Partials

by Dan Wells

  The water got deeper as the harbor opened up, and soon the boat was floating freely, they pushed it even farther, toward water deep enough to take their added weight. Samm helped them into the boat, then climbed in himself. Marcus and Jayden found oars, and they pushed north toward open water.

  “We’re safe,” Kira sighed. Xochi was already asleep.

  “Safe from your people,” said Samm, looking north toward the mainland. “Now we have to face mine.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “We’re going to land near Mamaroneck,” said Samm. He squinted at the sky, then back at the distant shore. “I think.”

  The bay they had left was long and thin, and they didn’t dare to try the boat’s motor until the shores on either side fell away and the dark blue sound opened up around them. It worked fitfully, but it worked, and they headed north as straight as they could until the sky began to lighten and the featureless horizon became tinged with the green and brown of the mainland. They angled toward it, curving west. Kira hoped the motor would last until they got there; she was far too tired to row.

  “Mamaroneck?” asked Jayden. “That might actually be a sillier name than Asharoken.”

  “Mamaroneck is a good spot,” said Samm. “It’s a little farther south than I’d like to be, but nobody’s stationed there. We should be able to land without being seen.”

  “How important is it that we aren’t seen?” asked Marcus. “These different factions—are we talking about differing movie opinions or full-scale holy war opinions?”

  “If they see us, they’ll attack us,” said Samm. “I’ll be imprisoned and used for leverage in one dispute or another, and I don’t know what they’ll do to you.”

  Kira looked up at the stars. “I take it not all the factions are as friendly as yours.”

  “Mine isn’t especially friendly either,” he said quickly. “Just because they sent a peace proposal doesn’t mean they’ll open their arms to any human that walks in. Our disagreements with the other factions are … heated, and that’s made us cautious, and over time that’s made us suspicious. We still have to approach carefully.”

  “How can we tell the factions apart?” asked Xochi. “Do you have different uniforms, or… I don’t know, different-colored hats?”

  “I don’t know if you can without the link,” said Samm. “My faction is called D Company, and most of us still wear that insignia, but honestly by the time you’re that close it’s probably too late. We’re talking about a war zone.”

  The motor cut out again, sputtering to a stop. Jayden stood up, yanking on the pull cord a few useless times, then hit it with a wrench and yanked again. The motor came back on with a sound even feebler than before.

  “Old gas,” said Jayden, throwing the wrench back into the bottom of the boat. “It’s either killing the engine or running out. Either way we’re going to end up rowing the last mile or two.”

  “Who are we going to run into?” asked Kira, looking at Samm. “How much of a war zone are we talking about?”

  “The main group of rebels is north,” said Samm, “in a place called White Plains, and beyond that in Indian Point. They’re the ones who run the reactor.”

  “Whoa,” said Xochi, “a nuclear reactor?”

  “Of course,” said Samm. “How else would we get our energy?”

  “Solar panels,” said Xochi simply. “That’s what we use.”

  “And it’s probably sufficient for your needs,” said Samm. “The nuclear plant in Indian Point used to power hundreds of millions of homes before the war—now that there’s not much more than a million of us left, it generates more than enough for anything we could ever need. The rebels maintain it. D Company found a way to tap into it a few years ago, and they still haven’t noticed.”

  “But nuclear power is dangerous,” said Xochi. “What if something happens? What if it leaks or melts down or whatever?”

  “A lot of them did,” said Samm. “When RM hit and the humans started dying—when you really started to disappear, and we knew there was nothing we could do to stop it—we found as many nuclear plants as we could and then shut them down safely. There’s another one in Connecticut, just sixty miles away from you guys across the sound.” He pointed to the northeast. “If that had gone into meltdown, you’d probably all be dead.”

  “Right,” said Jayden derisively. “The noble Partials trying to save mankind.”

