To find out more about this book or to contact the author, please visit:
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Copyright © 2015 Brett Michael Orr
ISBN: 978-1-925442-78-6 (eBook)
EPUB Edition
Published by Vivid Publishing
P.O. Box 948, Fremantle Western Australia 6959
www.vividpublishing.com.au
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
Subjects include: Time travel, parallel universe, parallel worlds, nuclear winter, genetic mutation, super powers, dystopian world.
Chase your dreams, follow your heart, and know that nothing is ever impossible.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1. The Pursuer
2. The Hunted
3. The Saved
4. The Recruit
5. The Bureau
6. The Days
7. The Routine
8. The Factory
9. The Arrival
10. The Past
11. The Soldier
12. The Preparation
13. The God
14. The Requiem
15. The Difference
16. The Other
17. The Truth
18. The Enchained
19. The Returned
20. The Betrayed
21. The Warden
22. The Hostage
23. The Calm
24. The Defection
25. The Storm
26. The Attack
27. The Last
28. The Remaining
Acknowledgements
Connect with the Author
CHAPTER ONE
THE PURSUER
It was the middle of summer, and it was snowing outside.
Cassandra Wright leaned against the windowsill, a frigid wind stirring the curtains and sending goose bumps running along her arms. Clouds gathered overhead, so dark they were almost black, plunging the world into a nighttime that was four hours too early for the time of year. The streetlamp on the opposite side of the road flickered uncertainly, catching falling snowflakes and casting speckled shadows on the sidewalk. Far beyond the clouds, the sky was still a blue ribbon wrapped around the horizon.
From the second-story window, Cassie watched young children play in the street, shouting and laughing as they hurled snowballs at each other. Parents looked on warily, mixed expressions of concern and wonderment on their faces. A group of older teenagers from her high school were whooping as they raced bobsleds down the road.
A strong gust of wind sent snowflakes curling through the open window, landing on her skin and melting instantly. Inside the house, it was still summertime – a balmy July evening. Icy fingers crawled up Cassie’s spine, but the chill had nothing to do with the wind tugging at her red hair, soaking wet and hanging forward over her shoulders.
Pennsylvania wasn’t far enough. Snow in the middle of summer, an uncomfortable headache at the base of her neck, the crawling feeling of being watched from afar. Snow drifted through the air, mixed with something darker – flakes of gray ash.
The assassins had found her again.
Cassie gripped the windowsill, her knuckles turning white. Her eyes darted all over the street, lingering on the lengthening shadows, expecting to see one of them there, one of the dark figures that had been stalking her for the past two years. Visual hallucinations. That was what the psychiatrists had called it. They blamed her parents’ divorce, the stress of moving between states and being pulled in and out of different schools.
Cassie knew better. She wasn’t schizophrenic, she wasn’t stressed; she was being actively hunted by nameless things, and nobody believed her.
She looked around her room, a tight knot of fear forming in her stomach. Her eyes passed over the hot-pink wallpaper and the single bed with its obnoxiously bright cover. Her family home hadn’t changed in the eight years she had been away.
After her parents’ divorce, she had moved with her newly independent mother to New York City. She had been ripped away from the quiet city of Hermitage and plunged into the swarming metropolis of New York. The busiest city in the world left a bitter taste in her mouth and sinister faces in her nightmares.
Cassie was sixteen now, living back with her father in Hermitage, Pennsylvania. Her bedroom was only a painful reminder of happier times now lost – times when monsters had been imaginary, when her father’s smile or a stuffed toy could protect her from whatever lurked beneath her bed.
Her fiery hair flicked behind her as she crossed the room. Her shoulders were freezing, her hair damp from the shower. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Perhaps there was a logical, rational explanation for the bizarre weather. She pinched the bridge of her nose, the gleeful shouts of young children entering through the open window. How could people be having fun out there?
She turned around to shut the frost-covered window and let out a horrified shout.
She stumbled backward into her bed, her blood turned to ice. The image was frozen in her mind like a photograph: a tall man with a mannequin-like face standing on the opposite side of the road, dressed in a black jumpsuit, a vicious grin splitting his otherwise featureless face.
Adrenaline coursed through her body. Her hands trembled and her breaths came short and sharp. That was the closest one of the assassins had ever come to her. She knew they were assassins, somehow. She had never spoken to one of the creatures, never found out what they actually were, but she knew they wanted to kill her. It was a feeling deep inside her gut, an unshakeable instinct to run, to keep running and never look back.
Cassie took a tentative step toward the window.
The street was empty.
She let out a shaky sigh of relief, but the uneasy feeling in her stomach remained. Every time one of those monsters appeared, it was preluded by inexplicable weather. At first, she had thought nothing of it – a heatwave in winter, snow in summer, a bizarre rainstorm in Central Park; the weather events only lasted for a few minutes then disappeared without a trace. It would make the news, but the media remained blissfully unaware of the creatures, and no matter how many times Cassie had tried to tell her parents, her teachers, even the police, nobody believed her. She couldn’t even prove the monsters existed, let alone that they wanted to kill her.
