Resurgence, page 1
Resurgence
K.A. Emmons
K.A. Emmons
Text copyright © 2019 K.A. Emmons
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise – without prior written permission of the publisher.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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www.kaemmons.com
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
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
This is not the end…
About the Author
Prologue
April 2197
Seated on my bunk, I tipped my head back against the wall. I could hear the dripping of rain on the tin roof, but I was listening for something beyond that. A distant roll of thunder thudded through the cement walls of the barracks. Normally I wouldn’t have startled, but tonight I was on edge.
The boy in the bunk above me snored softly; the rest slept peacefully. There were twelve bunks in that room, occupied by young men and women no older than twenty. I was the only one awake, the only one listening.
The clomp of boots on the pavement outside caught my attention. I held my breath.
A long silence was followed by the distant creaking of a heavy iron door. I shoved back the sheets. My rifle leaned against the end of my bunk, just like everyone else’s. I grabbed it as I rose, tucking my pillow under the wool blanket. I melted back against the wall and into the shadows as the footsteps began to echo in the hall. At first, they were distant; then they came closer.
My muscles tightened as the door burst open and a shaft of light cut across the floor. The assertive footfalls entered the room and abruptly halted. I already knew who it was before he even spoke.
“Corporal Moran.” His thick Irish accent filled the room.
I said nothing. My fingers tightened around the cold, black barrel.
He cleared his throat and spoke louder, repeating my name and rank.
Several soldiers stirred in their bunks, but no one woke.
My commander stepped farther in as I shrank back into the shadows. Walking briskly to my bunk, he bent down to snatch the wool blanket off what he was expecting to be me. He cursed under his breath when he realized I was gone.
He turned his attention immediately to the top bunk across from mine, grabbing hold of the sleeping soldier by the arm and shaking her roughly.
“On your feet!”
An inaudible murmur was the only response to his order.
“I said on your feet now!”
He all but dragged her down.
“What—sir? What’s going on?”
“Moran,” he barked into her face. “Where is she?”
“Over there, sleeping—”
“She’s not sleeping. She’s not in her bunk.” He cut her off. “She’s gone. Where is she?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“You must know—you have to know. You’re the only one she ever talks to.”
Kess shook her head adamantly. “No, sir,” she replied. “Sorry, sir.”
He cursed loudly, then spun on his heels and marched for the door. He halted on the threshold, and I saw his shadow on the floor as he stabbed a finger in my comrade’s direction.
“You see her, you hear her—you report to me. You understand?”
Kess hesitated, her eyes catching on my hiding place. She looked away just as quickly.
“Sir, yes, sir!”
She saluted respectfully and the door slammed in her face.
I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing again. Kess reached me in two quick strides. She clamped her hand over my mouth and shoved me back against the wall.
“Don’t you dare say thank you, Lara. Don’t you dare.” She hissed the words into my face. “Tell me what the hell you’re doing, or I will go tell Donovan exactly what he wants to hear.”
I peeled her fingers away. “Kess, tonight’s the night.”
“What are you saying?”
“I have to get out of here—I can’t do this anymore, Kess. I can’t.”
“Do you want to get yourself shot?” She nailed me back against the wall again. “It’s your night, Lara—you’re on deck!”
“Kess, stop it. I know—”
“They’ll skin you if you don’t go.” She dropped her voice. “There’s been several sightings on the flats just this week—this week, Lara.”
I swallowed. “You don’t understand, Kess.”
“What don’t I understand?” she demanded. “Enlighten me!”
“I can’t kill another one—I can’t—I—”
“Lara, if you don’t kill them”—her words severed my sentence—“they’ll kill you. And I’m not talking about the recusants; I’m talking about the RGM—I’m talking about our bosses,” she continued, her voice a harsh whisper in my ear. “The only reason you’ve survived this long is because we need you—”
“I don’t care,” I interrupted, pushing her away. “I didn’t sign up for this! I didn’t sign up to go crawl through the cold mud to kill rebels!”
“Did any of us sign up to be snipers, Lara?” She shook her head. “I suggest you get your act together and get out there. Don’t run on your night. It’s too dangerous. Everyone is on alert for you. Donovan’s looking for you as we speak, for God’s sake. Don’t be a moron.”
I wanted to object—everything inside me was screaming; I felt sick. But before I could say a word, she clapped her hands on my shoulders and shoved me forward. “Don’t say a word. Get out there and go find him—now.”
