Future Reborn Box Set

by Daniel Pierce

  “Do you not want to go back?”

  “I do. I just—sometimes, I need more peace and quiet than Silk, and Andi, and everyone. I just need you and The Empty, really.” She shrugged, and her smile was bittersweet.

  “Then we sleep under the stars tonight, but I can’t promise it will be quiet,” I said.

  “I don’t need that kind of quiet,” she said, and there was mischief in her eyes.

  Later, the moon rose high enough to cast her body in shadows as she took off her shirt, letting it slip to the hood where it puddled. We lay on the bedroll, hip to hip and close enough that I could smell the sun in her hair. Slowly, I lifted her on top of me in a sliding roll.

  We were both ready.

  I held her aloft, then lowered her, inch by inch until I was fully inside her, our skin touching. Neither of us moved, except for an expectant pulsing as our bodies betrayed a need to create friction. Then, she lifted herself—but so little as to be a hint, a rumor, then back down, and my hips rose to greet her in that fraction of a space. I put my hands in the small of her back, pushing down, and her hair spilled over my face as she met me for a desperate kiss, then we broke apart and I let my tongue play over her astonished nipples before kissing her again, harder, as we began to grind in earnest. Mira’s skin began to glow with the sweat of our work, and I kissed the divot of her shoulder, her neck, and her lips, now puffy with lust as she pulled me upward, her long arms snaked around my neck as inside her I felt the first stirrings of her orgasm.

  When she came, it was quiet, intense, and long, a rolling explosion kept in check by the pressure of our bodies. The second she began to relax, I flipped our places, one hand between her shoulders to guide her gently to the bedroll.

  “Let’s get comfortable. Not done,” she hissed in my ear, bending her legs back to welcome me deeper. I felt her feet begin tapping against my sides, urging me on. I obliged. My blood was singing, my fingers in her hair as the night air whispered past and the moon continued to paint her in moving shadows as she writhed in a slow, languorous uncoiling of all the want and need we had to give. When I came, it was a mirror of her first orgasm—a slow thing, long and draining, ending only when we kissed until we both felt the need to breathe.

  She covered me halfway, one leg bent possessively over my hip, my arm around her and our breathing slowing enough to speak, but we didn’t. We let the moon watch over us, and I drew a thumb idly across her breasts, perfect and firm with the artistry of beauty and sunshine.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I—”

  Her finger landed on my lips, soft but insistent.

  “Let me have this,” she said. “Just—let me say it and live it. Okay?”

  I nodded, and she bent to kiss the muscle of my chest, then receded like the tides. Her heart slowed. The wind fell to nothing, and the air began to cool almost instantly. I pulled the blanket over us, but we didn’t sleep right away. I thought of her, and she was thinking of me, and we both let ourselves wonder about what came next. This was Mira’s world—a hard-bitten place with small good parts, and I wanted to change it into something better, where the creatures and dangers were distant things past the edges of our fires.

  “Will you stay with me?” I asked.

  She was quiet for a long time. “I don’t have anyone else, but that isn’t why I stay.”

  “It isn’t why I asked you.”

  Silence fell again, but this time it was less thick. The uncertainty left the space between us, and there was no fiction. Only Mira and her touch, and my arm around her. I saw the gleaming crescents of her eyes, and they were fixed on me, then they closed. She exhaled, slowly, and her body relaxed. A lingering decision was made.

  “I choose to stay. I choose you,” she said.

  “Good.” We both welcomed sleep, and I had no need to dream.

  4

  Danto was a surly presence on the best of days, but he was in rare form the next morning, glaring at everyone who would make eye contact with him as he surveyed the sawmill. It was four times larger than the first simple woodshop we had at The Oasis, with three working blades powered by water, and lights and ventilation provided by the addition of a second reactor, courtesy of Andi’s brilliance. Tall, lean, and angry, Danto’s brown eyes missed nothing as he watched some kids carrying cut shingles away for installation on a roof. We had enough lumber from scavenging crews that such luxuries were possible, though Danto grumbled the entire time.

  I was gradually coming to the conclusion that Danto wasn’t happy unless he was unhappy.

  “Looks good,” I said in a neutral tone, knowing he would find something to complain about and wishing I could be anywhere else but in the orbit of his grim presence. Danto had all the charm of a mortician, but his work ethic made him invaluable, as did his general skill with wood on an industrial scale. He was built for work, not chit-chat, and his look of mild disgust only reinforced my opinion.

  “It’s marginal at best. The kids are idiots. The adults are idiots. The—”

  “You’re an adult, right?” I asked him, interrupting him before he could launch into a rant that went nowhere.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then you’re an idiot? This doesn’t look like the work of an idiot. Do you know what it looks like to me, Danto?” I asked, my tone chummy and light.

  He regarded me with suspicion but played along. “What does it, um, look like?”

  “It looks like you don’t like anyone—let alone yourself—but you’re good at organizing the production of a large part of our building materials. It looks like you don’t like kids, but they still work for you, for some inexplicable reason. In spite of having the personality of a rattlesnake, you get things done, but it won’t always be that way. Want to know why?” I asked him.

