Copyright © 2020 Shannon Rieger
First Edition
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Cover Design: Kristyn McQuiggan-Pike, Drop Dead Designs
For Kristyn
May we always laugh on our nights out, try on crazy clothes at Winner’s, eat M&M’s even though I don’t like them, and watch scary movies.
Also by Shannon Rieger
The Pria Chronicles Series
A young adult, urban paranormal fantasy fiction book series
Book One: Echoes
Book Two: Sense
Book Three: Sensory Overload
Book Four: Sensory Deprivation
Book Five: Vanished
Book Six: Vile World
Book Seven: Timeless
Henry’s Purr-spective
Paranormal Painless Series
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter One
The moon was bright enough to cast ominous shadows to stretch their talons towards me, but not to illuminate the monsters that hunted. The town stunk of suffering, fear and confusion. A flash of light scorched my eyes. The pavement buckled under the quake. Windows shattered and fell to the ground below, raining on the destitute people of this side of Edgefield.
Confusion spread like wildfire. Children wailed. Their mothers screamed out their names. Men raced past the alleyway to get home just as the sound of another bomb cracked. I held my legs close to my chest and covered my head as I crouched behind a dumpster.
Water-stained crates were stacked near the wall of the building across from me. I realized there was no entrance to a building by climbing them. A pile of cigarette butts at the bottom of the stack suggested they were used for sitting and resting, not climbing and escaping.
Cold sweat glued the t-shirt to my back as I heard the snarling of the beasts. Their restless and desperate need to find me had escalated to an unprecedented and unimagined level.
An unidentifiable liquid dripped onto my hand from the rust-pitted garbage bin. It had pooled into a putrid, thick puddle at my feet so I splashed it onto my arms and rubbed it over my shoulders. Holding my breath, I dipped my hands into the revolting liquid and rubbed it on my neck and in my hair. I had to mask my scent.
Dried vomit on the pavement made me think that it was a good masking scent for me but the stench coming from the puddle was likely sufficient without me having to wipe bile over my body. I kept it in mind if things went to hell.
Ants circled in organized work, gathering and searching in a procession that wound around a large greasy puddle. At the entrance of the building was a sign that read ‘no loitering’.
Please don’t find me, I pleaded, as I continued to wipe the liquid on my shoes and the cuffs of my pants. I just couldn’t believe it was my fault that they were threatening the innocent in this vicious manner. This must be my fault but their brutal response to my escape is not warranted. There must be more to this than what I had come to understand.
Further away, I heard yet another bomb; it sounded like the trunk of a car slamming shut. The explosion shook the ground and chunks of the building fell. Dust and debris sifted down from the rafters. The hanging pots of dried plants swayed. The ants had gone to hide.
From the mouth of the alleyway, there were snarls and wails, followed by the screams.
Thick, black smoke rose as an acrid stench of burning plastic seeped into the air. I wiped my forehead with my shirt and realized that I bled. I ran my fingers over my eyebrows and looked at my crimson-stained fingertips. My pulse raced; they’d be able to smell the blood. I dabbed at the blood to force it to clot. I dunked my hair into the putrid liquid to try to mask the smell of the trickling blood.
The sound of a trashcan lid crashing to the ground made me jump and three rats scurried down the alley. The sputter of a car engine turned over. My mind urged me to chase after it but I remained still and listened as its motor quieted in the distance.
A beast’s screech bellowed followed by a thump. Gurgling and gasping. Lamplight cast a circular light at the mouth of the alleyway and a shadow grew. My stomach lurched as I frantically tucked myself back from view.
Now, a guttural growl and shuffling of feet. A scream in the distance called the creature’s attention. I breathed out. I had to find shelter behind a closed door. But the bombs forced us out of the rundown building in the late evening hours. We were safer in there with the falling debris than out here with the robotic insects and the once-human monsters that were tracking my scent.
Cold water seeped into my shoe. I burrowed into the crevice between the dumpster and wall as a moan echoed through the alley. The cool, spring evening breeze mewled like a lost puppy.
The street lights were extinguished as the power flickered out. The evening had fallen upon the town only a half an hour before the first grenade. Hiding here was eerie where a shroud of darkness lay. My body shook so hard my muscles tensed until they hurt.
I rested against the wet metal of the dumpster when the moans grew muffled as the creature hobbled further away. At another violent shake of the ground, I heard homes being ravaged and household items crashed with a clatter through the windows of the building. A picture fell, glass shattering upon impact.
Another flash in the distance lit the sky. A thunderous sound reverberated against the bricks. Open doors swayed. At another blow, glass shattered as the windows twisted in their frames. A person at the mouth of the alleyway struggled to keep his balance.
