive capable of stopping Cormella. And they were the only ones who had even a prayer of undoing the Broken. If something happened to them, Natica would be lost for good.
“Private Stanner, you take One,” he said. “Sanza gets Two. Podey is Three and I’ve got Four.”
“Four, Sir?” Stanner blinked. “How about we switch? I’ll take Four, you get One.”
Titus shook his head. “Four is mine.”
“But it’s a dead-end.”
Six months ago, Dargon had used an ancient tank to blow Station Four into smithereens. On the surface, all that was left was a pile of rubble.
He produced the charging cord from his cloak. Extending his hand, he held it and the tablet out to Sanza. “Take these.”
She gawked at the items, then at him.
“Cormella thinks I’ve got the tablet,” he explained. “She’ll come after me. In fact, I’m going to make sure she comes after me.”
She shook her head as she pocketed the items. “You know, you really drive me crazy sometimes.”
He grinned.
Podey gave them each a large metal keyring, numbered one through four. “Don’t lose these,” she said. “You’ll need them to get through the stations.”
At the same time, Stanner gathered up four torches and passed them around. The foursome stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, aware that this might very well be the last time they ever laid eyes upon one another.
Finally, Stanner nodded at Titus. Twisting around, he vanished into Aqueduct One.
Podey hugged Titus and Sanza. “See you at the Shell,” she said, as she disappeared into Aqueduct Three.
And then, only Sanza and Titus were left. She glanced at him. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will.” In a flash, he took her into his arms, kissed her hard on the lips. It wasn’t exactly a lark. But it wasn’t like he’d thought things through either.
Her eyes reeled wide open. At first, they looked shocked. Then they became soft, vulnerable. Not her normal look by a long shot.
Still holding the torch, she put her free hand to the back of his neck. Her chin tipped upward. Her mouth melted into his and she kissed him back.
An eternity passed in a mere second. And when they finally parted, Titus felt a warm glow fill his body.
She stared up at him. “How’d you know I wanted you to do that?”
“Lucky guess?”
She laughed, a soft, musical laugh. Then she straightened up, as if hit in the face by cold, harsh reality. Her softness and vulnerability disappeared, replaced by cold, hard conviction.
“Don’t die.” She fixed him with a fierce glare as she raced into Aqueduct Two. “Don’t you dare.”
“You either,” he called out.
But she was already gone.
Chapter 69
“Cormella!” Titus’ sandals slapped awkwardly against the curved floor. “Come and get me!”
The aqueduct, cylindrical in shape, sloped slightly uphill from this direction. Constructed from Natica concrete, it had withstood the rigors of time and water flow. There were no weak spots, no crumbling portions. For all intents and purposes, it looked brand new.
It was cool, too. Down here, far away from the sun’s hot rays, the temperature was almost bearable. And as he ran, he found himself breathing a little easier.
Still, that didn’t make for an easy journey. After all, the aqueduct was meant for water, not people. Before long, his feet started to ache from the curved floor. And he found it difficult to keep his balance on the slippery, water-covered surface, especially with five canteens bopping around inside of his cloak.
“Hey, Cormella,” he called out for what felt like the millionth time. “I’m in here!”
There was no response. No sudden gust of wind, no traces of whirling sand.
Where is she? he wondered.
The upward sloping path began to take a toll on his thighs. But he kept up the fast clip. The farther he went, the longer it would take Cormella to catch him. With some luck, he’d buy enough time for Sanza and the others to get away.
The aqueduct bent ever so slightly. Charging forward, he navigated the curve. “Come and get me,” he yelled.
He didn’t have a plan for when she arrived or even an inkling of how to escape. So, when the first hint of a hot breeze wafted against his cloak, his mind went into overdrive.
She’s here, he thought.
His gaze went to the walls. The aqueduct consisted almost entirely of smooth concrete. But occasionally, he caught sight of access panels. They were used to store power lines, which fed electricity to the dam as well as other machines in the area.
He’d never actually opened one of the panels. But they looked large enough to accommodate his body. If the space inside was ample, he could use it
to hide.
