First Life, page 6
part #1 of River Saga Series
We gathered our belongings, slung packs on our shoulders, and trailed out of the barn. The pair of Angor women came with us. Kylon and Rosha were taller than me, their eyes brighter than most Angor’s. They wore stylish clothing, blouses and dark pants, making me wonder why they were traveling to Dallas on a cheap ride like this hovertrain.
Miya and Des took the lead, searching for a road. The field was dense, the crops waist high. I still couldn’t hear a single insect, and the wheat was flawless. The Angor had perfected farming on Earth, even better than humans. All of their technologies and innovations, and somehow my Xeno couldn’t be cured. I wondered if the pilot had Xeno, or if he was predisposed to heart issues.
“Where are you from?” I asked Rosha.
“Trum,” she replied.
“I think he means where are we from… on Earth,” Kylon told her friend.
Rosha laughed, the alien sound amusing to my ears. “We’ve been visiting the different coastal ports. Seattle. Los Angeles. Now to Miami, before New York. But we live in Angor City.”
“Is it cold?” Miya asked.
They nodded in unison as we walked, exiting the field and landing on a gravel road. It was devoid of a single weed, and Des stopped, peering in each direction before choosing east. “It’s very cold. But for the Angor, we are used to it.”
“I thought you preferred the water,” I said.
They shared a silent gaze. “We have both on Trum.” Kylon’s eyes told me the conversation was over. Two decades of working together, and the Angor knew everything about us. We practically had no information on them or their home planet. Now I’d learned there was a Checkpoint for this River in our solar system, and that we were sending a contingency to a colony world. It was difficult to accept.
I peered at the crashed hovertrain, half of it sticking out from the barn, and turned as we hiked toward the town in the distance. The sun was beginning to creep into the west, and I sighed, hoping we’d be able to make it to New York. I needed to see Indie to secure a position onto this Expedition. No matter the cost.
FOUR
It was almost dark when we saw the sign. Great Bend: One Mile.
My legs were growing tired, but Desmond stalked down the road, unfazed by the workout. Kylon and Rosha were fifty feet behind us, and Miya was almost jogging in excitement. “I’ve never been to the interior.”
“Never?” I asked.
“Grew up in Orange County.”
“Must be strange to only know the A.A.”
“A.A?” she asked me.
“After Angor.”
She shrugged, shifting her pack on her shoulders. “Not really. Mom and Dad always talked about how it was… before. I think they came at the right time.”
I let her words sink in. I knew the Angor were good for us, but most people I spoke with did have their doubts as to the aliens’ ultimate motives. Miya included, if I were to believe her comments earlier on the hovertrain.
“What makes you think they’re acting funny?” I asked, using her earlier words.
“I’ve been keeping tabs on their movement. Are you familiar with the satellite network?” She motioned to the sky.
“Not in the least,” I admitted.
She retrieved her tablet, selecting a program with blinking graphs and charts. “This is down. We’re in a dark zone, which isn’t uncommon out in the fields. There’s no need for communication, since it’s vacant. The robots and systems at the crop-growing facilities use a separate network than the one humans are permitted to operate.” She spoke quickly, and it was obvious she knew what she was talking about.
“And what are those?” I nodded to the charts.
“Our old satellites are gone. At the peak, we had twelve thousand of them in orbit, ranging from old world navs to comms and remote sensors.”
“And now?” I kept walking, the town coming closer. We passed a run-down tire shop on the outskirts, and Des slowed, staring at the grimy windows.
“None. Not one. The Angor modified the entire system.”
“So everything we do operates through their network,” I said, understanding what she was implying. I recalled the day I attempted to contact Indie, with no success. I’d always regretted that.
“Yeah, that’s been fine. I mean, we were always under surveillance by our own people. What’s the difference?” She grinned and tapped the screen. “But this… Their orbit patterns have been the same for years, but something’s changed recently.”
