Copyright © 2018 by Power Shift Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews—without written permission from the author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
I have used the city of Cincinnati as the location for this series. Please understand that this book is fiction, and I have bent the settings of certain areas to fit in with what the story needs. The Cincinnati in this book is not completely accurate.
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Prologue:
Upon the dirt, their feet shambled forward, each resident edged one by one into the courtyard of River’s Edge Academy. A row of Second Alliance Guards formed a wall that corralled these lines of people into the lower half of the yard, ensuring they remained impacted. Shoulders pressed to bodies. Bodies to backs. One push and they would all topple over.
Without a choice, they simply stood there—astonished faces, solemn, much thinner now than in days past. Some clasped hands in preparation. Unnerved. Silent as they looked on.
“That’s all of them!” a Guard said before sliding back inside the door to the hallway and clicking the latch, prompting the Guard across the yard to do the same.
Collectively, the people’s faces twisted to see past one another—behind them—anticipating the death of one of their own. They knew it wouldn’t be long, dreading his arrival, the realization of a broken promise—sworn words taken back.
A clink of metal and the sharp gasp of the crowd sucked the air from the opened door. The prisoner stumbled forward, led by a noose around his neck to the scaffolding that had been arranged against the southern wall. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he pulled, fought from his forced path. “Quit your struggling!” A quick jerk of the rope and his feet fell back in line.
The Guards that encircled the crowd ensured no eyes were diverted from this spectacle. Three others that escorted the man kept any sympathetic hand from him. There would be no saving this prisoner. Nothing could go wrong. Not today.
“Keep your eyes on the grazing field,” a Sentry posted in a watch tower yelled to his counterpart. “Do your job, man!”
“And miss this?” His partner scoffed. “How often does something like this happen? It’s ‘bout time we get to see some action.”
“You're sick,” the Sentry said while turning back toward the field he had been assigned to observe.
“It's his damned fault. Treason they said. Not sure of the details, but I don't really care.” His overzealous eyes watched every detail unfold. “Guilty’s all I need to know.”
A stiff wind cut across the prisoner, causing his balance to waver as he stood ten feet from the ground. The metal and wood creaked as two Guards moved about the scaffolding. Their movements were deliberate and rehearsed. Their hands worked to place the rope up and then over, securing the end to a lower portion of the frame. Another rope placed then tightened around his legs. The Guards jerked hard at the rope each time the knots were made.
The two Guards brought him upright, their arms interlocked within his elbows. With his knees bent, he practically hovered in place. The black hood that wrapped the man's face puffed outward then in as his breaths sped forth.
The crowd maintained its silence while the muffled hysteria within the hood touched upon their ears—it was unknown to them what horrors were being said.
“Let him go!”
“He doesn’t deserve it!”
“Stop!” A Soldier—an iron man—raised his rifle as if to fire, but didn’t. “It won’t be too much longer.”
Chapter One
One Week Prior… Day 853.
The sun crested the horizon, pushing morning light through the slits in the metal sheets that now covered the alcoves in the wall. Broken glass had been swept from the floor, and gradually, over time, bits of rubble flaked from the stressed concrete and brick replaced it.
A flickering dust danced through the rays of light as it moved across the stained linoleum floor toward Xavier. He began to stir from his dream as the light crept up the legs of his cot.
“Xavier, I have to go, honey. I’m sorry.”
“Mom, no. You have to stay. Please!”
“Brown County’s in rough shape. There just aren’t enough physicians to help with all the sick people out there. I have to go. I have a duty to help others.”
“You can stay here. People need help here, too.”
“Dad’s going to stay with you two. He’ll handle things while I’m gone. He’s fully capable of caring for you both.”
“But he’s not a doctor. What if we get sick? What if Dad gets sick? I can’t handle that. You know me and Tara can’t do that.”
“None of you are going to get sick, but if you do, I’ll come back, okay? Here's the number for where I'll be. Don’t worry. Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s just a flu virus. It’s just giving people a cough.”
“But Matt said people are dying. He said that a lot of people are dying from this.”
“Matt doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ve been following this thing for a while now. The folks that have died already had issues. They’re not dying because of this. Healthy people don’t die from the flu.”
“Promise?”
“Of course I do.”
“Please say it.”
“I promise nothing bad will happen.”
“You can't promise that if you aren't here.”
“Xavier, ju— don’t do this. You and your sister are both good, healthy kids. I’ll probably be gone a month. No longer than that. You have to stop worrying about this.”
“How can you leave your family to go take care of strangers?”
“Xavier, please! It’s already hard enough. You’ll understand when you’re older. Someday, you’ll have to stick your neck out there for something bigger than yourself. It’s just my turn do it now.”
“But we’ll miss you. It’s not going to be the same if you’re gone.”
“You know I’ll miss you too. I'll never stop thinking about you guys. You better help your dad and mind after your sister. I’ll be back. I promise I’ll be back.”
