WITHOUT LAND: The Changing Earth Series
Title Page
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
WITHOUT LAND
THE CHANGING EARTH SERIES
By Sara F. Hathaway
DEDICATION
FOR BROCK, you are my everything. Our love lives within the eyes of our beautiful boys and is shared with readers in the pages of these books.
Copyright 2015 Sara F. Hathaway
Smashwords Edition
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CHAPTER 1
ERIKA’S WARM TEARS mingled delicately with the cool water in the basin. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her soft, chestnut-colored eyes were puffy from crying. Slowly, she brushed her long, brown hair behind her ear. She had noticed some new strands of gray, but that was not what she was looking at. Her fingers slowly traced the lines of the scars her body bore from her escape from Sacramento. It seemed a lifetime ago but the rough, mangled skin she saw reflected back at her in the mirror reminded her that it had not been some horrible nightmare conjured up in her dreams.
Erika was doing it again, dredging up the memories from the past that haunted her. She splashed the cold water over her face as the images of the ones she had left behind flashed in her mind.
“Oh God, how could they have done it,” she squeaked out in a muffled whimper.
Suddenly there was a soft tap at the door. “Baby, you ready yet?” Vince’s deep, manly voice questioned.
The sound of his voice snapped Erika back into reality. “Oh yeah, be out in a minute,” she quickly answered, barely controlling the quiver in her voice.
Water smashed over her face again, and she grabbed a towel that was on the counter. It wasn’t a soft, cushy towel like the ones she had known when she was younger. It was simply a piece of cloth, probably from an old T-shirt salvaged from some destroyed town. The water swirled down the drain when she yanked on the chain that held the stopper in place. She made a mental note to change the bucket under the basin that held the dirty water later, as she stared at the vortex. Shaking all those painful thoughts from her head, she went toward the door.
Erika turned the knob and the door creaked open. Vince’s loving eyes met hers. They were beautiful. Gold stars extended from his pupils and smoothly melded into the hazel color that surrounded them. His face was neatly shaven, and his handsome features struck Erika silent as she looked at him.
“What’s wrong, Erika?” Vince could immediately tell she had been crying.
“Nothing, I’m just shocked to see you looking all GQ with your beard shaved,” she teased, trying to distract him.
He blushed a little. “It’s itchy. Now really, what’s up,” he prodded on.
“Nothing…really, I’m fine.” Erika was hesitant to tell him about her memories because it was an argument they had too frequently.
“Oh no…not again.” Vince rolled his eyes. “We are not doing this today.” Vince had lived the same nightmare as his wife, but that was then. Nine years had passed and this was life now. He had lost too much to dwell there, wallowing in memories he was powerless to change. He tried every day, with little success, to forget.
“I’m not doing anything, Vince.” Erika didn’t really want to think about the past today either, but it seemed like she had little control over the anger, sadness and frustration she felt when she thought of the friends she had left behind in California and the life they had been forced to live since.
“That’s right, you’re not. This could be our chance to get out of this…this hellhole, and you are not gonna blow it again with all your freedom rhetoric.” Vince said. It was not his usual way, to talk to his wife like that, but he had a good feeling about this meeting. He felt it was just the opportunity they needed, an opportunity to get his family out of this situation and back to a free, real life. A chance to reclaim some of his past and maybe find some of his family he had lost connection with.
“That’s not fair, Vince. You feel the same way I do.” Erika was shocked by his “freedom rhetoric” comment.
Vince’s eyes softened, “Baby, you know I do, but I need to get out of here. I hate the desert,” he added with a smile.
“I know. I need to get out of here too,” Erika agreed. “I just can’t believe we have come to this.” Erika moved around the small wooden room with her arms out as if she was indicating everything, and it wasn’t much. A full-size mattress was in the corner. A blanket covered it, two pillows made of old T-shirts with more T-shirts stuffed inside for padding decorated it, and an old unzipped sleeping bag was thrown over the top. In the other corner stood a milk crate stacked on a pallet with a kerosene lantern on top. Next to it were two backpacks fully packed with everything in the world Erika and Vince cherished. She turned back to face him. “I can’t give up on what I know is right. Someone has got to do something for these people.”
“Just please, let’s not let that someone be you doing something today, okay?” Vince pleaded.
“Okay, okay,” she replied sharply, “I will keep my mouth shut and play nice for you today,” Feeling guilty she had snapped at him, Erika approached him, wrapped her arms around his muscular body and stared up into his eyes.
“Promise?” he questioned, looking down softly at her. His curly hair was bouncing above his eyes.
“I promise,” she said with a soft kiss.
