by Ramy Vance
Yesterday Never Dies
Die Again To Save the World™ Book Three
Ramy Vance
Michael Anderle
The Yesterday Never Dies Team
Thanks to our Beta Reader
Rachel Beckford
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Dorothy Lloyd
Jackey Hankard-Brodie
Veronica Stephan-Miller
Deb Mader
Zacc Pelter
Debi Sateren
Paul Westman
If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
The Skyhunter Editing Team
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2021 by LMBPN Publishing
Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design
http://jcalebdesign.com / [email protected]
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
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Version 1.00, July 2021
ISBN (ebook) 978-1-64971-932-4
ISBN (paperback) 978-1-64971-933-1
Contents
Prequel: Earth-Z
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Author Notes Ramy Vance
Author Notes Michael Anderle
Other books by Ramy Vance
Books By Michael Anderle
Connect with The Authors
Prequel: Earth-Z
Rueben Peet trudged through the bowels of the tanker, not a soul in sight, the silent halls heavy with the weight of desolation.
All around him were drab gray walls, dotted only by the occasional bulletin board or notice dated some half a decade ago. The floors, although finished to a shine, carried an effervescent layer of dirt that no mop job, no matter how assiduous, could ever save. Along the walls sat thick metal machinery, weighted by the ton, that seemed imported from the industrial era. Now they pivoted, swiveled, spun, steamed, and spat like an Old West railcar springing to life.
It was a cold and awful place, and he needed to find the command center and get on with the mission before the foreign Special Ops team reached it.
He ran his gloved finger over a laminated floor plan tacked to the wall. According to the map and a little bit of deductive logic, the tanker’s command center should be one of two rooms at the end of a hallway upstairs. It wasn’t clear which one. He would have to figure that out for himself.
The rooms were up three flights of stairs, cold metal steps with creaky handrails drilled into the wall. Rueben slowly plodded up them. He wore a full hazmat suit, and the thing was heavy, making him slog through the place like an earthbound astronaut with his breath fogging up the plastic face shield. He got up the stairs and down a couple more dismal halls and found two identical metal doors.
He opened the first one and stepped inside. He glanced at all the pipes in the room. Nothing of importance in here. As he was about to leave, a line suddenly burst with a hiss and spat hot steam at him.
He dodged to the side and spotted the shutoff valve. After rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers within the confines of the suit, he approached the small metal wheel, set his gloved palms against its hot curvature, and turned. It was stuck. There was a fire extinguisher on the wall, so he grabbed it and crashed it down upon the wheel to loosen it. Then, grunting with the effort, he turned the wheel. The valve squealed shut, silencing the leak in the pipe. He hoped the Spec Ops team hadn’t heard. It was a big ship, but he wasn’t holding his breath.
He shook his head at the offending pipe that had gassed him. “Take that, asshole.”
He left the room and turned to the second metal door. Someone had locked it. He jerked the doorknob back and forth hard, trying to force it to release. That didn’t work, so he rammed his body against it. It still didn’t budge. He bent down to inspect the mechanism. It was a rather cheap one, but the door was strong.
He looked around for something he could use to pick it. He was in luck. A glassed-in bulletin board posted an inspection checklist and offered a pen hanging from a string and paperclip. If he broke the glass, it would provide more sound for his enemies to hear him. Still, he’d already made some noise shutting off that pipe and if they killed him—again—he’d warp back a few minutes and find another way around them.
With a hard pound, he slammed one muscular forearm into the cover and smashed in the glass. Even through his suit, he thought he felt a warm trickle of blood. Had the glass punctured the covering? Aki would fuss at him for that. She hated it when he did what she called “superhero stunts.”
She’d chide him, “Just because you’re immortal doesn’t mean you can be reckless.”
Umm…yes, it did.
He gave his arm a cursory glance and didn’t see a tear in his suit. That didn’t mean it wasn’t there. What did it matter though? His gear wasn’t measuring any toxic or radioactive materials on the tanker. Buzz and Aki could be so overly protective at times.
With the glass shattered, he reached inside, ripped the pen off the wall, and pulled off the paperclip. In less than a minute, Rueben picked the lock on the metal door and eased it open.
This was it. He’d found it. The tanker’s command center. His last stop before he scuttled the vessel.
He mused that now in his forties, he could kick ass like he never could in his twenties. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?