The Angor had come with ten vessels. Palora was the primary, at twice the size of the others. Nine remained around Earth. One of them, the Herazel, was stationed in Central Park, a showcase museum for tourists to see an Angor vessel for themselves. Another part of the Angor’s blatant transparency they preached. I’d never been on the ship myself, but I’d seen tour videos in the early years. It had landed in Central Park a year after they came, for their anniversary of our partnership. Administrator Volins, the famous captain of Palora, was nearly killed that day by violent protestors.
“Changed how?” Des asked, finally entering the conversation. I doubted the older man ever missed anything. He was always observing his surroundings.
“Slight shifts in the network. I’ve followed along. I built a frequency spier, something that allows me to track them.”
“You built this?” I pointed at the device.
“Sure. When I was twelve.” She didn’t seem impressed by the achievement.
“No wonder they invited you to join the colony. What do your parents think?” I asked her.
“They didn’t know I applied. I forged their digital signature,” she said, losing her smile.
“I thought you said you were eighteen,” I reminded her.
She smirked. “I might have lied. I’m eighteen soon. Probably a couple months after we hit Dicore.”
“You ran away?” Des asked calmly.
The sun receded behind the horizon, and everything was illuminated in a tinge of orange before going dark. The town didn’t have any lights on yet, and I wondered if we’d find any assistance out here.
“I had to. They wanted me on a barge crew,” she scoffed. “As if I was going to do that.”
I flinched. “Why not?”
“It’s too strange. Why are the Angor building them?” Miya asked.
“I worked on a barge. For five years, near Santa Monica.” I waited for her reaction.
“Then you know what those domes are for?” she queried.
“Unfortunately, I don’t.” I thought about the man I’d met, and the gases he told me were under the dome foundation. “But I heard they might be biomes for another species.”
“Exactly!” Miya said loudly. “I think they’re bringing—”
Footsteps sounded behind us, and Miya paused her comments when she noticed Kylon and Rosha had caught up.
“What are you discussing?” Rosha asked.
“Where to get a good cup of coffee in this dive,” Des said casually, covering Miya’s tracks.
The town was uninspiring from this vantage point, the roads filled with cracks and overgrowth. Clearly, the Angor didn’t give the care and attention to our old cities as they offered the crops, which made sense. It was frowned upon to reside here, but that didn’t stop some people from doing so.
“Des, you sure someone will be around?” I asked him, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in this relic of a town in the dark.
The sun had completely disappeared when I saw the welcome sign. The logo had been graffitied, adding the word OVER to the end of the name. Des chuckled, but stopped at the sound of music echoing from the street.
It was something old, from my childhood. Miya started walking for it, but Des caught her arm, pulling her to the sidewalk. “No. This is a trap.”
“A trap?” Kylon asked.
Des frowned as he watched the dark shadows litter the street. “It’s a ploy by the locals. They lure you in with the idea of hospitality. Where there’s music, there are people. Food. Drinks. Warmth. But don’t kid yourself. These individuals are usually desperate. Cut off from the rest of the world.”
I hadn’t realized how bad it was out here.
“Why don’t they move to the coast?” Rosha asked, quite innocently.
“Because not everyone wants to conform to the new Angor world. Especially in these parts.” Des took a tentative step forward. “You’d better let me handle this.” Like magic, a gun appeared in his hand. It was a heavy, shiny chrome revolver.
“I’ll join you,” I said.
“Fine. Miya, stay with the Angor ladies,” Des said. “I shouldn’t have let them come.”
“Are we in danger?” Kylon asked, her eyes wide.
“Maybe. They don’t care for the Angor. We might have better luck if they aren’t aware you’re with us.” Des was probably right, but I felt a tinge of guilt at the situation.
“We will remain here.” She raised her hand, bending the thumb in tight. “Peace by the stars.” I returned the sign, and Rosha stepped toward Miya, the three of them walking to the grocery store. The parking lot had a couple rusted-out trucks in it, and the glass was mostly broken from the storefront. I glanced at one of the streetlights, wishing it would turn on.
