The Chronotrace Sequence- The Complete Box Set

by D J Edwardson

  “How do you know me? I thought Raif said you came from out in the desert,” she said when he didn’t reply.

  Adan could see her thoughts working even though he had no direct connection to her mind. She was anxious and excited all at once, wondering who he was and what he knew, but most of all wondering if he could tell her anything about the world outside of Oasis. She was much like he had been when he first woke up in the Institute—confused, scared, and desperate for any information about her past.

  “Yes, but before that I was in the Institute,” Adan said. “You were my handler there.”

  She blinked several times. “So, you were a patient?”

  “We met only once. You probably don’t remember me.”

  “No, I…I’m afraid not.” She pulled out a cloth and dipped it in the bowl of water. Besides his broken bones, Adan had numerous nicks and cuts on his hands and face which she began to gently clean with the rag. “We only learned enough to take care of the patients we were handling. Once they left our care, we…forgot about them. I’m not sure how the Administrators did it, but they made sure we didn’t remember very much.” She paused, holding the rag in her lap. Dim glimpses of her memories floated through her mind. They were disjointed and incomplete and Adan couldn’t say exactly what they were about.

  “I’m sorry, but you never told me your name the last time,” Adan said.

  “Oh, of course. We never did that. My name is Sierra.” A smile flickered briefly across her face. She dipped the cloth in the water again, but instead of wiping Adan’s wounds she wrung it until all the water went out.

  “I’m Adan.”

  “Yes, Raif told me.”

  “So you don’t remember me. What do you remember?”

  “Hardly anything. I have images, flashes, but none of them are connected. It would be easier to go on if—if I knew more, or even if I could just meet someone who knew me.”

  Adan had thought that exact same thing hundreds of times.

  She looked down and noticed the dry rag. Her cheeks flushed and she dipped the cloth back into the basin and resumed cleaning his wounds.

  “I heard the Developers kept a backup of our memories in something called the Repository,” Adan said, trying to offer some hope. “I can’t help but think that somehow, somewhere, we’ll find our memories again.”

  She gave him a half-hearted smile. “Maybe,” she said quietly, but Adan could tell she put little faith in his words.

  When Sierra finished with the rag she reached into a small pack she wore on her hip. She pulled out a clay container and removed the lid. Though his bioseine dulled the smell, Adan could see from the greenish color and thick texture that it was almamenth.

  “Do you think that will be enough to heal my broken collarbone and cracked ribs? Is almamenth really that powerful?”

  “No, but it will make you stronger. We’ll cover the injured areas with yeso. That will help set your bones, though it will take a long time for you to fully heal.”

  “I’m not familiar with that. Yeso?”

  “It’s a paste that hardens on your skin,” she explained, beginning to rub some of the almamenth near the wound on his arm. “You’ll see how it works when I put it on. But first, let’s finish this.”

  The way Sierra applied the almamenth so gently reminded him of Senya. She had the same worn look to her face. Though obviously younger than Senya, in some ways Sierra’s face was even more troubled. She had the haunted look of someone who has not yet had time to recover from a tragedy, where the hurts are still fresh and the pain still lingers.

  After she finished applying the paste, she pulled out a silver rod not much longer than her hand and pointed it towards him. Yellow lights emitted from the end of it, sending shifting patterns across his shoulder and chest. Adan remembered seeing one of those devices back in the Institute.

  “Does that help to heal me also?” he asked.

  “No, it’s just an activator. We use it for diagnosis.”

  “I could let you connect to my bioseine,” Adan said. “It would be quicker.” Now that he was out of the storm, he could sense the presence of her bioseine as well as several other Sentients in nearby rooms.

  “No, that’s all right,” she replied, “I prefer to use the activator.”

  Adan nodded and said nothing more, watching as she completed the scan.

  “We’re going to need a lot of yeso,” she said, shaking her head. “We may have to make a fresh batch.”

  “Where do you get supplies in these ruins? Do you have a shifter or something?”

