Lost Sentinel: Post-Apocalyptic Time Travel Adventure (Earth Survives Series Book 1)

by R. R. Roberts

  “You mean help yourself.” She moved farther away, wanting but afraid to reveal her hidden blade. If she acted too soon, there would be no hope for David.

  “I’m here to help you and the others held against their will at your camp. I was going north when I came upon your party. I’ve been tracking you since noon.”

  She blinked hard, hope flooding into her despite her fear. Was this her chance? She whispered, “There are two others.”

  He shook his head as if with regret. “There is but one.”

  “One?”

  “The one you call Jonah? He is dead.”

  Air whooshed from Nicola’s lungs. “You …”

  He bent down and pulled his dagger free from Quinton. “He needed killing, no?”

  She got to her feet. “Yes.”

  “The lead woman, Dora-lee, is also dead. By her own hand, near the drop-off to the river.

  “W-What? But we have no weapons. How could she …”

  “A metal tent peg. In her throat.”

  “Ah!” Nicola’s stomach flipped at picturing the mess a jagged tent peg would do to a person, but God help her, she understood. Dora-lee had no one to chain her to this hell on earth. “Poor Dora-lee.”

  “The boys?”

  “Don’t hurt the boys, they are innocents. The smaller one is my brother, David.”

  Coru nodded his understanding. “He controls you through your loyalty to family.”

  Abruptly Nicola trusted this man. “Yes.”

  “We must separate the boys from the man, Topher, carefully then.”

  “Yes!” she breathed, relief flooding her.

  He nudged Quinton’s body with the toe of his boot. “You must return to camp as if nothing has occurred. If asked, you did not see this one.”

  "O-okay."

  “I am not alone. There is another with me. Do not be frightened.”

  She nodded and hastily gathered up a few pine boughs. “Yes.”

  “Go now.” He faded back into the darkness.

  She rose, clutching the pine boughs to her chest, stopping to give Quinton’s body a savage kick with her bare heel before following the path back toward the bright campfire, back to David, her limbs quaking.

  At the fire, Annie was settled on the ground at Topher’s feet and he was stroking her blonde hair as if she were a pet. And just as a pet would respond to its master, Annie’s expression was one of contentment in the flickering firelight. Nicola couldn’t help a growing feeling of alarm at this development. When had this transition occurred? How had she missed this? Would Annie fight Topher or fight their rescuers?

  And where do Catherine’s loyalties lie? If Nicola had so badly misread Annie, could she have done so with Catherine as well? Catherine walked free. Catherine was not bedded every night. She was strong. Was she friend or foe?

  Seeing the man called Coru’s faint shadow ghosting behind Topher, Nicola shoved the last of the boughs into a tent, then moved to the washing pail. “Boys! Come wash before you eat. Your hands are filthy.”

  All faces turned toward her, surprised. She’d never spoken up like this before. She gazed back at them steadily, clutching her skirt in her fists to keep anyone from seeing they were shaking. “I’m serious. Just because we’re on the move doesn’t mean we abandon basic cleanliness. Chop, chop.”

  David and Malcolm looked at Topher for guidance and Nicola’s heart died a little at seeing the man’s control over the boys. So strong, even after only a few weeks. A lifetime.

  Topher pursed his lips and drilled her with his stony eyes, but in the end, gave the boys a brief nod. Obediently they stood. When Topher rose and followed the boys to the pail, Nicola gritted her teeth in frustration.

  Topher cleaned himself first, the boys silently waiting their turn. David was so close to her, Nicola could reach out and touch him. It took all her self-control to keep from doing just that.

  While Topher splashed water across his scruffy beard, Coru covered Annie’s face with one large hand and lifted her back with him into the darkness with a smooth motion. It was as if she hadn’t been there at all. Catherine saw this and said nothing, turning large questioning eyes to Nicola.

  Nicola bit her lip and looked away, afraid her knowledge of the rescue would put everyone at risk.

  Topher took the rag Nicola was holding in her hand, looked up, saw her expression, and jerked around toward the fire. Before Nicola could reach for David, Topher had him gripped across the chest, a knife at his throat. Catherine sat motionless by the fire, her expression tense, her eyes trained on her son, Malcolm, who had frozen in place.

