Enter the Rebirth (Enter the... Book 3)

by Thomas Gondolfi

  The voices still argued ahead of her. When she reached the last bit of cover between them, Zoe leaned her head around just far enough to see with one eye. She spied a small band of figures dressed in ragged scraps of leather, clustered around a makeshift camp next to one of the old wrecks. Bonecutters! She felt her guts clench. They were stupid and slow compared to the whisper-men or the mutts down by the big river south of the township. But if the Bonecutters caught you—well, best if they were hungry enough to cook all of you at once.

  A few of the mutts were still laid out on the ground, yawning and stretching; the biggest of the lot was in a shoving match with another about something. She felt a little better—no real shame in not hearing a sleeping enemy—but what mattered was that the fight went on long enough for her to get well away. Already some on the edge of the group were getting bored since things hadn't gotten bloody yet. Zoe ducked back behind the traveling-box—and clipped a loose bit of metal with her elbow. Something shifted and fell with a clatter. The arguing voices gave way to shouts and running footsteps coming her way.

  Zoe bolted, and the chase was on.

  In spite of the terror she felt trying to drown her, Zoe's thoughts crystalized as she vaulted the side wall and raced into the woods. She could probably outrun the pack for a while, but only at the cost of leaving a trail even they couldn't miss. With their blood up, the Bonecutters would dog her as long as they had a track to follow. Her only choice was to fight, or shake them loose and hope they gave up the chase. Fighting a half dozen of the mutts was death waiting to happen. No, she needed to out-think them.

  Fortunately that wasn't much of a challenge if a scout knew her business.

  A glimpse of the sun through the trees helped her set her directions. Thinking over the map she had studied the night before leaving the township, Zoe angled a little more to the right and sped up. The Bonecutters' shouts were fading already but they would be back soon enough.

  She gasped heavily by the time she reached the creek. Zoe hopped lightly off the bank and into the water, turned upstream away from the road and slogged a few yards further before finding what she wanted.

  * * *

  The Bonecutters shambled up to the creek bed a few minutes later, jeering and calling after their prey. The six of them spread out in a ragged line, moving up and down the banks. Clearly her footprints led into the water, and there was no sign on the far bank of her coming out.

  One of them, a big fellow with a fine collection of sharpened bones strung at his belt, paused under a tree right at the edge of the water to catch his breath. He kept his eyes on the mud of the bank instead of looking up, and his companions' blundering and shouting meant he didn't hear Zoe's bowstring draw back.

  She held the arrow ready, aiming for the juncture of shoulder and neck. If she fired, it probably meant her life as well as his, but that was a chance she was ready to take. Thankfully for them both, another Bonecutter shouted something that drew this one away. Zoe relaxed her bow and dared to let out her breath for what felt the first time in ages. She leaned back against the trunk and listened to the mutts jabbering as they walked back to the road. "Stupid, stupid," she muttered, and reached for the rope at her belt. "You should have let them skin you. Next time, you run."

  * * *

  She jerked awake, wincing as her safety rope dug into her middle. The sun had dropped beneath the horizon, but there was still a bit of light in the western sky. Around her the nighttime creatures began to stir . . . and more importantly there was no sound of her pursuers below. Zoe slowly undid the knot and coiled the rope again. It was going to be harder going in the dark, but she could probably reach the outskirts of the city in time to hole up before dawn.

  Landing lightly in a crouch beside the tree, Zoe paused and waited for anything that sounded as if it might be responding to her movements. When nothing jumped out and tried to chew on her liver after a few minutes, she decided it was as safe as it was ever likely to be in the wilds and set off along the creek.

  * * *

  It always sobered her to see wreckage of the old world crushed under the advance of nature. Like all of the kids in the township, Zoe had been raised on tales of the wonders that world had brought forth—traveling-boxes that moved without horses, whole buildings made of glass and tall enough to reach the sky . . . and those mythical flying machines that had carried men and women out to the stars.