  “Why?” His reply told me I had his attention. I had come in from the desert after fighting a creature that spoke like a man and ate humans like a dragon. I made love to Mira under the stars, forgot about the brutality of the fight, and drove into my home only to be deposited in front of Danto, who made everything into a fucking argument because he was, in his heart, an asshole. I was in no mood to coddle him, and my eyes must have flashed with something that told him exactly that.

  “Because while you’re busy being a prick, I’m watching all of these teenagers you hate learn everything you know, and one day soon, I’ll tell you to go live in a fucking cave somewhere, because I’ll be tired of your shit and we won’t need you anymore. Unless, of course, you have hidden depths and can suddenly do things Andi can’t understand. Have I mentioned she’s an engineer?”

  “I knew that,” he said, not looking at me.

  “Fantastic. And you’re aware that she’s mine, and we’re sleeping together?”

  “Yes—what? Of course I know that,” he said, eyes flashing.

  “Great. Then you understand that her naked body and knowledge of physics far outweigh your gloom and doom routine every time someone has the balls to ask you a question. I guess what I’m saying is, this looks great, but I’m tired of your shit. I know you’re a proud man, but I don’t fucking care. No one does. You’re a dark cloud in the middle of our home, and we’re trying to hold back a desert filled with shit that wants to eat us while you sulk around here like a pimple-faced teenager who got dumped. I don’t expect you to turn into a different person. I expect you to be courteous. That’s it. Just basic courtesy to the people who tolerate you and your bullshit, day in and day out. Think you can do that?”

  “I am,” he said.

  “You are what?”

  “Courteous,” he insisted.

  I felt my brows go up. “This is news to me.”

  “I—I try. I don’t like people. I never have. I don’t do well talking. Sometimes I get—I just get angry. Don’t know why.”

  “We can sense it. It feels like it’s not your issue, but ours. Like you’re on the edge of violence all the time. You can’t be like that, and I don’t care how much uncert
ainty you have inside. These people are my responsibility, just like you are, whether you realize it or not. If you don’t want to be friendly, fine, but you can’t instill fear. It’s not good for any of us, let alone you.”

  In a small voice, he said, “I have dreams.”

  That brought me up short, so I sat down next to him where his tools were spread, crossing my legs. “Tell me.”

  “I can’t remember them, but they make me sick. Sweaty, feeling dead inside. I’ve had them for years. I wasn’t always like this, you know. I know I’m an asshole, but I can’t help but think that everyone else is an asshole, too.” He shrugged, and it was the first true emotion I’d seen since meeting him.

  “Dreams, huh?” I said, but it was mostly to myself. I stood then dusted myself off. He stayed kneeling, and picked up a mallet, preparing to drive a spike into the end of a log. Our interview was at an end, but he’d given me an idea. “What if I said I could help you with those?”

  He shrugged, his face closed once more. “Maybe.”

  That was good enough, so I nodded and walked away before either of us said something to destroy the fragile understanding.

  5

  “Jack,” said a voice, and it wasn’t Silk, who lay twined with me in our bed.

  “I’m going to kill whoever you are, but I’m going to wait until dawn, if that’s okay with you,” I mumbled, coming awake and sitting up after extricating myself from Silk, who began to stir. I looked across the room and saw the telltale signs of Mira, who slept like she was modeling for a crime scene photo. The other bed was empty, which meant Andi was either awake, eaten by wild animals, or had changed her voice to that of a man and was whispering at me from the doorway.

  “Understood, boss, but first, come outside. Um, hi, Lady—I mean, Silk. You should come too,” the man said.

  “Who—oh, got it,” I said when the light came on. It was the eastern guard, Vikez, who shielded his dark eyes from the glare. “Sorry, Vike. Be right out. Emergency?”

  “Sort of. Got someone you need to see at the fire. I’ll stoke it,” he said, vanishing back through the door.

  Silk patted my back then rolled out of bed as I was pulling on pants. “I’ll wake jungle girl up,” she said, patting her hair. “You go on out. Andi must be underneath, sleeping by the data link. She was talking to Aristine last I knew.”

  “See you in a minute,” I said. I grabbed my gun and blades just in case and went outside into the night.

  The fire greeted me, along with at least a dozen people, Vikez standing near them. I knew him, and that was all. New faces, and all dirty and scared. Refugees, from the look of it.

  “Vike, mind getting Beba? And wake someone up to bring food and drinks, too. We need wash pans, towels, stuff like that,” I said.

  “On it,” he said, and slipped away into the dark. Andi had killed the streetlights at 1 a.m., so that meant dawn couldn’t be far off.

  “I’m Jack Bowman,” I said, and sat down across from the people. After a second look, I could tell they were a family group. There were four adults, a few kids, and an old woman who looked tired and sick. Their eyes were haunted, even in the firelight.

  One of the men stood up, and a woman next to him grabbed his arm reflexively. “We’re the Berdocks. I’m Tindall.” He was thin, tired, and bearded, with black hair and dark eyes that flashed warily as he regarded my weapons. I pointedly took them off and set them in the gravel, then turned back to him and shook his hand. He relaxed, if only a bit. “My wife, Atansi.” She nodded at me but was too tired to smile. The road had been hard on them, and her astonishing blue eyes had smudges of exhaustion around them. Atansi’s hair was a uniform gray, even though she couldn’t have been older than thirty. She tried to hide her arm, but it was obviously broken; and it was a bad break, even to my untrained eyes.

