Vacuum (The Cataclysm Series Book 1)

by Michelle Rene

  Vacuum

  By Michelle Rene

  Copyright 2017 Michelle Rene

  All Rights Reserved 2017

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fictions. Names, characters, establishments, organizations and incidents are either product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, event, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  Dedicated with love to my husband.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter One

  She shuddered under my feet.

  “Stop!”

  I raised one hand to the men, the sound of my voice reverberating through the air. Carson threw the master switch and the behemoth trembled underneath my hand before she gave up her momentum. My hand remained raised, and the men held their breaths. There was pressure—I could feel it. It was best not to proceed just yet.

  “Hold.”

  In the bad old days they used to mock men like my compatriots and me by calling us rough necks. We turned the cranks and worked the drills to find whatever it is we needed to find underneath the dry earth. Rough necks we were called and rough necks we were. There were none tougher. I knew men who had lost fingers. I had known men who had lost lives. Still we worked that ancient machinery to that rhythm because it was cheaper than upgrading. A machine that ran on manpower was far cheaper these days than a machine that ran on amethite. Men were everywhere and therefore cheaper than a rock so dense you could run a space cruiser off of it.

  Everything moved to a beat. I had learned this fact. The sound of the drill hummed and turned at a certain pace when everything was operating properly. If she sputtered or slowed, that was our cue to stop work and back away. Failure to listen to her when she whimpered… well, we only had ourselves to blame when one of us got hurt or killed.

  They waited for my orders.

  Placing the left side of my face against the stalled drill bit, I listened for her tells. Gently, I rubbed my cheek up and down against the cool metal, trying to get a sense of her game.

  “Now now, baby. I’m listening.”

  I waited a moment longer. The rest of the crew didn’t stir.

  “Hand crank slowly. Two minutes,” I ordered.

  They obliged me and followed my orders to the letter. At exactly one minute and fifty-three seconds, the entire rig began to vibrate. Then, it shook like it was trying to throw all of us off of the platform.

  “Run!”

  I jumped to my feet and sprinted toward the staircase, grabbing any men I came across on my way. The stairs were too slow a thing to consider, so we jumped to the dirt below us. My hands had not touched earth but for a second when I heard it. There was an explosion that hit my chest with the force of a sonic boom. My breath ceased for a moment and returned to me in a gasp. I never could get used to that.

  I knew what was next. You could count the seconds between the boom and the rain, and it was almost always exactly the same. Five and a half seconds was the average.

  The rain fell on us in wet, sticky splatters. It plopped on my face and soaked my shirt as though an ancient God had sent it to us from above. However, no matter what your religion was, the truth about this rain was the same. It came from the depths of Hell inside the earth and it was definitely not water.

  The men cheered as they leapt to their feet and ran to the rig in celebration. Dark green globs of crude celenium poured through our scaffolding and soaked the workers below. This stuff was no amethite, but once it was refined, it could power most machines that were not star bound.

  I heard them dance and congratulate one another. One man even ran up and clapped me on the back. I smiled and waved him away. They knew I did not like to celebrate.

  They had much to cheer about. We had worked that rig to death for two months, trying to bleed this bit of land dry. These outlying planets were running out of resources, and paydays were becoming less and less. This shower meant a big payday for these men, and I didn’t begrudge them a bit of celebration.

  Of course, I had no way of knowing if celenium was actually dark green. I had a rough neck’s boy describe it to me once, and he had said it was dark green. But hell, he could have been color-blind. For all I knew, celenium was the brightest color of pink you could find this side of the seven moons.

  In my mind, it was dark green. I imagined celenium was the kind of green only found on moss that grew in the dankest swamps on a far moon I hadn’t been to yet. I pictured the boy who described it to me, with ginger hair and freckles spotting his cheeks and nose. They were the kind of freckles children hated and grown women adored. The rig was black with rusty areas here and there, and the ground was yellow and fragile, looking where it had cracked.

  Whether or not these things actually looked as such was no matter because they appeared that way in my mind. I had been blind for seven years.

  Chapter Two

  “Are you sure you want to go now, man? I mean, we ain’t done wit’ this rock yet,” Jimmy said as he counted out my share in coins.

  “I’m sure.”

  I lifted my bag and threw it over my shoulder. The band over my eyes shifted, so I repositioned it back into place. I never liked to have it out of place around people.

  “Well, it’s a damn shame, I don’t mind tellin’ you. You were one of my best guys. Never did meet a man who could read a rig like you.”

  I grinned, but only slightly.

  “There’s nothing to reading a rig. It’s just like reading anything else.”

