by Dawn Dagger
Fragments of Time
Atlantic Island: Mosaics Book 1
Dawn Dagger
Fredric Shernoff
Whitemarsh Productions, LLC
Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
About Dawn
The Atlantic Island Universe
About Fredric
Prologue
The world began as the only planet in the universe that could sustain life. It held fauna and flora, and humans. As the centuries turned, so did the many ages of man. The Golden Age, the Renaissance Age, the Age of Steel. With each new age came new technology, new, wonderful inventions, and advancements that made living easier.
However, as with all new creations, it also came with unimaginable consequences.
As the machines were used and the signs were ignored, the world began to deteriorate. Forests fell, the ocean filled with garbage, wildfires destroyed the landscape. Smog filled the air. Suffocating, overwhelming heat threatened to kill every creature.
As the heat rose, so did the temper of world leaders. Nuclear war was forbidden, but new, horrific kinds of inventions and war devices were created to make up for it. The lands were shattered and destroyed.
When it seemed nothing lived any longer underneath the layers of ash and oppressive heat, the lasting survivors of the scarred planet came together to create new countries and continents. They forged pacts and peace treaties, and created a new age.
The Age of Peace.
With near worldwide peace, technology evolved far beyond what it ever had, and the world flourished, despite the unstoppable rise in temperature. Each country adopted measures to promote knowledge, peace, and an understanding of other cultures and ways of life.
Although the Great Fall of the World and the Age of Peace were distant past, the world was coming up on a new age. An age which would provide struggle, but also advancement, and the show of true courage and reality.
The Age of Man.
“Is this the last one?” The dark-haired girl asked as the man pulled the small figurine out of his satchel. He turned it over in his gloved hands. Their breaths billowed in the cold air, and snow stormed all around them, stinging their cheeks.
The man looked into the looming cave beside them, then back at the small thing in his hands. He nodded.
“We’ve hid all the rest of them?”
“All over, yes. No one should ever be able to find all of them. I even wiped some memories, wiped some records. We will never have to face what happened to the planet again. The world will never be destroyed again. We may not be able to destroy these artifacts, but we can hide them. We will be safe.”
He caught the faraway look in her eyes. She opened her mouth and he held up a gloved hand. “We just finished rebuilding everything. Let me cling to this hope for the rest of my miserable days, will you? I want to die believing what I believe. I don’t care about the future. I want to know what I did helped someone.”
She stared at him for a long time, her dark hair blowing across her shadowed eyes. Finally she sighed and nodded. “What you have done will help many people.”
He stared at her for a long moment.
“I am not lying to you.”
He turned to look at the figurine in his hands again, then took a deep breath. He tucked it back into his satchel. He walked towards the edge of the downwards facing cave, feeling his chest constrict as small, frozen pebbles cascaded down the side, disappearing far, far below, swallowed in the darkness. He was ready to save the world. He was ready to do what he had to do to appease the thirst of death.
He turned toward the girl again, an aching in his chest. “Tell me…in the future…did I…” He couldn’t finish his sentence.
She tilted her chin up and closed her eyes. She was still for so long, holding her breath, that for a moment he thought she might have died in her own mind. But then her throat bobbed, and her eyes opened again. “You were always meant to do your duty, no matter what it was. You are a hero.”
“A hero who will never be remembered,” he said bitterly.
The girl suddenly crossed over to him and reached out her arms. He tensed, afraid she was going to push him over the edge. Instead, she pulled him close and embraced him. She never touched anyone. She had never made contact with a single living being. Most thought she was not but a ghost.
He hugged her tightly, then let her go, feeling a new sense of purpose swell in his chest.
“I will always remember you, hero,” she promised, standing back from him.
The man nodded, shifting the satchel on his shoulder. No use in putting it off any longer. This was his duty. He was a soldier. He did what he had to do. He was a hero.
The man took one last deep breath, then leapt off the side of the icy mountain face, plummeting towards the darkness at the bottom of the cave. Right before the cold left his body, he saw light.
He was a hero.
1
“Dierdre,” the girl beside me spoke, turning her neon-blue eyes to look at me.
“Gesundheit.” I responded sarcastically.
“No, my name is Dierdre,” she explained, picking her way carefully around fragments of glass that sparkled on the pavement.
I grunted in response, crunching over the glass in my tennis shoes. I hugged my arms around myself, feeling chilly. It was so cold during the night time, especially as the seasons turned toward autumn. The laceration in my side ached.
“Where are we going?” I asked, glancing around at the tall buildings looming on either side of us. We had wandered through the city for over an hour, passing through dark alleys, weaving around milling homeless, and making our way deeper into the city than I had ever been before.
I could hear shouting ahead of me, and through the bottoms of my feet I could feel the rumbles of bass rooting beneath the street. Hover cars rushed past in quick succession, blinding us repeatedly with their LED blue-white lights.