“Miya, be careful,” I whispered to the girl.
“I’ll be fine.”
Des was already moving for the target, and I jogged to catch up. The song changed to a melodramatic tune about unrequited love, a classic I hadn’t heard for years.
There were more buildings, stores crammed together in strip malls. Fayetteville had a lot of these, and a reminiscent feeling of loss enveloped me. Red brick had been favored here, and it stood the test of time and disrepair. I closed my eyes for a moment, recalling the familiar sense of community. Cars buzzing down the roads. Neighbors waving at one another. Sports fans arguing about their team at the local watering hole.
Des startled me by tapping my shoulder. “Not the best time to be taking a nap,” he muttered.
“Sorry.” We were closer to the source of the music. A bar with a clef note image on a swinging sign over the door sat two dozen yards away, and Des slowed, keeping his gun low, aimed at the sidewalk. I had to watch my step, careful not to trip on the damaged and crumbling concrete.
The song changed again, this one faster-paced. Something with a beat and autotuned singers.
Des raised his free hand, and I stopped near the next-door business’s window. It used to be a bakery. I saw the old glass serving display. The words: Fresh bread baked daily painted on the glass.
Desmond’s finger pressed to his lips, parting his mustache as we listened.
I finally heard voices, but couldn’t understand what they were saying.
“You ready?” Des asked.
I nodded, not quite sure what I was agreeing to.
He glanced at my hands and sighed. “Pretend you’re armed.”
I wasn’t wearing a jacket, and searched for something to hold. In the end, I shoved my hand in my pocket and shrugged.
Des leaned in. “We go around back. They’ll expect us at the front doors.”
He headed to the alley, and I almost shouted when a cat jumped off a garbage can, skittering out of sight. Weeds were nearly as tall as us, and I forced across them, turning behind the bar.
The music was fainter, muffled by the thick steel door. Des tested the handle, and it spun freely.
We entered with caution.
It was dim, soft light carrying from outside the kitchen. The place was clean, obviously still used and cared for. The stainless-steel countertops glistened, and I could smell the faint aroma of hamburgers and deep-fried potatoes. It made me realize how hungry I was.
Des crept to the bar, and he stopped, waiting for me to arrive. Candles flickered in the room beyond, and I counted ten people. Instead of waiting for an insidious mugging, like Des anticipated, they were laughing, dancing, and drinking beers from a cooler. The music was loud, and a gentle breeze carried through the entire bar, coming from the open front door.
I relaxed, but when I looked at Des’ eyes, he was anything but. I saw why. A man was behind him, holding a gun to his back.
“Who the hell are you?” the big man demanded.
Des lifted his arms and turned slowly. He let the revolver swing on his right index finger, and he spoke calmly. “My name is Desmond Locke, and this is my new friend Colton Beck.” He lowered the gun to the ground, and kicked it at the big man facing us. He was bald, with a thick scar carved on his brow, and deep-set eyes.
The music turned off, and the entire bar full of people approached us. They were lit by the glow of a few dozen candles. “Everything okay, Bull?”
His name was perfectly suited for him. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had horns.
“It is now.” Bull shoved Desmond out of the kitchen. “I know your names, but you haven’t told me why you snuck in holding a gun.”
“These are uncertain times. We crashed our hovertrain a few miles out. Near the Angor fields. Pilot had a heart attack. We came searching for a way to contact InterContinental, and when I heard the music, I thought it was a trap.”
A woman stepped closer. “Why would we ambush you?”
Des fiddled with his mustache. “It’s happened to me a few times. I’m a bit of a roamer. People in the interior don’t seem to enjoy outsiders much.”
“Do you believe this guy?” the youngest man in the room asked. He was fit, a full head of thick brown hair, and a cocky smirk on his face. “They didn’t crash in no hovertrain. He was probably coming to rob us.” He glanced from Des, and his gaze lingered on me a moment. I wanted to punch the kid.