  “Well, you were the best. I’m awful sorry to hear you are leaving. My casualty rate has been real low since you joined up with us. What’s in Palacides anyway? I mean, if you don’t mind me askin’. You’ve been wit’ us for years.”

  He dropped the bag of coins hard on the counter for me to hear. I walked over to it and grabbed the pouch without hesitation. This was the routine for us.

  “I have a ticket on the Goliath.”

  The air in the room changed. I could sense his shock. It was silent and electric with our unsaid words.

  “You’re goin’ on the Goliath? The Goliath?”

  “That’s what I said, Jimmy.”

  “I never figured you fer a pilgrim.”

  “I’m not a pilgrim.”

  “Well, I know you ain’t no scientist!”

  We both laughed, and I heard him reach under his desk and plop something full of liquid on the counter between us, followed by the clinking of two glasses. I smiled and lowered my shoulder bag back to the floor while he poured the rank stuff in the glasses.

  “You didn’t think I’d let you leave here without a drink, did
ya? Well, that is unless you really are turning pilgrim on me? If that’s the case, I’ll drink ‘em both myself.”

  “I told you I’m no pilgrim,” I retorted as I reached out and grabbed for one of the glasses. I shot the liquid back in one go.

  “Whoa now. I didn’t even get to toast your ass yet.”

  I placed the glass back on the counter and slid it toward him.

  “Well, let’s do that again. My ass is awful cursed, Jimmy. It could use a blessing.”

  We laughed again in that familiar way only we could when no one was around. There were few men I trusted in this world, and Jimmy was one of them. He poured us another round, and I held mine high, waiting for his toast.

  “To the toughest man I ever knew! Though he may be ugly, surly, and drunk, may the seventh moon never set on his fortune.”

  We drank to that, and I tasted the strong moonshine yet again.

  “I’m not ugly.”

  “Ha! You is, my friend. You is ugly. Them hookers in Palacides aren’t going to touch you with a ten-foot pole lookin’ the way you do.”

  I smiled and pointed to my head.

  “In here I’m a regular playboy.”

  Jimmy laughed with his entire belly.

  “Yeah well, out here, you need a haircut and a shave!”

  I reached for my hair and felt it was all the way to my shoulders now. My beard too was a clumpy mess on my face. I always kept myself washed and groomed, but it had been some time since I had had a proper haircut and shave.

  “Well, maybe you’re right. Probably should do that.”

  “I would say that would be your first order of business when you get to Palacides.”

  Silence invaded the room then like an assassin, forcing us to realize the truth of the situation beyond our jokes. The air grew thicker and the third shot of moonshine went down harder, as though it were sludge. Most people don’t like to admit the energy of a room will change how things taste and smell, but it does. When you cannot see, most of your knowledge about a situation comes from how a room feels and how it makes the tangible things around you feel, smell, and taste. When the air is uncomfortable, the liquor turns thick with unspoken words.

  “You would tell me if you went all religious on me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Jimmy, I don’t like repeating myself. I am no pilgrim.”

  “Then why the Goliath?”

  “I want to see it for myself,” I said plainly.

  “That’s rich comin’ from you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, but what you mean is dragons. You want to go see the dragons.”

  “Yes.”

  Another silence passed, and so did another drink. There was nothing else to really say.

  “Do you think they are God?” he asked with a sudden seriousness.

  “I have no idea. I am no theologian.”

  “And you ain’t no scientist.”

  “I’m definitely not.”

  “But what if it is God?”

  “Then I suppose I will confess my sins. Isn’t that what you are supposed to do when you meet God?”

  “I reckon it is. That and ask for forgiveness.”

  “I suppose I will do that as well.”

  “But what about your life before here? And what about all those things you done for us when raiders came and tried to take our claims? You’ve killed a lot of people.”

  He poured another shot and I threw it back quickly.

  “I reckon I will tell him that part too,” I said with no inflection in my voice.

  There was another long silence. I could feel the moonshine coagulate in Jimmy’s bottle, and the air was like breathing soup. Someone had to end this or else we would both suffocate here, wallowing in our farewells.

  I reached across the counter and patted Jimmy’s shoulder. Then, I tapped the counter next to where his bottle stood. He obliged me by pouring two more glasses.

  “Allow me to toast you now, my friend.”

  The air lightened as he lifted his glass with me.

  “To the cheapest bastard I know. May lady fortune smile upon you so someday you will buy better booze.”

  We laughed and threw the final glass back down our throats. I wasted no time in collecting my shoulder bag and making my way toward the front door. I turned back only briefly to exchange our quick farewells before I headed out into the heat of the day.

