The X-Variant (The Guardians Book 1)

by Rosemary Cole

  THE GUARDIANS

  Book One

  THE

  X-VARIANT

  ROSEMARY COLE

  THE X-VARIANT Copyright © 2016 by Rosemary Cole.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  To contact the author please use the contact form at the following website: www.rosemarycoleauthor.com.

  Book cover design by Damonza

  To Josh, for all the inspiration, and to Tony for his love and patience. Many thanks also to my wonderful reading team and to Andrew for his invaluable assistance.

  In 2079, a devastating synthetic virus is unleashed that destroys most of humanity. Over the following centuries, however, the virus evolves into a beneficial symbiont and a superior post-human race is born. But in 2616, their peaceful utopian world is violently disrupted when the symbiont begins to mutate into something terrible. Kala is one of those called upon to travel back in time to 2079 to change the course of the future. In a desperate attempt to save humanity, she will face many hardships and almost certainly meet her own end.

  If she fails, it will be the end of all humanity forever.

  If she succeeds, it will be the end of her.

  THE X-VARIANT

  PROLOGUE

  Timeline 1

  SanFran, North American Union

  June 8, 2079

  21:48 hours

  BRANDON WAS SLOWLY COMING to the realization that they were starving. He watched as Jennie settled their one-month-old baby into a cradle they’d fashioned from a box. The candlelight threw grotesque, shifting shadows on the walls of the room as Jennie moved about, her nightshirt hanging off one bony shoulder. She finally came over and joined him in bed, and Brandon blew out the candle. He held her slight form close, stroking her hair in the dark.

  “She’s still hungry,” Jennie murmured. “I don’t think I’m making enough milk for her.”

  Brandon nodded against the top of her head. They had all been steadily losing weight, ever since the virus had gone global. It was called the Synthetic Hemorrhagic Airborne Virus, or SHAV. Basically, you coughed your lungs out. They said it was carried by respiratory droplets, and for a while everyone you saw was wearing one of those surgical masks. That didn’t seem to slow it down at all, though; it marched across the globe relentlessly, leaving a swath of death in its wake. Everything ground to a halt, including food deliveries.

  Before the virus, the city’s grocery stores had held about three days’ worth of food. Once the shelves were empty, people had begun raiding the commune’s gardens, and now they had been stripped bare. The members of the Green Resistance commune were reduced to living on their emergency stores and whatever they could scavenge.

  At first, Brandon had thought they would be overrun and have to leave the commune, but as deaths from the virus increased (including some within their own ranks), the gang raids began to decrease, and it was thought best to stay where they were. The remaining Greeners, as the locals referred to them, retreated from their converted greenhouses to the top two floors of a large commercial building across the street from their city garden. Their political philosophy didn’t keep them from buying and using firearms, and the place was fairly easy to defend. But food—that was turning into a huge problem. Every day, the rations Sean doled out seemed to be fewer.

  “Yeah, something has to be done about it,” Brandon murmured. “But try not to worry about it tonight, babe. I’ll talk to Sean in the morning.”

  He felt her nod against his shoulder, and she then drifted off into sleep despite her worries.

  Sleep didn’t come so easily to Brandon, however. He was deeply worried about Jennie. After losing her mother—her only real family—to SHAV last month, she’d had to give birth here in somewhat primitive conditions. Thank God, the Greeners had plenty of medical supplies, and Andrea had some experience in attending births. Both baby and mother did just fine. But since giving birth, Jennie had developed deep circles under her dark, almond-shaped eyes, and her hair was dull and lank.

  This was all worrisome enough, but Brandon’s biggest nightmare was seeing Jennie and the baby succumb to SHAV and die right before his eyes.

  Please, God, no, he prayed, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off that dreadful image.

  He had just drifted off to sleep when a sudden loud pop from outside startled him awake. The sound had come from the front of the building, toward the street. He scurried toward the window, half-crouched. There was shouting, followed by more pops of gunfire. The Greeners standing watch on the ground floor were shooting back at whoever it was—probably raiders.

  Jennie hastily lifted the baby from her bed, wrapping her in her blanket.

  Brandon moved to the side of the window, lifted the rough blanket nailed over it and peered out, but could see nothing in the dark except for a couple of small lights. They flashed and bounced around, moving irregularly toward the building.

  Sounds of fighting drifted up the stairs, and he realized with a shock that some of the raiders were already inside. “The fire escape, quick!” he hissed at Jennie.

  They fled to the back room, groping their way in the dark. A platform outside the window held a ladder that could be lowered to the ground, giving them a slim chance of escaping between the buildings. A sliver of moon emerged from behind scudding clouds, giving them a bit more light as Jennie scrambled out onto the fire escape.

  Brandon had just handed the baby out to her through the window when Sean and Mike burst into the room. The two men spun around and fired out into the dark corridor leading from the stairwell. There was a burst of automatic weapon return fire, and both men fell to the floor.

  Brandon looked down. Sean’s eyes were open, staring up at him sightlessly. The Green Resistance leader’s long, dust-colored hair lay in a spreading pool of blood, blacker than ink in the dim light.