  Now all that slowly rusted within the swallowing forest. Around her Zoe could see the first remnants of the old city's smaller buildings. Most were little more than rubble among the brush, with a few walls still standing here and there. She moved carefully but as quickly as she dared; the Rockfaller was still a couple of hours away, and she wanted to make it in time to get clear of the city center before dark.

  She followed a side street down to one of the main avenues. The towers rose to terrifying heights around her. Zoe tried to keep her eyes moving as much as she could. She scanned the upper levels of the buildings as she went, ignoring the slightly dizzy sensation of all that up. Mutts were known to lurk up there and launch ambushes on unwary travelers.

  With the sun high overhead, Zoe ducked into the shelter of a building's first floor to eat. She'd expected the encounter with the Bonecutters to have burned up all of her luck, but the day had been quiet. Even so, the narrow escape had left her determined to keep on her toes the rest of the way.

  She finished the last of her ration and tucked the refuse into a pocket of her bag when a strange noise rose outside. Zoe scrambled to the wall under a gaping broken window and slowly peeked over the sill. The street was empty, but that weird high-pitched whine was getting steadily louder. Zoe glanced up slightly—and froze, staring in shock.

  A gleaming white thing, shaped almost like an egg with projections like a bird’s wings on either side, flew slowly through the canyon formed by the ruined buildings. It sailed past her hiding spot and tilted gently to the left, angling down one of the streets crossing the one she was on. Zoe craned her neck to keep the thing in sight as long as she could. How did it stay up? Hawks could soar, but they were light and sleek—and even they had to flap their wings. This thing just . . . seemed to float. It turned its back end toward her and Zoe had to squint. There were two points of bright yellow light surrounded by air that rippled like a heat haze. Then it darted away faster than any bird, leaving only the echo of its sound.

  Never in her life had she wanted anything more than to follow the strange thing, but Zoe had a mission to think of. The forever-tree cutting was useless except as a token to prove she hadn't just lazed around in the woods—but she didn't dare come back without it. Whatever wonders the flying machine might lead to didn't change that. Zoe blew out a frustrated breath, staring at the spot she'd last seen it. "I'm coming after you once I'm done," she said.

  Gathering her kit, Zoe resumed the trek toward the Rockfaller. Twice she had to go to ground to avoid passing bands of mutts that came a little too close for comfort. Apparently she wasn't the only one whose curiosity had been roused by the thing soaring overhead. Both groups of mutts seemed to be headed in the general direction of the flier’s departure.

  Even with those unplanned-for stops, she made good time. The sun had marched only a small portion of the sky when she reached the large open yard in front of the Rockfaller. It was one of the more intact buildings even now; the top floors had fallen in, but the lower two stories were largely intact. Most of the letters spelling out its name were still affixed over the doors, although the gaps to either side of the 'f' had never been repaired. No one knew what it was that kept the mutts away, or who had gathered all the old forever-trees inside or why. Zoe had been here only once, and she felt the same now as she had then, like there were eyes watching her from every one of those empty windows. She hurried across the open space and ducked in through the doors.

  Inside was cool and dim. Zoe crouched against a pillar, letting her eyes adjust from the sun’s brightness. Enough light filtered in that she
could make out the large grove in the center of the front room. The plants had been very carefully arranged, with smaller trees and bushes in a wide outer circle around a cluster of taller trees. Whoever had devoted such effort to building the grove, the purpose had died with them.

  Zoe shuffled closer, ears straining to catch the slightest sound of movement from the darkness inside. She told herself it was just the residual excitement of seeing the flying machine; the Rockfaller was just an empty shell. There was nothing more dangerous in here than her. Zoe squared her shoulders and marched through the outer circle to the nearest tree in the middle. Her knife made short work of the stem holding three of the strange waxy leaves. Her back itched when she turned for the door, but she wouldn't let herself run. Only when she was outside did she break into a jog. There might still be time, if the flier hadn't gone far.

  * * *

  The shadows were well up the walls of the buildings around her when Zoe spotted the machine again. This time, it crouched on the ground, silent and unmoving. A trio of thick, sturdy legs extended out of the bottom to hold it up, and the spots under the “wings” that had glowed so brightly were dark now. Even so, it put her in mind of an oversized bird ready to leap back into flight.