“You can check for yourself. There are twenty passengers. Two Angor.” Des said the alien name, drawing out the syllables.
“You brought Angor to us?” Bull didn’t look pleased.
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
“We stay out here so we don’t have to concede to their rules,” the first woman said. She seemed to be the matriarch of the group. Her hair was light gray in the candlelight.
“They don’t care what you do,” Des said plainly. “There’s bigger issues than a few people hanging out in the middle of Kansas.”
“How would you know?” Bull demanded.
“I’ve been around.”
I realized I knew nothing about Desmond, but he was engaging, and had my curiosity spiked.
“And you?” the woman asked me, jabbing a finger at my chest.
“I’m from Arkansas, ma’am. Worked in California for the last decade, and now I’m trying to get to New York City.” I figured since Des was being so truthful, I may as well too.
“Why? What’s in New York?” She squinted at me.
I peered at Desmond, and back at her. “The Expedition.”
The room was silent; then Bull cracked a laugh, breaking the tension. “Good one,” Bull said.
“He’s not kidding. We’re part of the mission to Dicore. Now would you please help us reach someone from the hovertrain company?” Desmond asked.
“I thought this was a party,” a voice said from the front door. It was Miya, with the two Angor women behind her. “Why did we stop the music?”
Bull’s gun aimed at the Angor, and he glanced to the matriarch for guidance. She motioned for him to lower it. “There’s no sense keeping these fine people from reaching their destination.”
Bull conceded, and Des picked the revolver off the floor.
The room was tense, but Miya sauntered in, plucking a beer from the cooler. She tapped the neck on the table top, popping the cap off. “Got anything to eat?”
____________
The sun emerged over the city, drowning the street in a comfortable golden glow. Miya and I watched Desmond as he spoke with Katherine, the older lady. She’d spent her whole life here, and had run that very bar for a decade before the Angor came and changed everything.
“I had no idea it was like this,” Miya confessed. I sipped a coffee from a reusable cup and nodded.
“You can see why so many people are of two minds with the Angor.” I glanced behind us to where Rosha and Kylon were talking. We’d stayed the night in town, waiting for the train company to come pick us up.
I heard the ship before I saw it in the horizon. The Angor had dispatched someone to gather us.
The vessel was barely big enough to carry all our passengers, and I noticed the InterContinental logo on the side of the white vessel as it settled to the parking lot.
“The Expedition, hey,” Bull said beside me. “Maybe I’ll take a look.”
He gave us a final wave and walked off with Katherine, not wanting to be seen by the Angor. We promised we wouldn’t mention them, but I really didn’t think anyone would care that they remained in this city. There were a couple hundred people in Great Bend, living off-grid. They managed to procure food and beverages in a barter system out of Kansas City a few hundred miles away. I had experience with that, thanks to my father’s previous business.
According to them, there was an entire cross-country network of like-minded humans, connected using old ham radios. I wondered if that was how people heard of my dad’s store back in the day. I, for one, was ready to travel to New York, not wanting to waste any more of my remaining hours.
“That was fun,” Miya told me.
“You shouldn’t have shown up at the bar last night,” I said. “But I’m glad you did. That entrance broke the ice.”
She smirked. “I do what I can.” Miya rushed off to where Rosha was talking with an Angor pilot at the end of the ship’s entrance.
Desmond looked pleased with himself, and I didn’t ask why.
“So you like to roam?” I joked, referring to his comment from last night.
“Like a free antelope.” He nudged my shoulder, and we entered the vessel.
An hour later, we’d loaded the passengers from the hovertrain and were off to Dallas.
This ship was brand new, smelling of freshly molded plastic and pristine fabric. Miya and I sat in the front, behind a clear glass barrier separating the dual rows from the pilot. I hadn’t been on an airplane since I was a kid, but this reminded me of the old 737s in layout.
