The Complete Pendomus Chronicles Trilogy: Books 1-3 of the Pendomus Chronicles Dystopian Scifi Boxed Set Series

by Carissa Andrews

  Alina stops short, her fingertips brushing her lips as she holds onto her memory.

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind you talking about him, you know,” I say, my eyes flitting to my interwoven fingers on the table in front of me.

  “It’s not you I’m worried about,” Alina says, her eyes flitting to Landry not more than a couple meters away.

  Whether or not Landry heard Fenton’s name, it’s hard to tell. He continues to flit between working on coaxing Kani out of her catatonic state and his holographic screens. His eyes are squinted and his nose scrunched as he searches for something in the jumbled mess on the screen.

  Something niggles at the back of my mind every time I think about what happened, and how I woke up. I feel like there’s more I should be able to recall, or something I need to remember. Well, clearly, there should be. But as hard as I try, the feeling slips further and further out of my reach. It’s like there’s something on the tip of my tongue and I can’t spit it out. I hate it.

  “What’s going on with him?” I ask in a hush, and nodding toward Landry, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know Fenton’s loss hit him hard. It’s hit us all hard. But is he okay—or will he be?”

  Alina’s eyes flit to Landry, then back to me.

  “Trae, it looks like we’re missing some of the ingredients we need. Wanna come to my place and help me grab them?” Alina says, her voice raised slightly. “At least that’s something you can help with.”

  She laughs, a small, forced chuckle.

  I take the hint, and nod, “Sure. Whatever you need.”

  Alina drops the spatula in her hand onto the table and walks over to Landry, placing a hand on his back, and leaning in to speak quietly in his ear.

  “Okay. Be careful and come right back, both of you. Alright?” Landry says, concern filtering though his eyes. “We don’t know what did this. Or if they can do it again.”

  “Of course, we’ll be right back,” she nods.

  “Good, good,” he says, nodding to himself and turning back to Kani.

  Alina tilts her head to the door and I follow behind her.

  “See ya in a minute, Landry. Good luck with Kani,” I say, tipping my head in acknowledgment.

  “Sure,” he says, continuing to take Kani’s pulse.

  “Bye Kani. We’re getting stuff for supper, but we’ll be right back,” I say, trying to include her—make her feel like she’s still got some stake in coming back to us. “You won’t wanna miss it. Alina’s cooking, so you know it’ll be good.”

  I turn and walk out the door, a few steps behind Alina. Her shoulder length brown hair sways back and forth as she walks, reminding me almost of Kani.

  “Hold up,” I call out.

  Alina pauses, allowing me time to catch up, but only barely.

  “Thanks,” I mutter as I reach her.

  She nods her head, but doesn’t say anything.

  “So, I assume you wanted to talk to me out of earshot?” I say, as we continue back to her house.

  “How’d you guess?” she says, raising an eyebrow and smirking, “Astute. That’s what I’d call you.”

  “So, let’s have it. Is he okay?” I reiterate my question from earlier.

  Alina sighs, but keeps walking, “I honestly don’t know, Trae. I’ve never seen him so—ugh—it’s hard to explain.”

  “Try,” I urge.

  “Volatile. Unpredictable,” she says, biting her lip, “He’s kept it together pretty well for the past few minutes. I’ve been impressed, actually. It’s almost like he’s come back to us. But honestly, I don’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep it up. Maybe having something to do—Kani—I don’t know, maybe it keeps his mind off of things.”

  “How do you mean? He seems pretty stable to me.”

  Alina shoots me a sideways glance and shakes her head.

  “He’s showing you the face he wants you to see right now. But he’s not okay. Not even remotely. Sometimes, he’s so—angry. I’ve never seen him like this before. It scares me.”

  “Has he tried to hurt you?” I say, concern rising.

  “No—god, no. But I think he could hurt someone else. Sometimes I worry about him trying to hurt himself,” she says.

  “He wouldn’t—surely?”