There was a loud bang from downstairs and she jumped.
“Dad?” she asked, her voice trembling. She checked the time on her phone. 4:58pm. It was too early for him to be home yet. But she called out anyway, hoping she was wrong. “Dad, are you down there?”
No answer. Her heart was pounding, threatening to burst out of her chest. The headache at the base of her neck changed, becoming sharp, a needle stabbing through her skull. Then she felt something else. It was an inexplicable, tangible energy that ignored the limitations of the physical world. Tendrils of power snaked through the air, wrapping around her body and humming through her bones. The source of the power was downstairs, moving slowly through the kitchen, a bright beacon flaring in Cassie’s mind.
The assassin had entered her home.
Panic seized control of her mind, every rational thought pushed away, replaced with a single command: escape. She threw the window up and scrambled through, dropping onto the porch roof. The snow was cold beneath her bare feet, and her jeans and t-shirt did litt
le to protect against the cold wind, but there wasn’t time to dress properly.
She gauged the distance to the ground, aiming for the carefully manicured grass. She jumped, her body jarring with the impact of landing.
It was completely dark beneath the storm cell, the clouds hanging overhead oppressively. Away over the city and the rolling countryside of Pennsylvania the sun was still shining, the day long and warm – but the light seemed hopelessly far away, taunting her with its safety.
There was a sudden, much sharper spike in her mind, and she felt the assassin change direction abruptly. She stumbled away from the house, the grass slick beneath her.
She made it to the mailbox before the front door opened, revealing her pursuer.
All the scary movies in the world could not compare with the horror of the faceless assassin. It was still distinctly human, and that was what made it all the more terrifying. The creature’s head was pale and featureless, completely bald. An abnormally wide mouth split the monster’s face in half, raised to one side in a silent, beastly snarl. A hexagonal metal disc – no larger than her palm – was bolted into its temple, glowing bright red around the edges.
The assassin wore a black jumpsuit; a crimson sash encircled its left bicep. It advanced, and in its right hand, the monster held a steel knife, the blade wickedly curved, the handle shaped like an hourglass.
Cassie’s paralysis broke and she turned on-heel, racing toward the far end of the street. She was alone now, but still she screamed for help, her voice breaking into a choked cry. Her bare feet hammered into the ground, and twice she almost slipped on the sidewalk, the snow already melting into a dirty slush. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder and saw the assassin following. Her heart leaped into her throat and she redoubled her speed, her legs aching with the effort.
Cassie had never been particularly fit – she was skinny, underweight, and not particularly gifted at any sports. Her lungs were burning by the time she reached the cul-de-sac at the far end of her street, and she desperately wanted to stop for a moment, to rest and get her breath back.
I can’t stop, she thought, a hollow pit of fear consuming her. That thing is going to kill me.
A fierce desire to live burned through her veins, driving her forward. She headed for the narrow alley that backed onto the small woods behind her suburb.
The football stadium of her high school was visible through the cluster of pines. There has to be somebody at the school, somebody who can help. She held onto that feeble hope as though it were a mighty shield that could protect her, a tiny flame against a raging storm.
Cassie squeezed down the lane between two houses, muddy water splashing up over the lower half of her jeans. She rushed into the woods, thin branches reaching out and scratching her, slowing her as she fought through the trees. Rivulets of blood ran down her arms, the rough ground cutting her bare feet. Loose pine needles matted in her wet hair and as she burst out of the woods, she realized it was no longer snowing.
The storm clouds were still following her, swallowing up the sky, robbing the world of its protective light. The light could save her, because the monsters always lurked in the shadows, always appeared in alleys, in crowded malls, in reflections from store windows…
The football stadium loomed overhead, the bleachers appearing oddly menacing against the dark skies. Cassie ducked under the seats and bent over, gasping for breath, her eyes darting over the grassy field and the woods. She pulled her hair behind her neck, her hands trembling.
She reached into her back pocket, fumbling for her phone – but it was missing. Where had she lost it? Somewhere in the street, or in the woods? She swore under her breath, a sense of loss gripping her as her vital lifeline to the world was suddenly severed.
The school. She needed to find a phone, call for help.
But it was different this time. The other times, they had simply observed her – they had let her know they were there, but this time, the monster was pursuing her. Why? What possible reason could the faceless horror have for killing her? Her head spun, the sharp headache distracting her.
She tore her eyes away from the trees and threaded her way through the bleachers, entering the small stadium.
She had taken two steps onto the artificial turf when a rush of energy tore through the world with all the intensity of a bomb blast. She staggered, her hair billowing backward. There was a blinding flash of light and a torrent of snow and ash jetted past her. She raised an arm to shield herself, squinting into the white halo.