  She spent several agonizing minutes watching from concealment a few hundred yards away before swallowing her fear and moving closer. Even as she drew near there was no response, no sign of anyone inside or nearby. From here, she could see a clear panel facing front, showing what looked like open space inside. She edged closer still and, ready to jump back and run at the first sign of danger, reached out to touch its skin.

  Zoe sighed in wonderment, running her hand along the surface. It was warm to the touch, smoother than polished stone and there was a faint vibrating thrum under her hand. Something was written here, painted onto the skin in sharp black, but it made no sense to her. The letters and numbers were familiar but they didn't seem to make any words she could work out.

  Her eye caught a trail of footprints near the front leg. Crouching beside the track, Zoe felt her heart thundering. The pattern of each print had narrow ridges and valleys at odd angles unlike any boot-print she’d ever seen. Someone had come out of the machine. They had wandered away to explore the city . . . and here beside those alien to her were those of the whisper-men. The mutts' tracks overlaid the other, and were very fresh from the look of it. The flier was prey now, and probably didn't even know it yet.

  Zoe dithered. Bad enough she'd gotten herself in a scrape with the Bonecutters, now she was about to willingly stalk whisper-men? Hartley would have throttled her. But if she didn't . . . no, she decided. Running away to save herself was one thing, but that machine was a myth come to life. If the mutts killed the flier she would never know any more than that. It would be one more mystery kept by the dead, and it would eat at her the rest of her life. She had her bow strung and an arrow in hand a moment later, heading deeper into the ruins after the hunter and hunted.

  The tracks led into a nearby building, across a large front room and into a stairwell. Here the whisper-men diverged, heading up where the flier went down. She paused for a moment before following the mutts. They wouldn't simply abandon their chase so quickly; odds were they had gone this way to lay an ambush of some kind. Following the flier would only lead her into it as well . . . if the trap hadn't already been sprung.

  Zoe moved with every bit of skill she'd honed over five years under Hartley’s teaching. The darkness in the stairwell was total even to her trained eyes, but a few moments of feeling around showed her the way. One flight up she found the rest of the stairs were blocked by rubble, leaving only a corridor going out. Zoe shuffled along with her back near one wall, barely breathing. A dim glow rose ahead, light through a doorway. She paused a few steps away, angling for a better view.

  Beyond the doorway the floor on this level continued for six feet or so. Past that the floor had given way, opening up into the room below. The glow's source came from below, something casting a pale steady light into the room. Zoe could hear movement down there as well, noises of someone at work with metal tools.

  Shifting her attention to the ledge of flooring on her level, half a dozen whisper-men waited crouched and ready, each with a wickedly sharp spear in hand. The nearest was little more than a few strides from her, but they were so intent on their prey none had yet noticed her. An arm went up ready to signal the attack.

  Before that arm could fall, Zoe raised her bow and fired an arrow at the closest mutt's back. As the string rolled free of her fingers, she let out a long, piercing shriek.

  The rest of the mutts turned, cringing at the sudden noise. Their ears, so finely tuned to the movements of prey, would be ringing. She managed to drop another before any of them could recover, but had to dive aside to avoid taking a spear in the gut before she could fire again.

  A searing flash of light and a small thunderclap exploded from the room below. Another whisper-man dropped, and the rest seemed to be going crazier than normal. Clutching at their ears, two of them dropped their spears and jumped down to the lower room. Two more bangs sounded. In the light of the flashes, the last of the hunters charged at her like a nightmare in flesh. She chucked her bow at its face. It ducked and batted her weapon aside, distracted just enough to let her roll past it. She whipped her knife out and scored a deep gash on its flank as she tumbled.

  Something punched into her gut, and a searing pain bloomed. What had been a graceful roll ended with Zoe sprawled on her back, writhing in agony. She raised her head to see the spear jammed deep into her; even wounded and half-crazed from the noise, the mutt had been too fast for her. She flinched as another flash and crack exploded from below. The whisper-man's head seemed to dissolve. The body dropped dead at her feet.