  “Trae, there have been times where I had absolutely no doubt,” she says, her expression dark. “I’ve been mentally preparing myself for weeks.”

  We reach the front to her house, and she opens the door wide, allowing me to head inside. The main room is pitch black, all of the windows are covered, and when we enter, the auto-lights are already preset to dimmed.

  “Is it always so dark in here?” I ask, stepping inside and taking a closer look around.

  “Yeah, he doesn’t usually like the bright lights. I’m surprised he hasn’t shut them all off at his place. Something about the light has started giving him migraines.”

  I spin around, “Migraines?”

  “Debilitating ones. He’s been out for days with the last round. They’re not good.”

  I lick my bottom lip, wondering if Landry’s migraines could be tied in any way to mine. Could there be a correlation? It never occurred to me someone else could be getting headaches. What could be causing them?

  “How long have the migraines been affecting him?” I ask.

  “Since shortly after,” Alina says, stuffing some food into a bag to bring back with us.

  “Do you think that’s been causing the disregulated moods?”

  “Maybe. All I know is he hasn’t been the same. There’s something rising in him—something I don’t like. Which is why I’ve been trying to stay with him. I guess it’s a protective thing. Even though—”

  She stops and sighs.

  “Even though?” I ask, trying to prod her to continue.

  “Even though we’re not together,” she finishes, raising her eyes to mine.

  My eyebrows rise, and say, “Oh—I thought you’d been able to work through—”

  “No. We’re just friends, Trae. We can’t be anything more than that. Not after—” she turns away, shaking her head and stuffing more into the bag. “I’m saying way too much. It’s just been so hard these past couple weeks. I don’t have anyone I can talk to.”

  “What happened between the two of you? No one knows. It’s like this great big mystery to everyone, including Fenton. We figured something intense musta happened since no one wants to talk about it,” I say, trying to continue our dialogue to understand things better.

  “The only reason no one knows is because it’s hard to talk about. Landry and I—we were—well, I was—” she begins, scratching her head.

  “Oh,” I mutter, recognition dawning, “you were pregnant.”

  Alina bites her lip again, tears threaten to emerge as she turns away.

  “Yeah,” she whispers, “but it didn’t work out. We, uh, lost him before we had the chance to tell anyone. I was nearly five months. Just about to show, so we knew we’d be telling everyone soon.”

  “We would have supported you both. You could have trusted us,” I say, walking toward her.

  “We know we could have, but when I found out, well—we wanted the news to be just ours for a bit. Our little gorgeous secret. Then when we lost him—well, it was devastating. We’d hoped to try again. To have another chance. Somehow, it didn’t work out that way, either. We couldn’t get over what had happened. Landry couldn’t get past it; he felt like it was all his fault. We tried for a number of months afterward, but we never—well, obviously.”

  “Alina, I hope you know we’re here for you. Is there anything I can do?” I ask, raking my fingertips through my hair. It’s such an odd revelation. Landry as a dad? Fenton was almost an uncle?

  Runa would be so much better at this than I am. What do you say to something like this? How do you help your friends cope?

  The sudden pangs that arise from the automatic thought about Runa, makes me realize how easily this type of thing can debilitate you.
My stomach plummets and guilt arises because I’m not doing what I should be to help her, either. Runa and I—we haven’t even come close to this kinda relationship; to babies. Hell, I don’t even think Runa knows how babies really happen. But I’d hoped, for a moment or two, to be able to one day have a future that could open up the possibility with her. She’s awoken a place in my heart I didn’t even know existed. A life I’d never considered possible.

  “There’s nothing, Trae. It’s been a year since we ended things. We’re as healed as we’re going to be for now. The worst is over between us.”

  “Well, if you need anything, you let me know, okay?” I say, grabbing the bag Alina has packed full of foods and spices she wants to bring back to Landry’s.

