by Noah Harris
Rise from the Ashes
Noah Harris
Contents
Rise from the Ashes
All Rights Reserved
Disclaimer
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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
Epilogue
Notes from the Author
More Books for You
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all invented. Any similarities to real places, events or people, living or dead, are unintentional.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for a MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY.
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The sun didn’t rise so much as the world just slowly lightened from black to a muted gray. Clouds filled the sky, blocking out the sun, and a steady stream of rain poured to the earth below.
With a detached interest, Adam Miller watched the rain fall. He watched the sheets of it blanket the sky, watched how it blocked out the view of the distant cityscape and gathered in puddles on the ground. He stood, huddled, beneath the small canopy of his simple black umbrella, but he could feel the water seeping into the soles of his shoes, splashing at the hems of his pants as cars drove by and breezing in from the sides to soak into his coat. The chill of the air was sharp and fresh, both a blessing and a curse. At least it was only rain, and the threat of snow was well behind them as they moved from winter to spring.
Someone shoved past him, eager to get around the crowd of slower-moving foot traffic. The shove was unintentional but unapologetic. He stumbled forward a step or two, feet coming to a stop right on the curb of the sidewalk. He turned to glare at the man’s back, a brief thought of shouting something flittering through his mind before fizzling out. There was no point. The man wouldn’t apologize, anyway, and he was already halfway gone. Adam didn’t want to cause a scene for no reason.
Then a car came speeding by, wheels hitting a puddle at just the right angle to send water splashing across the shins of his pants. He jumped back, startled, only to bump into the woman standing behind him. When had she even gotten there? He spun, mumbling an apology, but her glare cut him short. She looked him over, eyes critical, then sniffed, turning away dismissively.
He sighed heavily through his nose and continued on his way before his own glare could be noticed. His shoulders slumped as he looked down at his pants and shoes, now soaked when before they might have been salvageable.
Great. Just... great.
The bus was ten minutes late, which was typical on the days he didn’t arrive late. On the other days, the bus was always early. He didn’t even bother trying to fight the surge of people as they pushed forward to board. He let them brush past him, some of them even sending him looks, as if daring him to try to cut in a line that didn’t exist. He just waited, closing his umbrella before climbing the steps. As usual, there were no seats by the time he was on board, and there was barely any standing room. He managed to find a place off to the side where he could stand without being in anyone’s way. Gripping one of the overhead bars, he sighed, leaning his head against his arm and letting his eyes trail out the window while he waited.
He lived on the outskirts of the city so the bus ride was a long one, but it usually wasn’t too much of a hassle. He liked where he lived. It was closer to the forests and fields beyond the concrete cityscape, which were ideal for runs with his pack. They all lived out there. Not together, but close. None of the others had a job at the heart of the city that required a daily commute.
The bus passed several more stops, and while people got off, it felt like even more people got on. Whenever a seat opened up, he didn’t bother to take it. He knew better than to do that. He would only get glares and snide words until he was guilted into standing again. One time, he had been physically pushed out of a seat by someone who practically dove to claim it before he could properly sit down.
It simply wasn’t worth the trouble.
There was traffic, which wasn’t surprising but made the bus seventeen minutes late at his stop. He had to shove his way through the door, muttering, “Excuse me,” and apologies as he tried his best to advance without jostling anyone too much. The bus nearly left before he could get off, and he practically had to dive through the closing doors.
Once outside, he stumbled before regaining his balance, then took a moment to simply breathe a sigh of relief. It wouldn’t have been the first time the bus had left before he managed to get off. That had made him really late.
His relief, however, was short lived.
The rain wasn’t as heavy this far into the city. The drops were thinner, making it seem less violent, but it would quickly soak through him all the same. He held out his umbrella, hands fumbling to push it open. Before he could, someone rushed by, bumping into him and sending his umbrella crashing to the ground. The person stumbled and muttered a quick apology before hurrying on their way. The apology didn’t do much for him when the surge of people passing by stepped on his umbrella. He winced when his sensitive ears picked up the snap.
By the time he picked it up and got the thing open, two of the stems had broken, leaving material flopping downward and all but useless as protection. He lifted the umbrella. Half of an umbrella was better than none, right?
He had needed to buy a new one, anyway.
He eyed the coffee shop down the street before checking his watch. It was still a fifteen-minute walk from the bus stop to his office. Even if he somehow managed to run through the thick throngs of people clogging the city streets, he would still be late. Might as well get a coffee to salvage his morning.