  “Ma’am,” I said.

  She tried to smile but only succeeded in looking pained.

  “The doctor is on the way to look at your arm. And the kids, too.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and grimaced.

  “What are you running from?” I asked in as gentle a tone as I could. Just then, several people bustled up with food and water, and then Beba came into view, clucking like a mother hen as she shot me a withering glance. “Check her arm first. Bad break.”

  Beba took Atansi to the side, murmuring to her in tones of assurance while four children—Atansi’s, I guessed—stuck close, reluctant to let their mother go very far.

  That left Tindall as the unofficial head of intel for his family and mine.

  He spoke slowly, as if convincing himself what he saw was the truth. “There were close to four hundred of us at Nakusa. Ranchers, mostly, but some traders and a few of the families planted oats and wheat. Nakusa is—it was, rather,” he corrected himself, “west of here. About a hundred klicks, I’d say, but I’m having a hard time remembering.”

  “A hard ride?” I prompted.

  “A hard run. We had no horses, wagons—not even a stray ogre to carry the babies. Nothing but our boots, and some of the first people to get away didn’t even have those,” Tindall said. His face was so streaked with grime, he looked like a miner. “Sixteen days, if you’re asking. That I do know. We went east, then south, and then northeast. I knew if we went too close to Kassos, one of their patrols would pick us up. Or worse.”

  “They have patrols ranging that far?” I asked. Silk was next to me now, listening intently.

  “They do, and they claim anything they find. And I mean anything,” he said, his eyes going flat with anger as he watched Beba tending his wife. Atansi endured the care with a stoicism mothers seem to be born with, even giving Tindall a watery smile.

  “Tindall, what the hell happened?” Silk asked.

  “Bad luck, I think. We were taken out by a—a creature, or maybe more than one creature. All our herds are gone, but the one that got most of the people came up from underneath the grain stores in town. It didn’t eat the grain. It ate us, and I don’t think it’s alone, at least not if you listen to Gram Berdock. Her grandfather said that when they built the highway west of Kassos, the same thing happened. Bad things got loose and raised all kinds of hell until there was no one left to defend the smaller towns because they’d been eaten,” he said.

  “A monster? Creature?” I asked, thinking of the giant rhino I’d seen, and all of the other new things.

  “Cleaner,” Gram Berdock said from across the fire. It was the first word she’d spoken, and then, with a swift movement, she stood and went to help Beba with her work. Guess the old gal wasn’t as feeble as she looked, just tired and beaten up from their flight east.

  “Cleaner? What the fuck is a cleaner?” I asked.

  Mira was with us now, and she put a hand on my shoulder, digging her fingers in when I asked the question. “Did you say a cleaner? Like the giant thing, with armor?”

  Tindall squinted at her. “She knows.”

  I peered up at Mira, who came around me to sit down next to Silk.

  “I’ve never seen one, but I heard about them from an old timer who died when I was around ten or so. He saw one when he was young and claimed it took his ranch and everything in a line between here and the river,” Mira said.

  Silk had a tablet on her lap, idly flicking through pictures until she stopped, tapped one, and showed the screen to Tindall, whose eyes grew wide. “Does that look like the Cleaner?”

  “More or less. You have Hightec of this order?” he asked us all, casting his eyes around in open wonder.

  “And then some,” Silk answered, “but Jack and Andi are the resident experts. It’s a long story.” She showed me the picture. It was from the Platebeast’s cavern, and until now it had been a mysterious symbol. With Tindall’s description and Silk’s sharp eye for detail, it was a working image of a monster the size of a large truck. Maybe bigger, given the amount of damage it did.

  Andi walked up out of the gloom then, and after introductions and a report from Beba about
Atansi’s arm, we settled into the task of finding out where the Cleaner was, where it was going, and just what the hell we were going to do about it. There were more questions than answers—not the least of which being why various new horrors were appearing across The Empty and beyond, with no pattern or obvious purpose.

  “You have guns?” Tindall asked.

  “Big ones,” I said, thinking that a pass from a Condor drone loaded with ammunition might be just what the doctor ordered, but the Cache was too far for us to get there and back before the Cleaner moved on. We would do it the hard way. Three people, three rifles, and hope for a soft spot that stuck out on what looked like a cross between a semi-trailer and a scarab beetle, with a tubular mouth that could extend down. Hence the name, the Cleaner.

  “It’s armored?” Mira asked, and all of the new refugees began to speak at once. They told of armor sections like an insect, but interlocking and hard enough that their shotguns had done nothing except draw the creature’s attention.

  “When it feeds, it takes the—the victim—up in a tube, and nothing comes out except slime and drool after that. Fatal. Every time. It can eat a town, which you know, but what I haven’t said yet is that it eats sand and rock, too, leaving it behind like a trail that grows hard in the sun,” Tindall said.

  “Really?” I said, and my ears pricked up at that. “How long does the trail take to dry?”