  There was a transport waiting for me. Nothing fancy of course. It was just a group of gunrunners who were stopping through. If you paid enough and had an honest face, they would drop you where you wanted to go. If you were blind, they charged you less. They were on their way to Palacides anyway, so I was no real burden.

  I had been with the rough necks for six years, give or take. That was a long stint for most men. I always knew I would have to leave someday, but it wasn’t until I heard the news that I knew it was time.

  News travels fast on Artemis, and news about dragons travels faster than most. No one in our lifetime had ever witnessed a real dragon. It had been two hundred years since the last sighting, and even then, the records were sketchy. One ship had seen it, and very few survived to record their findings. The little we learned turned into fodder for folklore and fairytales.

  The dragon was said to be a being who lived in the vacuum of space. If this was a fact, then it was crucial one, since no living thing had ever been able to survive alone in space with no air to breathe. It was also said to be made of pure energy, which had religious zealots and scientists arguing over whether or not a dragon could be God.

  Me, I could care less. There was one rumor above all others I was interested in regarding dragons. They say to speak to a dragon is to learn the truth. If you give yourself wholeheartedly to it, then it will tell you the answer to any question you might have. My question was a very important one, and if the dragon could really answer it, I would finally have what I needed to find peace in this world.

  Chapter Three

  Palacides was one big crowd. Thousands of people pushed and shoved their way through narrow streets and alleys. We moved not as people, but as livestock through various holding pens. I hated crowds.

  When you were blind, you relied on the sounds and smells around you to navigate. If you solely used touch to find your way around, people in a place like Palacides saw you as weak. You might as well wear a sign with an arrow pointing to the pocket where you kept your money. I learned how to read the electricity people and objects left in the air. You could sense a lot if you tune into the right frequency. In a large place where echoes abounded in the space, the read was easy. In a place like Palacides, there was a constant thrum of energy wherever you walked, which made it hard to pick out individual people and landmarks. It was like walking in the rain to me. White noise covered the entire area and masked much of the information I needed.

  I tried using my sense of smell to navigate, but the barrage of scents worked against me. There was a constant stream of body odor and dirt that seemed to permeate everything. Occasionally, a strong whiff of something edible would overtake me when I passed a restaurant or food cart. The oddest thing was the occasional scent of lilac. It came once briefly and vanished before I could pinpoint the origin. I assumed I had crossed downwind from a floral stand.

  I knew I had wandered into a brothel district when my nose was suddenly filled with sandalwood and rose incense. I could hear the chimes of wind-bells tinkling in the breeze and the flutter of women’s laughter.

  “Hello handsome,” sang a young woman’s voice directly in front of me.

  I stopped and faced the direction of the voice. I had heard the sound of tiny metal things clinking together as she approached me. Also, her footsteps were light and had not been muffled by the dragging of skirts. Most proper women would have paid me a respectable distance and would either wear a full skirt in this part of town or at least a proper pair of boots. I judge this woman to be a prostitute wearing several chains of jewelry, possibly chandelier e
arrings as well. She wore the comfortable slippers of a woman on her feet and a skirt that rose above her knees.

  “Hello, Miss.”

  “Miss, is it? I’ll have to tell Miss Saddy I was called a Miss today.”

  She laughed with her whole face. I could tell.

  “Now, Mr. Polite. What are you here for?”

  “A haircut.”

  Suddenly, I was struck again by the scent of lilac. I turned my face around to catch the smell before it vanished, but I was too late.

  “A haircut? Look Mister, I don’t know if that is code for something, but I ain’t never heard of it. Why don’t you tell me what you are looking for, and I bet I can find someone to oblige you.”

  She drew in a breath when she realized what she had said.

  “I’m sorry, Mister. I didn’t mean to make fun. I know you can’t be ‘looking for’ anything. It’s just what you say, you know.”

  “No problem. I just need a haircut.”

  “Like a real one?”

  I tugged on the end of one long lock.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you needed one months ago,” she replied.

  I shot her a small smile, and she took my hand. I didn’t mind. Prostitutes rarely wanted to rob a blind man, and this one had a tender heart. I allowed her to lead me through the incense filled district.

  “I’ll take you to our Salem. She does wonders.”

  We walked a bit further before we climbed a set of stairs to a loft apartment overlooking the courtyard where most of the women seemed to be doing their laundry. The scent of lye and soap filled my nose with every step.

  The woman knocked on the door to the apartment. I heard the door creak open and a burst of cool breeze greeted our faces. I could smell the laundry smell through the apartment and the sound of birds singing was so loud the windows had to be open to the elements outside.

  “Who’s this?” asked a tiny voice from the doorway.

  She sounded sleepy and small. From the direction of her breath, I judged her to be quite a bit shorter than my escort.