Timewalker

by Luke Norris

  TIMEWALKER

  Book One

  PLANET WARS

  LUKE NORRIS

  Chapters

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Prologue

  1. Waking

  2. Space walk

  3. The ship’s Bridge

  4. Upgrades

  5. The Planet

  6. Crash landing

  7. Thirteen castaways

  8. Setting out

  9. Trek

  10. Suspicions

  11. War on Earth

  12. Followed

  13. Crow

  14. Quiet conversations

  15. Dead of Night

  16. Shira’s prey

  17. Sleepless

  18. Encountering the locals

  19. Fight

  20. Last conversation

  21. The village

  22. Funeral fire

  23. Journey south

  24. Friendship

  25. Blacksmith

  26. Lowlands

  27. The King

  28. Battle

  29. Meeting of the chiefs

  30. Skirmish

  31. Lowlanders prepare

  32. Encounter of the Drivers

  33. Low-landers march

  34. Engagement

  35. Duel

  36. Preparations

  Copyright © 2018 by Luke Norris

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover design by Joseph Norris

  Edited by Hope Workman

  For my father,

  who told us the story of Oliver and his adventures

  when we were growing up.

  Prologue

  Oliver had been observing his friend ascend the narrow path that hugged the mountain ridge over the last hour. He was hunched against the icy wind as he finally reached the top. It was summer, but at this high altitude snow dusted the rocks, and the icy steps were perilous.

  “Things you asked for have been arranged, Cougar,” Ponsy said, short of breath. The thousand steps up to the monastery guard tower took their toll, and the air was noticeably thinner.

  “Ponsy!” Oliver took his friend’s powerful arm and pulled him up to the lookout point, where he and Verity stood. He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Ayla and the children?”

  “Not coming. The children are too young for this Cougar, and Ab Jibil is too old.” He pulled the furs closer around his shoulders, they accentuated his broad muscular frame, making him even more intimidating.

  “It’s okay,” Oliver said, “I wouldn’t expect them to make the climb. All my goodbyes were said to the children weeks ago, although I doubt they’ll remember me.”

  Oliver’s metabolism had already slowed significantly, he appeared unaffected by the cold as he stared out across the vista far below. In contrast to Ponsy, he just wore a simple sleeveless tunic of canvas tied at the waist. Somewhere in that direction far beyond the highlands was the ocean, but even from this great height, it was still too far to be visible.

  “They will know about you, Cougar,” Ponsy said, “I will tell them.” He followed Oliver’s gaze across the scraggly landscape of the highlands below, the patches of dark red grass seemed symbolic. “The things you did,” Ponsy turned to Verity, “and you my lady.”

  “I told you not to call me that.” Verity laughed, punching him in the shoulder.

  Oliver smiled, to everyone else she was indeed Lady Verity. Still, after all these years of democracy, they were revered and called by these old monarchical titles, King Oliver and Lady Verity. Of course, Oliver never was technically king, ‘emissary and advisor’ had been his official position in the courts. It didn’t matter, to the people he was their king, he was loved. The thin iron band he wore on his head to denote his position as emissary may as well have been a royal crown.

  Oliver turned his gaze from the valley to the stone monastery, perched impossibly on the side of the mountain ridge behind them. He could only marvel at Ponsy’s architectural genius. Enormous hewn stones interlocked to support the foundations, which extended straight out from the mountain’s forty-five-degree face. These building techniques were unlike any Oliver had encountered in his lifetime. They were, simply put, otherworldly. Scaffolding surrounded sections still under construction. It would be years before completion of the monastery proper. It was beautiful in its modesty, black granite bastions mirrored others in slate grey, giving the structure a mesmerizing symmetry. So out of place in this hostile environment.

  “Four years to build,” Oliver remarked, shaking his head. “Hard to believe we managed it considering the logistics.”

