SURVIVORS OF PEACE
Copyright © 2018 by T. A. Hernandez
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written consent of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations for the purpose of reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover art by T. A. Hernandez
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
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 Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Substance Abuse Resources
Acknowledgements
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Jared couldn’t hear the conversation from his place on the bench near the hospital elevator, but Zira’s stiff posture and hostile scowl told him all he needed to know. Something wasn’t right, and she was furious.
The nurse she spoke to wore an apologetic expression and nodded sympathetically as she showed Zira a holographic projection from the CyberLink around her wrist. A sudden alarm from another room caught her attention, and she ended the conversation abruptly. Zira took two steps after her, then seemed to think better of it. She whipped around and headed back towards the elevator with clenched fists, her blonde ponytail swishing between her shoulder blades.
Jared stood and hit the call button as she marched up beside him. Frustration radiated from her entire being like heat from a fire. The doors slid open, and they stepped into the empty elevator. Jared kept his head down, just in case someone was monitoring the security cameras and had a good enough eye for faces to recognize the one beneath his hat and thin beard. The Republic hadn’t been circulating his photo as often as they once had, but he was still a wanted fugitive.
Zira jammed her thumb against the button for the ground floor.
“What happened?” he asked as they began to descend.
She shook her head. “They have no idea where he is. He slipped out two days ago when no one was paying attention, and now he’s gone.”
The elevator stopped on the third floor, and the doors opened to reveal a group of people waiting to get on. “Take the next one,” Zira growled. She repeatedly hit the button to shut the doors until they started descending again.
“We’ll find him,” said Jared. “It’s going to be okay.”
“None of this is okay. He could have overdosed again between then and now. He could be dead under some bridge for all we know. This is a big city. How are we supposed to find him?”
The only other time Jared had heard this much fear in her voice was when she’d called him to ask if Aubreigh was safe, just before Ryku had discovered his betrayal and arrested him. That hadn’t ended well for anyone—a thought he planned to keep to himself—but jumping straight to the worst-case scenario wasn’t going to help them find Tripp any faster.
“Just take a breath,” he said.
She didn’t seem to hear him. As soon as the elevator doors opened, she headed for the exit. Even with his longer stride, he had to hurry to keep up with her. Outside, big flakes of snow fell from the sky, fuzzy spots of white against the black night. It had to be nearly midnight, and the parking lot was empty except for two cars sitting side by side under an unlit streetlamp.
Slush coated the edge of the sidewalk where Zira now walked, and she slipped. Jared instinctively reached out to steady her. His fingertips brushed against her arm as she righted herself. He pulled back, then shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Slow down. You’re right—it is a big city. But we have to start looking somewhere, so let’s just take a second and think it through.”
She whirled on him with her eyes blazing like she was ready for a fight, but the glare faded after a few moments. Her breath clouded in front of her face as she sighed. “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay. So if you were Judah—”
“Tripp.”
“Sorry—old habits. If you were Tripp, why would you leave the hospital?”
“The last time he was hospitalized for an overdose, he said he was afraid Ryku would use the hospital records to find him, so maybe it was that. Or maybe he just wanted to get high again. Either way, he probably went looking for drugs.”
“So maybe we start looking wherever he was getting his drugs before. Where was he when he overdosed?”
“I don’t know, but Seth might.” She was already entering the former Project officer’s contact code on her new CyberLink. Jared had picked the device up for her at a bus stop on their way here after she’d asked to use his. If she’d had one of her own after leaving the Project, it must have been confiscated in prison and never returned. He’d gone to great lengths to avoid capture, and even though the people Zira needed to contact would have had no way of knowing who his CL really belonged to, giving the code to Seth or anyone else in the Republic—even indirectly—seemed like a bad idea.
When the video call connected, Zira turned at an angle so her camera wouldn’t capture Jared. He couldn’t see Seth, but he could hear his groggy voice clearly through the CL’s speakers. “Zira? Why are you….” An enormous yawn cut off whatever he was going to ask. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Oh, did I wake you up?” she said with exaggerated mock sympathy. “We have a problem.”
“Did you find the hospital? What is it you need—transportation, a place to stay? I’ve been so busy this week I honestly didn’t even think about making arrangements for you beyond your release, but I can—”
“Tripp is gone.”
“Gone? Where are you?”
“I’m at the hospital. The one where you told me he would be kept—safely—until I could come and get him.”