  Topher snarled, “You witch! Make another move and I’ll slice this kid ear to ear.” Backing away, using David as a shield, he risked another glance around the camp. “Where’s Annie?”

  Unable to speak, Nicola only stared back at the monster holding her brother.

  Topher bellowed, “Quinton! Jonah! You idiots get back here!” His gaze locked on Nicola as he swiftly moved away from the campsite toward the dark edge of the cliff, dragging David’s pliant body with him.

  A tall man with long black hair and russet skin materialized from the trees beside Nicola and stepped in front of her. He gripped Malcolm by the arm, propelling him towards the woods. “Run!” he commanded, his eyes never leaving Topher’s. Malcolm ran.

  With a strangled cry, Catherine collapsed onto the ground in a dead faint.

  The dark-haired man spoke to Topher. “You are alone now. Your friends are dead and can’t help you. Give up the boy and you can go free.”

  Moving further away, Topher glanced back, checking the edge, hugging David to him.

  The dark-haired man said, “If you jump, you’ll never make it. The river was frozen only weeks ago. You’ll die of hypothermia.”

  Coru stepped into the light on the other side of Topher. “Give up the boy and you can go. He’ll only slow you down.”

  Topher looked from Coru to the dark-haired man and back, considering the offer.

  Nicola pleaded, “He’s only a child, Topher. Please don’t hurt him.”

  Topher stepped back again, this time tripping, almost falling.

  David came alive, sobbing with fright, pulling against his captor, reaching out to her. “Nicola!”

  Righting himself at the last minute, Topher nicked David’s tear-stained cheek with the knife. Nicola jerked in reaction, her heart in her throat. Coru and the dark-haired man moved forward, narrowing the gap between them and David. Topher dared another quick glance back at where he was stepping, at how close he was to the cliff’s edge. Nicola could see he planned to jump.

  Not with my brother, please God, let him release my brother.

  Topher turned back to face them, new rage in his eyes. “You killed Dora-lee!”

  Coru answered, his hands raised in mute appeal, “She killed herself. We didn’t realize the depth of her despair. We waited too long to intervene. I regret my choice.”

  “Your choice! You think you have a choice?” Topher drew his blade across David’s throat, the boy’s frightened eyes beseeching Nicola. A wide crimson gap appeared, flowing a curtain of blood across David’s shirt.

  Then Topher was gone.

  David gurgled and staggered forward, raising his hands to his throat as if to catch the blood.

  Screaming, screaming, Nicola rushed to catch her brother before he fell. She caught his lifeless body up into her arms, still screaming. His head slumped back, his wide dark eyes saw nothing, his young faced cleaned at last by his tears.

  5

  THE TWO DENNYS

  Wren was immediately aware she had chosen a windowless room in which to hide. She’d take it. It gave her a place to choke back her fear and revulsion at learning Denny One and Denny Two’s horrific method of survival.

  She stumbled back to the desk and switched off the light. If there were any chance of there being tuna left in her stomach, it surely wouldn’t be there after the sickening vision of the leg in question. Her stomach h
eaved all the same. She dropped to the floor and pressed her forehead to her knees.

  This could not be happening. She would wake up in her cozy loft bed anytime now…

  She pulled the darkness around her and rocked in place, humming softly. After a moment, it occurred to her that this was the tune her grandmother always hummed when kneading dough for cinnamon buns. In her mind’s eye, Wren watched Gran’s strong hands working the elastic dough. This was her happy place, and the only view she would allow herself to see - hands, dough, sunlight. It was enough.

  When her mind wanted to trip back to the horror outside her little hidey-hole, she forced it to Gran’s gnarled hands and the satiny white dough and added in little details: Gran’s wedding rings in a saucer, the lush green spider plant that spilled its babies down from the oak hutch where sunlight streamed into the kitchen. Raisins plumped up in a blue crockery bowl filled with warm water, scenting the air with sweetness. Gran’s humming….

  After a while, she drifted back to herself, here in the dark room, and fully occupied her body. No one had come charging through the door. Okay. She was okay now. No one knew she was here. She scooted across the floor until her back was snugged securely against the wall opposite the door and pulled her coat tight. It was time to think smart and stay alive.

