by Kailin Gow
FORGOTTEN
Book 3 of the FADE Series™
By
Kailin Gow
Published by The EDGE Books from Sparklesoup Inc.
First Published 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Kailin Gow
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Formatted Specifically for Amazon Kindle.
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PRINT VERSION ISBN: 978-1-59748-026-0
Henceforth space by itself, and time by itself, are doomed to fade away into mere shadows, and only a kind of union of the two will preserve an independent reality. – Hermann Minkowski
ONE
I’m drifting, floating in a way I know can’t be real. Floating above a woman I know as well as anyone on the planet, for the simple reason that she’s me. Celestra Caine. She has the same flowing dark hair falling past her shoulders, the same flawless skin and fine boned features, the same athletic frame. She’s… I’m wearing a dark suit that’s cut perfectly for me. There’s a man beside me, wearing an almost identical suit. That’s the most I can make out of him. My eyes seem to slide from his features every time I look at them. Along with the floating, that tells me that this is just a dream. That it isn’t real. Yet somehow, I know that it is, or will be, or has been. I’m not sure which.
I’m not floating any longer. I’m looking out through her eyes. My eyes. It’s so bright that I reach for a pair of shades automatically, the filtered lenses of them giving the world a darker cast. The field has changed a lot from the way it would have been back when it was in use. The whole climate is different now. The subsoil samples taken so far at the dig have proved that. Open trenches mark where the archaeological work has been taking place, mounds of soil beside them. With the way the open fields are now, it’s hard to believe that this was once a desert.
I hop down into the nearest trench to get a closer look. It’s a deep trench, and I have to climb down almost ten feet before I reach the bottom. There are flashes of metal there. It’s still bright, despite the long years underground.
“Data drives?” the man with me asks, sounding a little surprised. “I know we’ve recovered some readable ones before.”
“Possibly,” I say. “The metals they used in these facilities protected them in a way most archaeological deposits from that time weren’t protected. Even with that though, there’s still a chance that they could have all degraded.”
“Well, I guess a few thousand years in the ground will do that,” the man replies. I can hear the tension in his voice though. We need this. “What else have you got down there, anyway?”
Taking a sonic brush from my pocket, I start to peel away the layers of dirt, very carefully, the ultra-sonic sound waves scraping it away more gently than a normal digging tool ever could. As he just said, these things have been in the ground for thousands of years.
“A lot of it looks like fairly standard lab equipment,” I say, “though the typology seems a little off. Some of these things are more advanced than I’d expect given the period.” It’s hard to keep a note of excitement out of my voice. We both know what that is likely to mean.
“Keep going,” my companion says, though he makes no move to join me in the trench. Probably he doesn’t want to get his suit dirty, though I know for a fact he’s gotten more on it than dirt before now. A lot more.
I keep rooting through the finds, hoping for something clear. Something definite. I sift through the soil, looking for things below the current layer of the trench. It’s bad archaeology, when we haven’t recorded everything at that level, but some things are more important. The fate of the world, for one.
What I find is a scrap of metal, a plate obviously designed to be bolted onto something else, but loose now. I pull it from the dirt and set about cleaning it carefully. If this place is what we think it might be, then the metals in it won’t have corroded the way iron or even steel would have after all this time. It has just two words written on it, raised slightly from the surface so that as I run my hand over them, I can feel them.
Location Six.
“Do we know anything about a ‘Location Six’?” I call up to the top of the trench. The man there nods, though I still can’t seem to make out his features. The dream, or my memory, won’t let me have that.
“It used to be a base belonging to the Underground. It’s mentioned in some of the old records.” He’s trying not to sound too excited about it, but I can tell that he is from the slightly too rapid way he says that. Location Six is obviously a big deal. “I never thought that we’d actually find it.”
“And now we have,” I say. “You’re going to have to bring in a team to collect the important parts from here.”
He nods and takes an in-ear phone from a pocket, putting it in place and relaying details of the location. I notice that he doesn’t tell the crew on the other end exactly what we have found. It’s a very big deal, then.
For now though, I’m too busy climbing out of the trench to worry about that. Near the top, he reaches out for me, helping me from the trench with strong hands on mine. Immediately, and perhaps inevitably, he pulls me closer, one arm going around my waist. Even though he hasn’t been in the trench, he has been standing around at the dig, and right then he smells earthy and solid.
I pull away anyway. “There isn’t time.”
“Make time.”
I shake my head. “We aren’t kids anymore, and this is too important to mess up by wasting time.”
“Would it be a waste?”
“When there’s so much at stake, yes.” I look back down at the trench, away from him. “There’s so little time left. All that down there might be the past, but it’s also the key to the future. If we get things wrong, even a little, everything around you will vanish like it never existed.”