  Samm nodded. “Haven’t you ever wondered why the world isn’t more messed up than it is? Why the cities aren’t burning, why the air isn’t black with nuclear fallout? You died too quickly—some of you had time to shut off the power plants and the factories before you disappeared, but not everyone, and all it takes is one unattended reactor to cause a lethal meltdown. Even when we realized what was happening, we couldn’t shut them all down; we lost one in New Jersey, and another in Philadelphia, and more and more as you move west across the continent. That’s why we tend to stay east of the Hudson. Other parts of the world had even more reactors than we did, but without an army of Partials to step in and stop them, we think a lot more of them may have gone critical. Maybe as many as half.”

  Nobody spoke. The coughing buzz of the motor filled the boat. We always wondered if there were more survivors, thought Kira. The RM immunity would have left the same percentage alive in other countries that it left in ours.

  Is it really possible that everyone else is dead?

  “The question about what to do with you is what eventually split us apart,” Samm continued softly. “Some wanted to just finish you off, but most of us, like I said, wanted to save you. Even then, we couldn’t agree on the best way to do it. The arguments grew … heated. To say the least. And then the first wave of our leaders started dying, and it all fell apart. D Company is practically all that’s left of the truly obedient Partials—the only ones with a direct link to the Trust.”

  “And what’s the Trust?” asked Kira.

  “The senior command,” said Samm, “the generals of the Partial army, and probably from advanced genetic templates, because none of them have died. Well—none of them have died from an inherent expiration date. There were eight of them, men and women, but I think the rebels may have killed two, or at least captured them.” His voice changed as he said this, and his expression grew dark. “It was the Trust that told D Company where to make our base, and when to approach the humans.”

  “I’m getting the impression that D Company is relatively small,” said Marcus. “That’s wonderful—we finally form an alliance, and it’s with a persecuted splinter group just as messed up as we are. This’ll make the rest of the Partials even more determined to kill us.”

  The engine died again, and this time no amount of yanking and beating and swearing could get it running again. Samm and Marcus took the first turn at the oars, pulling hard toward the shore, and soon the green line became dotted with white: a wide harbor filled with boats. They reached the first line in just half an hour: large yachts anchored far from shore, covered stem to stern with seagull droppings. Kira wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “I was hoping to trade up for a new boat, but these are unusable.”

  “They’re too big anyway,” said Samm, stowing his oars as their boat bumped gently against the stained hull of another. “We can’t row them, and I assume none of us knows how to sail.” They shook their heads. “At the very least we can stop and look for supplies.”

  “Okay,” said Kira, “but not this one. I don’t want us getting … bird flu, or bird diarrhea, or whatever that stuff will give you.”

  Samm nodded.

  They rowed to the next boat, then the next, working their way farther into the harbor until finally finding a yacht that looked clean enough to board—still filthy, but not as bad, and their options were running out. They maneuvered around to the back, where the name Show Me the Money III was emblazoned across it in faded letters. Marcus gripped the stern while Samm climbed aboard.

  “The rest of you wait here,
” said Samm. He climbed over and descended into the depths of the yacht, and Marcus leaned close to Kira.

  “What do you think?” he whispered. “Do you still trust him?”

  “He hasn’t done anything to change my mind,” said Kira.

  “Not directly, no,” said Marcus, “but that story was… I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in.”

  “At least it’s plausible,” said Jayden. “We’ve always wondered why the Partials turned around and left eleven years ago, and why they’ve never attacked us since. If they’re too busy fighting one another to bother with us, that makes a little more sense.”

  “I’m still suspicious,” said Marcus. “Something about this place doesn’t feel right.”