  Brandon’s heart began to pound, his whole body quivering with each heavy beat. “Go down, go down!” he cried to Jennie, throwing himself in front of the window.

  A masked face appeared in the doorway. Light flashed painfully in Brandon’s eyes, and he realized it was mounted on the barrel of a gun. There was a loud bang, and something slammed into him. Suddenly he was looking at the ceiling. There was no pain, but he couldn’t move. He didn’t feel a thing when they dragged Jennie and the baby from the fire escape back into the room, trampling him in the process. The room was fading away, as were the sounds of Jennie’s screams and the raiders’ rough voices as they disappeared down the stairwell.

  Brandon lay drowning in helplessness and grief. He dimly heard his daughter crying, as if from a great distance, and somehow knew that she was here in the room with him, left behind. He prayed they hadn’t hurt her. He wanted to soothe her, tell her he was here with her, but nothing came out when he tried to speak. Then the sound of her crying faded away too, and he was in a place that was gray everywhere except for a faint glow of light in the distance. He began to move toward it.

  Timeline 2

  SanFran, North American Union

  June 8, 2079

  21:48 hours

  BRANDON WATCHED BY THE flickering glow of a candle as Jennie settled their baby into her makeshift cradle, tucking her in snugly before joining him on their lumpy mattress on the floor. He pulled a tattered blanket over them both and snuffed out the light.

  Jennie was exhausted and fell asleep quickly, her head pillowed on his shoulder, but Brandon lay awake in the dark, worrying. The short, sporadic scavenging expeditions they were making in the city were not providing enough food
for the commune, and he was pretty sure Jennie wasn’t making enough milk to feed the baby properly. It was time to admit it—they were all starving. He decided to have a serious talk with Sean in the morning.

  Food was a definite problem, but Brandon’s biggest nightmare was SHAV, the virus that was killing millions all over the world at this very moment. Hard to believe that someone had actually created this thing for the government to use as a weapon against the United Islamic States. Somehow, the synthetic virus had changed, become more virulent, and like the contents of Pandora’s Box, it had gotten out of control and swept across the entire world. Before everything shut down, the news was that the death rate was higher than ninety percent. For the millionth time, Brandon cursed the stupidity of mankind. Was it foolishness, or just plain evil? Sometimes he felt like humanity deserved to be wiped out. But what if Brandon should get sick and die, leaving Jennie and their baby daughter alone and unprotected?

  Please, God, no, he prayed, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Jennie stirred and sat up in bed, the shape of her slender body blurred in the dark.

  Brandon lifted his head and listened, but heard nothing. “What is it?”

  “Look,” she whispered, staring hard in the direction of the baby.

  Straining his eyes, Brandon could just make out something hovering over the baby’s bed. It was like a small cloud of insects, except they glimmered a dull silver. He blinked. The little cloud began to descend toward the baby, threatening to engulf her. With a hoarse yell, Brandon leaped out of bed and scrambled toward the cradle.

  There was nothing there. Only his daughter, asleep.

  Jennie hurried to his side, snatched up the baby and began feeling her all over.

  Brandon groped for the candle, lit it, and carefully examined the infant. She was fussing, but seemed unharmed. He shone the light all around the room—nothing.

  “She’s all right,” Jennie said. “Just wants more to eat.” She put the baby back in her box-cradle, and they climbed back into bed.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked her. “Was I seeing things?”

  “No, I saw it too,” she said, shivering. “No way did we imagine it. But how could it be real?”

  Brandon had just begun to drift off to sleep when he became aware of noises from outside. Scuffling, shouts, thumps. He got up again and moved to the front window, pulling aside the blanket nailed over it to peer out.

  It was dark, but there seemed to be a group of people in the empty paved lot in front of the building. A sliver of moon emerged from ragged scraps of cloud, and Brandon could just make out a tall, sturdy young woman with a long ponytail swinging behind her. A gang of raiders was closing in on her from all sides, two of them with guns. The lights mounted on their scopes flashed and bobbed in the dark. He heard a loud pop as one of the guns went off, but the girl had already moved.

  Brandon’s mouth fell open. Never, not even on the ‘Net shows, had he seen anyone move that fast. First she was in one spot, and then suddenly she was somewhere else.

  “Is it raiders?” Jennie asked behind him, her voice breathless with fear.

  He didn’t answer, concentrating hard on the scene unfolding below. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, the ponytailed girl had gotten right up next to the raider who had fired. She grabbed his arm and threw him. He sailed through the air and crashed into a couple of others who had been trying to move in, and they all went down in a tangle.

  The other gangers tried to take her, but she was too fast for them. She dodged and darted, occasionally grabbing one of them and throwing him or her into the others. Brandon could barely track the girl with his eyes, she was so fast. The raiders didn’t seem to be able to touch her, let alone do any damage.

  And then Brandon noticed something even stranger. The other gunman had never fired—he was over there, lying on the ground. And the other gangers were randomly dropping one by one, but not from anything the girl was doing. Not that he could see, anyway.