  “You’re telling me Cougar!” Ponsy chuckled. “I was the one in charge of construction. There are advantages to having unlimited access to the royal coffers.” He ran his hand along the stone. “I know we’ve had this conversation, but are you sure I can’t convince you to use the main building? Look at it Cougar!” Ponsy examined his own handiwork, “I think this is my masterpiece.” He added quietly.

  It was true, Oliver had to admit, the main building was something of unique beauty.

  “No! We talked about this. We don’t know what’s going to change while we are sleeping. We can do all the planning, set up a democracy, but in my experience of Earth’s history, a lot can happen in a century and a half. Wars. Disease. If people come in a hundred years and start digging around, the main building is where they will look. It’s the obvious place–they will surely find us. We use the small guard house as planned!”

  “I told you Cougar, I will make sure that doesn’t happen.” Ponsy stood before Verity and Oliver in earnest. “It will be my family’s sacred duty to protect you both, and this building. My children will watch over your sleeping place, and then my grandchildren, and their children. In two hundred years you will be woken by a handsome descendant of mine.”

  “One hundred and fifty years!” Oliver corrected him. He glanced toward the small guard house then back to his friend with a wry smile. “While we are on this topic, Ponsy are you responsible for the stone masonry on our sarcophagus?”

  “You like those?” Ponsy asked. “I took care of them personally. Did you see the battle depicted on the side?”

  “I did see it. But you know when I think back to that battle, I don’t recall another large bald driver being involved...” Oliver’s brow furrowed, feigning consternation. “It was a long time ago though, it’s a bit fuzzy.”

  “Come on Cougar, I have to sell the story to my kids.”

  The two drivers looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

  “A little dramatic don’t you think?” Oliver remarked. “The massive stone lids remind me of a mix between a pharaoh's sarcophagus and a medieval knight’s tomb.” Meticulous carvings adorned the surface. Oliver knew Ponsy had chiseled them from the stone himself and had to acknowledge that the art was by all standards a masterpiece.

  “Cougar, I have no idea what a pharaoh’s sarcophagus...well whatever you said, but if they’re at all like my work then they must be grand.”

  Oliver grinned. His friend had illustrated their story on the side of the caskets, everything from their landing, the arduous trek through the broken landscapes in the western foothills of the black mountains, and battle scenes.

  Upon the upper half of the lid, Oliver’s grey stone face stared back at him. It was a remarkable likeness. Looking at his bearded stone face made him instinctively rub his hand across his
smooth chin. He had of course since shaved off his beard and long dark hair in preparations for hibernation. Nine years with a beard. He felt naked. A forgotten scar on his chin was visible again. Verity had laughed at the dramatic change in appearance, but her extra affection made Oliver think she didn’t mind the new look all that much.

  Ponsy had taken some liberty depicting Oliver’s iron headband, it looked regal, to say the least. He had added a crown to Verity’s image too. Her face was beautiful, peaceful. Side by side the two stone caskets would leave an imposing and royal impression to any future generations who should look upon them.

  Oliver would have preferred them to be non-descript, inconspicuous. He didn’t have the heart to tell Ponsy after seeing the effort he had gone to. If tomb raiders stumble on these stone caskets while we are inside, there’d be no mistaking that they’d hit the jackpot, he thought. I will have to make sure that the artificial wall hides us well. We can’t afford to be woken early. If we wake at all. He tried not to think about the risks they were about to undertake. He looked at Verity, she shuddered as an icy breeze swept around the ridge. Hopefully, a hundred and fifty years will be enough.

  1. Waking

  NINE YEARS EARLIER

  Oliver was waking. It was hard to come out of this deep slumber, and open his eyes. A whine in the background, a soft high pitched hum, was ever so slowly winding down. Were his eyes closed, or was it just dark in the room? He drifted off and started to dream.

  Wind was in his face, riding Blaze in the fields of Southland, her mane whipped his fingers. Why did the tussock grass smell metallic? This was just a memory, a dream. Oliver knew he was really lying in some sterile environment.