The command center was a small, cluttered, and dank room. It contained dark furniture and a disorganized console full of unusual technology—one part steampunk, the other part hacker.
He sat in the tattered leather chair and gingerly moved a paper coffee cup, half-full of solidified contents. He checked out the console. Sadly, he’d been enough of a tech nerd when he was younger that he knew of these operating systems. Now at the age of forty-five, Rueben had forgotten a lot of that stuff.
Not forgotten. Replaced it with more useful knowledge, like how to fight.
After a few minor missteps, he booted up the machines and pulled up all the files he could find.
Everything about the tanker seemed off. Seemingly unmanned and traveling full-steam toward the coast of New York, it had warranted the attention
of Rueben’s team. His team included only three people: him, his team leader and wife Aki, and his tech specialist best bud Buzz.
Their mission was to investigate and disable the tanker before it could reach the mainland. Rueben had been surprised to find it empty. He was even more surprised by the Spec Ops team that had reached it at the same time as him.
It hadn’t been easy getting in here. Truth be told, he’d died six times to get in, not that he’d ever admit it to his team. Those foreign agents filtering through the tanker were packing some heat. Definitely Special Forces, but from what country, he couldn’t tell. He’d finally learned to avoid them altogether. It had taken a lot of stealth.
He sighed when he thought about facing off against them again on his way off the tanker. He’d probably have to die another six times. Argh. You’d think after close to four thousand deaths he’d be used to it by now, but somehow dying never got easier.
Guess that’s the way we’re hard-wired, he thought as he started copying all the computer files for Buzz to analyze.
He hooked up his phone to the computer and started transferring the files. Then he pulled up both Buzz and Aki on video chat on his phone.
He told them, “Transferring the files now. There was no one in the command center.”
Buzz didn’t look at all surprised, but that could have been the plastic surgery he’d had ten years ago. “Can you transfer them any faster?”
Rueben shook his head. “This computer system is outdated.”
“Damn. Well, I’m combing through the files as they come. I’ll see what I can find.”
Rueben’s phone connection jumped in and out, and Aki’s question was jumbled up and scrambled. He finally made it out. “Are you doing okay?”
Buzz cut her off. “Okay, I just found something. I don’t think this is about the tanker at all. This is incredible. I wish I could talk with the person who designed this—”
“Stay focused,” Rueben said. “We’re running out of time. I need to stop this tanker before it reaches the mainland.”
Buzz cleared his throat. “I know. I know. You’re right.” On the phone screen, he squinted at his laptop. “Other countries would die for the data in these files.”
“Explains the Special Ops team I ran up against.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Aki asked.
“Sure. Chicks dig scars, right Aki babe?”
Her connection was stronger now, and she came in loud and clear. “Oh, absolutely, Rueben. I would have never gotten with you if it wasn’t for the scars. Totally sealed the deal.” She looked off-screen and snapped her fingers. “Hey, don’t touch that.” She popped off-screen for a second and came back breathless, smoothing her silky dark hair into place.
Rueben smiled. Even after all these years, she still made his heart race. Now, there were three. “What’s the little rug rat up to now?”
She sighed and rolled her dark eyes. “You know, getting into everything as usual… Hey, I said ‘no.’” She snapped again and disappeared, then returned. “Mama needs wine.”
Buzz chimed in and clapped his hands. “Can we focus, people? I’ve never seen anything like this before. Are you in position to destroy the computer and—”
Rueben cut him off. “I got it, Buzz. I’ll follow the plan and blah, blah, blah.”
Buzz’s eyes flashed. “Hey, if this is all a big joke to you—”
Rueben sighed. “It’s not a big joke. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. But it’s not as serious as you think. If the whole op goes belly up, eh, whatever. I just kill myself and reset. We’ve got nothing to lose here.”
Aki sighed. “There you go again with your superhero stunts.”
Buzz frowned. “As much as I enjoy killing you, and I do...”
Rueben rolled his eyes. Buzz did and had recently hit pay dirt with his latest book, Lethal. Not that Buzz needed any more money. It was a novel about a mad scientist who killed people in his basement and meticulously wrote down all the medical facts on how they died. A movie studio optioned the novel and turned it into a blockbuster Hollywood hit that had become a staple in the Halloween horror circuit.
