Genesis Pact (Genesis Book 4)

by Eliza Green

Waverley, formerly known as Cambria Heights, was a double-walled neighbourhood containing mostly high-rise blocks and a few single and double-storey buildings. A large rectangular clock hung off a stone arch above the gate. An hour and ten minutes remained. At precisely 10pm, the clock would stop. Anyone caught out of their homes after curfew would be arrested or shot: it all depended on who found them first—the military or the criminals. At 10am the next day the clock would count back from twelve hours, during which the residents would be free to go about their business.

  Out of breath and almost out of air, Ben and Kevin joined the queue for the smaller gate designed for foot traffic. Three guards manned the tall reinforced steel gate meant for vehicles. Only one scanned identity chips, a remaining feature of the old World Government reign.

  ‘The vehicle just went in,’ said a man in the queue. ‘I swear to you. I saw one of them sitting in the back.’

  Kevin swore while Ben looked around for evidence to support his claim. He saw fresh tracks in the dirt road.

  A woman asked one guard about the new arrivals.

  ‘Expect an auction in Central Square tomorrow,’ the guard said to her. The square was the shared meeting point for the four Compounds.

  A second guard shivered. ‘Glad I don’t have to be there. Those Indigenes give me the creeps.’

  Ben reached the gate and pressed his thumb to the plate held up by the guard. The surface flashed green. He remembered when Albert had first brought him to Waverley. Back then, autobots had manned the gates. That continued until supplies ran low in the neighbourhood and the residents attacked and dismantled the bots for spare parts. In the years that followed, a physical ‘police’ presence replaced the bots.

  Just past the gate, a road ran straight. Old, red-bricked houses and new, grey multi-storey apartment blocks hugged the edge of the pavement cracked and broken in several places. The road was in a similar state of disrepair, with a single crack along the length of its tarmac punctuated by smaller fissures. The overhanging lights brightened the streets enough for Ben to see the continuation of the fresh tyre tracks.

  They reached a junction branching off into two roads for the East and North Compounds. The Germans lived in North. The road to Ben’s left headed to the English-speaking district in an area just east of Central Square. Four more roads surrounded the Square; one led South to where the Italians lived, another went West to where a mixture of Spanish-speaking residents lived and a third swept behind East Compound to link with North Compound. A small fourth dead-end road ran northwest to a disused factory/school.

  Ben started for East, but Kevin stopped.

  ‘Wait. Don’t you want to see where they’re taking the Indigenes? It’s probably to Central Square.’

  ‘No. We should get back. If Marcus is around, I’d rather he didn’t catch us out here.’

  Kevin blew out a breath. ‘You’re such a giant kiss-ass, you know that?’

  ‘How could I forget when you remind me every other day?’ Ben walked on while a muttering Kevin followed.

  A mile down East’s winding road, barely wide enough for the military vehicles, they passed by several occupied houses. A light up ahead illuminated the front of a two-storey red-brick property with a sign that read Lee’s Tavern. The tavern was the only place in East Waverley that sold alcohol, supplied by Marcus.

  Kevin shook his head and smiled. ‘Shit, I still can’t believe they’re in Waverley. I can’t wait to get a closer look at those bottom-feeders.’

  Ben ignored Kevin’s vitriol, and pushed through the force field protecting the tavern’s environmental controls. He removed his gel mask and turned off the oxygen feed from the metal canister to breathe in cleaner, environmentally-controlled life support. But the AIs no longer managed the supply. That control belonged to ‘the Kings’ now, a name the Agostini family had given themselves because Gaetano Agostini—the head of the household—had some distant connection to Italian royalty. He closed the steel door behind Kevin.

  A wooden bar on the right ran half the length of the room, with a dozen round tables with upended chairs on the left. Several glasses had been washed and left to dry on towels laid out on the bar; Albert hated untidiness.

  Old Pete, East Compound’s resident drunk, sat alone at the bar amid a room filled with upended chairs and washed glasses. But clearly Albert’s visual attempts to close up had fallen on deaf, drunk ears.

  Footsteps alerted Ben to the set of stairs at the back of the tavern that led upstairs to where they lived. Albert Lee gripped the railing tight as he descended the stairs. He straightened up when his feet found the flagstone floor.