He skidded to a halt. Unlatching a panel, he threw it open. His expectant look disappeared. While the panel itself was large, the actual space it concealed was quite thin and entirely populated by wires. A baby couldn’t fit in there, let alone a grown adult.
He resumed running. Within seconds, his aching feet screamed at him. His thighs roared in agony. How far had he gone, anyway? It felt like he’d been running for hours.
Peering ahead, he looked for the dam. But all he saw was more darkness, slowly succumbing to his torchlight.
Dams, used to hold back Natica’s four water pools, marked the start of each aqueduct. They also provided access to the abandoned water stations. If he could beat Cormella to Dam Four, he’d be able to exit the aqueduct. After that, well, he wasn’t sure.
Just keep going, he thought.
The breeze at his back got hotter and stronger. At first, it was actually kind of helpful, pushing him, propelling him to go faster. But soon the heat began to wear him down.
He reached another slight curve. As he ran through it, he glanced backward. What he saw nearly stopped him dead in his tracks.
Cormella strode through the aqueduct. She looked extra-hazy, even from a distance. Tons of gold grains whirled and spun at her feet, attacking the thin stream of water.
Wide-eyed, he watched the thin stream transform into a seething mass of auburn sand. The grains danced and vibrated in mid-air, only falling still after she’d left them behind. On some level, he’d known this would happen. And yet, he still found it shocking to watch.
He turned back around. His sandals slammed repeatedly against the concrete. His feet begged him for a respite. His lungs, already aching, began to burn.
Still, he kept going. He ran faster, faster, faster. Faster than he’d ever run in his entire life.
But he couldn’t outrun her. Before long, she was practically breathing down the back of his neck. He could taste her sand, could feel the powerful heat of her breeze.
His torch ripped a gaping hole through the coming darkness and at last, he saw the dam. It consisted of four, retractable metal pieces. When fully engaged, those pieces met in the middle, blocking off all water flow from the connected pool.
Looking closer, he saw the dam was partially retracted. Water poured steadily through the opening, joining the water at his feet.
To the right, he saw a ladder. A hatch, currently closed, lay directly above it. Six months ago, he’d been on the other side of that hatch, watching as Barlo Erma investigated the mysterious flood that had plagued the aqueduct. Now, that hatch was his only chance at survival.
He burst up the rungs, climbing as fast as he could while still holding onto the torch. All the while, he felt the heat, the wind, and the swirling, vibrating sand.
At the top, he braced his torch-carrying arm against the side rail. His free hand went to the hatch. Briefly, he wondered if it would open. What if his people had locked it shut? There was no time to fish out Podey’s keyring.
He manipulated the mechanism, then pushed hard. The hatch popped open. He exhaled a small sigh of relief.
Above that lay an access panel, which he opened as well. Speedily, he climbed through the opening, then rolled out onto a catwalk.
I made it, he thought in utter disbelief.
Dropping the torch, he flung himself headfirst back through the access panel. His hands gripped the hatch, ready to close it over. Ready to block Cormella from reaching him.
But she was nowhere to be seen.
He hesitated, his hands trembling against the cool metal. His torch gave off just enough light that he was able to see the floor of the aqueduct. He noticed the water was entirely gone, broken, replaced by auburn sand.
A strange sight, coming from the dam, caught his eye. Twisting that way, he saw the opening had dried up. Auburn sand was everywhere and a terrifying realization hit him with the force of a drystorm.
She went into the pool, he realized. She’s desiccating our water.
No wonder she’d skipped past him. After all, she didn’t need to desiccate every last person to end humanity. She just needed to get rid of the drinking water.
It was bleak, but not hopeless. It would take a while for her to desiccate the water. In the meantime, he could access the station’s machinery. By shutting the dam, he could seal her inside of the pool.
Feeling numb, he hoisted himself back onto the catwalk. Looking around, he saw it was intact. Evidently, this part of the station had survived Dargon’s attack from six months ago.
Picking up his torch, he hiked over to some heavy machines. Normally, they were brightly lit and buzzed gently with the sound of electricity. But now, they were totally dark, totally quiet.
