Salvation (Rise Book 2)

by Nathan Hystad

  On the sixth day of their journey, Lina woke to the twanging noise of a sapling spring trap going off as if her brain had been tuned to the sound. She checked her watch, counting up a whole five hours of sleep, and stretched on the dusty sofa to ease the cramp in her muscles.

  As she moved, the coyote sensed her change of state and instantly woke to stretch itself and pad to the front door of the house, where it waited to be let outside.

  “Okay, Buddy,” she said in a soft voice, conscious not to wake Monet, who was stretched out on another uncomfortable-looking sofa.

  They went outside, moving carefully, even though the fear of roving drones had diminished. The proximity alarm on the tablet had gone a long way to establishing her trust in technology that was as unfamiliar to her as the aliens were. They did what they needed to outside and she retrieved the twitching body of the rabbit, holding it up high as she carried it to the house out of reach of the coyote, who had an animal’s understanding of the rules on possessions.

  She found Monet awake, standing in what had once been the kitchen area before half of the cupboards and worktops had been cut up, presumably for firewood. She seemed dazed, like she was trying to make sense of the world, but when she caught sight of them, she beckoned for Lina to give her the rabbit.

  Drawing a knife, she began to work on dressing it with practiced hands, throwing the scraps not palatable for human consumption at the coyote, who sat still as a statue, waiting for the rain of meaty goodness.

  “We should hit the first settlement by tomorrow,” Monet said over the crunching and slurping of her task. Lina said nothing as she carefully looped up the wire she had been given by Cole as though it was more revered than it was useful.

  “Eat first?” Monet asked her, urging her to speak.

  “We’ll cook it and take it with us,” Lina said as she craned her neck to peek out of one of the remaining intact windows. “No sense in wasting time.” She went to revive the remnants of the fire in the hearth, taking another trick from Cole’s book and using her knife to slash at the tough fibers of the sofa cushion and pull out a handful of the stuffing, which burned like it enjoyed it.

  By the time the few strips of dark meat had been seared on the thin spikes of metal they’d found in their first hiding spot, the two women were packed up and ready to leave. Standing outside, they each took their bearings; Lina from the few stars she could see and Monet from the tablet, which was double-checked for signs of nearby drone activity. Setting off in the low light, the two women walked companionably side by side while Buddy loped ahead as if his role was to be their scout.

  The night grew much darker than they had expected it to, partly due to the low ground being overshadowed by trees, which snuffed out much of the starlight. Monet cursed as she walked into the coyote, making it yelp and snarl more in surprise than any kind of malice.

  “What is it?” Lina asked her in a sharp whisper.

  “Dog, coyote, thing stopped,” Monet answered, but Lina wasn’t listening to her answer. Instead, she was utilizing her other senses, detecting a hum of indecipherable noise from ahead as she picked up on a smell wafting through the trees.

  Smoke.

  A fire, only with damp wood.

  Monet stepped around the coyote and went to press ahead until Lina’s arm shot out to grab at her sleeve.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, jutting her chin forwards to point ahead, unaware if her human companion could see her or not. “People ahead.”

  Monet wasn’t so inexperienced as to question the young woman’s instincts, even if she hadn’t detected the source of her concern. She nodded, crouching lower and stepping carefully with Lina creeping behind. Pausing after twenty paces that took an eternity to cover, she pointed Lina off to the left, indicating that she would go right and gesturing with both hands that they should check out half of a circle each and meet up on the other side. Monet’s eyes, glinting in what little light there was, seemed almost pleading with Lina to understand her role and be up to the task.

  Lina nodded slowly, fixing her with a look that spoke of more bravery than she thought she’d possessed only a matter of weeks before.

  It took her another five minutes before she remembered their coyote and gasped a tiny intake of breath in case the animal gave way their presence.

  She needn’t have worried. When she peered into the gloom to find him, she found herself looking precisely into his amber eyes as he’d silently, loyally followed her direction.