  ‘Where the hell have you two been? I told you to be back well before curfew. You know how Marcus likes to toy with the late arrivals. Do you want to be at Marcus’ mercy?’

  Albert was in his eighties; average height, grey-black hair and weathered pale skin. His posture was stooped from years of manual labour. He wore a cream flannel shirt with black trousers and braces. Belts were hard to find in Waverley, so the men used braces to keep trousers up.

  Ben was about to reply, but Kevin beat him to it.

  ‘Relax, Granddad. Marcus is only interested in one thing tonight. A new shipment came in. New bottom-feeders. Two were brought to Waverley.’

  Albert frowned and approached the bar. ‘Is that so?’

  Old Pete swirled the contents of his glass. Ben stayed downwind of the smell from Pete’s dirty clothes. ‘Well, maybe they can get to fixin’ a few things around here. We ain’t got nobody to fix the machines. Sal’s doin’ her best but she ain’t no damn mechanic.’

  Pete was regular at the tavern with the highest unpaid tab. The self-confessed alcoholic and gambler had an arrangement with Marcus that gave him a free pass on payment. Ben was sure Pete did jobs on the side for Marcus—why else would he let Pete off the hook for payment?

  ‘Who cares if they can fix anything?’ said Kevin. ‘We’re doing just fine without their help.’

  Ben and Albert said nothing. Old Pete and Kevin were too easily influenced by gossip. While Albert had always been a fair man, Ben knew that fairness did not stretch to trusting the Indigenes. He wasn’t alone in his thinking. Most, if not all, of the residents didn’t trust the Devolved.

  Albert pointed a weathered finger at Ben, his eyes narrowing. ‘You’ve been awfully quiet on the subject. What’s your opinion on these new arrivals?’

  Ben shrugged.

  ‘Come on now, don’t be shy. Tell me what you think. Would you greet them with open arms or should we be wary of their motives? Even in their devolved state, they are still fast and strong.’

  Ben stared at the floor. It was eight years ago. He should be over it. But one of them had ruined his life.

  He looked up to see Albert waiting. Kevin wore a hard expression. Old Pete focused on him for a while, then his eyes slid back to his drink.

  Ben wondered what they’d say if they knew what had happened on Exilon 5. He went with his gut.

  ‘I think we should give them a chance.’

  Kevin laughed and ran a hand across the back of his neck. ‘Yeah? And what the hell would you know about them?’

  Quite a bit, actually.

  ‘Come on, boy,’ said Pete. ‘Speak up. Your granddaddy here hasn’t got all day.’

  ‘I...’ Ben pressed his lips together and shook his head. ‘It’s nothing.’

  Old Pete drained the last of his beer. ‘Spit it out before I die of waitin’.’

  Ben ruffled his messy black hair. ‘I... Uh... I had a personal experience with one of them.’

  Old Pete laughed hard, his throat rattling. ‘Oh yeah? One take advantage of ya, did they?’

  ‘Shut it, Pete.’ Albert looked at Ben. ‘Go on. What do you mean, personal?’

  ‘I met one already.’

  ‘Where? Here in Waverley?’ Albert’s brows drew further over his eyes.

  Ben shook his head. He ignored Pete and Kevin, and focused on Albert. ‘No. It was a long time ag
o.’

  The room was quiet except for the hissing sound of a beer tap. Ben had never told Albert about how he’d come to live on Earth, and Albert had never asked. He could see him trying to work it out.

  Old Pete scooted all the way around on his chair, fresh drink in hand. His glassy eyes bore a hole straight through Ben.

  Ben looked away. This was a mistake. He should have kept his mouth shut.

  ‘Well, when the hell was it?’ said Kevin. ‘Spit it out, brother.’

  He focused on Albert again.

  ‘It was eight years ago while I was on Exilon 5. His name was Stephen and he was the reason I was sent to live on Earth.’

  3

  Albert Lee ignored the mutterings between Old Pete and Kevin, and pulled Ben towards the storeroom door at the end of the bar.

  ‘Let’s go somewhere more private.’ His worn heart fluttered in his chest.