  “Of course I will, Trae. Thank you for your friendship and loyalty. It means a lot to both of us,” she says, trying to smile. “Are you ready to head back?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  There’s more I was hoping to ask—about Landry and the way he’s been acting. The migraines. But somehow, I feel like the moment has passed. I don’t want to keep inundating Alina with more questions after such an exposed confession.

  I open the door leading out to the cobbled street, and Alina nods.

  “Thanks,” she says, stepping out in front.

  I follow along with her in silence, my thoughts straying back to Runa. About what she means to me. Wondering where she is—what she’s doing. If she’s okay. If I’ll ever see her again. There’s gotta be more I can do to help her.

  I swear, we were at the Archives for that reason—

  As if on queue, my head starts to gently throb and I can tell the headaches that have burdened me are starting to return. Interestingly enough, it’s been a while since I had the last one. In fact, not since before the blackout.

  I rub my temple.

  “You’re not getting the headaches, too? Are you?” Alina says, stopping in mid-stride.

  I blink back, unsure of what to say. Instead, I opt out of saying anything and instead, simply nod.

  “What’s going on with these lately?” Alina says, shaking her head. Her eyes take on a distant quality, but her jaw tightens.

  “I don’t know what it is. Probably just stress,” I shrug.

  “Yeah, maybe,” she agrees, “but you should mention it to Landry. He may find it interesting enough to look into why it’s happening to the both of you.”

  “I’ll let him focus on Kani for now. I don’t want to inundate him. My headaches are manageable and by no means migraine quality. They’re just…annoying.”

  Alina nods, “Don’t wait too long to talk to him.”

  “I won’t. Just wanna wait for the right time,” I say.

  “Okay,” she says. “I know we might not get much out of Kani, but were you guys able to find what you were looking for in the Archives? You know, before all the weirdness happened?”

  I lick my bottom lip, trying to think. What were we looking for at the Archives again?

  “I’m gonna take it that perplexed look means no?” she laughs.

  “Actually,” I start, but stop to take a moment to rummage through my mind. For the life of me I can’t recall what we were doing there. I know it was important, though.

  “Actually?” Alina repeats.

  “I—I can’t remember why we were there,” I mutter, tapping the side of my head as if it will make a damn bit of difference.

  Alina chuckles, but stops when she sees my expression.

  “Oh—you’re serious.”

  “Yeah, I am,” I say. “How in the hell could that be? I mean, did something happen to me, too? Why would I not remember why we were there?”

  “Maybe whatever attacked Kani also attacked you?” Alina suggests, “Like that EMP idea I heard Landry suggest… But maybe with you, it wasn’t as traumatic?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I say, unsure.

  I suppose it’s as good of a guess as any.

  “We need to get back to Landry. If he’s having trouble getting information out of Kani, maybe he should start with me,” I offer, picking up speed as we near Landry’s house.

  Alina nods, jaunting out in front and opening the door before I can reach the doorway. She’s always been a quick one. Opening the door, she stops just inside the entry.

  “Landry, we’re back—”

  Alina’s voice stops dead in her tracks and as I enter the main space of Landry’s home I see why.

  “Hi guys, where ya been?” Kani says, waving from the kitchen. “I’m starving.”

  15

  Runa

  I CAN’T JUST SIT HERE waiting for my sight to come back. There has to be an answer to this riddle. Something in plain sight, so to speak. Everything else has almost come easy. Perhaps too easy.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Ammon says.

  Both Trae and I turn to face him. He sits crosslegged in the middle of the main room, his back turned to us as he faces out toward the windows.

  “What if—” he stands up, his head cocked to the side, “what if your sight isn’t working because you’re out of whack. Like, physically something is up with you?”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “Like a cold? Or a virus? Maybe you’ve been implanted with something? Or maybe all the transporting, or teleporting stuff messed around with you,” Ammon offers.

  “Or maybe, there’s not a real use for it out here?” Trae suggests.

  I sit with all of these musings for a moment, thinking about what I’d do if I were putting someone through a trial of readiness. Would I take away their sight arbitrarily? I honestly don’t think so.

  “You may be on to something, Ammon,” I say, thinking things through.