Two figures emerged from the center of the light, their faces waxy and blank. A horrified scream caught in Cassie’s throat, dying out as a startled gasp. The bright light faded, darkness rushing in to fill its place. A cold wind tugged at her clothes, the shallow cuts on her arms stinging.
The monsters stepped forward, steel knives held low.
She turned and bolted toward the far end of the field, her feet sinking into the artificial turf and melted snow. It felt like she was running through thick oil. Every step took more effort than the last, her legs burning, her lungs screaming for oxygen. She kept her eyes on the horizon, that strip of blue, the color of freedom—
Another burst of energy hurled her backward and she hit the ground. Red spots danced before her vision. She blinked into the blinding flash of light, her heart stopping dead when she saw a third assassin appear, a wicked grin stretched across its inhuman face. Cassie scrambled away, only to find herself surrounded by the other two attackers.
She gripped her forehead tightly as the headache intensified, a beacon burning in her mind, blazing with a furious intensity. A torrent of energy swirled across the football field, stronger than anything she had felt before. The invisible power gathered around the three monsters, ghostly lights flickering around their bodies, like a bright ray of sunshine through shattered glass.
Cassie looked between her pursuers, the faceless creatures gazing at her without eyes.
“What are you waiting for?” she cried, her voice breaking. Tears ran down her cheeks and her body quaked. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to fight and live, but what if this was inevitable, pre-decided by the invisible engine of fate? “Get it over with!”
In unison, the creatures tilted their heads to one side, like perplexed dogs. Why were they just standing there? Why hadn’t they attacked? Wasn’t that why they had been stalking her, waiting for the opportune moment? She balled her hands into fists, blinking through the tears. Was it just her imagination, or was that another bright light overhead?
The roar of a helicopter filled the air and a blinding searchlight set the world ablaze. Rotors whipped the field, powerful sheets of wind staggering the monsters. The creatures snarled, cowering from the approaching helicopter, and Cassie seized the opportunity. She pushed through a gap between two of the assassins and bolted toward the school, the searchlight illuminating the stadium with all the intensity of a miniature star.
She threw a quick glance over her shoulder and saw ropes descending from the helicopter, dark figures hitting the ground – men clad entirely in black, assault rifles slung across their chests. She let out a surprised cry as the newcomers opened fire, rifles rocking back into their shoulders. Gunfire cracked through the air, bullets pummeling the monsters. Thick ribbons of black blood curled through the air, and she watched, paralyzed with shock, as the monsters died.
Perhaps died wasn’t the right word – as the creatures fell backward, a dark hole opened from somewhere in their chests. The assassins’ bodies collapsed, consumed by a swirling black void, vanishing into a tiny pinprick of space. Only their steel knives remained, abandoned on the grass.
Another halo of light exploded a dozen feet away, the pulse of energy ripping straight through Cassie’s stomach. The assassin stepped forward quickly, its mouth curled into a thin snarl, knife plunging toward her; it was too close, she couldn’t move, couldn’t protect herself—
A black SUV tore across the football field, plowing into the mon
ster and crushing it beneath the car. The doors slammed open and four men emerged, dressed in the same all-black clothing, with no patches or nametags to identify themselves. Cassie’s eyes found the youngest of the strangers, a boy about her own age, with gray eyes and bleached-white hair. The fiery beacon in her mind flared sharply, and she realized that the teenager was the source of the power.
Then she was surrounded by a dozen men and women – soldiers, they must be soldiers – with their guns pointed outwards, forming a protective circle around her. She caught glimpses of people in white HAZMAT suits collecting the assassins’ knives, placing them in steel boxes.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” someone asked her. She blinked, focusing on the young man standing before her. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen, but there were deep lines around his mouth that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a man twenty years his senior. His hair was sandy-blonde, and his green eyes darted all over her, lingering on the bloody scratches, his forehead crinkling in concern.
“Ma’am?” the soldier repeated. “Are you injured?”
“No,” Cassie mumbled, shaking her head. Inwardly, she thought, And Ma’am is for my mother.
She never got to introductions.
The assassin appeared in the middle of an incandescent flash. Jagged shards of light speared outwards, glimmering off its knife. A wet splutter escaped the soldier’s lips, and his body straightened like a board, blood pooling through his shirt. The silver tip of the knife protruded through his chest and his knees buckled, his body crumpling to the ground.
The soldiers opened fire, catching the monster in a hail of bullets, but Cassie barely heard the roaring gunshots. She crouched beside the fallen soldier; his mouth was open in a silent cry for help, his lifeblood spilling onto the artificial grass. She had known him for less than thirty seconds – she didn’t even know his name, or who he and the other soldiers were – but his death seemed far too cruel. She was the one the assassins wanted to kill – this blonde-haired teenager shouldn’t have died in her place.
The Bureau of Time Page 1