Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Books by Paul B. Kohler
About the Author
Free Book
From the Author
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Dear Reader
Turn: Book One of the Humanity’s Edge Trilogy
by Paul B. Kohler
Turn: Book One of the Humanity’s Edge Trilogy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2017 by Paul B. Kohler
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.
Edited by Amy Maddox
Cover design by Paul B. Kohler
Interior design and layout by Paul B. Kohler
ISBN-13: 978-1-940740-17-1 (tpb)
ISBN-10: 1-940740-17-7 (tpb)
Books by Paul B. Kohler
The Hunted Assassin
An Anthology of Short Stories: 2016
The Borrowed Souls
The Immortality Chronicles
Rememorations (contributed)
Linear Shift, A Novel
Silo Sage: Recoil
An Anthology of Short Stories: 2014
Something to Read: A Charity Anthology
Four Stories Contributed
About the Author
Paul B Kohler is the author of the highly acclaimed novel, Linear Shift, and the remarkable novel series, The Borrowed Souls. Aside from his longer works, a number of his short stories have been included in various anthologies. His latest short, Rememorations, has been included in The Immortality Chronicles - a Top 5 SF Anthology and Hot New Releases. Rememorations was also nominated for Best American Science Fiction.
When not practicing architecture, Paul works on his writing. He lives in Littleton, Colorado, with his wife and daughter.
To learn more about him and his books, visit www.PaulKohler.net
To get your free copy,
just join my readers group here:
http://bit.ly/pk-jr1
From the Author
Turn: Book One of the Humanity’s Edge Trilogy is a work of fiction. It's a futuristic glimpse of “what-if”. I've used my creative license to develop a story that explores what life might be like at the end of the world. Also, the tech and biology used here are fictitious. As far as I know, there are no zombie making nanites in current use. Please consider that when reading the following story. But, more importantly, enjoy the read!
For Alicia
Because you are the most wonderful
daughter in the whole wide world.
Chapter 1
Darcy scrambled up the hayloft ladder, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering deep inside her. She could feel the scratchy straw beneath her fingers as she gripped each rung, but she didn’t mind. She was breathless, her knees quick to bend and snap back. Far below, she felt Caleb’s eyes watching her ass, gauging the darkness beneath her skirt where her legs met. The moment she reached the top, she whirled around, her dark hair skimming over her eyes. She blinked haltingly.
“Are you coming up, or are you too scared?” she taunted, tilting an exposed shoulder toward him.
Caleb laughed, his broad, quarterback shoulders shaking slightly. A bit of eighteen-year-old five-o’clock shadow dusted his cheeks and upper lip. His eyes gleamed with lust for her.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked her, raising a thick eyebrow high.
“Just come on, before my dad hears us,” Darcy sighed. She beckoned, allowing him to see an inch of cleavage before ripping herself back toward the hay bales in the loft, listening as he climbed.
The pair had left the football game only thirty minutes before, speeding out across the dirt roads and toward her father’s farm, ditching their friends and their typical pizza joint. This night was different. It sizzled with something special.
When Caleb finally appeared in the hayloft, his face glinted in the moonlight, a slight gash beneath his right eye—a memento from the game. Darcy reached toward him, touching it delicately with her thumb. “Caleb, I didn’t think they hit you so hard,” she whispered, breathless. The moment she touched him, the tension between them broke, and he turned toward her, catching her lips with his.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling the force of his upper arms and back muscles. She allowed herself to forget about her father, only a heartbeat away, reading in the farmhouse. She was a young woman, brimming with endless sexuality. In a moment she felt Caleb’s fingers attack her cardigan’s buttons, ripping the top ones apart.
She broke the kiss, looking at him with misty, doe eyes. “Oh, Caleb,” she whispered.
“What?” he asked. His lips were red from the passion of their kisses.
“It’s just—it’s different this time. It feels like—like maybe—” she shook her head, the single word tickling along her tongue. “It feels like maybe I’m in love with you.”
Caleb didn’t move. He held her tight, looking at her with reassuring eyes. “I love you, too,” he said. His voice was deep, carnal. Almost like a hero’s in an old movie.
As Darcy leaned in closer to him, to catch him in a kiss once more, she noted that his eyes suddenly looked out behind her, toward the field and the pine-covered hills beyond. His jaw dropped, and his arms swept around Darcy, almost in a tackle.
“Holy shit, Darcy. Look!” He
pointed toward the open bay door in the loft, inhaling sharply.