“And you can’t allow that.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I won’t. There are some things that it is worth taking risks to protect. It all means too much. Too much for us now. Too much for the future. Too much for everything.”
I can hear the strength of the passion in my own voice, and in that moment I know how important what we are doing is, but I can’t quite remember why. I can’t quite focus. I’m drifting too much. Drifting, and listening to the voice I can hear on the edge of my thoughts, calling my name.
“Celes. Celes, come on. Wake up.”
TWO
“Celes, wake up.”
My eyes blink their way open and I find myself looking up at Jack Simple’s face. There are definitely worse things to look at in the world when waking up. His dark hair is short and normally stylishly arranged, though now it’s a mess. There’s a light dusting of stubble over his features, which is strange, because normally they’re clean shaven for an elegantly suave look. I have to admit it suits him though. It even goes with the combat gear he’s wearing, left over from our rescue mission into the Others’ base.
The look in those icy blue eyes of his is one of worry as I start to sit up on the low bed I’m currently lying on.
“How are you feeling, Celes? Are you okay?
” His delicately British accent normally doesn’t give much away, but right now I can hear the concern there. Like he’s afraid I shouldn’t be standing up.
“I’m fine, I think.” I stand up carefully. My legs are a little shaky, but I’m quickly on my feet. I’m still dressed the way I was the last I remember, in camouflage combat gear that matches Jack’s. More of those memories come back to me.
“Lionel drugged us.”
Jack nods. “He must have found out what happened.”
What happened was that I killed a member of the Underground in self defense, the organization for which Jack works, and in which Lionel is one of the most senior figures. Not to mention very dangerous for someone who looks like he could be somebody’s grandfather, with his silver hair and twinkling eyes. It turns out that he doesn’t like people who don’t match his idea of human very much, or at least doesn’t trust them.
That means people like me, since I can do so many things that normal humans can’t do. Things like burning one of his agents with a power that seems to almost have a mind of its own. It means people like Jack too, though Lionel has only just found that out. Maybe that’s why we’re here. Wherever here is.
More likely it has something to do with the part where I was trying to get as far away from him and his faction of the Underground as possible. As far as I can tell, they aren’t much better than the Others, the group that wants to kill all those like me. One of Lionel’s people found me sneaking out, and I ended up burning him up. But only after he tried to kill me. It seems my ability to burn mostly comes up when I’m scared or trying to defend myself or someone I cared about…like an adrenaline rush.
I look around the room Jack and I are in. It’s very white. White as in the white of a padded cell, barely ten feet on a side. There’s a single bed, also white, which I was asleep in, but other than that the room is unfurnished. The walls, and even the door, are covered in squares of a white material that gleams like plastic, but which feels more like cloth when I reach out to touch it.
“What’s happening, Jack?” I ask. “Do you know where we are?”
Jack shakes his head. “I woke up only a few minutes before you did.” He moves around the room, checking it methodically. “There doesn’t seem to be anything to give away where we are. I guess the best we can say is that if the people here wanted to kill us straight away, we’d already be dead.”
That’s matter of fact, but then, Jack has spent his life dealing with life and death situations. It’s part of why he can stay so calm regardless of what’s happening. Though I’d guess the part where he seems to be able to know what’s about to happen a few seconds in advance helps there. It’s easy not to be surprised by things when you know they’re about to happen.
What surprises me is how calm I am then. I don’t have Jack’s years of working for the Underground, just a few short weeks of hiding out, trying to keep ahead of the Others who hunt down people like me. I’m seventeen, and I should be panicking, but I don’t. I sit down calmly on the edge of the bed instead.
“I guess we’ll just have to sit here and wait to see what happens then. Though I hope they hurry up. There isn’t much time.”
That doesn’t even sound like me when I say it. It sounds like something an older version of me would say. No, I realize, it sounds like something the dream version of me, the one I saw before Jack woke me up, might say.
Even Jack seems to notice the difference because he looks at me oddly. Thoughtfully. “Celes,” he says, “are you sure that you’re okay?”
I nod. “I’m fine, I think. It’s just… I was having a really strange dream before I woke up.”
“Tell me?”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Probably just whatever drug Lionel used.”
“Probably,” Jack says, sitting down beside me. That close, it’s like I’m hyper-aware of his presence. I can hear every breath he takes. Normally, being that close to Jack is no problem for me. Normally, I’d let him slide an arm around me and comfort me. Here and now though, it’s just a reminder of how little space there is. The calm I’ve been feeling now feels like its slipping away a bit at a time.
I stand up, moving around the room the way Jack did. I know he didn’t find anything to show where we are, so there’s no reason why I should, but right then, I can’t sit still and wait any longer.