  When Kevin started after them, Albert turned. ‘I need you to stay here.’

  Albert’s eyes flickered to Old Pete whose gaze shifted between his half-empty mug and the beer tap.

  ‘Come on, Granddad. This is my business, too.’

  Pete smirked into his mug.

  ‘And isn’t it about time you went home?’ said Albert.

  Pete laughed and swayed on the barstool. ‘Yeah, probably.’

  Albert closed the door behind him and steered Ben down a short corridor to the storeroom at the end. He shut the door when they were both inside.

  Several supply shelves decorated one wall. They used to be stocked to the brim, but ever since the factions took over, Albert had to make everything last that bit longer. Several plastic drums of water and two siphons sat underneath the lowest shelf. On Marcus’ orders, Albert used them to water down the beer. He gestured for a nervous Ben to sit at a small round table at the other end of the room. He sat opposite.

  Ben stared at the wall, his lips white and pressed together. He shifted in his chair. Ben had never shared anything about his past and Albert had never asked; why should he expect the lad to start now?

  Amid Ben’s silence, Albert’s gaze lingered on the bare shelves. The Agostini family controlled all of Waverley’s resources: money, food supplies, and generators used for light and heat and life support. The criminals distributed the custom-printed money to the neighbourhood. Following the World Government’s departure, the thinned-out military that remained on Earth had traded their experience and gun supplies for immunity from the families. Good for them, bad for the residents.

  Albert looked at Ben. What secrets had this black-haired boy tucked away?

  He clasped his shaking hands together on the table.

  ‘I realise there are things about your past that I’ve never asked about. I never pried because the past wasn’t important then. What was important was getting you out of that orphanage and surviving the present. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  Ben nodded, his brow furrowed. ‘You want to know where I came from?’

  Albert smiled. ‘Well, yes, I suppose that’s it, in a nutshell. When you first came here, you were a quiet child, clearly traumatised by your experiences. I left it up to you to tell me what you needed me to know. But you never did.’ Albert leaned back in his chair. ‘But time made it less important for me to know, because you were coming out of your shell, really settling in here. But what you said out there about meeting one of the Indigenes? Well, it took me by surprise. I’m not sure I can carry on not knowing what you went through, not understanding why you really returned to Earth.’

  Ben chewed on his thumb and looked away. His eyes were glossy but Albert had never once seen the boy cry. Ben’s tight control on his emotions scared him.

  ‘It’s just you and me. Tell me what happened to your parents. When were you ever on Exilon 5?’

  Ben shrugged as if to say okay, but Albert could see the tension in his shoulders.

  ‘I was born on Exilon 5. It was my home. I lived there with my mother. I never knew my father.’

  Albert leaned forward in his chair. ‘So how the heck did you end up back here?’

  Ben dropped his gaze to the table.

  ‘Please, Ben.’

  He sighed. ‘I’d met Stephen a couple of times.’

  ‘The Indigene you spoke about?’

  Ben nodded. ‘Every Saturday, when my mother slept, I would leave my house. I was obsessed with detective stories. I was a stupid kid, then.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘New London, that’s where I lived, was quieter in the mornings. I took the bus around the city, pretending I was on some stupid mission.’ He sighed. ‘I was sitting on the bench when he approached me. He looked strange in his full-length trench coat and hat. It was twenty degrees out. I remember thinking how sweaty he must have been.’

  Albert shook his head. ‘Twenty degrees, you say?’ He hadn’t experienced those temperatures for at least thirty years. ‘Then what happened?’

  Ben relaxed his shoulders, sat back. ‘Well, I spoke to him. He was nice, I remember that much. He was curious enough to let me ask questions. Then he left but we agreed to meet again the following week.’

  ‘So you saw him again?’

  ‘Yeah, but some guy approached me after the first meeting and asked about him. I remember him giving me a teddy bear. Didn’t find out who he was. Probably some pervert. I mean, only perverts give presents to little kids they don’t know. But I was innocent. Brought the bear everywhere with me. Even brought it to show Stephen the next week. I was excited to show him. My mother never gave me anything. She never gave a shit about me. All she cared about was that stupid Light Box.’