  And so it was that he began to wake again. Each time the sound in the background was slower. He was able to open his eyes and vaguely see dim shapes of walls around him. His body wouldn’t respond. It was so dreadfully cold, he could feel himself start to shake. He wanted to wrap his arms around himself, but his arms wouldn’t respond. And still, the dreams came.

  “They’re coming right at us! Scramble, scramble.” Oliver gave his squadron the order through the mouthpiece.

  The German Junker was banking continuously. Those old bombers were cumbersome and slow, but a damn nuisance. They could absorb a tremendous amount of fire, and still stay airborne!

  “Cougar! I’ve got one on my tail!” Fin’s voice crackled in his ear.

  “Hot damn Finlay!” Oliver replied. “Every single time I have to bail your ass out!” He pulled up, and left the bomber trailing smoke, but still flying. He had bigger fish to fry! The sky was peppered with dogfighting aircraft. A smoking oil trail streaked by the left side of his cockpit. That was close. Was it one of ours? He banked his spitfire to get a better look. German. The aircraft spiraled down to the waters below.

  “Fin I’ve got you in my sights,” Oliver called over the intercom. “Where’s the bogey?” He scanned the sky behind his friend. The distinctive yellow tipped wings of the German plane floated down from above, hovering directly in front of Oliver, putting his friend in its crosshairs. “I see it! Messerschmidt. Bank left! Bank left!” Oliver released a burst of rapid machine gun fire. The bullets trailed the enemy fighter, causing a plume of blue smoke to obscure his vision.

  “Haha. You got him!” Fin’s voice crackled when he yelled. “You beauty Cougar!”

  “Remind me why I keep you in the squad Fin!” Oliver said.

  “You really want to keep tabs Cougar?” Fin laughed.

  No, he didn’t! Fin had probably pulled him out of a bind more times than he could count.

  The screen went dark, then the familiar words ‘Victory’ appeared. His squadron were still first on the leaderboard. As squadron leader, Oliver’s alias appeared at the top. Cougar.

  “Alright squad, Wednesday same time!” Oliver said.

  “See you fools on the flip side! Red Baron out!”

  “Not if we see you first. By the way, nice work out there Cougar! Mustang21 out.”

  One by one they left the game.

  “Ollie, you still online?” Fin asked.

  “Yes, I’m here. What’s up, man?”

  “Did you think more about what I told you?” Fin asked enthusiastically. “The opportunity still stands with these people.”

  “I told you last time,” Oliver laughed, “it sounds like a cult! I can’t believe you’re still on this. Living forever? I mean, come on man. Look Fin, I have to go. Can’t spend my whole life playing computer games. Farm duties don’t wait. You wouldn’t understand cityboy.”

  “Ollie hang on a sec. These people, this is for real!”

  “Gotta go Fin. Talk on Wednesday.”

  Oliver started to wake again, and this time he could actually get his eyes open as he commanded them. Where the hell was he? He rolled his head to the side. He could see the faint outline of a person, uncovered, lying on a pedestal bed beside him. Are they naked? It was dim, he couldn’t tell. He rolled his head to the other side. A mirror image of what he just saw. Am I looking at mirrors? He tried to call out, but hardly any sound came out.

  The hum in the background had slowed so he could now hear the clicks that were making up the hum, they were deeper and irregular.

  Oliver slipped back into sleep. He dreamed of fighting and fleeing. But this time he wasn’t playing Cliffs of Dover with Fin. It was no game this time. A group of people were hiding behind a long bank on the side of a road. They were armed but lethargic. Expressions were dispirited, and vacant. Approaching across the field was something that resembled a person, but enclosed in eight foot tall clunky robotic armor. Such a strange dream. Flashes, explosions, screaming. Always the running.

  Oliver was sweating when he woke next or would have been if it wasn’t so damn cold.