Darcy frowned slightly before turning toward Caleb’s extended arm. There, in the distance, was the most remarkable shooting star she’d ever seen. She slipped from Caleb’s embrace, feeling her breasts strain against her partially unbuttoned cardigan. She felt Caleb appear beside her as they crept toward the open window, watching as the shooting star seemed to burn light upon the field.
“It looks like it’s getting closer. But that’s impossible,” Darcy whispered, shaking her head. “It must be a million miles away.”
But Caleb took a step back, grasping Darcy’s hand. “Darcy. No. It’s coming right for us,” he said, his voice cracking.
Darcy stared into his eyes, the moment filled with tension and fear. She shot a fleeting glance back toward the shooting star, seeing that, sure enough, it was bearing toward them. It was now only about thirty feet above the trees that skirted around the field. It seemed like a bull’s eye. Like it knew they were there, waiting.
“WE HAVE TO RUN!” Caleb shouted, shooting his arm around Darcy’s small waist. “Come ON!”
But Darcy’s mind was too far away. She suddenly felt outside of herself, floating in the stars above. She thought she could even feel the heat from the streaming orb, shining against her cheeks. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her pupils drowning out her pale blue eyes. “And besides,” she said, as the star whizzed closer, “if we run away now, my dad will see us. He’ll know we were about to—”
“IT DOESN’T MATTER. NOT IF WE DIE!” Caleb thrust her toward the ladder they’d only just climbed, launching her over the edge and toward a mammoth haystack below. As Darcy fell, her hair swept back. She was flying, feeling the rush of the shooting star in her ears in the moments before she landed.
Immediately after Caleb threw Darcy from the loft, he turned briefly, curiosity running through him. Just as he spun, the meteorite made its final plunge toward the barn and crashed directly into the hayloft. It struck Caleb’s chest—dead center—blasting him through the air and to the ground, nearly fifteen feet below.
He died instantly.
Far below the wreckage in the hayloft, Darcy lay still. Smoke filtered from the barn. The sky was dark, without stars. And the meteorite steamed in the dirt.
Chapter 2
Sheriff Clay Dobbs slipped socks over his feet, leaning heavily over the side of the bed. Fatigue made his arms weak, and they hung lazily as he blinked at the clock on the nightstand. It was already past eight in the morning, after a night of monitoring the football game for the high school. Throughout the evening he’d thwarted a small incident of vandalism, run several testosterone-filled teen boys back to their cars, and then, ultimately, collapsed on a chair in his living room upon his release. It wasn’t a heavy load for a sheriff, sure. But it was a small town. And keeping watch over the tiny comings and goings of the high school was a pleasure for him, especially given that his only daughter, Maia, was a freshman.
Valerie, his wife of nineteen years and his girlfriend for many more than that, was cooking eggs and bacon in the kitchen. He rambled down the steps, finding Maia already seated, sipping orange juice.
“What, no coffee today?” he asked her, teasing. He drifted his fingers over her fine hair, noting that she hardly looked up from her book.
Clay stole a kiss from his wife before taking a seat and sipping from his own mug of brew, gazing at his daughter. She was becoming gorgeous, no longer the little girl who’d played in the mud and banged up her knees. He knew it was cliché to think like this. To say the words, “Man, it all happens so fast.” But it truly did.
“Maia?” he said, his eyes coaxing. “Do you want to tell me what’s up? It’s a Saturday, and you’re not sleeping in till three in the afternoon. I assume you must be sick or something.”
Maia smirked, turning a page. “Maybe a little. Plus, I couldn’t sleep,” she said, swallowing with obvious pain.
Clay turned his eyes toward his wife, who shrugged her slight shoulders. She filled a plate with eggs and bacon and tucked it in front of Clay, the floor creaking slightly as she leaned. “We’ve both been awake for almost an hour. You, Sheriff Clay, are the sleepy one in this house.”
“Well. I suppose I have both of you to thank for holding down the fort,” he said, rubbing his hands together. The steam from breakfast crept over his face. “Why couldn’t you sleep, pumpkin?”
“Ugh,” Maia said, rolling her eyes. She snapped her book on the table and leaned heavily against her hands, casting her gaze out the window. “Something horrible happened at school yesterday. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Clay’s heart cringed. He felt vaguely panicked, realizing that he didn’t have much experience solving a teenage girl’s problems. Sure, he had saved the town from that rampant robber the previous year, and any sign of spousal abuse—he was on it. But as far as his own daughter was concerned, he was out of his depths.