  Albert knew what a Light Box was—a console with built-in AI learning and virtual reality—his son had one in his apartment. That was before he’d died from natural causes six years ago.

  ‘Go on.’

  Ben sat forward in his chair. ‘After I met with Stephen the second time, the military came for me and my mother. Told us we’d breached the rules on Exilon 5. Called my mother a tech junkie. Accused me of being a traitor.’ His voice rose. ‘I was only eight. I didn’t know what I’d done and my mother, the selfish bitch, wouldn’t explain it. What the hell did I know about anything at that age?’

  Albert twisted his clasped hands. Hearing Ben’s story tore him up inside. He tried to keep his voice even. ‘And where did you go when you first came to Earth? It must have been a shock to you both.’

  ‘Yeah, you could say that.’ Ben closed his eyes for a moment and rested his folded arms on the table. ‘We were sent to London, in the UK. God, it was so different to New London on Exilon 5. This one was cramped and dirty, and they dumped us into a tiny studio apartment. My mother couldn’t get work. They sent us here, to the US, because a job came up. But when we got here, a hundred other people wanted the same job. My mother didn’t get it in the end. We had become faceless members of an overcrowded society. She pretended to care about me in public, but in private, she blamed me for everything and called me a traitor.’ He looked away.

  Albert reached for his arm. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Ben shifted back and rubbed his dry eyes. ‘I don’t want your pity, Albert.’

  What kind of monster did that to their child? ‘What happened to your mother? Did she pass away?’

  ‘Don’t know. Don’t care. She sent me to the orphanage because she couldn’t cope with her wayward ten-year-old who was so confused about who he could trust, he stopped trusting everyone.’

  ‘And you have no interest in finding her again?’

  Ben stared at him. ‘Is this what your little talk’s about? You plan to tell her where I am?’ He stood up. ‘I thought we had a deal, Albert. You wouldn’t ask about my past and I would work in the tavern in return for lodging. This is a business arrangement. Nothing more.’

  Albert stood and held his hands up. He hadn’t meant to scare the boy. ‘I promised to respect your privacy, but please don’t say that to me. This is not a business arrangement. You are not
my lodger.’ His voice broke as he pushed down the hurt. ‘You are my grandson as much as Kevin. Please, Ben. Sit down.’

  Ben sat, quieter now. He stared at the table.

  ‘You’ve always been a quiet kid, full of unresolved anger. I’ve always known that. I always thought it was because of the things you saw at the orphanage. Not in a million years did I dream you had lived off-world, or that your mother had abandoned you in such a cruel fashion.’ He placed his hand on Ben’s skinny arm and took a deep breath. ‘We may not be related biologically, but you’re a part of my family. Nothing you say will change that.’

  Albert’s confidence grew when he felt Ben relax beneath his touch.

  ‘But I need your help because I’m struggling with my feelings about the new arrivals. I’m on the fence about whether to trust these Indigenes. We’ve never had them in Waverley before. I don’t like feeling this way, hating them for coming to our neighbourhood when we can barely feed ourselves. The last thing we need is a drain on our limited resources. But where will they go? I don’t want to make a rash decision based on our situation. I would like to know more about them.’

  Ben pulled his arm out from under Albert’s hand. ‘The only way to know them is to speak with them. They were once humans. The Devolved have their human memories back.’

  The thought of speaking to one of them terrified Albert. He shook his head.

  ‘I can’t risk them getting close if they plan to threaten my family. I understand they are very strong and fast. What about the Indigene you called Stephen? Did he hurt you? Why do you think they called you a traitor? They must have feared him.’

  ‘At first, I thought he was a spy, what with the trench coat and hat. But I came to realise he was just a man who had lost his way. Whatever they think he told me, I didn’t understand it. I was only eight. The government’s excuse was that they only wanted perfect families living on Exilon 5. Not tech junkies like my mother and her wayward boy.’ Ben sighed. ‘He was nice to me at a time when I needed someone. I didn’t realise what Stephen was until much later. When we arrived here, I found one of the digital libraries and dug up as much information as I could on their race.’ He shook his head. ‘It was then I realised I hadn’t done anything. The government had been investigating the Indigenes. I’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.’