  “I am?” Ammon smiles, “I mean, of course I am. What was I onto?”

  “You said something about the teleporting or transporting messing with it. What if that’s only part of the answer? We already know we’re not in our own timeline. What if I don’t have my sight because I’m not meant to be here at this time? What if it won’t return until I’m back in my own timeline?”

  As soon as I say the words, something inside me resonates with the message. My instincts are telling me I’m on to something, I just need to keep unraveling the ball of thread.

  “When was the last time you remember seeing with your special vision?” Trae asks.

  “You know, truthfully, the last time I know without a doubt was when we were transported out of the cavern where Ammon was held. A TerraDweller helped us to escape.”

  “Are you sure?” Trae says.

  “No, I’m not sure of anything any more. But Ammon said he couldn’t see it—so, that’s something. Right Ammon?”

  Ammon nods, then scrunches his face.

  “Then again, I can’t overly see much.”

  “Well, regardless of whether it’s the timeline, or the next trial, we need to figure out what needs to be done to get you back where you belong. We can start there. Should be easy enough, right?” Trae laughs.

  The impossible task, in truth.

  “Yeah, totally easy,” I laugh. “Any chance you have a time machine in this room?”

  “Nope, nothing like that here. I can dye my hair back to blue, but that’s as close to a time machine as you’re gonna get outta me.”

  We both laugh for a moment, but something catches my imagination. I pause, my eyebrows tugging in.

  “You can dye your hair? I would have thought the process is—well, old. I guess.”

  “It is,” Trae chuckles. “Then again, so am I. Wanna try it?”

  For a moment, I take in Traeton’s expression. It’s strange, but I’ve already forgotten he’s not my Trae. Not the man I’m in love with, not the man I know. He’s older; wiser now.

  His expression hardens, but he takes my hand gently and walks me to the allayroom.

  “Will you help me?” he asks. “It’s been years since I’ve done this.”

  “Of course. But I think you should know, I’ve never done this b
efore,” I say, unsure of what to expect.

  “That’s okay. I’ll walk you through it.”

  Trae reaches across the counter, taking hold of the vial of blue liquid I noticed the first day I was here. I bite my lip and my spirits lift.

  Of course, it was there all along—I just didn’t know what it was. In fact, I wouldn’t have had any idea it was for Trae at the time, though.

  “What are you smiling at?” Traeton asks, his dark eyebrows pulling in, but a hint of his dimples emerge.

  “Nothing—no, that’s not true. I just think we’re on to something,” I say, taking the vial from him and turning it over in my palm.

  “And why’s that? Do you think the powers that be have always wanted me blue-haired?” he laughs, watching me intensely.

  “Maybe,” I say, “or maybe it has more to do with setting things right and this is the first step.”

  Trae takes a moment to consider.

  “Who am I to argue with that?” he finally says.

  Trae steps around me, reaching for the door handle to the allayroom. A set of eyes appear around the door frame, just as Trae goes to close it.

  “We’ll be out in a few minutes, Ammon,” Trae says as the door latches shut.

  “Doing something top secret in there?” Ammon says from the other side of the metal door.

  “Something like that,” Trae says, smirking at me. This time, his dimples cut deep.

  I shake my head, but something in his broad smile makes my heart skip a beat.

  In a swift movement, he tugs at the back of his shirt and it lands in a crumpled heap on the floor. His bare chest is still muscular, and strong—reminding me of just days ago when a younger version of him was standing naked beside me. I shiver at the thought, brushing the memory away because I don’t know what to do with the feelings it arouses. It wasn’t really Trae—and that means this man wouldn’t have any recollection.

  “Why are you blushing?” Trae asks, stepping closer.

  “I—I am?” I say, trying to sound calm and collected. My hand automatically raises to my cheek, as if I could feel for redness.

  “Yeah, you kinda are,” he says from inches away.

  “Well, you are standing in front of me without a shirt,” I say, pointing to his bare chest.