“I believe you, Mom.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Xavier pulled a worn blanket, patched with old curtains and duct tape, over his head—just a little while longer before having to face life again. If only sleep could bring enough time to get through this, bring about the old, familiar world.
His eyes twitched in response to the alarm clock begging him to wake. He grabbed it from the floor and began to wind its crank. It had to be done carefully, replacing it would be nearly impossible.
The curled knuckles of his index fingers worked the sleep from his eyes. He loosely wrapped the ticking clock inside a t-shirt, slid it underneath the cot, and grabbed the only pair of shoes he owned. They rested side by side in front of him as he sat with his hands tucked underneath his chin. He sighed. Would today be the day they finally rejected him? He forced his feet, one at a time, past the tongues of his miserable shoes. A sense of relief curled his lips into a smile.
He stood from his cot, barely awake, with both feet pressed firm
ly against the floor, stretching his fingers toward the ceiling. The walls seemed to be pulled in by several feet—his personal space dwindling. It was only a matter of time until they started fabricating bunk beds out of old scaffolding or whatever scrap they could find. This is crazy. How many more people are they going to try and cram in here?
Xavier pinched two corners of his worn blanket, flung the other end forward, and floated it down over his empty cot as he eyed a few of the Second Alliance Guards doing the same. It doesn’t matter how many of them end up staying here. They’ll never be one of us. It’s not possible. Nobody wants you guys here. Don’t care how much protection you think you give us.
He glared at them a bit longer before starting toward the opposite wall of the sleeping quarters, moving past the cots of the other residents assigned there—each person waking to their own individual routine. Their groans and yawns acted as birds calling out, each one responding, growing louder, trying to outdo one another. The odor of sweat and moist bedding went unnoticed. Xavier had been there long enough for his nose to accept it as simply, air.
“Hey, do you mind if I—?” Xavier pointed to the footlocker at the end of Matt’s cot.
“Naw, you're good,” Matt said. “You know you don’t have to ask, man.” He rubbed across his patchy moustache and beard. “Haven’t shaved in a long time. I think it’s starting to come in really good now. What do you think?”
Xavier shot him a look. It doesn’t look any different.
“You’ll start getting yours soon enough.”
“I already have.” Xavier looked up at Matt, turning his head so he could show off the two hairs poking from his chin. “See.”
“Nice.” Matt smirked. “A real man now.”
“Whatever…”
Xavier pushed the footlocker against the eastern wall. He ran his hand up and down the metal sheet that rested where a window once hung. It was generally smooth, but high-caliber gunfire had spoiled its overall condition—some spots worse than others. The slits in the metal sheets provided a limited view of the world beyond River’s Edge. Xavier from time to time would peek out. This one time… Mom. Dad. Come on! Come home… I need you guys. I don’t want to do this alone anymore. Today, only the trees and wild brush swaying in the wind greeted him.
In the distance, he could spot the houses which broke the natural line of trees that ran along the hillsides, eventually giving way to the skyscrapers of downtown—those dreary colossal figures. The throughways to the urban core were barren. The automobiles that cruised the smooth concrete were forgotten, waiting in their driveways and garages. The scene appeared as a model that was never touched by its creator—habitable, but abandoned.
Xavier remembered life before. Before the Almawt virus ripped the world apart. It had been over two years since the last victim passed away. Over two years since the structures built by the most dominant species Earth had ever known lay dormant. Houses, where the middle class raised their children, no longer lit up the hillsides. The manicured lawns and paved roads were filled with weeds and dust. Although he couldn’t bring himself to return there, he could still point out his house among the tall oaks and ash trees.
“Thanks.” Xavier left the alcove and returned the footlocker.
“Any luck today?” Matt asked.
“I’m not sure luck exists anymore.”
“It does. Just takes more to find it.” He patted Xavier on the back and then squeezed his shoulder. “Your dad told us the only way to lose is by giving up. Just gotta keep looking for it.”
“Yeah, I guess so…” Xavier’s voice faded as he looked toward the alcove again. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been out there. It’s kind of crazy to think about, huh?”
“Yeah…” Matt nodded. “Hey! You got something new going on today?”
“I won’t really know until I get over to the shop. You know how Grant is.” Xavier rolled his eyes. “We always have something new he wants to get started on. It feels like we never get anything done, but… whatever. What about you?”
“Me and Jenny gotta make some repairs to the wall on the river side. Some Guard saw someone on a motorboat passing through. Freaked him out or something, so they just want some stuff fixed up. Shouldn’t take more than a day or two,” he said, reassuring himself. “Just can’t help but think that boating’s a waste of gas.”
“Did they do anything other than cruise through?”
“Naw, not that I know. They don't really tell me nothing. Just fix this or fix that. You know how things go around here now.” Matt gestured toward one of the Guards. “Everything’s a secret now.”