Icy tendrils gripped his heart. Hurrying about, he checked the cords, making sure they were plugged into the sockets. Then he tried hitting various buttons and switches. But nothing worked.
The machinery was dead.
There were a million reasons this could’ve happened. Maybe the solar farm, which provided power to the dam, had been reduced to rubble. Or perhaps some of the dam’s wiring had been damaged or destroyed. But deep down, he knew the truth.
Dargon had shut it down.
The man, or one of his underlings, had gone to Podey’s console and cut off all power to the station. Probably to all the stations, once he’d opened their respective dams. Which meant nothing stood between Cormella and the other pools.
She’ll desiccate them all, he thought. And I can’t stop her.
He returned to the access panel. Lowering himself through it, he closed and locked the hatch. Then he closed the access panel as well.
He plopped down on the catwalk, a short distance from his smoldering torch. Leaning against a railing, he felt his body sag from exhaustion.
Natica, he knew, was finished. Its people were either dead or scattered to the winds. Pool Four was in the process of being desiccated. And he was pretty sure the other three pools would soon follow suit. Without water, humanity would perish.
It can’t end this way. He gritted his teeth. With the little energy he had left, he made himself a solemn promise. I won’t let it.
David’s Journal
I suspect, when all is said and done, that I’ll look back upon this book as my absolute favorite. Which is kind of a strange thing to say about the middle part of a trilogy. But this affection isn’t due to the story itself but rather, how it all came together.
I’ve never been a fast writer nor a particularly happy one. For my entire career, I’ve struggled with outlines, rewrites, and endless starts and stops. And all the while, I’ve chastised myself, hated myself, for not being faster, for not selling more. For not living up to my own expectations.
Now, this wasn’t a new thing. For much of my life, I’ve been plagued by a demeaning, hateful voice. It’s caused me to feel tremendous shame and debilitating self-doubt. But I never recognized it as a problem. Indeed, I never wondered why I was so cruel to myself, saying things I would never dream of saying to another person.
I was utterly blind to it.
In mid-2019, a chance conversation with my wife, Julie, led me to start researching my “inner critic.” We’ve all got inner critics, by the way. To put it simply, they seem to arise from how you’re viewed and treated as a child. The harmful voices of parents, siblings, peers, teachers, coaches, and others are internalized over time. Eventually, you adopt those voices as your own.
For months, I devoured books and videos on the subject. Of particular help was: Vital Mind Psychology, PyschAlive (The Critical Inner Voice - Whiteboard Animation), The School of Life (Overcoming Bad Inner Voices and Why You Shouldn't Trust Your Feelings), No More Mr. Nice Guy by Dr. Robert A. Glover, and Writing into the Dark by Dean Wesley Smith.
Those are just some of the ones I can remember, by the way. So, I learned a lot about my inner critic and where it came from. I also did a ton of self-reflection.
And then, I started to fight back.
/> It happened suddenly, about 15,000 words into this book. I’d spent weeks struggling to write it, blasting myself for my perceived failures. And then, shockingly enough, something clicked.
My inner critic faded into the recesses of my mind. I began to write freely, without outlines or plans. I’d just sit down every day and see where the story took me. Words added up fast and in less than two months, this book was done.
I could scarcely believe it. I’d never written anything even remotely that fast. Or with so little trouble, for that matter. The words had just … flowed.
And that flow continued as I rolled into the third book of this trilogy. Day after day, week after week, I wrote with ease, with excitement. For the first time in my life, I didn’t hate myself or constantly criticize my deficiencies.
I just wrote.
My inner critic isn’t gone. I can still feel it. It’s still there, still nagging at me. Still telling me I’m no good. I suspect it’ll always be there. Regardless, I’ve stopped listening to it. And frankly, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done.
Thank you for reading Broken Ties. I hope you enjoyed it. Look for the series finale, Broken People, coming May 6, 2021. And if you want to be the first to know about my upcoming stories, make sure to sign up for my newsletter.
Keep Adventuring!
David Meyer
February 2021
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Broken People Excerpt
Chapter 1