  This hidey-hole could be her saving grace or her dead end. Refusing to listen to the distorted thoughts outside this room was foolish. For once, her telepathy, which she’d always viewed as a handicap could give her an advantage. Now was not the time to block out reality, now was the time to welcome in any information Denny One and Denny Two might unknowingly offer up through their thoughts.

  Plus, she needed to know how many Dennys were out there.

  Stealing herself, she carefully pealed back her shield, recoiling when the two Dennys came through so clearly that they seemed to be right here in the room with her. They were squabbling over cigarettes.

  Relieved, she gripped her hands and waited them out. Picking through the scraps of what they were seeing around themselves, she tried to guess where they were. They were lounging in a booth. A bar or restaurant, maybe? She sensed red leather, worn grey lino tiles, littered counters. There was a restaurant menu above the counter just out of sight. If one of them would just look up… Denny One pictured the walk-in freezer stacked with bodies—.

  Oh! Wren jerked in revulsion. They were at the old Ice Cream Palace!

  Now she knew where they are and how they’re surviving.

  She had run right past the Ice Cream Palace on her way up to the community news office. How had they not noticed her? But she hadn’t heard them, either. Had they been asleep when she passed?

  Okay. They were three blocks away. Good to know they weren’t on the other side of this door, one kick away from finding her. She could relax just a little bit. Usually she only heard people who came within a few feet of her, sharing the same room, or passing in a hallway. But the two Dennys were three blocks away and she could hear them as clearly as if she were in the front row and they were on stage, acting out their gruesome parts. Was it because so few people cluttered the airway?

  She stretched her mind further, reaching around the Dennys for the sensation of others. At first there was nothing. She closed her eyes and willed herself further, toward a feeling rather than a sound. There it was. The faint nudge of another’s thoughts. She focused in and waited. More distant nudges. People!

  She opened her eyes with a gasp, her focus snapping back like an elastic band to the scene in the Ice Cream Palace. There were people out there, frightened people, but how far away? Were they friend or foe? Were they hiding from the Dennys as she was? Were there more Dennys out there? She had more questions than answers, and until she could be sure, she would have to work alone.

  Back to picking the two brains she had access to. From what she could tell, they were both feeling mellow and in no hurry to venture out into the night, though it seemed to her that was when they felt more comfortable, in darkness.

  Denny One said, “Hey man, we slept all damned day again. We should get out more.” This isn’t even funny anymore. When will I be able to open my stupid eyes outside? It’s like I’m turning into some kinda’ zombie right outta the movies. And why’s Tuck looking at me like I’m something to eat. I’ll give you something to eat, buddy…

  Wren picked up on the mood change. They definitely didn’t like daylight, Denny One wasn’t so mellow after all and Denny Two’s name was Tuck.

  Tuck, laughing, said, “Yeah, man, you’re losing your girlish figure.” Ya fat slob. All my friends dead, and I’m stuck with you, the biggest loser in town. Why not Holliman? Or even Fastbender? But no, it had to be bleedin’ Denny Cage, fat-bottomed Price Smart stock boy extraordinaire, didn’t it? Why couldn’t it be someone hot like Lynn McLean? Not the biggest talker you’d ever meet, but man was she a talented girl where it counted - everyone knew it. Bet she’d be grateful with me taking care of business around here… Nice and grateful… His thoughts drifted into how he’d have Lynn McLean express her gratitude to him.

  Wren disengaged, shutting him out. This was exactly why she hated hearing people’s thoughts. They could be so…disgusting. She wanted to slip out of Rushton right now and never come back. These two guys didn’t sound like they were going anywhere. They wouldn’t even hear the Beast when she started it up.

  And she’d eat what? Alfalfa tea? Bring down a stray cow with her pocket knife? Wait ‘til the

  apples showed up in the fall? Maybe fight for berry picking rights with the local bears? How exactly was she going to make it on her own?

  There would be no running happening here tonight. If they did sleep in the day, and she’d know the moment they were awake by keeping her shield open, she could try to pick up some supplies she could use out in the bush. For now, she had to park her personal feelings at the door, learn what she could, scavenge anything useful she could find and then leave. Gritting her teeth, she lowered her shield again.