Buzz straightened and suddenly turned solemn. “Seriously though, I’ve told you once, I’ll tell you a million times...you warp back when you die, but there are possible abnormalities that may reset with you. There’s a lot we don’t know about your powers.”
The two of them ganging up on him about his recklessness irritated him. It was his power, after all. “In the three thousand seven hundred and eighty-nine deaths I’ve had, has any weird abnormality ever happened?”
“No. It’s been three thousand seven hundred and eighty-three, by the way. Unless… Aki!” Buzz called. “I win the bet. He died six times already. You owe me pizza.”
“Pizza? You guys betting on my deaths again?”
“Yep. I bet her you couldn’t complete this mission without five deaths, minimum. She said three.”
“Thanks for betting on me, babe,” Rueben said. “Next time let me know, and I’ll be sure to win it for you.” Rueben chuckled. “And as for the probability of this anomaly thingy happening when I warp, it’s what? One in seven million?”
Buzz searched upward. “Probably more like seven billion.”
“Exactly. So what’s the problem, then?”
Buzz looked at him sternly. “People win the lottery all the time, Rueben. This is one lottery we don’t want to win.”
Rueben didn’t respond to that. Instead, he inspected the computer screen. The file transfer was almost finished. “So what do you think? Are the Russians or the Chinese behind this stunt?”
Buzz pursed his lips. “Not sure yet.”
Rueben nodded. Buzz would figure it out. He always did.
The file transfer completed, and Rueben severed the link to Buzz.
Rueben stood. “Well, I’m off to scuttle the ship.”
“You’ve got the bombs, right?” Aki asked.
“Sure.” Rueben unshouldered his tactical backpack. It contained small but concentrated explosives that would destroy the tanker if placed strategically. He’d already planted a few of them as he’d made his way here. Now it was time for the rest. He dusted off a good place to put one in the command room and primed it. That’s when he noticed it.
It was a shiny metal box, resting amid the clutter in front of him. It seemed out of place. On it was etched a single word in a flowing font: Nunez.
Hmm. What was in the metal box and why was it in this abandoned tanker? Maybe the foreign agents weren’t after the computer files but this box instead.
He looked at Aki and Buzz on his phone. He held up the box. “You guys see this?”
They both nodded.
“I wonder what’s inside.”
Aki jumped in. “Rueben, just get out of there. Come back to me, okay.”
Buzz disagreed. “I think you should open it.”
Rueben agreed. “Relax, Aki. I’ll come back to you. There’s nothing in this box that could be any more dangerous than...Lethal.”
He threw the jibe at Buzz, who sighed and leaned back in his chair with a disapproving look. “Come on, now. Don’t hate on Lethal. It grossed twenty million at the box office on opening weekend.”
Rueben shook his head, then reassured Aki, “It’s okay. If I die, I’ll just reset.” He set the box on the counter and slowly opened it. He stared at the contents. “Holy fuck. What is this?”
Chapter One
Monday, May 22, 10:03 p.m.
Summit, New York, New York—Earth-A
Firefighters worked to quash the flames flickering outside the United Nations building while medics and police officers poured through the lingering smoke, tending to the wounded. Although it was night, countless flashing lights and portable halogen lamps lit up the place as bright as day. Amid the chaos, reporters swarmed around with microphones and cameras, searching for stories.
The story they wouldn’t receive was that Rueben Peet and his friends had
prevented a global nuclear war. Although they’d avoided the worst-case scenario, several people had died—all because Rueben hadn’t died and warped back in time to save them all.
He hadn’t had a choice. The perpetrator was a Repeater like him. Had he not succeeded in disabling his warping powers, it was possible that no amount of repeats could’ve prevented World War III.
At least that’s over now, he would have thought, had his head not still been reeling from the woman’s voice he’d heard and her face he’d seen in the artificial brightness of the parking lot.
Rueben rubbed his temple, worried he might’ve gotten hit in the head sometime in all the action. “Mom? Mom, is that…you?”
The blonde-haired reporter smiled weakly at him, the harsh illumination highlighting the bags under her eyes. She started to reach out toward him and stopped.
A warm hand gripped Rueben’s arm, and he turned to see Aki’s dark eyes filled with concern.
“It’s okay,” Rueben said softly and realized that it was far from okay. He whipped his head back to the mother he hadn’t seen in fifteen years, his face wrinkled with confusion.
Buzz caught up with him. “Holy shit, buddy. Isn’t that your mom?”