The hinges creaked as the door opened again; finally, I saw Kess’s face in the sliver of light: deep brown skin, dark eyes, and a buzz cut. Her tone was steel, but her eyes were filled with concern.
“You’d better make up a good excuse.”
Without replying, I took a few steps towards the threshold and then stopped. Turning around, I backtracked to my bunk. Hurriedly, I reached into my pillowcase and pulled out the familiar slip of paper. A tiny yellowed square, softened with age.
Kess sighed. “Why do you always take that thing with you?”
“You know why.” I pulled on my jacket and boots. “It’s the last I have of him.”
Slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I buttoned my jacket and slid the folded paper into my breast pocket.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kess,” I said, stepping out into the hallway. “Hopefully…”
Kess didn’t respond. She looked at me for a long moment before closing the door.
A migraine was already beginning to pound at my temple. I pushed my shoulders back and cracked my neck as I made my way down the hall and out of the barracks. Outside, the courtyard was spattered with rain and fluorescent light. My supervisor was in my face in a heartbeat, shouting at top volume.
“Where were you?”
“The jakes, sir.”
“You’re a liar, Moran.” He shoved me backwards just as an unmanned Byrd aircraft began to lower silently onto the pavement. “I’ll beat it out of you in the morning, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that!”
“Yes, sir!” I yelled into his face, anger bleeding dangerously into my voice.
“Right now there’s a job to be done,” he continued. “You know what to do.”
I gave a shallow nod, swallowing back the sick feeling in my stomach.
As the slender, almost translucent aircraft touched ground, its pressurized double doors hissed open. I climbed into the tight, body-sized space. The Byrd’s tight interior was reminiscent of the small vintage helicopters the Irish Air Corps used to use.
“We’re dropping you on the outskirts of Section New Dublin,” Donovan told me as he leaned up against the side of the Byrd. “The exact coordinates have already been entered into ANI’s system.”
The Automated Navigation Intelligence system: my pilot and worst enemy.
I strapped on my helmet. “Will I ever be able to see exact coordinates for myself, sir?”
He shook his head. “This is a confidential mission, Corporal. Not a vacation.”
I gritted my teeth and a moment later the doors zipped shut. My stomach lightened as the Byrd lifted into the air. A lifelike voice crackled in my headset.
“Good evening, Moron. Welcome aboard.”
“Moran,” I corrected the droid. “It’s Moran. When are they ever going to fix this stupid thing—”
“Exterior temperature is 5 degrees Celsius. Interior temperature is eighteen degrees Celsius. Currently flying at an altitude of two hundred and forty-three meters. Currently traveling at four hundred and fifty knots. You will arrive at your drop point in approximately five minutes.”
“Okay. Thank you, ANI.”
“Your current body temperature is thirty-seven degrees Celsius. Heart rate eighty-seven beats per minute. Perspiration level: moderate.”
I sighed. “Okay, ANI.”
“Hunger level: moderate. Urine level: moderate.”
“ANI, how do I shut you off?”
The moments ticked past. I blocked out the sound of ANI’s rigid voice as I began going over my mental checklist.
Just don’t think. Just shut your mind off.
“Dropping altitude,” ANI announced a moment later. “Corporal Moron, prepare for drop-off.”
I strapped on my landing pack, a tiny black engine that would ensure I didn’t go splat on the rocky ground below.
“Engaging trapdoor.”
A moment later the floor bottomed out from underneath me. I dropped silently out of the aircraft and hurtled down through the cold night air. The gentle hum of the Byrd gave way to the moderate wind as it whistled through my helmet.
I counted under my breath and pressed the button at the top of the landing pack just before hitting the ground. A blast of warm air punted me upwards again before gently fizzling out and lowering me to my feet.
I dropped to my belly and rolled into the shadow of a demolished wall, whipping my rifle into a ready position. I clicked off the safety, lifting up into a crouch. The rain pelted down in large icy drops.
“Drop-off affirmed,” I whispered breathlessly into my built-in mic. “Activate night vision.”
I slid my shield down over my helmet. The stripped, rocky landscape around me lit up as bright and vivid as daylight. The ruins of the city scattered before me in the distance. I could see the faint lights from the smaller cities that lay on the outskirts of the rubble.
“Okay… let’s find these guys.”