  Zoe grabbed the spear’s haft to keep it steady and slowly stood up. Her head spun, she staggered back—and then she was falling, back over the edge and down. There was a horrible flat smack, and everything exploded with hurt. The light was going out, or getting farther away. Was the flier running away? She tried to call out, ask it not to leave her down here in the dark to die alone, but her voice was going too. Something shiny floated above her. Had the moon come down to keep her company? That was nice. Zoe closed her eyes, just for a few seconds until she could get her breath.

  * * *

  "Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Come on kid, don't do that." Kenji Inoue tapped the speaker control on his suit's wrist. "Hey! Wake up, sweetheart. Look at me." The girl's eyes fluttered open again, barely. "There you go. Stay with me." He pulled the medical kit from his harness and popped it open. The wound was bad, he could see, beyond the kit's capacity to fix. If the spear hadn't stayed in she would probably be dead in minutes. As it was that still might happen.

  "Gotta cut this thing down a little, kiddo," he said as he grabbed for his cutter. The pencil-thin line of coherent plasma made short work of the wood, leaving a few inches of the spear sticking out of her abdomen. She groaned through clenched teeth as the weight of the impaling weapon shifted. "It's okay, that's done. Let me just seal you up here . . . and now some of the good stuff."

  The girl relaxed and stopped writhing as the painkillers hit. The clotting foam had stopped her bleeding, but that didn't solve the problem. She was going to need a surgeon, and Kenji only knew of one place to find that. "The boss is going to kill me."

  * * *

  Standing in front of the quarantine bay's window, Captain von Eisenberg sighed heavily. "Do you have any idea the complications you've caused us?"

  Kenji had expected it but exploded anyway. "Well, what the hell did you expect me to do, Skipper? Leave her down there to bleed out? She's just a kid, for crying out loud!" Kenji clenched his jaw shut, trying to rein his temper in.

  "I know, Ken," she said softly, and he relaxed at the sympathy in her voice. "I'm not saying you did wrong, but this was not supposed to be a contact mission. We didn't even expect there to be anyone to contact, not from what the drone probes showed."r />
  Kenji shrugged diffidently. "All I know is she saved my ass from those things. If she hadn't jumped them I'd be dead meat." He studied the girl sleeping on the bed behind the glass. The auto-medic had put her back together easily enough, dosed her with a few antivirals and was busy working up inoculations for some bugs she'd been carrying. In the meantime, the captain had opted to leave her sedated. "So what do we do?"

  The captain sighed again and grinned. "I said this wasn't supposed to be a contact mission. Think we're a little past that now."

  * * *

  Zoe opened her eyes, and saw a ceiling bathed in pale bright light. Where? Memory trickled back into her brain. She sat up quickly. One hand grabbed at the spear in her belly, and found . . . nothing. She looked down, startled to find she was wearing different clothes. The cloth was softer than anything she'd ever seen, dyed pale blue and they were far too big for her. She pulled the hem of the top up and looked at the place where the whisper-man had stuck her.

  The skin was smooth and unmarked like nothing had ever happened. And she didn't hurt, there or anywhere else.

  She looked up and tried to take in the room around her. There was nothing here but the bed she was lying on. It had lights built into it, and even a bit with glowing words streaming along. One wall had a huge window in it, looking out on a larger room with more beds and a number of things she couldn't even put names to.

  A soft hiss and another part of the wall slid aside. Zoe pushed herself back up toward the wall behind her. A woman stepped through the opening, which closed behind her even though she didn't touch it. "Hello, young lady," the woman said with a small smile. "My name is Astrid. It is my pleasure to meet you."

  Zoe cocked her head slightly, frowning in intense concentration. The woman's words sounded strange, slurred and with sounds that were subtly wrong somehow. Was it something they'd done to her that had messed up her ears? She swallowed past the dry lump in her throat. "Where am I?" Not her ears, then, she still sounded like herself. "How did I get in these clothes?" With a frantic start she realized her kit was nowhere in sight. "What did you do with my stuff?"