Relics: Three (Relics Singularity Series Book 3), page 1
Relics: Three
Turtleshell Press (www.turtleshellpress.com)
Copyright © 2017 by Nick Thacker, Turtleshell Press
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2017
Nick Thacker
Colorado Springs, CO
www.NickThacker.com
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ROAN
THE POUNDING IN HIS HEAD swallowed every sense within him, focusing his entire attention on the pain of the throbbing headache. Roan Alexander sat up and rubbed his temples. The throbbing pulsed once more as the blood moved and shifted within him, then subsided.
Immediately.
He frowned, glad the headache was gone but surprised at its quick disappearance.
Giving it no more thought, he shifted his focus to his surroundings. Pitch black, his eyes struggling and failing to see in the darkness. He stood up, took a step to the right, and felt his left foot swing back around a crate that was lying on the floor nearby.
He looked down, wondering how he had known the crate was there. Again his eyes sent the message they had delivered before: nothing to see, pitch black.
The frown stayed with him as he continued navigating the room. He had never been inside this room, yet he knew it intimately. A small sink mounted to the wall opposite the bed, near a toilet and vanity. A wastebasket he knew was empty — there was nothing in the room for him to throw away.
He veered right, heading toward the only other piece of furniture in the room. A large chair, metal with arms. Not comfortable, but serviceable. He sat, feeling the shirt and pants and socks he was wearing. He hadn’t changed into them, at least not recently. Or he couldn’t remember.
Roan pressed tighter on the backs of his pants. What was that? Muscle? His calf muscles bulged, tight and sinewy, barely covered by the tight-fitting pants. He continued upward, realizing that his stomach was rock-solid as well, as were his arms, shoulders, pectorals, and neck.
Closing his eyes again — they were doing him no good in this room — he calculated his breathing. He counted, knowing that the timing of the seconds he was ticking off was absolutely perfect. He felt the blood coursing through him, stressed and relieved with every pump of his heart, and knew intuitively what his blood pressure was.
He walked to the sink and turned the faucet. Ice-cold water splashed down into the basin, and he placed two cupped palms below the stream and splashed water on his face. He felt the molecules entering his skin, pushing through the epidermis and moving on their way into his biological system, and then felt the rest fall across his cheeks and down the drain. He repeated this three times, sensing that four splashes was just enough, and turned off the water. He looked into the mirror, not seeing anything but knowing exactly, somehow, what stared back at him.
There was a moment of terror as he realized he had no idea how he had gotten this way, then a soothing wave of reassurance as the fear and confusion was immediately replaced by a calm, energized confidence. This is who I am, he thought. This is me.
I am Roan Alexander.
RAVI
“ARY, WAIT.” RAVI HAD TURNED to follow Ary as she leaped like a mountain goat over the boulders and loose gravel that made up the side of the mountain. They had stopped for just a moment to listen to the sounds of the raging battle that had resonated down the valley and up to their location.
Unders against Relics.
The entire city of Relica, she had explained, would be down there now, fighting as best they could against the more experienced, better-equipped, and better-trained army of Unders. The Unders had opted for the life they lived, choosing to live off the Grid and outside the reach of the System, and therefore they had every advantage.
Except one.
Ary had explained to Ravi that the leader of the Relics in Relica, Josiah Crane, was believed to be able to control the Relics there. No one understood how, but Crane was more than just a mastermind behind the movements and maneuverings of the Relics — he was considered the mind behind it all.
It was a hive mind made up of humans.
And Ravi knew immediately that would be Grouse’s target. If he could somehow incapacitate Crane, he could singlehandedly take down the Relics’ army. By focusing on the leader, he could end the battle with a single, well-targeted blow.
“What?” She didn’t stop, but she at least acknowledged his presence.
“I — you said… What about…”
At this, she stopped. Swinging around quickly, a look of exasperation and annoyance on her face, she stared daggers into him.
“Sorry,” he said, taking a breath. They had run up the side of the mountain, after running from the Unders’ camp and through the open expanse of land separating the valley from the mountain range, and he was exhausted.
“What is it?” She asked. “And hurry up.”
“Why?” he shot back. “What’s the hurry? You haven’t explained anything to me.”
Her nostrils flared as she stared down at him, as if sizing him up. From what he’d seen her do back at the Unders’ camp, he knew not to mess with her.
“I don’t need to explain anything to you, Ravi. I only need —“
“You do. Knock it off, Ary. This ‘ninja-supergirl’ routine is getting old.”
There it is, he thought. The turning point. It was a risk, calling her out and tempting her, but it was not in his character to sit back and play prisoner — a role he had been playing quite a bit recently. She might be able to beat the crap out of him, but he knew he could put up a decent fight. You didn’t survive out here for as long as he had without being able to hold your own.