The girl stopped at the head of this alley, looking across the busy street. The sky was stained orange and pink with lights. Looming buildings vomited people out onto the street, lights waving from the rooftops. Cherry red, cursive letters sat in neon atop each building, reading names like ‘The Mithril’, ‘Midas’ Palace’, and ‘Le Zénith de l'Ouest’.
The music was much louder now, rumbling the puddles at our feet. Tall feathers bobbed through the crowd and light was caught and refracted off hundreds of layers of sequins and jewelry, and every jostling hand held a glass or bottle.
“Casinos?” I asked incredulously, watching the drunks stumble about. A car honked angrily. I turned toward the girl and pulled out my pockets. “I don’t have any money, and I’d expect you don’t either, since you don’t have any pockets. What do you think we’re gonna do in there?”
“I have to meet up with someone there, tomorrow. That’s how we are going to start saving the world. Besides…” She reached into her skirt and pulled out a thin card, holding it up between her two fingers. “I figured you might want to get something to eat.”
I glanced back at the casinos again, then at our clothing. “Listen…”
She gave me a nod, her pale lips pulling into a smile. “I know. We are going to a hotel first. We both need rest.”
I hated the pitying look she cast me. “I thought we had to save the world now.”
Dierdre nodded. “‘Now’ is a bit relative. C’mon, we need to go around unnoticed. The hotel is big enough that nobody is going to question a couple of minors.” She started out of the alley and down towards the road, never losing her confident stride.
Dierdre pointed to a large, golden and white building that soared above the others in the area, and said “That’s the one.”
“We’re going there?” I gasped as she started into the road, crossing it. I ran across the pavement, waving at cars apologetically as they honked at me, and swerving around other pedestrians. “Absolutely not! Dierdre, again, look at us!”
We hit the sidewalk on the other hid and I grabbed her arm, so I wouldn’t be jostled away by the thick crowd. I had to yell to hear myself above the music and people talking. “Dierdre look at what we’re wearing! We can’t go in there!”
I was wearing dirty, black jeans, a grey t-shirt that was wrinkled, and scuffed sneakers that were both two years too old and two sizes to small. Although her outfit, a silver grey jumpsuit made of a metallic-looking material, and scuffed, white platform sneakers, was much better than mine, it wasn’t nearly nice enough for such an establishment.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she brushed my worries off and glided toward the towering, glass double doors, outlined in gold. Door hops in red stood on both sides of the doors, and one nodded to her as she caught his eye, then proceeded to walk in.
“Oh,” I whispered, as we passed into the large lounge. It was fancier than I had worried.
The ceiling was molded, and hanging from it were large, crystal chandeliers. The desks were white marble, and the key panes behind the counters, as well as the tables of refreshments strewn about, were made from a dark, glazed wood. The carpet beneath my sneakers was soft and red.
People stared and snickered behind gloved hands. I felt like we were a pair of toddlers wandering through a store, completely out of place. I disliked the feeling. It made me feel itchy and ashamed.
The overpowering stench of perfume made my lungs feel tight. I hated the place.
Dierdre stepped up to a vacant counter and the well suited man who served as the clerk gave her a skeptical look. “One room, queen sized, full service,” she said confidently.
I had no idea what she was saying, but the hotel man raised a manicured brow. He punched her request with one finger into the computer in front of him. “That will be 950 notes,” he said dryly.
I almost fell over. One hotel room was the monthly price of our trailer rent, electricity, and food. For one night?
“Deirdre.” She pulled a card out of one of the many pockets on her jumpsuit and handed it to the man. He shrugged, swiped it, then handed us the card and the receipt.
He pulled a key card from a drawer and handed it to us. “432, 7th floor. Check out is 2pm.”
“Thank you,” she pocketed all three items, then began to march toward an ornate glass elevator. “See?” She said, addressing me now. “Not bad at all!”
My head was spinning. So much money, and we wasted it on one hotel room? We could have easily hung out in a roach-infested hotel, or stayed overnight in a Room41 apartment. “How much money is on that card?” I asked, stepping into the elevator as it sung, its doors sliding open.
Dierdre looked at the gold panel, then pressed one of the pearl buttons. It was labelled with a swirly, black 7. “I dunno.” She shrugged. “Enough, I guess.”
“Enough?” I shrilled, not meaning to be quite so loud. “Dierdre, there’s gotta be more money on that card than my mom or I will ever see in our entire lives! “
She cast me a look I couldn’t quite figure out, then the elevator stopped moving. It opened into a quiet hall with a soft ‘ding’, and she stepped out. I followed her down the ornate, swirled carpet, until she finally found the white door labeled ‘432’.
Dierdre swiped her card in the key card reader beside the door, and the small red light flickered green. She turned the doorknob and stepped in, me at her heels. I stopped short, just inside the doorway, my mouth gaping.
It was huge.