He should have known better.
Not only was he caught up in a line far longer than usual, but the shop also seemed to be understaffed and operated slowly. By the time he got his order, he had to grab it and go, pushing out the doors and back into the street, struggling with his umbrella as he stumbled along the sidewalk.
Needless to say, he was late for work.
He passed right by reception, giving the woman there a wry smile and a small wave. She smiled back in much the same way, an apologetic tilt to her lips as she took in his soaked clothes and a broken umbrella. He bypassed the break room and made a beeline straight for his cubical. It was just a small square, barely big enough for his L-shaped desk, chair, and a trashcan. The walls were tall enough to hide him when he was sitting, but standing, he had a good view of the sea of identical squares around him. His cubical wasn’t even properly decorated. He had a calen
dar pinned to one wall, just some cheap one he bought each month. It had dramatic landscape views of mountains and forests that he sort of enjoyed even if they were a little generic. He only had one picture pinned to his wall. It wasn’t even framed, and it was old, fraying at the edges. It was a group photo of his pack, taken years ago, just after he had joined.
The back of his leg wasn’t showing, but the photo had been taken soon after he’d received his pack tattoo: a waning moon on the back of his right calf.
Other than that, he didn’t have any personal effects. No drawings done by kids. No family pictures, not in the traditional sense, anyway. He didn’t have a family. Only his pack. He didn’t have any knickknacks lying around his desk or anything decorative to liven up the cubical. It was just gray walls, a gray desk, and his computer.
Despite all of that, his cubical felt like home.
From the moment he stepped inside, relief flooded through him, relaxing his muscles and easing the tension in his shoulders. He propped his folded umbrella in the corner and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the back of his chair. He glanced down at his clothes, but there was nothing he could do about their soaked state. He didn’t have a change of clothes at work, and it wasn’t like he could just take them off to let them dry.
As soon as he collapsed into his chair, letting it spin him around half a turn, the relief intensified. Here, on this level, with the walls of his cubical rising above him, most of the office was blocked out. He could still hear everything, much more than any of his human coworkers could hear, but it was easy to tune it out until it became muted voices, the clacking of keyboards, and the shuffle of papers. He was used to office white noise. It was familiar, and it was comfortable.
He lifted his coffee cup to his mouth, only to jerk it back once he had taken a sip, lips curling in disgust. They’d gotten his order wrong. Again. He tried it a second time, a little more cautiously. Nope. It was too bitter. He couldn’t work with this. Great. Just... fantastic.
He shoved his coffee cup as far away as he could reach. He really shouldn’t have been surprised, not with how his morning had been going.
Leaning back, he let his eyes close as his head pushed back into the worn but plush cushion of the chair’s headrest. His arms were draped over the arms of the chair, hands falling relaxed. In a minute or two he would have to start work in earnest, but for now, he took the time to simply breathe.
“Rough morning?”
Adam opened his eyes and used his foot to turn his chair until he was looking into the amused face of one Robert Boudreaux. The man’s short hair was sticking up at odd angles and glistening from the rain, and Adam was sure his own was in a similar state. The other man’s lips were quirked upwards, and his eyes were crinkled in amusement. He was standing just outside of Adam’s cubical, arms crossed over the top of the wall and chinned resting atop them. In one hand, he held a white box, dangling in his grasp.
Adam felt his lips twist upward into a small, wry smile. “Isn’t it always?”
“You really need to get that truck of yours fixed.” Rob said.
Adam snorted a short, dry laugh. “Even if it was, I wouldn’t drive it into town. The last thing I need is for it to break down in the middle of an intersection.”
“You could take pictures of all the pissed-off people and make an art exhibition about it.”
“I’d call it, ‘The Fingers of the City.’”
Rob laughed. “Brilliant.” He moved off the top of the cubical wall and stepped through the open doorway, leaning back against the edge of Adam’s desk as he held out the white box. “Saved you the last donut, by the way. Since you weren’t gonna make it before they were all gone.”
Adam sent him a grateful look as he took the box, opening it up. He laughed at the singular donut: chocolate frosting with rainbow sprinkles.
Rob smirked. “I swear I didn’t do it on purpose. The vultures around here ate everything else.”
Adam only grinned as he took a bite of the donut. It was sweet and delicious, even if it was no longer warm. He could firmly say that it was the best thing about his morning so far. He let his eyes flutter closed for a moment before opening them once again. “Joke’s on them. I like rainbow sprinkles.”