  “A shifter?” Sierra asked, scrunching up her nose so that for a moment the sorrow in her face disappeared. She actually looked a bit funny. “No, we don’t have access to anything like that. We just make what we need from the powders in the rocks.”

  The last time Adan had heard anything about gleaning material from the rocks he was with the Welkin. He wondered if Sierra was talking about the same thing.

  “So you mix them with water?” he asked, recalling the methods he had heard about.

  “Yes,” Sierra said. “There’s a large vadi that lies just beneath the surface of Oasis. None of us knew about it before, but when the storm came through, it exposed some of it to the open air again. We found tunnels like this one that were used to tap into it. We came down here at first just for shelter, but we also found food and water.”

  “Wait, why do you call them ‘vadis’?” Adan asked, giving her a curious look. “Where did you learn that word?”

  “Oh, those are large rocks the Waymen use to gather water from. Sorry, I don’t know any other word for them.” Sierra said. “The Waymen taught us the word, as well as how to use them.”

  “You know about the Waymen?” It felt like the wind had just blown away sand from some hidden object, buried in the desert. The Waymen were here?

  A hint of life glimmered in her eyes. “Of course. They’re the only reason any of us are still alive.”

  Thirteen

  Rethinking

  Adan stared at Sierra, his mouth gone slack.

  “What’s wrong?” Sierra asked.

  “The Waymen—they’re helping you?” he finally stammered. “But…they came here to attack you, not to help.”

  Sierra put away her activator rod and pulled the clear plastic bottle off her belt. “Here, take some water. You need it.” Placing her hand beneath his neck, she tilted his head up so that he could take a drink.

  As he drank, she talked. “Some of the Waymen did attack us at first, but we met others who helped. It was hard to trust them at first, but we were desperate and hungry. They taught us how to survive.”

  Adan took a breath after having gulped down close to half the bottle.

  “That’s hard to believe,” he said.

  “The Waymen told us about raiding and fighting each other,” Sierra said, “But I think the battle affected some of them. I don’t think they were prepared for what they saw when they came here. It made them rethink things.”

  He handed her back the bottle with a thank you. She stared at it for a moment as if she were somehow sad that it was empty, but Adan saw her thoughts turning back to those first few days after the Wayman attack and the storm that destroyed Oasis. Like the Waymen, she was navigating a new reality as well, one where her life was no longer controlled by the Developers.

  “You were happier the last time we met,” Adan said. “At least you seemed to be.”

  “You think so?” she paused, considering his words for a moment. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could go back to the way things were. But then I realize that it wasn’t really me, that wasn’t really my life. It was more like a dream. We were happy because anything that threatened our happiness was taken away.”

  “How did you figure out what was going on?” he asked.

  “The assessors told us. A few of them survived. I think most of them stayed with the Administrators, but some joined the Sentients. They’re the other reason we’ve bee
n able to survive—them and Bryce.”

  Adan’s heart quickened at the mention of Bryce’s name.

  “Can I ask you something?” He looked her directly in the eye to make sure he had her attention. “What do you know about Bryce? What’s he here for?”

  “He came to stop the Administrators. He also told us about how they were controlling us and manipulating our memories. He knows even more than the assessors. He says no one will be safe in the Vast until the Admins are dealt with.”

  “I’ve heard words like that before,” Adan said. “I wonder how he knows so much.”

  “He says he came from here. That they did some experiments on him,” she gave a trusting shrug. “Maybe you should talk to him yourself. Most of what I’ve heard comes second hand from Raif and Von. I spend most of my time in the shelter, tending to the wounded and making supplies.”

  Adan cleared his throat. For some reason he was glad Sierra didn’t know much about Bryce. “Maybe you’re right. I need to talk to him.”

  Her face shifted, becoming suddenly thoughtful. “What’s it like out there in the Vast? I’ve talked to some of the Waymen about it, but they have an odd way of describing things.”