They opened the door to their tiny bedroom and entered the main room of their dwelling. This room was bigger than their bedroom, but not much. Immediately to the left there was a recessed area in the wall that contained three beds for their children: Star, Dexter and Daniel. Next to the bed each child had a backpack stuffed to the brim with their possessions. Directly across from their bedroom door was the door to the outside; the corner to the right of that was reserved for cooking. Erika couldn’t consider it a kitchen, compared to the standards she had enjoyed back before the great
quake. Vince had built counters out of old pallets, and in the top of one a hole was made so the basin they used could set down into it but still be easily removed. In the other corner, to the right, there was a sitting area: an old salvaged wooden table with five chairs surrounding it. Daniel was occupying one of the chairs.
“Good morning, Mom and Dad,” he said, his voice bubbling with excitement. “Look at what I did this morning!” he said with a bright smile, displaying his latest piece of artwork. His feathery, blond hair bounced in the sunlight that entered through a little square that was cut in the wall in the kitchen area. He was a strong, well-proportioned, eight-year-old boy. Yesterday he had delighted in the three different-colored paints that an old lady down the street had found and given him. Even though paper was very hard to come by, he painted on every inch of every scrap he could find, preciously conserving every drop of the rare paint.
“Where’s Star and Dex, Daniel?” Vince questioned the boy.
“They said they’d meet us at the bus,” he answered. His eyes never even looked up from the final touches he was applying to the artwork.
The wooden floor creaked as Erika headed over to the kitchen area and grabbed a jar that was full of sprouts she had been growing. She had put the seeds in the jar, then watered and drained them for days. Finally, they were growing. They would grow without the little bit of sunlight from the window, but Erika liked them green and they would not turn without the precious light. She began munching on a handful.
“You want some, baby?” she asked, holding out a handful to Vince.
“No, thanks. Come on, guys, we gotta go. Let’s get cleaned up, Danny,” he said, irritated with the delay. His wife was stalling and he was determined they were not going to miss the bus.
“Oh, Dad,” Daniel moaned.
“Don’t, ‘oh, Dad’ me, mister, let’s go!” Vince replied, giving the boy a big hug and a swat on the bottom.
Daniel carefully closed up his paints. Then he used a small shot glass of clean water to methodically clean the fine bristles of the brush. Erika had already grabbed the boy’s shoes and jacket by the time he had finished. In a few short minutes they were all ready to go.
CHAPTER 2
THEY HEADED OUT into the sun. It was a windy day in Southern Nevada, but it was always windy here. The sun shined down bright as it normally did, but Erika felt a definite coolness to the air. There was a brisk, fresh tone in the breeze that told her winter was fast approaching. It would be a welcomed relief from the hot, blazing sun.
Erika looked out at the rows of shanties that lined the landscape. Who would believe this used to be Las Vegas, she thought. Now the remnants had been salvaged and built into this refugee camp. Erika remembered hearing the soldier talk about what happened nine years ago, after the quakes stopped. The surviving Americans found themselves in a drastically altered country. The quakes, in all their world-shaking fury, had rocked the polar caps, and huge chunks of glacial ice had inundated the oceans. As the ocean temperature warmed and the water desalinated, the ocean expanded. Erika knew that was true because she had witnessed it first-hand. The Pacific Ocean coast now hugged the edge of the Sierra Nevada Mountains all the way down to Arizona. When the ocean hit the mountain gap in Southern California it poured through, spilling into Nevada. Its advance had stopped just below the Hoover Dam, which, by some miracle of extreme engineering, was not destroyed in the quakes. The ocean’s edge came to within a mile of the actual dam on one side, and on the other was Lake Mead. It was the key to this location being chosen for the camp. The lake was full and fresh. It was obvious to Erika that it was raining somewhere, but she knew it wasn’t here.
The ocean water in their little bay below the camp was a toxic slurry of all kinds of waste. Flooded oil refineries, nuclear power waste, chemical production factories, waste treatment facilities, and the city remains had all sloshed together in a brownish-gray slime that rose and fell with the tide. There was nothing alive in there, and those that ventured too close were met with stinging eyes and burning mucus membranes.
Erika commented that the smell from the cesspool, as they called it, was not too bad today because of the cool breeze. The couple walked with Daniel down their dusty street. It was not an uplifting place. They stared out at row after row of dilapidated shanties, made from the rubble of the past. Before living here, Erika had only seen places like this on news reports of Third World countries. The destruction had finally hit home. Everything had to be recycled and put back into use. In this world they had no choice. The survivors had been resilient. Even though the quakes had turned a once sophisticated country into ruins, they quickly gathered up the pieces and put some sort of a puzzle back together.