“Celes…”
I reach out for the door, with its panels of the strange white material. My fingers scrabble at the edge of one of them. If I can pull it away, maybe that will help.
“Celes, you need to calm down.” Jack moves over to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I feel that as the power in him calls to the power in me. My breath comes shorter and faster as it starts to feel like the walls are pressing in on me. I’m not normally claustrophobic, but I don’t think I can deal with being in here much longer.
I can feel that burning power that sits in me then, pulsing up like the sap in a tree. In me, it feels so good, so natural, but I know what it can do.
“Jack,” I manage, between those short, panting breaths, “get back. Get back now.”
He steps back without asking why. Maybe he can feel what’s coming.
The power leaps up in me, pouring out through my hand like water from a fire hose. Except that it isn’t water that pours out of me. It’s heat. Raw, impossible heat that I channel into the panels of the door with a white hot glow that would be blinding for almost anyone else. I can look into it easily though. I can look straight through it to see the damage I’m doing.
As usual, it feels so good to do this. So incredibly wonderful for something so utterly destructive. I can’t help thinking back to the people I’ve used this power on. Agents of the Others mostly. People who would have harmed or killed me if I hadn’t. People I probably shouldn’t feel too guilty about burning. At least this is only a door.
A very tough door, it turns out. The raw energy I carry inside me is enough to melt steel and disintegrate practically anything weaker, yet as it flares against the material of the door, I can see that it isn’t so much as scorching it. That strange white material gets hot, so hot that I have to move my hand away, but it doesn’t melt, or burn, or anything else. Whatever it is, it isn’t like any material I’ve come across.
That makes me want to tear at it again and find out what it is. It feels like it’s woven from fibers, but it’s too dense and tough for most cloths. Trying to pull it away from the walls is still useless though. Worse than that, it’s stupid. It just shows how panicked I am by now.
“Celes,” Jack says. “It isn’t working, Celes.”
“If I can just…”
“It isn’t working,” Jack says again, and this time he puts his hands on my arms, pulling me away from the door. I want to pull away from him, and I want to press closer into his arms, all at the same time. In the end, I step back from him, standing in the corner of that tiny space, panting for breath. I normally feel so alive after using the power that I have, but right now, I just feel tired and scared. I’m trapped in a tiny room with no way to get out, and the whole space is just too small.
“It’s going to be all right, Celes,” Jack says.
“Is that a prediction?” I manage, and that gets a smile from him even though I probably shouldn’t be talking about exactly what Jack can do right now. If this is a holding cell, then it’s a pretty good bet that someone will be watching us. It occurs to me that not many eighteen year old girls would know that. I’ve obviously been spending too much time around secret organizations recently.
“It’s just obvious.” Jack’s smile widens into an almost boyish grin. “After all, you’re with me. What could possibly go wrong when you’re with me?”
I start to list things on my fingers. “The first time we met face to face, an armored vehicle crashed through the wall, then you blew up your apartment. After that, I’ve been chased, shot at, my family has been attacked, and I’ve almost been killed a dozen times. So have you.”
�
��True,” Jack says, like none of it matters very much, “but almost doesn’t really count, does it?”
I laugh at that, and as I start to calm down again, I realize that was probably what Jack was trying to achieve. That’s the thing with Jack. He’s wonderful. He’s amazing to be around. He’s handsome enough that sometimes I wonder why I’m the only one who was given a modeling career as a cover story by the Underground. Yet there’s always that part of him that’s thinking, that’s calmly working out what needs to be done and doing it, no matter what else is going on. It means that whatever Jack does, it’s hard not to look for that second motive behind it. Even when he’s kissing me.
“So,” I say, trying to match the lightness of his tone. If he can be strong here, I can be too, “I take it you’ve worked out a plan to get us both out of this cell by now?”
Jack shrugs. “I was thinking that we could always wait until they open the door.”
“No, seriously,” I say, starting to step forward to take another look at the material covering the door. Jack puts an arm out to stop me.
“Seriously,” he says, looking at the door expectantly. I know that look, so I let him hold me back there for a second or two. A whirring sound comes from the door, followed by a whoosh of air as some kind of seals disengage. I watch as it slides back like a screen door, disappearing into the wall beside it.
Jack gives another of those shrugs of his, and that perfect smile of his widens just a touch more. I have to admit, even when you’re used to it, and even if it is just a second or two most of the time, seeing the future is pretty impressive.
THREE
The door opens, and someone starts to step through. They do so cautiously, as though they are expecting trouble, so that for the first second or two, all we can see is an arm covered by a suit sleeve, followed by a leg edging around the doorframe. No one who enters a room like that can intend anything good.