  “It’s mostly sand and scrap-filled ruins—and lots of storms,” Adan said, “You never really feel safe there. It’s like the desert is just waiting for the right moment to bury you beneath the sand.”

  Sierra sighed and reached into one of her pockets, pulling out a resin tube. Twisting off the top, she shook a little white gel onto her fingers. “This is yeso,” she said. “It’s made from cretan powder and umor oil.”

  “I’d love to see how you make it sometime,” Adan said.

  “Sure. I could take you to the cavern and show you how we get the powders.”

  A thrill of memory ran through Adan’s mind as he recalled the beauty of the tunnels and caverns below the surface of the desert. The glowing neophosphorous veins and the cool feel of moisture in the air lifted his spirits just thinking about them. He wondered if Sierra’s cavern would be anything like that.

  Raif passed into the room, pulling Adan out of his thoughts.

  “How’s it going, Sierra? Miss my scintillating conversation?” Raif asked, cocking his head mischievously.

  “Um, no, not really.” Sierra gave him a weary look which said she wasn’t in the mood for joking. “I’m going to need some more yeso, though.”

  Raif’s face turned into a giant pout. It reminded Adan of Lila, Senya’s playful daughter. “You need to get out of this hole sometime. Fresh air might do you good, lighten you up a bit,” he teased. Getting nothing more than Sierra’s flat stare, he gave up. “Fine. I think Zain was making some more anyway. I’ll have him bring it in as soon as it’s ready.”

  “Did you say, ‘Zain’?” Adan asked, pulling himself up onto his elbows. The movement caused Sierra to place a hand on his good shoulder, cautioning him with a concerned look against rising any further.

  “Yeah, why?” Raif asked.

  “Is he one of the Waymen Sierra was talking about?” Adan asked anxiously. The face of the noble Wayman he’d met before the attack on Oasis rushed back to him.

  “Yes.” Raif’s face morphed from rascally to reflective. “In fact, he’s their leader.”

  Adan could scarcely believe what Raif was telling him. Zain was not only alive, but had somehow become the leader of his people. It didn’t seem possible.

  “You said he’s coming here?” Adan asked.

  “You know Zain?” Sierra interjected.

  “Yes. I thought he died out on the ridge with the rest of the Waymen. I don’t see how he survived.” Despite his bioseine-dulled senses, Adan thought he had never breathed sweeter, more refreshing air.

  “It’s a miracle any of us are alive, I suppose,” Sierra said.

  “Tell me about it.” Raif rolled his eyes. “I haven’t eaten a thing since this morning. I’ve got to go score some of that gravel paste the Waymen are cooking up or they’re going to have to bury me in the ruins.” He patted his stomach, then, with a wave of his hand, he disappeared through the door.

  “I can’t believe Zain is here.” Adan shook his head.

  “There’s a lot about life that’s hard to believe,” Sierra said. “Every day something unexpected seems to happen. Though it’s usually the bad sort of unexpected.”

  Adan’s mind brimmed with anticipation at the thought of seeing Zain, but looking at Sierra, his mood sobered.

  “Not in a thousand years would I have ever imagined this was what life was really like.” Sierra pushed her hair back over her ear and looked into Adan’s eyes, as if inviting him to tell her the world was not as harsh and brutal as it seemed to be.

  “A friend once told me that everything, every problem we face, only endures for a while. In the end, all things are passing. The important thing is to never give up.” Adan sensed that the words did not resonate with Sierra the way they had with him.

  “It’s a nice thought,” she said softly.

  “What was it like, waking up for the first time?” Adan asked, trying to bring her out of her melancholy by some other path.

  Sierra bowed her head and glanced toward the opposite doorway, the one that led outside. “I don’t think I even knew I was awake at first. I couldn’t see hardly anything. People were running everywhere. Some got swept off into the storm. Something must have hit me in the head. When I woke up again I remember the sky looming over me. There was a break in the storm, but it was still mostly black. I should have been terrified because the building I ran out of was gone. There was just a pile of scrap standing where it had been. But in those first few moments, all I could think of was, ‘that’s the real sky’, because that was the first time in my life I’d ever seen it.”