She jumped, a tiny hop that seemed more graceful than powerful, but within a second and a half she was standing face-to-face with Ravi. A small boulder provided the shorter girl the ability to look him directly in the eye.
“You want to say that again?” she asked.
“I don’t need to.”
They stared at one another, eyes locked, for what seemed like a full minute.
If she’s going to throw me off this mountain she’d have done it already.
“What do you want me to tell you?”
He let out a breath of air he didn’t realize he had been holding. “I — I just want to know where we’re going.”
“Paris.”
He frowned slightly at this. “That’s where they’ll take Myers. Why are we going there?”
“You know, for a guy who plays smart pretty well you’re pretty stupid.”
He thought for a moment. “Ary, I can’t stop the System.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“And I can’t bring your family back.”
He had hardly finished the sentence when he felt his body launched into the air, a heavy weight plowing into his chest just before he left the safety of the ground. He flew backwards and down, the incline of the hill only helping him fly farther down the mountain.
He landed on his feet but fell backwards immediately and continued rolling, every inch of his body taking its turn banging against rocks, boulders, and sticks until he came to a stop against a larger mound.
Ary was on him then, flying from out of nowhere and landing with a heavy thud on his stomach, her legs straddling his.
“Say anything else about my family and this is where you die.” She held out the knife again, holding it tightly against his throat, her hand quivering and shaking ever so slightly as she waited for his response.
“Fine,” he said. “You got me out of that mess down there, and you’ve accomplished what you needed me and Solomon for. What now? Why are you taking me to Paris?”
She held the knife in place while she answered. “The ICPL is there. That’s where they will try to take Myers, to end all of this.”
“He won’t be able to —“
“I know, Ravi. I know how it works. They won’t be able to stop the System — it was designed to be resilient, learning from our mistakes and improving its code to prevent anything that might harm it.”
“Then what does it matter to you?” he asked.
Finally, she slid the knife back into a small sheath hidden somewhere on her side. “I have a theory. And it matters to me because it’s going to matter to everyone. Not now, but soon. Eventually —“
A gunshot rang down, and Ary ducked and rolled off of Ravi. He turned to find the source of the gunfire, but she was tugging at his sleeve, pulling him down and behind the boulder that had stopped his descent down the mountainside.
“Come on,” she said.
They’re up on the top, firing down on us.”
“Who?” he shouted over another barrage of gunshots. He knew the two armies would be engaged down in the valley, and it was unlikely either of them would have sent scouts into the foothills for reconnaissance.
“ARUs,” she said. “Look.” He followed her pointer finger and dared a look around the rock. Far up at the top of the ridge stood an entire unit — twelve soldiers, aiming directly at them.
ROAN
THE ROOM HAD A DOOR, and he walked toward it. There was no handle; instead a palm reader faced him and he stepped up and stuck his hand out. He waited the three seconds he knew it would take, and the click came from deep within the mechanics of the door.
It swung open a crack, and he pushed it the rest of the way. A surge of strength found its way to his shoulder, then passed down through his arm to his wrist and hand. The door flew outward, crashed against the wall, and began to bounce back in toward him. He stopped it with his other arm.
Walking into the hall, Roan’s body began a ritualistic assessment, delivering to his brain the results in real time. Everything checked out. He was alive, well-fed, not thirsty, strong, not injured, walking at exactly 3.7 miles-per-hour toward the end of the pitch-black hallway.
Again, the dread came and went, and Roan continued. He had a destination, this much he knew. He couldn’t articulate what that was, but he strode toward it with intent and purpose, never stopping to reach out for a wall or place a hesitant foot out in front of him. The dark of the hall had no effect on him.
Another palm reader-equipped door met him at the end of the long hallway. He opened it, light suddenly lancing through the crack and causing his eyes to adjust. They seemed to turn on, opening and sliding around as they found the optimum aperture and metering. As the door opened fully, this process continued involuntarily, Roan’s brain now fed the input from visible sources.
The door ended on a landing, unassuming and plain. Three concrete steps with railings on each side led down to a large, concrete field. He walked toward the first step and stopped, waiting. He flexed his biceps, then wrists, than squeezed his fists closed and open again. His body was ready. It had been waiting, for so long.
But it was ready now.
MYERS
3 WEEKS AGO
MYERS GROANED. The darkness around him was opposite of…
What?
He couldn’t recall where had been before this — before the darkness — but he knew it wasn’t this. He knew he had been somewhere else. This place was cold, and very dark. He lifted his hand up and tried to see it, but couldn’t.
“Hello?”