Rob chuckled, and their conversation died down for a moment as a group of people passed Adam’s cubical. He chewed idly at his donut, reaching out to turn on his computer. It was old and it ran fairly slowly. It would take a few minutes before he would be able to do anything.
“Want me to run interference while you dry off under the blow-dryers in the bathroom?” Rob asked, pointedly eyeing Adam’s soaked pants and shoes.
Adam glanced down, lifted a foot so they could both watch water drip from the hem, landing silently on the carpet. “Actually, I was thinking if I just dumped water over myself, they wouldn’t be able to tell my shoes are wet.”
“You’d drip water everywhere.”
“At least then no one would have to look for me. They could just follow the trail.” Once his computer was up and running, he pulled up his email and his schedule. He had a meeting in a couple of hours, but other than that, it was all cubicle work. “If you have time to run interference though, that would be great.”
The man nodded. “No problem. Let’s go.”
They went to the bathroom at the back of their floor, which was too far away to be convenient and was rarely used. Once there, Rob waited outside with the intent of luring anyone into conversation and distracting them while Adam slipped out of his pants and shoes to dry them beneath the blow-dryers. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and he felt more than a little ridiculous doing it, but once his clothes and shoes were a bit drier and he could walk without feeling like he was stepping in a swamp, he felt infinitely better.
They chatted idly while they walked back to their line of cubicles. They reached Rob’s first, and Adam hovered for a few minutes longer to finish their conversation. They worked in the same department, but their workloads were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Despite that, Rob was, without a doubt, Adam’s favorite co-worker. He was friendly with some of the others and could hold a conversation with nearly anyone, but Rob was the only one he would call a friend.
“Wanna catch a game of ping pong later while the numbers are crunching?” Rob asked as he settled into his chair.
Adam nodded. “You know it. Gonna actually give me a challenge this time?”
Rob snorted. “I’m going to beat you one of these days. Just you wait.”
“Only after you’ve waited so long that I have arthritis.”
Rob waved him off, and Adam laughed, taking the cue to head back to his own cubicle. Once there, he sat down heavily, reaching for his coffee out of habit more than anything else. He remembered too late and cringed when he not only got a mouth full of bitter coffee but room temperature coffee. He made a face and pushed the cup to the corner of his desk before turning back to his computer. He had to remember to dump that out.
The first few hours of work passed as they always did. He checked his email, responded to the things that needed responses, and checked what work he needed to get done that day. He fell easily into the grind of it. He opened up his spreadsheets, pulled up the databases, and his eyes flew across the screen as easily as his fingers did across his keyboard. He understood numbers. Numbers were easy and comforting. Numbers had patterns and set rules to follow. He barely had to think while working, and when he did, it was about problems that had logical and rational solutions. He enjoyed that kind of problem solving. Something so practical and yet abstract, like solving a riddle.
It was easy to let his mind wander while he worked. He could get lost in the flow of it, letting the chatter and office white noise rise and fall around him, letting his fingers go. He liked the mindlessness of it. It was relaxing. And he was good at his work. He knew he was. He got things done in a timely manner, and it was always done to the best of his abilities. Here he felt like he was useful. He felt accomplished. He
re, he knew what he had to do, and he did it. Here, he was content and he didn’t have to question things.
He couldn’t say the same about every aspect of his life, so he appreciated the stability.
He lost track of time, and the sound of his alarm going off tore him violently from his thoughts. He blinked, looking down at his phone and hesitating for a moment before turning it off. It took him a moment to remember that he had a meeting in… five minutes. Muttering a soft curse, he pushed his chair back and opened one of his desk drawers, pulling out the binder that he would need. He flipped through it quickly to make sure it had everything. Of course, it didn’t. He quickly pulled up the missing files and sent them to the printer before getting up and hurrying down the hall. Rob looked up as he passed, giving him an absent wave.
Turned out, he wasn’t late to his meeting. He was, however, just barely on time.
“Adam,” his boss said, looking up from his seat with a smile. He glanced down at his watch. “Impeccable timing, as always.”
Adam offered a small smile as he took his seat at the table. “Only in meetings with you, boss.”
The man nodded, his smile ever present. “I heard you were late again today.”
Adam tried not to wince. He laughed instead, one hand scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, public transport seems to be out to ruin my timely reputation. You know how it is.”
The man chuckled. “Indeed, I do. Which is why we give our employees some lenience when it comes to public transportation commute. But now that you’re here, we can properly get started.”