  She relaxed, concentrating on keeping her movements slow and being careful not to snag her clothing or her pack on any low branches. She gawked through the trees, able to hear the indistinct chatter of people whispering to one another, and smelling the soggy wood smoke much closer. She’d almost made it to the far side of the clearing when she caught her breath again and clamped a hand over her mouth at what she saw.

  Instead of the enemy that she feared, she saw Freeborn like her. People like her tribe. A stab of guilt and fear shot through her body and she made to stand up when a noise to her left froze her body in place. Out of the darkness appeared Monet, who put her face against Lina’s cheek to speak in such a low voice.

  “They don’t look like enemy,” she said. “They’re not Hunters, and there isn’t a drone for miles…”

  “They’re Freeborn,” she said, suddenly so sure of it that she would stake her life on it. She made to stand up, but Monet pulled her close.

  “We don’t know them,” she hissed, louder than she should have. Lina snatched the sleeve of her coat away and tried to stand, but Monet clung on tighter and yanked her back down, making Buddy slink towards them from the shadows and issue a low, rumbling growl from his throat. Monet froze, allowing Lina to pull her coat free from the woman’s grip.

  “We don’t know the people at the settlements we’re going to,” she reasoned, “so what’s the difference?” Monet had no answer, not that Lina waited for one as she handed the woman her shotgun and stood to walk into the clearing with her hands raised.

  She spoke some words in her own language, adding the rest in English. Her people had mixed the two tongues over time and she couldn’t recite either one perfectly.

  Shouts of alarm and more than one shriek of fear answered her appearance as the disruption of her unexpected appearance rippled through the camp like the disease of panic.

  “Who are you?” a man demanded angrily, shoving his way through people to stand before her. She stayed calm, both hands raised, and he pushed her hard enough to rock her backwards and make her stumble. The weak attack, prompted by fear and panic, was answered with a ripping snarl as the coyote appeared beside Lina’s legs and the metallic shuck-shuck of a shotgun being primed ready to fire. On her other side, Monet entered the clearing with her weapon levelled at the face of the bearded bull of a man who had spoken.

  “Wanna back up there, Chief?” Monet asked, probably not expecting her words to be taken literally.

  “I am not our chief,” the man answered. “You killed him along with all the other village elders with your weapons.”

  “We didn’t attack you,” Lina said. “We are like you, see?” Lina pulled up her sleeve to show her wrists that were devoid of any scars where their enemy implanted chips in every one of their subjects.

  The man seemed confused, glancing around him at the others in the desperate hope that someone else would make a decision.

  “My name is Lina,” she said. “My village was destroyed by the aliens, and everyone they didn’t kill was forced to work in their prisons. I escaped, and I found I wasn’t the only one.” She gestured to Monet, who fidgeted, unwilling to lower her weapon until Lina rested a hand on the barrel to aid her decision. Everything in her companion seemed to fight against it, as though trust was more dangerous than an open confrontation.

  “What are you doing out here, so far from everything?” a woman asked. She stepped forwards just as those nearest her stepped away to give her space. Bathed in the weak light of the fire
, Lina saw her and could have been looking in a mirror of her own future. The woman clutched a young child to her chest with its head flopped over one shoulder in exhausted sleep. She carried the child as though it weighed nothing, when Lina understood all too well the strain that put on the body, but this woman seemed as though it was nothing to her.

  “We’re travelling to a settlement of Freeborn in the next valley,” she said. “We need support for something big.”

  “There is no settlement in the next valley,” the woman said quietly. “It was destroyed yesterday. We are all that is left.”

  It was almost dawn before Lina had made her way through the group of ragged travelers, tending to their injuries and providing reassurance as she went.

  Monet had spent time talking with the big man who had been so hostile at their arrival, breaking through by showing him the tablet and proving that the flying machines weren’t following them, which was his biggest worry.

  “Where were you going?” Lina asked the man. His name was Yas, and when he wasn’t being protective of his people, he was surprisingly gentle.