  Samm emerged with an armload of objects from the yacht. “Bad news,” he said. “According to the boat’s harbor papers, we’re in Echo Bay, not Mamaroneck, which means we’ve gone a lot farther west than I thought. There’s a map here that should help us get back on track.” He handed the items down to Kira, who took them carefully into their boat: a map, a pair of binoculars, a deck of cards, and a pile of clothes and blankets. “I haven’t had a change of clothes since you captured me,” said Samm, stripping off his rumpled uniform. “Plus this yacht is filthy.” Kira couldn’t help but stare at his chest and arms, more chiseled than she would have expected after two weeks of being tied to a chair. She looked away after a second, feeling foolish, while Samm stripped down to his underwear and dove into the water. Marcus glanced at Kira, giving her his You can’t be serious look, but Xochi watched the athletic Partial surface with obvious appreciation. He climbed back into their boat, dried himself as best he could with a blanket, and slipped into a new set of clothes.

  Kira unfolded the map, searching the sound for Echo Bay. “You’re right,” she said. “This is a lot farther west than I thought. Where is D Company?”

  Samm looked over her shoulder, pointing at a spot along the coast. “Greenwich; like you, we built our city around a hospital. Looks like it’s about twelve, thirteen miles away.”

  “That’s not bad,” said Jayden.

  “It’s not,” said Samm, “but that route goes through rebel territory, here.” He pointed at a spot about halfway along. “We could search for another boat and try to skirt the coast, but I don’t recommend it. Our engine barely made it here, and I think there’s a storm coming.”

  “I don’t exactly want to travel through enemy territory, though,” said Kira. “We won’t be able to hide, thanks to your link—as soon as they get close, they’ll know exactly where you are.”

  “Also true.” Samm nodded.

  “We’ve still got gas,” said Jayden, checking the engine. “That means the problem’s with the motor itself.”

  “Then let’s find a new boat,” said Kira. “The longer we can go before walking, the better. Our nine-mile run last night almost killed us.”

  They rowed through the harbor, searching for a boat they could handle, and finally found one docked on the side of a much larger yacht—a lifeboat, maybe, or a backup designed for emergencies. Samm climbed aboard, peeled off the cracking canvas cover, and fired up the motor. It started on the fourth try and purred much more evenly than their first boat. He and Marcus and Jayden managed to unhook it from the yacht and dump it into the water, and then the five travelers transferred their gear from one boat to the next. It was much smaller—a rowboat with a motor, not the fancy motorboat they’d been riding in thus far—but it held them, and the engine worked, and Marcus steered them back out of the harbor and north toward D Company.

  “Farther out from the shore,” said Samm. Marcus steered away from land, deeper into the sound, and Samm watched the shore with nervous eyes. “Farther.”

  “Too much farther and we can’t see the shore at all anymore,” said Marcus. “We’ll get lost again.”

  “I can see the shore just fine,” said Samm. “Which means anyone on the shore can see us. Go farther.”

  Marcus frowned and glanced at Kira, but steered farther out into the water. The mainland was a distant line on the horizon now, barely even visible. Samm watched it intently, giving Marcus minor course corrections when necessary. Kira and Xochi and Jayden lay in the bow, draped uncomfortably over the fiberglass benches, trying to get some sleep.

  It was Marcus who first spotted the storm.

  “How long have we been out here?” he asked, his hand still guiding the rudder. “Is the sky supposed to be that dark this early in the morning?”

  “Wind’s picked up as well,” said Samm. “It’s cooler than it was a few minutes ago.”

  “I’ve seen a few of these sound storms from the shore,” said Jayden, sitting up. He looked worried. “They get pretty heavy out here, or at least it always looks that way.”

  “I’ll turn toward shore,” said Marcus, but Samm stopped him.

  “We’re passing rebel territory right now,” he said, looking at the map and then peering back out to the north. “It’s not safe.”

  “Have you seen the sky?” asked Marcus, pointing to the thick gray clouds. “That’s not exactly safe either.”

  “This boat barely fits us,” said Kira. The water was choppy now, bucking the boat gently as they plowed forward through the waves. “If it gets too rough out here, we’ll flip right over.”

  “We can’t go in,” Samm insisted. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Then everybody hold on,” said Marcus. “This is about to get a lot more exciting than we’d planned for.”