They did it in the form of miles and miles of rickety, refugee shanties. So many Americans had lost their homes and, more importantly, their land. Those that had not died of starvation or sickness after the Great Quake had nowhere to go. The rest of the world was in worse shape, as cholera and disease took its toll on overpopulated countries that could not get sanitation and food supply back on track as fast as America did. To deal with the problem, the government had established these camps to house the refugees. Looking down the street at the squalor that they were expected to live in ate a hole into Erika’s heart. The government had said the American borders were closed to protect American citizens, and living here was their only option. She couldn’t understand how freedom could have been so quickly exchanged for security. Security from what, the big, bad world? Each person here had survived the quake; what did they do so wrong to end up here? she wondered to herself.
“You know what they need, Mom?” Daniel asked her curiously.
“What, honey,” Erika humored him.
“Color!” Daniel answered cheerfully.
“Yeah, they do.” Erika chuckled. He was so innocent, so carefree, she mused. He had never known any other life but that of being in this camp. Erika had tried to describe the great mountains of the West and the vast woodlands of the North to him. She had tried to describe the wondrous cities of the past. Where the buildings stood taller than he could imagine and they felt like they were going to fall right on you. She had shown him books in the library, but none of it did the real thing justice. She longed to see him free. Maybe she could endure one more meeting, one more time, for his sake, she tried to convince herself.
“We would have to find you a lot more paint,” Vince noted jovially.
Maybe today would be a good day, Erika thought to herself. The three of them were smiling and holding hands as they rounded the corner to the bus stop. Dexter and Star were there chatting with some friends. They saw the merriment in their parents’ eyes and returned their smiles.
“It’s cool we get to ride the bus today, Dad. Aren’t you excited?” Daniel beamed.
“Yeah, pretty cool, buddy,” Vince responded, indulging the boy. Vince had grown up in a very different world, filled with cars, trucks and buses, but his young son had never known the luxury of owning your own vehicle or the hustle and bustle of a town buzzing with the sound of automobiles. Today, gas was far too precious for everyone to have, especially not a refugee gardener. There was little hope he would ever drive again if they remained trapped here.
“You excited to ride the bus?” Dexter teased Daniel as he walked over. Dexter was fourteen years old now. The quakes came when he was five. He and Vince had survived together and found his mother three months after the first quake. When they reunited, Dexter found out he had a new sister named Star that his mother had adopted along the way.
Dexter was a tall, lean, adolescent. Mentally, he was smart and quick, and the boy possessed a huge heart. His hair had turned from blond to a sandy brown over the years, and his eyes were as steely gray, just like his grandfather’s.
“Oh, yeah!” Daniel replied to his big brother, leaping up onto his back.
Dexter whirled around in a circle and the boys laughed. Erika noticed that Star had lingered with the group of kids that were
chatting in the roadway. She was talking with a very handsome young man. Why not? Erika mused. She was almost eighteen now and she was gorgeous. Her tall figure was accented with exquisitely fine facial features. A golden-blond head of hair curled slightly and rolled over her shoulders, and her eyes were as blue as a cloudless sky. She was now taller than Vince and she was a very well-spoken young lady. Erika had ensured her children were all well-educated, even though they were told that, as refugees, there would be no need for it.
The rickety bus finally rounded the corner and squealed to a halt in front of the family. They all jumped as it banged with a puff from the exhaust pipe. Star quickly ended her conversation with the young man and joined her family in the line to board the bus. When they were seated, the bus went into motion and backfired again with another loud bang.
“Woo-hoo!” Daniel yelled and the startled family laughed at him.
Besides the occasional backfire from the tired bus, it was a quiet ride through the endless shanties of Las Vegas. Each person was consumed with his or her own thoughts about the meeting that was about to take place. They were headed to the very northern edge of the refugee camp where they needed to pick up more people. Then they would go left along the interior of the camp to get to what used to be the Las Vegas Strip. There were two gates to the refugee camp, located at what used to be McCarran International Airport: one at the northern edge and one at the southern. Erika remembered being housed in a tent there when they had first arrived. She marveled at how much things had changed around here since that day nine years ago. The airport was already fenced and sustained minimal damage in the quakes, so it made sense to keep it as a staging area for government activities in the refugee camp. Finally, some of the buildings began to look nicer as they passed by the airport into the landowner-maintained part of the city. Although Vegas had been just as devastated by the quake as everywhere else, the government had put extra resources into making sure the city was put back into something of an acceptable living condition for its officials who had to live there to make sure the refugees were “cared” for.
The Changing Earth Series (Book 2): Without Land Page 1