War zone. Fierce beasts and bombs. They made it impossible to give up despite what they proclaimed to the townspeople. If I gave myself up, I would be killed. No way were they going to simply return me to that vile place to face the consequences of escaping. They had no intention of taking me alive. I had no choice but to hide.
As the dust settled, shadows lay on the ground at the mouth of the alley. Moans told me that more people were dying because of me. Blood trickled its way into the alley in the puddles, crawling towards my hiding spot as if the trails were fingers reaching to grab me. Glass covered the ground but the blood still found paths to follow.
“Turn her in!” the megaphone blared. It seemed they would stop at nothing to find me.
Guilt gutted me. Shingles shook loose, tumbling off the roof ahead of me. A strange smell of vinegar wafted through the window. What little food that family had was now wasted on the floor.
If I step out from this pathetic hiding place, the attack would be over and at least the townspeo
ple would be safe. Would those mindless, lab-created monsters instantly tear me apart? Or would they turn me in to be slowly tortured? I hung my head, exhausted and defeated.
I heard someone’s jacket scraping against a concrete wall as he or she struggled to walk along in the darkness. At the pelting array of sounds and an eruption of screams, I threw my arms over my head for protection. The building groaned and swayed. The alley was thick with shadows and furtive movement of black on black.
The buildings shook in the outskirts of Edgefield, shaken from their foundations.
My only option was to give myself up. The bombs wouldn’t destroy the rich areas—not the beautiful parts—but instead, because I had found refuge here, they would bomb the impoverished outskirts of the city. Most of the inhabitants didn’t know that I hid amongst them. They would be bewildered and devastated about the wanton death and destruction heaped upon them by powerful weapons.
Someone’s shoes crunched against the broken glass as he ran past me.
A familiar whirring sound made my breath catch in my chest. The relentless robotic insects were coming, their directive wouldn’t allow them to stop hunting me. It was imperative that they find me. Their yipping was distant but they would come.
Constructed with night vision, solar charging and armour, along with their tireless approach, the robots would give me no time to rest between running. With dozens of them on the road, and many others charging to release those from duty, I didn’t know how I could find reprieve or a safe place. The robotic insects were almost scarier than the beasts. At least the beasts were just raging, mindless men. The insects had abilities to communicate with each other, record, track, mimic and to notify the authorities upon catching something as simple as my scent.
My chest ached with anxiety, and I hyperventilated.
“Take deep, slow breaths.” A woman put her hand on my back, wanting to help.
I had never jumped so high from a startle.
“Sorry, Saige. Just take deep breaths. It’s okay.”
“But it’s me…”
“Shh….” She put her finger to her lips. “Don’t…”
“But they are looking for me and they will not stop. You know this to be true.”
She put her hand on my arm. “Deep breaths young lady. No one can know that it’s you…” She wrapped a disheveled orange and yellow shawl over me and rocked me. The crocheted wool filled me with warmth. Tears streamed down my face. After the guards had forbade me to cry and after the family who helped me suggested that crying would only bring unwanted attention, I hadn’t cried. But now, I could no longer hold my feelings in check. I sobbed.
Another blast. Screams. All hope crumbled behind these brick walls.
The world I had found breath-taking upon my arrival was not what it initially seemed.
“If they find me…”
“If they find you, you’re dead. We’ll all be dead. Be quiet.”
“But, your homes,” I sobbed. “I can hear them screaming!”
“I don’t think the screams are real.”
“What?”
“I think they are recorded. If you listen…”
“We can’t take that chance! We have to assume that people are being hurt.”
“No, we don’t. It’s a loop. I can hear it repeat.”
“But your daughter…your husband…they don’t deserve this…The bombs are real. I can feel the building shake.”
“Oh, my Dear, you are right. We don’t deserve this. But this form of punishment is insanity. This is on them, not you. This just proves that we are right. They want you badly for a crime you didn’t commit. You will not turn yourself in. We’ve come too far. We need to retaliate against them. Fight against them.”
“They will win. You will be killed.” I sucked in a breath. “Everyone will be killed.”
“We will fight…until we are successful. And nothing you say will change that now!”
She took my shoulders and made me meet her eyes. “Listen to me.” I silenced my cry to hear her. “Follow me,” she whispered.
I shook my head.
“Come, Dear. We must go underground.”
“No.” I grabbed onto the dumpster. The metal seemed to burn through my hands. “If I give myself up, then the bombs will stop. Then you can fight. Continue the fight.”
“I will not let them take you. You are the only proof we have that there is something wrong with how they run this world. Too many secrets need to be revealed. Without you, what could we prove?”
Fragments of my life flashed through my mind. I could change nothing. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. I wrenched my arm from her grasp. The whirring sound echoed through the buildings. I scanned the alley for the robotic insects.
My memories flashed as my heart beat in terror. My arrest. My capture. The beatings. The eyes of the man who tortured me. The cold, hard ground tormenting my body every night making the lashings on my back sting.