“There must be some mistake. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
Wrong question. Jared grimaced as Zira’s eyes narrowed.
“Am I sure?” She enunciated every syllable in a low growl. “I just spent the last two hours arguing with doctors and nurses and med bots on every floor of this building trying to figure out what happened to him. He was here, but they turned their
backs on him for a few minutes, and he left. Days ago.”
“That wasn’t very smart of him,” Seth muttered.
“He’s an addict, and he’s terrified. The last time he was in a place like this, Ryku’s assassins tried to kill him. Seriously, Seth, I shouldn’t have to spell this out for you.”
He sighed wearily. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just tell me where they found him when he overdosed.”
“Somewhere on the south side of town, I think, near Cedar and Miller.”
Jared put the street names into his CL and pulled up a map.
“It’s a rough neighborhood,” Seth continued. “I really don’t think—”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know, but you just got out of prison, so maybe you shouldn’t put yourself in a situation where you could get into trouble and violate your parole. If you just wait until morning, I can—”
Zira cut him off midsentence as she disconnected the call. She turned to Jared, who raised his arm to show her the map projected over his CL. “Good,” she said. “Let’s get going.”
* * *
The neighborhood Seth had directed them to was, as he’d warned, less than hospitable. Though the streets were mostly empty at this hour, the few people they did run into shuffled past them with eyes full of questioning distrust or watched from the shadows until they passed by. Two of them lifted their shirts to show off the pistols tucked into their waistbands, a warning to Jared and Zira of what would happen to them should they start any trouble. Dogs barked viciously from behind chain link fences, and every other building showed signs of abandonment—broken windows, doors hanging from loose hinges, graffiti covering the walls. Maybe it was an unfair stereotype, but this was exactly the kind of neighborhood where Jared might have expected to find illegal drugs.
As they walked, he kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. Someone had to, and Zira didn’t seem to be paying any attention beyond checking the occasional street sign. She marched ahead of him with the same stiff posture she’d held since before they left the hospital. Now and then, she muttered to herself, but Jared couldn’t hear what she was saying and didn’t dare ask. He’d learned it was best to just give her some space when she was this distressed. Or at least, that was what had worked best before, when they were both still living in the compound and everything was simpler. But that had been a long time ago, and a lot had happened since then. They’d both changed—had been forced to change. Maybe he didn’t even know who she was anymore.
That thought only aggravated all his doubts about this whole situation, and once again, he found himself wondering what he was doing here. What had possessed him to go to that bus stop to meet her upon her release from prison yesterday morning? How had he expected her to react? And what exactly was he hoping to get out of this?
The answer to that last question, at least, was easy. Nothing. He hoped for nothing. He didn’t even let himself contemplate what he wanted beyond just a chance to see her again, to apologize, to thank her for saving his life. So far, he’d done none of those things. There just hadn’t been an appropriate time. She’d been too preoccupied about Tripp’s overdose, and the discovery that he was missing had only made things worse. Now, they were trekking through the snow in the middle of the night looking for someone who most likely didn’t want to be found. It just wasn’t the right time to initiate a heartfelt conversation.
So Jared waited. He would wait for as long as he needed to.
Zira stopped so abruptly at the next corner that he almost ran into her. He followed her gaze to the crooked street sign above them. Through the snow and ice, the words ‘Cedar’ and ‘Miller’ were barely visible.
“We’re here,” she said.
“Where do you want to start searching?”
She looked around in every direction. Jared did the same. He wasn’t exactly sure what they were looking for, but maybe it was one of those things where they’d know it when they saw it.
“Hey!” Zira called out. Jared turned to see her running through the intersection towards the far corner of the adjacent block. He hurried after her. They headed for a trio of shadowed figures huddled under a tin awning laced with icicles.
The huddled figures looked up as the two of them approached. A couple sat on a step in front of a closed door with their arms around each other. One of them whispered something, and the other laughed. The third individual, a stout woman with dark eye makeup, gave them an icy stare and raised her chin. “What do you want?”
“We’re looking for someone,” said Zira. “White guy, blond hair, skinny, about six feet tall. His name is Tripp. Do you know him?”
The woman looked between them with narrowed eyes. Her friends stopped giggling to each other and started paying attention to the conversation. They definitely recognized the name, or at least the description of the person it belonged to.
“Maybe,” said the woman. “Depends who’s asking.”