Xavier nodded. “You mentioned Jenny. How’s she doing?” Xavier’s face filled up with a partial grin.
“Meh, still nosy as ever.” Matt shook his head with a discouraged look upon his face. “Always in someone else’s business, and I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. She don’t listen. I didn’t have a choice but to end it. She's gonna get into trouble someday.”
“Probably. She's really cute though.” Xavier held a completely full grin now.
“Get outta here.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but…” He leaned in toward Matt. “If you two aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
“Go on! Get outta here,” he said while nudging Xavier away. “You about ready?”
Matt bent down, unlocked his footlocker, and grabbed a small, canvas bag from inside. Xavier did the same from his, and they made their way down the hall to the bathroom.
…
“Barely gonna be a wait for us today,” Matt said, as he placed his feet in line for the sinks during the morning rush.
“Good. We might not have much time before they take the lamps out to recharge.” Xavier eyed the solar-powered lanterns that were strung across the ceiling.
The men’s room was relatively open now. Toilets had been discarded in favor of a long white trough running the length of the room. It was secured to the wall at a slight downward angle ultimately terminating into a pipe that took the liquid waste from the building and into the river.
The sinks were relatively unchanged from the past, evenly spaced from one another, hanging from the wall opposite the trough. The only additions to them were the pipes that ran down from the ceilings.
Without running water, they had to rely on gravity and the reservoir tanks that rested on the school’s roof. Each sink’s pipe was fixed with two separate valves—one to get your allowance of water and the other to slowly release it for use. Each had a bucket underneath that caught the gray water from the drains.
Xavier and Matt hustled to find a spot in line for the sinks during the morning rush.
They waited patiently as their places in line moved them closer to the sinks. The chatter and laughter growing inside the room echoed, drowning out any individual conversation. The old bathroom etiquette of no eye contact and no talking was tossed aside. It was now a social event.
Xavier stepped forward, unzipped his bag, and placed his toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink. He tightened the lower valve of the water pipe and loosened the top one. The pipe filled with his allowance. He reversed the order, and a slow trickle began to run over his toothbrush. After he finished brushing his teeth, he splashed his face and ran the remaining water through his hair. He put away his things and went to leave.
“Hey! You better dump that bucket.”
He turned back toward the sinks and caught the scornful look of Geoff Rupert, his beady eyes locking onto Xavier. Geoff was the unfortunate man tasked with maintaining the latrines. And, if that wasn't bad enough, the job included the outdoor bucket holes and burying the excrement outside the town’s wall.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was above the line.” Damn it—Xavier pulled the bucket from underneath the sink and put a spare one in its place—don’t apologize to that jerk. That’s why he has that crappy job. He’s too dense to realize if he’d only play nice, maybe he could do something else. Maybe he’d have someone on his
side for a change.
He waddled over to the trough, the bucket unsteady in his grip. He set it on the floor and then relieved himself into the channel. Once he was finished, he leaned the bucket against the higher end and tilted it to a slow pour.
The gray, filmy water rushed toward the drainage pipe lifting whatever other filth lay along the way. It pooled at the bottom, waiting its turn to escape into the Ohio River. He noticed Rupert watching him as he returned the bucket. His close-set eyes glaring hate into Xavier's being.
“There we go,” Xavier said, as he placed the bucket with the spares.
“Took you long enough.” Rupert puffed his chest out. “Don’t let it happen again.”
Xavier stared at him while shaking his head, then very deliberately spoke above the crowd, “I’ll see you later, Matt.”
Matt turned toward him, his eyes wide while trying to force a few words through a mouthful of toothpaste. He reached for Xavier, begging him to stop, but it was too late. Xavier had spun straight into a Guard—his body recoiled then crumpled to the floor.
“Watch it!”
Xavier looked up at him while scrambling to gather his feet underneath him. “Sorry. I—I—“
“Don’t let it happen again.” The Guard stepped over him rather than around. “What’re you lookin’ at?” he snapped at the onlookers, but no one dared speak.
Xavier fled from the bathroom. I’m so sick of this crap. He returned to his footlocker to secure his toiletries, slamming the lid in the process. I should light their beds on fire. Do something. He sighed and took a quick look around. I could get away with it. Who would tell? No one likes these guys. Seriously, who the hell would say anything? A few strong footsteps broke up his thoughts as they neared. Another Guard. Whatever… screw these guys. Xavier watched the man for a moment before heading out. Time for work. Again.
He drifted toward the maintenance shop, being led there by a discoloration of the floor that grew darker the closer you came. Xavier stopped—Classroom 101 always seemed to get in the way. The old desks were still there. ‘X was here’ carved along the bottom edge of the one. A juvenile act done against a dare. He immediately regretted it upon finishing. Not that he faced any punishment for it. It just wasn’t like him to do it. He was a good student and had a fond recollection of school.
Almawt Virus Series (Book 2): Days Since...Xavier [Day 853] Page 1