  Denny said, “We could go roust that old guy over on 98th.” Skinny old fart.

  This changed her plans immediately. If she couldn’t hear the old man, she’d have no protection while she searched for supplies—. Wait. She picked through Denny’s brain for an image of ‘the old fart’ he was talking about. A thin worry-lined face popped into her head. Bill! Bill from the newspaper? Bill wasn’t skinny… But he did live on 98th. Was it wildly possible Bill was still alive? Excitement burst through her, but diminished almost at once. Why couldn’t she hear him? Maybe it was because, like a normal person, he slept at night? But how did he sleep with these two monsters roaming the streets?

  Tuck thought, I’m not going anywhere tonight, you freak, then said, “Not tonight, honey, I have a headache.”

  Denny said, “We wait too long and he won’t be worth nothing.”

  Tuck answered, picturing the bodies stacked inside the walk-in freezer once again. “Why bother? We got lots in stock.”

  Denny said, “We got lots of stock ‘cause we planned, man.” You’d be dead if it weren’t for me. Everything’s been my idea; you’ve just been riding the gravy train. “And this is the new plan. We whack ‘em and stash ‘em for a rainy day. Then he’s an asset, not a liability.”

  Tuck thought, What’s this freak show jawing about now. Asset? Liabi - lia - what the?

  Denny thought, Someone will come get us, won’t they? The government's gotta have some kinda’ rescue plan for the survivors. We’re way north, but not that far. Why aren’t they coming? His thoughts slid to ways to explain to rescuers what they’d done to stay alive. He’d tell them it was Tuck’s idea …

  Tuck thought, Geez, the moron looks like someone just peed on his breakfast bar. “Okay man. We’ll hit the old guy up tomorrow night. Maybe track down that stupid dog, too. Make a night of it.” That should hold the freak for a while.

  Denny, laughing, his worrying forgotten said, “Oh yeah, the big black one who bit your hand. Bet he isn't so big now." Wren
could see the scene as he recreated the memory in his mind’s eye. Tuck looked to be seventeen or eighteen, had straight, stringy brown hair and an expression of horrified self-pity as he exhibited a bleeding index finger. Denny mimicked, “‘Ooh! Look at my finger. It’s bleeding!’”

  Tuck said, “I coulda’ got rabies. You don’t know why that dog was in there.”

  Denny, laughing hard now, crowed, “Rabies! You’re worried about Rabies? We skipped over the BS ‘Flu man! We’re indestructible.”

  Tuck thought, Not so freaking indestructible I couldn’t whack your fat ass. Tuck pictured standing over Denny’s plump body and shuddered in fear at being totally alone. No way Jose. You’re going to suffer right along with me, until I find some other sucker –.

  Wren tuned out, and flicked the light back on inside the archive room. These guys weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. She had planning to do. She needed supplies, and she needed to go to Bill’s, Sam’s, and her father's homes before she left.

  First, what did she have to work with out at Drop Out Acres? She quickly drew up a list of assets—she thought of Denny, regretting the use of the same word.

  She had a nice warm cabin, with electric power. To keep it that way, she needed her solar panels and batteries, and more if she could find any. Winter sun and summer sun were very different. If this stretched into winter, she needed to collect enough sunlight in the short winter days to power everything. She made up another column, entitling it ‘Wish I had it’, added ‘more solar panels and deep cell batteries’.

  She had a cast iron woodstove for heat and cooking. To get wood, she had a chain saw and a log splitter. And the Beast. And if the chainsaw broke? She added ‘crosscut saw’.

  She had transportation: Spare tires, spare parts, solar panels and batteries for the Beast and Beastette, plus, two good legs under her, warm clothes, good boots. That was covered.

  Food. She had none. None she could eat now, that is. The good news was she had clean water and plenty of it, and a solid filtration and pump system. There was game on her land she hadn’t considered hunting before today. That was about to change. Which meant she needed a rifle, not the defender she had back at the cabin for scaring away bears. Oh, how she regretted leaving the defender behind today. She would feel so much better with it here by her side. Yes, it scattered short range buckshot, but it made a hell of a racket and buckshot could give her time to escape.