Larger than my trailer, the ‘hotel’ room was complete with windows leading onto a deck, an ornate couch, a marble bar and mini fridge, a massive, poster bed, a giant flat screen TV, and a grey door that lead to what I assumed was a bathroom.
“In there is a large bathtub and a shower.” She gestured to the door, “and the mini fridge is stocked. Which would you prefer first, Clayton?”
I was too busy staring at the shag carpet and elaborate lamp fixtures to hear her. “I, uh--” I tore my eyes away from the lights and to her face. “What?” She repeated her question.
I stank like sweat and vomit from the breakdown I had had on the side of the road after finding some monster who wanted to destroy the world had kidnapped my sick mother. My side was bleeding, my wiry hair had layers of grease in it, and my palms and knees were torn to bits from crashing my bike.
But I was ravenously hungry.
And I was afraid if I did not eat the food then, I never would. “I’m eating.”
“All right.” She nodded. “I’ll go bathe.”
As she stepped in through the grey door, I crossed over to the mini fridge, hesitating as my hand hovered above its silver handle.
If I opened the refrigerator, was it really going to have food in it? I held my breath, and pulled it open.
The small space was chock full. A bowl of fresh fruit, a bowl of colored ice, multiple bottles of champagne, a plate of cheese and meat, and fresh pastries all sat in a neat order.
My stomach growled, and I reached for the bowl of fruit. I had plans to sit on the couch, or at the bar, and eat it slowly, but instead I held the bowl in my lap, sitting cross legged, and dug in.
I ate grapes and fuzzy, sweet fruits, and hard, bitter fruits full of seeds. Then I moved to the plate of cheese and meat, then the pastries. I ate near too quickly to enjoy it, just filling my stomach as fast as I could.
Then I pulled out the container of colored ice and began to dig my fingers into it, eating with my fingers until every drop of the fruit flavored dessert was gone.
Then I laid, curled up in a ball, groaning on the ground. The scraps of food lay around me on the carpeted floor, but I was too full and stomach sick to move.
I had not eaten until I was full in years, and to eat until I was bursting made me sick. I didn’t want to lie on the floor, surrounded by my mess. It shamed me to no end.
But I didn’t want to vomit on the carpet.
After what seemed like forever, the bathroom door opened and steam curled out. Dierdre stepped out, clothed in a thick, white nightgown with pretty, flower-shaped, ivory buttons. It was something my mom would have worn.
She slowly walked over to me, her feet silent, then looked at me for a moment. Her face was stony, no emotion in her blue eyes. She never seemed surprised by anything. Never daunted. She could have been a spy in one of my mother’s periodic romances, I decided.
Dierdre quietly extended a hand to me and I took it. She helped me to my feet, then gently pushed me toward the bathroom. “Go shower. There will be clean clothes waiting for you.”
I obeyed, not bothering to protest. I stumbled over to the bathroom, then stepped into the steamy room. In one corner lay a giant, marble bathtub with golden faucets, and in the opposite a large, enclosed shower with a dozen buttons and handles. The floor was carpeted here too, and small, orange sconces adjourned the walls.
With trembling fingers, I undressed, then turned on the shower water, leaving my clothing in a pile on the ground. The water was instantly warm to the touch, and I stepped in. My stomach ached.
The buttons proved to be different soap dispensers, all in di
fferent shades and thicknesses and colors of gel, and I chose an amber colored, cinnamon scented one.
I scrubbed down, scrubbing at the wound in my side until the scab peeled away and I bled. I scrubbed my torn knees and hands. I threw up, and watched the vomit and blood flow down through the tiles, into an invisible drain.
After throwing up, I felt much better, if still dizzy and exhausted.
I turned off the water, and stepped out, wrapping in a fluffy, white towel. My skin felt fresh and clean and soft. I had not felt like that in a long while, using only hard water and the cheapest bars of soap that could be found.
I felt good.
On top of the multi-bowl sink lay a neat pile of flannel cloth. I pulled it apart to discover it was a full set of pyjamas. They fit perfectly, which was a tad unsettling, but I didn’t pay attention for long. The cloth was clean and soft, and I felt sleepy in it.
I stepped out of the bathroom and back into the cool hotel room. Dierdre was sitting on the couch, watching a show on the TV screen. It seemed like a violent show, with lots of explosions and people yelling. Except, I could not hear the TV.
My mess was cleaned up off of the floor, and I felt bad. I should have cleaned it up.
“Hey, Dierdre,” I called, beginning to cross over to her. She did not turn. “Dierdre?” Only once I was beside her did I notice she had small, black pods in her ears. That’s why I couldn’t hear the TV.
She noticed me beside her and popped the buds out of her ears, giving me a small smile. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah… Shall we go meet your informant now?” I asked, rocking on my bare heels. I wanted to get on with our mission. Although the luxuries of the hotel room were wonderful, I hated waiting.