  He used all his strength to call out. “Hey!” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  I just needed to get somebody’s attention, he thought. Can’t they see they I’m alive and shouldn’t be in the morgue? I’m not actually dead, am I?

  The noise in the background had started to resemble more of a long hum and then it would cease. Everything around him was gradually slowing down, or was he speeding up?

  I have to get off this bed and get out. Oliver thought desperately but just couldn’t rouse the strength to get his frozen body to respond. Couldn’t somebody see he needed help?

  Yes, there was definitely somebody lying beside him. It wasn’t a mirror. On the other side too! There was a machine or monitor hanging nearby. What a peculiar little thing! It had a red spherical body, orb-like, with a protruding arm. Could possibly be used by a doctor. Where was the stand? Maybe it was being hung from the ceiling by a string.

  “Anyone there?” Oliver’s voice was returning, but it took all his strength to call. “Hey! I…I need help! It’s cold, someone help!”

  He felt a tugging at the skin. Tubes in his veins? Both arms had medical apparatus coming out of them. I can’t be in a morgue! Why would they put tubes into a corpse? Unless I was being embalmed. These morbid thoughts plagued Oliver, as he slipped into sleep.

  “Fin we need you in the squadron. You can’t be serious about leaving!”

  “Ollie I’m going with them. It's your last chance! We are never going to get a chance like this! Opportunities like this come…well…never.”

  “Somebody has totally brainwashed you, dude. If I was in Auckland, I would come around and knock some sense into you myself,” Oliver muttered.

  “They’re not from here Ollie. Don’t you understand? They’re not from Earth. They are offering us an opportunity to go with them and to live for an incredibly long time and see things that we never dreamed.”

  “Finlay! Listen to yourself! It’s some cult!"

  “It’s not a cult, I’ve seen it! It’s true! And listen, I want you to come but…well if you don’t, I’m going alone!”

  ‘Going alone,’ those words kept ringing in his ears. Suddenly the scene changed. Fin was gone, and Oliver was in the h
ills, heading for some caves. The people around him were carrying all their worldly goods. Men, women, and children, hobbling as fast as they could. Fleeing. But from what? From whom?

  Oliver woke with fresh determination. He forced himself to sit up. The machine’s protruding arm was reaching out toward him. It swiveled and touched him on the arm. It was touching the tattoo on his shoulder, a mountain lion leaping, with the word ‘Cougar’ written underneath. He’d had his alias tattooed on his arm after the squadron hit number one on the leaderboard of the WW2 flight simulator. Countless hours spent online to claim that spot! Was it sad that his closest friends were guys and girls that he’d never even met in person? Most only knew him as Cougar.

  The little machine was persistent, annoyingly so. He tried to brush it away, but couldn’t.

  Oliver looked around and gasped. There were rows upon rows of people lying on slabs. He was in a room full of people all being monitored by devices at the head of the bed, and tubes in their arms, like him. Wait, somebody had removed his tubes! He swung his legs off the side of the gurney. He felt unstable.

  “Hey, is anyone here? Oliver called. He felt dizzy as he eased himself from the bed. His feet hit the ground, but his legs didn’t have the strength, they slowly buckled. He collapsed. Stars danced before his eyes. He grabbed the side of the bed to pull himself up but his head spun, and he fell into unconsciousness.

  He felt better when he woke. Who had put him back on the slab? He’d fallen unconscious right? There was no one around, just two machines beside him. He sat up, but this time waited to get his equilibrium back.

  Where am I? I must’ve been here some time. He gazed around at all the bodies. I must have been waking and sleeping over days, maybe weeks! Drugged and in a coma or something. But all these people… this isn't even a hospital!

  Sterile. Perfect and clean. There were no signs or food. The machines beside him moved slightly towards one side in anticipation of him getting off. What was bugging him about these machines? They’re probably watching me. Remote controlled from somewhere else just down the hall, or wherever it is that I am. I will fix that, I will smash one of them then they will come.