  “What in the hell?” he murmured.

  The Greeners who had been standing guard downstairs rushed out, their weapons leveled, but then stopped to watch the fight, probably just as astonished as Brandon by the scene playing out.

  All of the girl’s attackers now lay motionless on the ground around her. She relaxed her combat stance and stood quietly in the center of the rough circle formed by their inert bodies. The Greeners moved in closer, their guns trained, but seemed unsure of what to do.

  Ignoring them, the ponytailed girl turned and looked straight up at Brandon, as if she could see him right through the dark.

  As if she knew he was there.

  The hackles rose on Brandon’s neck, and he stumbled back from the window.

  SanFran, North American Union

  June 2079

  My Dearest Creators:

  I do hope this missive reaches you; my internal sensors inform me that interference on the timewave communications path is high. I am pleased to report that I have found a candidate, a child whose DNA is healthy and appropriate for our purposes. Phase 1 of my mission is now complete, and I am proceeding with Phase 2. I will contact you again once I arrive in the year 2600. Of course, once Phase 3 begins, I will no longer be able to communicate with you, but I have every expectation that things will go as planned.

  Your faithful and obedient servant,

  Araka

  Chapter 1

  Bakina Sobran

  August 2616

  Day 1 of X-Crisis

  ON THE MORNING OF the day Kala’s world would be utterly destroyed, she was awoken early by Araka, her symbiont.

  Time to get up, dear one, he said inside her head. There’s another case, and you’re needed at the lab.

  Kala bathed and dressed in a light tunic and leggings. She pulled her long, dark hair into a high ponytail and secured it in place, and a few wisps escaped and hung around her face as they always did. She studied herself in the mirror for a moment, imagining she could see Araka looking back at her from her own eyes.

  That is a foolish notion, my dear, Araka said. I am composed of clusters of floating virion-like particles inside you, as you well know.

  Kala frowned at her reflection. Is it as foolish as the idea of a symbiont that can talk?

  You don’t seem to appreciate the fact that you possess the only sentient symbiont in the entire world. Don’t forget, dear heart, I am far superior to all the others. I can help you in so many ways.

  Yes, you keep telling me that, but I’ve yet to see how. Anyway, how come you’re so different from all the others?

  She’d asked him that many times and never gotten an answer. This time was no different.

  She snorted and turned to go just as Liet sat up in bed, her mass of black hair wilder than usual from sleep. “Are you leaving, sweetness?”

  “Yeah, there’s a local case,” Kala said, coming to her side and giving her a quick kiss. “I’m heading over to the lab in Chandika.”

  “Okay. I’ll come out and meet you at Fawan’s for lunch.”

  Kala nodded and with a last squeeze of her bondmate’s hand, Left the room. She grabbed a chunk of fresh bread and some fruit from the kitchen and headed for the gravlift.

  Liet knew nothing about Kala’s sentient symbiont; he was a closely guarded secret. Once, when Kala was six, she had told a playmate about him and soon after, was taken to a lab for testing. The techs didn’t find anything wrong with her and Fawan had taken her back home, but after that she never told another soul, although she still worried about what it could mean.

  Outside, the air was pure and clean, and she inhaled a sweet lungful. It was the middle of August, and the blue-white crystalline sky promised a hot day to come. An air train passed overhead with only a soft shhh sound.

  She walked past her neighbors’ earth-toned homes nestled snugly among the trees and shrubs, and picked up one of the smooth, spongy walkways leading to the center of the community.

  Her drones flew ahead, acting as scouts
. When they encountered objects—people, animals, buildings, land formations—they sent her back detailed information about the environment around her. This morning, they led her unerringly to the air train platform. It lay on the other side of the sobran, past workshops and storerooms, the common dining hall, and the house of contemplation with its tall spire. Almost all Unathi lived in a small sobran, or community, much like this one.

  Kala’s mind was on her work. At twenty-two years old, she was only an intern in her chosen specialty, but she hoped to make a significant contribution to this case. If she could pull it off, it would elevate her to junior, a status she would keep until she was about fifty. After that she would have eighty years or more of practicing, during she would at some point become a senior specialist.

  Symbiopathology was a new specialty. It was small, for the simple reason that the Unathi people and their symbionts rarely had anything wrong with them. In the last few years, however, that had changed. A strange syndrome had cropped up in which some people found themselves utterly cut off from the Dronet, the internet-like network of drones that connected everyone directly, mind-to-mind. Now there was one in Kala’s vicinity, a man named Teret. He had reported to the symbiopathology lab in Chandika, looking for help.

  She climbed a small rise and arrived at the air train platform, where she notified the Hub and waited. Soon a train glided down to hover above her head. She stepped onto the embarkation holopad and rose into the air, passing through an open hatch on the train's undersurface. The hatch closed and the train took off, its segmented body moving sinuously as it climbed. From Bakina it would be a short hop to Chandika, a sobran on the West Coast. Both were part of Naya, the region that covered all of southwestern North America.