The anonymous whispers suggesting that I had lost my mind. The pills which stole my memories until only confusion and fragments remained. The beatings and medication designed to eradicate independent thoughts.
When a tear fell along my cheeks in that decrepit place, someone whispered, “Tears are not allowed. They spread fear. It suggests that you need a stronger dose of those pills. Stop it.” The walls listen. They can hear you.
The whips kept me quiet and compliant for a short while but no matter how many times I was whipped, my thoughts could not be quashed. It became abundantly clear that no one would listen to me unless I confessed.
Those in charge of that place were hiding something atrocious from the communities, and I was the key to revealing their corrupt secrets. I had a voice, a story they feared, and the whips could not reach me now. They could not keep me quiet.
Just as I stepped out to the street to follow the woman, I crumpled to the ground as the guard’s teeth gnashed an inch from my face, his body pressing down on me. He had moved like one of the night’s many shadows.
The woman’s husband slammed him to the ground. Someone grabbed my arm to lift me to my feet and the fear enveloped me as I ran. My thoughts were clouded in a shroud of darkness. From the shadows, the night whispered secret terrors.
Chapter Two
A distant train’s whistle blew, a calm and quiet mewl of a noise as the train motored quietly through the town of Edgefield. Past the white-bricked library which had a front of ruby-red glass, past the rainbow-etched museum of fine art and slowed for a bend, before shooting to a platform of silver of the train station.
When the doors open with a whoosh, a scent wafts over the commuters. The bouquet is well suited for an exquisite early spring morning; pleasant only for those who take a moment from their busy commute to notice. Lilac and lavender.
Dressed in crisp white pants with beautifully chained belts, people depart the train. Others in clear glass shoes, sapphire and ruby tops, fiddle with their scarves of silk as they blow in the breeze caught by the train’s approach.
A chime rings and the doors close just as a scarf is lost to a woman who looks disappointed but knows it is too late to go back. She has to be at work. Her wrist vibrates and she sticks her nose in her phone as her watch indicates a new message.
The scarf flits onto the dashboard of a gold Lexus stopped at the intersection, just behind the blinking stop sign glowing on the road ahead. The driver checks his mirrors and speeds through the intersection, allowing the wind to carry the scarf away.
Lit footprints in the glass sidewalk mark a child’s shoe size and the toddler jumps from one square to another to watch the colours dance. The silk scarf is lifted by a warm breeze and he squeals in delight. He watches until the scarf lands on the ground and before he can reach it, people trample over it as they charge down the glass walks.
The towering glass buildings are mesmerizing and people could stare up into the sky and relish in the sights for hours if the town could just slow down for even a moment. But they
don’t. They can’t.
“Saige. Come on!” A man in an expensive suit seemed to know me, but I didn’t recognize him. I didn’t recognize anything, to be honest, the sights, lights and sounds of this beautiful place were foreign. I felt as if I were caught in a dream.
Drawn to the man’s urgency, I followed as I studied his impeccable style and cleanliness. “We are going to miss the train!” He didn’t wait for me. I raced after him, picking up the scarf as I passed it. How had I gotten here?
I followed the man as I tied the scarf around my neck and ran my fingers over the soft silk. Exotic flowers in pots. Glass walkways. Trees and plants on glass balconies. A woman biting into a soft croissant and another sipping coffee under a charming yellow umbrella.
Angled glass in shapes and patterns showcase the buildings as works of art, each detail designed to catch light and to likely establish dominance in the world of architecture.
As I hurried in the well-dressed man’s direction, I unwrapped the hair elastic from my wrist and tied my long hair out of my eyes even though all the women of this glass city wore their hair in waves and brushed to a shine, cascading along their shoulders. I made it a game to find someone else who had her hair up in a ponytail while I trailed after the man. I lost the game.
The landmarks were not similar to my town which I had only inhabited minutes before, yet there were signs indicating this town shared its name: ‘Edgefield Dentistry’ or ‘Edgefield Variety’. There were no walkways to nor parks at the Lake— the name of this lake was Emerald, not Brosrock like in my world.
There was no movie theatre and even the stone well was nonexistent. No pool. Not even the laundry mat for those times the machines broke down. The only thing that was similar was the little antique store but even it had a different name. I liked the name of mine back home better: Knick-Knack Paddy Wack Shack. The name made me chuckle as I strolled by. Same city name but nothing was familiar.
“Saige!” I had almost forgotten that I was supposed to be following ‘suit’. The smell of flowers was pleasant, emanating from vents on the side of the pale-coloured glassed buildings. The flower arrangements above these vents were crafted with a variety of flowers and greenery but they proved to be plastic, an everlasting but superficial beauty. The man turned the corner. Then another. And then yet another.
Switched and Fears Page 1