  “To the other tribes,” he said. “To beg for their kindness.”

  “How about you let us come with you,” Lina said. “That way, you can help us convince them to fight.” Yas frowned, like he wanted to ask why they would fight in the first place. Slowly, his head began to nod as the thought solidified and gained weight in his mind.

  “The old and the young,” he said. “They will not be able to join us in this battle. They will need to stay with the other tribes where it’s safe…” He trailed off, realizing the futility of his words when he had believed his own people safe until the day before.

  “For years,” he said solemnly, “they have left us alone. We have always known they were out there, and when any people living on the fringes of our land brought attention to themselves, we simply carried on, like it wasn’t our concern. But…” His frown deepened and his tone darkened. “…but no more. They are our enemies. We will help you rise up against them.”

  Chapter 16

  Alec

  “It’s been three days. You’d think you could snap out of the funk eventually,” Tom said, shaking Alec’s arm as he drove.

  “How far are we?” Alec asked, breaking his silence. He was still angry with Tom, and the fact that the man hadn’t offered any more in the way of explanation didn’t sit well with him. But it didn’t matter. Alec would play his role in Tom’s game, and maybe it would be enough to garner the assistance from this other group.

  Alec wondered what they were like, how many of them were in hiding, and why did they not fight back like Tom and the Reclaimers? He was curious but kept all his queries to himself for the time being. Once they arrived, he’d be sure to grill someone within the organization, someone that might be more forthcoming than Alec’s uncle.

  The other thing bothering Alec was the look in Tom’s eyes as Dex held the flash drive. He’d seen the murderous glare, the finger on the trigger, and the acceptance of his destiny in Dex’s. That man wasn’t afraid of dying, that much was clear, and it made Alec want to be in his company, rather than Tom’s. At least he was honest about things, even if he had been hunting Monet and Alec only a few short weeks before.

  “Sorry, what did you say?” Tom was driving down the road heading west. Alec understood that much as he watched the tablet, keeping an eye out for approaching Seekers. So far, they’d managed to evade the few pockets of searching drones, but it had added hours, maybe even a day to their slow-paced journey.

  “How far?” Alec asked.

  “Should be there tomorrow. We’ll stop soon. The sun’s setting, and I don’t want to risk an accident. We don’t have another spare,” Tom said.

  Alec nodded, gazing out the window. The terrain was different here. Patchy hills lined the sides of the highway, the ground almost desert-like. This was the farthest Alec had ever been from Detroit, and each day took him closer to the West Coast. Tom looked at him, his eyes puffy and red.

  “Are you okay?” Alec asked. He’d noticed a lot of coughing and had seen the blood, but so far, Tom hadn’t commented on it. He was thinner than he had been a couple years ago, when Alec met him at the Detroit facility. He’d seen the same on a few others over the years.

  “I’m great. One more sleep and we can set this in motion. Do you have any idea of how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?” Tom asked, his face brightening.

  “No.”

  “Twenty-five years, that’s how long.” Tom slowed as they neared a bunch of stationary vehicles. This section of road hadn’t been cleared out by the Occupation, and Alec could see why Tom kept taking these trails. If there were cars on the roads, it meant they weren’t on any transportation routes, but it also meant they had to take their time, winding around the parked or abandoned cars and trucks.

  Alec noticed a few tractor trailers here, all of them pried open, their contents emptied long ago. He tried to imagine the first year after the Occupation, the frantic struggle for survival. It must have been hard.

  “What was it like?” Alec asked.

  He didn’t have to elaborate; Tom knew what he was asking about. “Terrible. When they first came, people were scared, so scared. There were riots before the ships acted, thousands dead across the world before they Overseers set foot on our planet. Can you believe that?”

  Alec had seen enough of humanity that he nodded.