  The storm raced toward them, and they to it; Kira felt fat drops of rain on her face, mingling with the salty spray of the sea. They pulled out their blankets and cowered under them for shelter, but the rain seemed to be coming almost horizontally with the wind. The sky grew dark above them, an eerie half-light, and the small boat started rolling with the waves.

  “I’m going closer to shore,” said Marcus, turning the rudder before Samm could protest. “It’s impossible to see in this storm anyway—no one’s going to spot us.”

  The storm grew worse, the drops giving way to thin, slashing knives of rain. Kira gripped the side of the boat tightly, holding on to Xochi with her other hand, certain that each new wave would be the one to dump them over the side. She was soaked to the bone. It was nearly as dark now as it had been last night.

  “Get us closer to shore,” she shouted to Marcus, grabbing Xochi’s arm even tighter as another wave lurched the ship up and sideways.

  “I’m going straight toward it already,” shouted Marcus. “Or at least I was last time I could see it. I’m just afraid the ocean’s trying to turn us around.”

  “We’re too heavy,” shouted Jayden. “We have to lighten the load.”

  Kira tossed her backpack over the side, keeping her guns and strapping her medkit tight around her shoulders. Xochi dug through her bag and Marcus’s, salvaging what ammunition she could, then threw the rest over after Kira’s. The boat rocked violently until it seemed to Kira that they were being tossed around almost at random. She had no idea what direction they were pointing, or where they were going, when suddenly a giant rock appeared through the rain ahead of them. Marcus swore and turned to the side, trying to miss it, but another wave of rain slashed down and covered it again, plunging them back into the same gray chaos as before. She thought she saw a tree to her left—a tree, in the middle of the ocean—but it disappeared so quickly she couldn’t be sure. We must be near the shore, Kira thought, it’s the only explan— and then a giant white shape loomed out of the water beside them, slamming into them with a boom that nearly tipped the boat. It was another yacht, straining against its anchor before being pulled back under the waves. A surge of water picked them up, nearly throwing them through the air, and Kira heard herself screaming, felt herself choking on rain and seawater splashing up from over the side. Water sloshed madly in the bottom of the boat, but they were still upright.

  “Hold on!” she shouted, useless and obvious, but she felt powerless and had to say somet
hing. The wind roared in her ears and blew mad shapes through the rain around them. Another yacht reared up, missing them by half an arm’s length, and then they were once again lost in the roiling limbo of the open sea.

  Marcus was shouting, but she couldn’t hear the words. He pointed, and she turned to look; the rain was so fierce she could barely see, squinting her eyes almost shut to keep out the rock-hard pellets of rain. She saw it too late, but doubted there would be anything she could have done anyway—a massive black wave, as high as building, crashing toward them from the side. She had just enough presence of mind to take a breath and hold it, and then the wave struck and the world went away.

  Space became meaningless—there was no up or down, no left or right, just force and pressure and acceleration, ripping her through a cold, seething nothingness. She lost her grip on Xochi’s arm, then found it again, clinging desperately to the only solid thing in the universe. The wave carried her farther, dragging her through the formless void until she thought her lungs would burst, and suddenly she was in the air, tumbling. She took a breath just in time to hit a wall of water and have it knocked out of her again. She held fiercely to the arm, never letting go, irrationally certain that it was the only thing keeping her alive. The second wave passed and she bobbed up from the water, sucking in a long, desperate breath half mixed with seawater. She choked and breathed again. Another wave crashed down, and she was gone.

  Rocks. Heat. Kira woke with a start, trying to get her bearings, disoriented by the sudden change from angry ocean to solid ground. She coughed, spitting up slick, salty water.

  “You’re alive,” said a voice. Samm. She looked around, finding herself in some kind of marsh next to a low rock wall. Samm knelt against it, looking out with the binoculars. Beyond the wall, the sea lay still and placid.

  “We’re on land,” said Kira, still trying to process the situation. “What happened?” She looked around in sudden panic. “Where are the others?”