Zira ignored the implied question. “Do you know where he is?”
In response, the woman pulled a pack of gum from her coat pocket and took her time unwrapping a piece. All the while, she continued to watch them with cool skepticism.
Zira clenched a fist. “I don’t have time for this. Can you help us or not?”
The woman chewed her gum methodically a few times before responding. “Who are you, exactly?”
“I’m a friend of his.”
She let out a derisive snort. “Really? Because your massive partner here gives the impression you’re looking to do some serious damage to someone.” She cocked her head to the side and took two shuffling steps towards Jared. “In fact, if I’m not mistaken, aren’t you that former Project assassin they’ve been looking for? Jacob or Jared or something like that, right?”
Jared’s blood went cold. The woman’s question was more than just curiosity. It was a threat. He looked down at her and tried to make his expression as relaxed and unintimidating as possible. “Look, we don’t want any trouble. We’re just worried about him. She really is a friend of his. Zira—maybe he mentioned her.”
The woman’s eyes brightened as she turned back to look at Zira. “You’re Zira?” she asked in a notably more amicable tone. “He talks about you all the time, but he said you weren’t getting out of prison until April. He’s going to be so happy to see you.”
Some of the tension left Zira’s shoulders, and for the first time that night, she looked hopeful. “Do you know where he is?”
“Last time I saw him was about a week ago, after he overdosed. The paramedics gave him some kind of injection—snapped him right out of it. Then they took him to the hospital. He might still be there.”
Zira shook her head. “We just came from there. He already left. I’m worried about him overdosing again.”
“Well, you might check with Hector. Tripp always bought from Hector. If he went looking for more dope, that’s where he would have gone.”
“Where can we find Hector?”
“He lives on the next block, little blue house with a big tree in the front yard.” She pointed in the direction they should go. “There’s usually a white car sitting out front. Or it used to be white. Paint’s all peeled off in most places now. There’s a dog, too, but don’t let him scare you. All bark and no bite—the dog and Hector.”
“Thank you,” said Zira. “Thank you so much.”
“Sure. And tell Tripp he needs to quit that stuff. He’s too smart to be a junkie. He won’t listen to me or anyone else around here, but maybe he’ll listen to you.”
Zira nodded and hurried off towards Hector’s block. Before following her, Jared reached into his pocket, took out a few folded bills, and held them out to the woman. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone you saw me here.”
She shook her head. “Nah, keep it, man. I’m no snitch. None of us are, right?”
Her friends looked mildly annoyed at her refusal to take the cash, but they mumbled their agreement.
Jared thanked them, then jogged across the street to catch up with Zira.
“Hector’s not going to be happy with us waking him up in the middle of the night,” he said as he fell into stride beside her.
She shot him a withering glance. “I’m not waiting until morning.”
“I know, but we should be careful, even if he is supposedly harmless.”
They found the house without difficulty. Zira went up the steps first and knocked. As soon as she touched the door, a series of loud barks greeted them. She waited a few seconds, then knocked again. The dog continued to bark. Jared looked behind them, but the commotion didn’t appear to have disturbed anyone else in the neighborhood.
Zira’s knocking became more insistent, fast and uninterrupted. A man’s voice, muffled behind the door, shouted at the dog to be quiet. A light turned on and illuminated the window to their right. Footsteps approached the door, but it didn’t open. “It’s the middle of the night,” the man inside said. “Go away.”
“I just want to ask you a few questions,” Zira replied. “It’s important.”
“Come back in the morning.”
She resumed knocking. “I’m not leaving!”
She was going to make him mad. The woman they’d met earlier had claimed Hector was harmless, but Jared reached under his coat and wrapped his fingers around his pistol anyway. Just in case.
The door opened. A bearded man armed with a switchblade stepped out. “Maybe you didn’t hear—”
Jared drew the gun and took aim for the man’s chest before he could finish the sentence. “Back up. And drop the knife.”
The man complied, letting the knife fall in the entryway and retreating back into his home with his hands up. A big brown dog with raised hackles came to stand beside him and growled at Zira and Jared. The man slowly lowered one hand to pat the dog on the head, but he never took his eyes off the gun in Jared’s hands.
“After you,” Zira said to Jared. She followed him inside, then shut the door and turned to the man. “You’re Hector?”
“Yeah. Who are you? What do you want?”
“Relax. We’re not going to hurt you.”
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