  Tom continued. “Within a couple days, they were sifting through us, processing us like cattle. But not before they managed to kill half of our population outright. Anyone too old, anyone not fit by their measurements were vaporized, tossed in pits, and burned. Early on, there was footage shared of these atrocities, but it wasn’t long before everyone was silenced, the network destroyed, or at least blocked to anyone but the Overseers, and the thousands that blindly took to their rule, helping them destroy humanity.

  “You wonder why I was so hard on Dexter Lambert? It’s because he chose them. I know it’s tricky, but what about that supervisor where you were? What was his name?” Tom asked.

  “Simon,” Alec muttered.

  “Simon. You think about that man. He chose them too. He stole food from your hard-working mouth at a whim, because he loved the tiny bit of power they gave him. Little does he realize, when the gate is opened, they won’t need us. It’s the endgame.”

  “Do you think so?” Alec asked.

  “I do.”

  Alec waited for Tom to keep talking about the invasion. He rarely heard anything about that time and was so curious. When his uncle didn’t continue, he felt the urge to ask a question, the words falling short of his lips as a flash of sunlight reflecting off metal caught his eye from the ditch.

  “Tom, slow down,” he said quietly, and when the man didn’t acknowledge him, he shouted it. “Stop the car!”

  Tom slammed on the brakes, Alec jarring forward, his seatbelt digging into his shoulder. “What the hell are you so worked up about?”

  Alec stared at the body in the ditch. It appeared to be a woman; long blond hair spread above her head as she stared at the darkening sky, her body unmoving.

  “Is she dead?” he asked, climbing out of the Jeep.

  “Don’t get too close. It could be a trap,” he heard Tom say, but he kept walking toward the corpse.

  Tom jogged beside him, a gun in his hand, and Alec stopped a couple of yards from the woman. “She’s a Roamer,” he said, seeing the stump at the end of her left arm. The wound had been cauterized roughly, the skin red and pink around the missing hand. Her face was pale, a sheen on her forehead. It didn’t look like it had rained in the vicinity for some time.

  Alec crouched, listening, and saw her chest rise and fall slowly. “She’s alive, Tom!”

  “Not for long, son,” Tom said, but Alec hardly heard him. He moved to the woman’s side, and set a palm to her cheek.

  “She’s burning up. We have to help her,” Alec pleaded, and turned to see Tom pointing hi
s gun at the dying woman. He lifted a hand to the man and shook his head. “No no no. You aren’t killing her.”

  “It would be doing her a favor, Alec. She’s almost dead. See that infected wound?” Tom didn’t lower his weapon.

  “You’re so quick to shoot, aren’t you? It doesn’t have to be that way. We can help her,” Alec grabbed her good hand and felt the woman grip his fingers before it loosened.

  Finally, Tom holstered the weapon and dropped to the other side of her. “You sound just like your mother.”

  Alec stiffened at the comment but didn’t pry. There would be time for that later. For now, he needed to see what they could do for the Roamer before she expired. He saw the knife a short distance from her outstretched right hand, realizing the glint from it was what caused him to see her. He tried to imagine the thin woman in the woods, running for her life with nothing but a dull knife to protect her fever-ravaged body.

  “Let’s move her to the back of the Jeep. I don’t like stopping out here. It’s too… exposed,” Tom said. Together, they hefted the woman up, which wasn’t a difficult task, considering how lean she was. A few minutes later, they were driving away. Alec sat with her head on his lap, where he wiped her face, cleaning it before dabbing her lips with a clean wet rag. Her tongue found the water, and when Alec thought she might come to, her eyes flashed open before she groaned and pressed them shut again.

  Eventually, he slid to the front, and Tom met his gaze. “You have a good heart. I’m sorry I acted like that. It’s hard to remember how to be a normal decent human being some days. I have an objective and didn’t want to be distracted.”

  It sounded like an apology, but one riddled with excuses and reasons Alec didn’t buy in to. He didn’t think he’d ever be so hardened to the plight of other people as Tom had revealed himself to be in their short time out in the wild.