  Adan stared at her, remembering clearly the first time he woke up in the Vast and saw the sky for himself. It was something he would never have been able to envision before that moment. He could see the same awe and fear playing through Sierra’s mind as she recalled the experience.

  He found it almost effortless reading her thoughts. She was more open than any other person he had ever met. For the first time he began to get a sense of what it was like to be a memorant. It was as if he couldn’t help but notice what she was thinking. Though they were only surface thoughts, their meaning was as obvious as if she had spoken them out loud.

  And yet, the ease with which he could decipher what she thought also made him uncomfortable. He remembered how he felt when Gavin first told him that he could read his thoughts. Adan was invading her privacy and it didn’t feel right, but he wasn’t sure of the right way to tell her about it, or what effect it might have if he did.

  “I don’t know why I woke up,” Sierra continued. “Not everyone did. Bryce says we were supposed to be in something called a ‘flat-line’—that we shouldn’t have been able to wake up at all. But the ones who didn’t wake up…” The innocence in her expression faded and her eyes dimmed. “I saw them die. So many of them. I can never forget that.”

  Her voice broke and whatever wall had been holding back her emotions broke as well. Her memories washed over Adan like wave after wave of buffeting winds. Tortured faces, agonizing screams, chaos in the streets. Much of it was obscured by whirling, debris-filled gusts that drowned out the death and destruction, but even so, Sierra had seen more suffering and slaughter on that day than any person ever should.

  Tears coursed down her cheeks. Without thinking, Adan reached up to brush them away.

  Sierra grabbed his hand and held it there for a moment. She closed her eyes and rocked back and forth.

  Adan searched her face, wishing there was some way he could ease her pain. “Tell me about Zain,” he said, trying to take her mind off the memories. “How did you meet him?”

  She let go of his hand and wiped her tears. Though her eyes remained full of sorrow, his concern had not gone unnoticed. She breathed deeply and did her best to dry her face.

  “We found each o
ther inside one of the buildings in the Service Ring,” came a familiar voice at the entrance.

  Adan’s eyes darted to the door. Zain passed through the opening, his face radiating with a tender smile. Sierra erased the last of her tears with her sleeve and turned to face the Wayman.

  “Zain!” Adan said. Sierra’s sadness had dampened his excitement, but it could not hold back the surge of joy at seeing his friend. The short man had his customary burgundy sash wound around the top of his head and dropping to the side. He also had a newly grown beard, but otherwise looked the same as when Adan had last seen him on Virid Ridge.

  Adan sat up impulsively to greet him, but Sierra once more placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him down.

  “Listen to your nursemaid,” Zain scolded gently as he squatted beside him. He did not use the Waymen language, but spoke in the dialect used by the Collective. Most Waymen did not know how to speak it, but the Welkin seemed to, and Zain’s parents had been Welkin.

  “I’m so glad to see you.” Adan lay back down, but he grasped Zain by the arm and squeezed, as if to make sure it was really him. “When I saw the remains of the battle on Virid Ridge, I thought perhaps you didn’t make it.”

  “I feared the same had happened to you, my friend. Master Will told the Reeves you’d been killed. But death cannot find you if you are resting in the palm of Numinae’s hand. Seeing you now, my heart is fuller than it has been for a long, long time.”

  Adan beamed up at him. “And now Sierra and Raif tell me that you are the leader of the Waymen? How can that be?”

  Sierra regarded Zain with endearment as well. His presence seemed to have a calming effect upon her.

  “Life is full of mystery. Many things seem impossible until they come to pass,” Zain said. Adan noticed for the first time that he was carrying a large bundle underneath one arm. He set it down between himself and Sierra and proceeded to unwrap it, revealing a lump of white, chalky gel. “But first the yeso. I will tell you my story while I work.”