“Why don’t you want to talk about it?” he asked her.
Maia pushed her cheeks out with air, widening her eyes. “It was so embarrassing yesterday. I asked a boy to the dance.”
The words hung in the air. Clay turned his eyes toward his wife, who had a single hand upon her hip. She beckoned toward her husband, as if to tell him to work harder, to say something. She was his coach.
“And it didn’t go the way you planned?” Clay asked, his voice tentative.
“No, Dad. It didn’t go exactly the way—”
Clay lifted his hands in the air, instantly realizing his mistake. He felt a wave of anger from his suddenly pubescent daughter. But as his expression changed, Maia turned her eyes back toward the table, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, Dad. You know it’s not like me to snap. I think I’m catching that flu running around school.”
Clay sighed slightly, worried. “It’s okay, pumpkin. We all have shit days sometimes. Load up on the vitamin C to start.”
Maia barely looked up but held her half-drunk glass of orange juice up for all to see.
Valerie made a throat noise beside him. Although they were aligned on nearly every element of their parenting styles, she didn’t always agree with the amount of cursing Clay did in front of their daughter. As a slight joke, Clay snuck his fingers over his lips, as if to “zip them.” He tossed an invisible key to the floor. His daughter snickered, thus ensuring they were on the same side.
Clay breathed a sigh of relief.
But as he did, his cell phone buzzed on the table. It was the station. His face turned stony and serious. The station didn’t ordinarily call him over the weekend unless something had gone wrong.
“Dobbs,” he answered, his voice firm.
As he listened, his face turned green, then grey. Both his wife and daughter paused, their eyes concerned. As the other end seemed to drivel on, Valerie allowed the second batch of bacon to burn. Maia leaned forward attentively, seeming to have already forgotten about the “incident” at school altogether.
“Yes. I understand,” Clay said curtly. “Any survivors?”
Valerie and Maia looked at each other then, shock splayed across their faces.
“And her condition?” he asked. His voice hung in the air, waiting. “Okay. I understand. I’ll be on my way shortly,” he affirmed. He dropped the phone back on the table and stood, rubbing his temples as he thought.
“What was that?” Valerie asked, still holding the spatula attentively.
“Well, it seems there was a fire early this morning out at the Crawford farm,” he said. “Darcy’s at the hospital. She’s been in and out of consciousness.”
Maia’s eyes grew wide. She and Darcy Crawford were classmates and had known each other for practically their entire lives.
“They tell me that the barn’s gone. Burned up. And there’s one dead, not sure who yet,” he said, opting to withhold Caleb’s name until he was certain his parents had been notified. He bounded toward the door, stopping long enough to slip on his
shoes. “That’s all I know right now. I’ve got to head in to the station. I’ll call later when I have more information.”
Valerie and Maia followed him closely as he walked toward the door, both of them embracing him in a hug before he stepped outside. He felt his heart brim with love for them both, although the duty to his town forced him to walk quickly, away from this safety.
The world was a wretched place, he thought as he turned the key in the ignition. But being sheriff had certain responsibilities attached, and dealing with unforeseen tragedies was one of them. Thankfully, they were quite infrequent.
But accidents happened, he assured himself. And whatever happened out at the Crawford place was certain to be just that. Avoiding those meant you avoided fate.
Chapter 3
Sheriff Dobbs drove swiftly through town, to where the sheriff station stood at the corner of Baker Street and Fifteenth. The notable early twentieth-century architectural landmark was the glory of Carterville. Across the street and down a half block was Clay’s favorite coffee shop, and remembering that he’d left his steaming pile of bacon and eggs untouched at home, his craving for donuts was overpowering. But this wasn’t the time for it, he grumbled as he pulled into his parking spot.
He bounded from his cruiser and nudged the door closed, giving a small wave to a woman walking toward the nearby bank. She looked at him with knowing eyes and smiled. Being the sheriff in a town as small as Carterville, everyone knew everyone and what you were up to. Clay eased his hand over the back of his neck, breaking his eye contact. Although he could recognize most everyone by face, he couldn’t quite remember this woman’s name.
Inside the police station, Jean, his longtime dispatcher and receptionist, greeted him. She stood at her desk, holding a stack of crumpled messages. “Sheriff,” she said firmly. “So sad to hear the news about Crawford farm.”
Humanity's Edge Trilogy (Book 1): Turn Page 1