I was scared, but I knew Donovan would be listening to my every word. My every inhale and exhale. He would be checking the charts and monitoring my heart rate, my body temperature, my perspiration levels. I knew that everything Donovan could see, the rest of the Reformed Global Militia could see: my breathing patterns, my whispered curses, every time I had to pee—it was all being recorded, monitored.
I didn’t want to find those guys, and I most certainly didn’t want to kill them. I wanted to make a run for it. I wanted to get out of there.
Don’t run, Lara… Not on your night…
Kess’s words rang in my ears as I sat poised in the rain, scanning the rugged landscape around me. I’d already detected the faint glow of a flashlight in the distance, a glimmer that had quickly disappeared behind a small dilapidated shack.
I cursed in my head, leaning back against the rock. I was hoping that Donovan had been wrong, that they weren’t actually out here tonight.
Noiselessly, I shimmied one hand out of my tight gloves and slid two fingers into my breast pocket. I took out the small square of paper and looked down at it through my shield. My fingers trembled as I held it in my grasp.
I’d been the one to find the note. I remembered the day like it was only a week ago. I remembered the agonizing worry in my mother’s eyes as the landlady had handed her an extra set of keys to my brother’s apartment. I remembered the way her voice had cracked as she called his name, her heels clicking on the linoleum floors. I remembered the light in the curtains, shining through the vines that draped the walls. The baskets of plants and flowers that seemed to hang everywhere. I remembered how she had taken the note from my small hand and collapsed, weeping, as she read it.
I’d been the one to fold it and keep it, even after everyone else had stopped reading it. After everyone had given up even the smallest hope of ever seeing him again. I’d taken the note from my mother’s dresser and kept it under my pillow. I’d read it each night before I fell asleep, and I still read it now, every night, even though my brother had never been found and my parents and sisters had long since passed away. I still read it because it was all that I had to comfort me, one hundred and eighty years later.
I checked over the wall; I could see the light flickering gradually closer.
I looked back down at the brittle paper in my hands, then slowly, gently unfolded it. I read it silently before quickly tucking it back in my pocket. Then I squinted, raising my weapon once more. Easing the target into my sights, I held my breath. The light wavered in the sheet of rain, coming gradually closer.
I’m sorry… I whispered in my mind. I’m so sorry.
My finger slid over the trigger, twitching. I narrowed my eyes.
I could hear my heart pounding in the back of my skull.
I pulled the trigger. A crack rippled through the air.
The light went out.
* * *
To my family:
I love you.
Don’t stop searching.
Don’t ever stop searching.
– Ronan
1
Icarus
The sky seemed listless as it spun around me, a deep blue void. My perception lagged as I reached up and adjusted my headset. I tapped a button on the small screen in front of me, and the Kármán line swept up over me as I rolled. The Griffon slung forward, slipping into the folds of the thermosphere. I could just make out the hazy bow of the Earth’s curvature. I dropped a few hundred feet.
In the distance I could see another aircraft just like mine. We mimicked each other in our motions. We flirted with a little less gravity; then we plummeted. Down, down, down, through the spectrum of the stratosphere, free-falling through the empty blue until the clouds finally yawned open to reveal the sparkling ocean. Haze hung in the air like rust suspended in the troposphere.
My fingers wrapped around the throttle and a clacking filled the cockpit as I dragged it back. The nose tipped downward as we pushed over into a steep dive.
“Descending,” a female voice chimed in my headset.
ANI sounded so real sometimes. It was a little unsettling.
“No shit, Sherlock,” I muttered, squinting as the coastline came roaring into view.
“Welcome to the Sands,” she continued, in spite of my insults.
“Been here just a couple of times, but thanks.” I pulled up just over the beach, sending sand billowing up like clouds underneath the aircraft.
“This section is currently graded level Fanta,” ANI informed me. “External temperature: forty degrees Celsius.”
“Didn’t need to know.”
“Internal temperature—”
With a touch of a button, I switched the channel on my headset. A favorite playlist burst to life.
I tapped a button on the back of my headset, activating the microphone, just as another metallic Griffon made its descent ahead. “How’s it going up there, Aer?”
There was a split-second pause. Then a crackle.
“All right—until you started riding my tail.”
A halfhearted grin twitched at the corners of my mouth. “You seen anything yet?” I asked.
“Negative,” Areos replied. “Just a whole lot of sand.”
He was right; it surrounded us like the color blue had only moments ago—sizzling hot sand. Blazing fragments of what used to be the suburbs of a pumping city—Los Angeles. Now known as Section C, short for Chaos. Because that was exactly what it was.