He assumed he was dreaming, but when he got up to walk he found his feet and legs responsive, performing their assigned tasks as if nothing was wrong. He walked in a small circle, arms out for balance, or for finding something in front of him…
There was nothing.
Just blackness, and cold. He shivered, then felt his body. He was naked, and his head had been shaved. He ran a hand over it and felt a bump on the back, just above his neckline. There was a line of some sort traveling around the bump, and it seemed to be ragged. Stitches?
The bump hurt a little when he pushed on it, but it didn’t seem to be fresh. It wasn’t tender, or bleeding, or so he thought. He still couldn’t see anything at all, so he stood there.
A minute passed, then another. He yelled a few times, but his voice seemed to disappear into the blackness as soon as the word left his lips.
So he stood.
He thought about Diane, and the fight they’d had about whether or not he should consider running for local office. Diane seemed to think he would make a great politician, but he had no interest in signing papers and arguing with radicals. He smiled at the memory, knowing she was going to win the fight.
His daughters were in the memory as well, because the fight they’d had was in the kitchen, while the girls were watching a show. He and Diane were trying to keep their voices down, and all Myers could think about was what might happen if the girls found out what they were discussing.
“They won’t care,” Diane said. “They’re way too young to care.”
“It’s not about whether they’ll vote for me, Diane,” Myers snapped. “It’s whether or not it’s worth giving up… giving up so much to do this.”
“What would they be giving up?” She asked. “Like I said, they’re too young to care. They won’t know what’s happening, and when they do, they’ll already be used to it.”
“Used to what, Diane? What is this life you think we’ll live?”
“Myers, calm down,” Diane said. “It’s not like you’re running for President.”
Myers stormed off down the hall.
He wondered what had happened after that fight. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the next day, or the next week. It was all a blur. It had been a few weeks since that fight, he knew, but everything in between was foggy.
What is going on?
He suddenly realized how strange it was to be standing, naked and bald, in the middle of a cold, pitch-black room.
“Hello? Listen, I’m serious. I want to know what’s going on. My name is Myers Asher and —“
“MYERS ASHER, NUMBER 2584.”
Myers spun around, trying to hone in on the sound. He couldn’t place it, but the voice sounded familiar…
“SCRAPE SUCCESSFUL.”
It was his voice. It was his own voice, piped through some small speakers hidden somewhere in the blackness, computerized and broken into pieces. Not a recording, but some sort of vocal synthesizer that had been loaded with his own voice.
What in the world?
“PLEASE STATE YOUR STATUS.”
“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “My… what?”
“PLEASE STATE YOUR STATUS.”
“I don’t know what that is. Can you… explain?”
“STATUS REFERS TO FULL PHYSIOLOGICAL AND MENTAL HEALTH. SELF-ASSESSED.”
“Okay,” Myers said. “I’ll give it my best shot. I’m cold, I’m confused, and I don’t know where I am or what happened. But I’m fine. I’m all here, and I feel… fine, I guess.”
“STATUS OF MYERS ASHER, NUMBER 2584: FINE.”
“Great. Now you want to tell me where I am?”
“CURRENT LOCATION, PARIS, FRANCE. INTERNATIONAL COMPUTER PHYSICS LABORATORY. SUB-LEVEL 25, B CORRIDOR, ROOM 84.”
“I’m in… why am I in Paris?”
“YOU HAVE BEEN SCRAPED.”
RAVI
“I THOUGHT WE’D HAVE A little longer before the ARUs came,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure why he had whispered — the ARU was far enough away they couldn’t have heard him if he had screamed, and they already knew where they were, anyway.
“They’ll still be awhile. This must be the one group that was closest to Relica when the System ordered them here,” she said. He watched her eyes, noticing that she was looking in the other direction, glancing up and down the side of the mountain. “Hope you got enough rest, laying on your back for a few seconds.”
“What? Why?”
She was up and running before he had finished the second word. She yelled for him to follow, and he found his legs pumping before he had even made up his mind.
It took a few seconds for the ARU — never the best-trained soldiers around — to find their bearings and continue their assault. They refused to move from the top of the ridge, as if that location was somehow safer for them, even though they were far out of range.
Ravi and Ary ducked behind boulders and slid into the fissures that ran vertically up the mountainside, working their way sideways across the steep face. He wasn’t sure what the plan was, but he followed behind dutifully, knowing that Ary knew these particular hills and mountains better than anyone else.
She led them across a deep fissure, slowing only enough to find a proper footing, then launching herself clear over the crack in the mountain and across to the other side. She glanced over her shoulder as Ravi copied the move, and he noticed what seemed like a smirk on her face as he landed.
They continued along, the gunshots from the ARU diminishing in volume as they moved away from their location. Finally the gunfire stopped altogether, but Ary pushed them forward, even increasing her pace.
