Cursed Apprentice (Earth Survives Book 2)

by R. R. Roberts

  Noah was wearing clothing Dom had cut down and sewn for him, by hand, piece by piece, all sand-colored and soft to the touch, warm and water-proof. The child’s mind was a lively one, full of curiosity, still open to accepting others, to the world. Dom had protected him, training him to be careful, but had not frightened his spirit. Given a chance, Noah would grow to a strong, intelligent, and loving man.

  She knew once they returned to Peace Country, Wyatt and Malcolm would take to him at once. Deklin would be shy, as he always was, but would accept Noah and gradually grow to trust him. Deklin’s days of open acceptance of people were over. Prince George had taught Deklin that lesson. Only time could heal Deklin’s mind from his experience there and Wren prayed they would be granted that time—and that they would all safely return home to Peace Country.

  There were so many roadblocks between here and home. Roadblocks she would not think of now. If she did, she would be paralyzed by the mountains they had to climb to get there.

  Dom returned to their group. “It’s all set. They’ll provide protection up until the POE’s newly won territory, then swing back. It’s all I can ask of them. The POE are breathing down their necks as it is. They view the POE’s strike as a first step to challenging Raven land. They’re expecting that challenge at any time now.”

  “You told them what we think is coming?”

  “I did. My message is being taken to Tanya as we speak. It’s up to Tanya how she handles the coming crisis. I know her; she’s smart. As far as I can tell, she is the only person who has been successful in brokering peace within her territory. It’s no accident she’s risen to the top of this powder keg called Glenbrook Raven Park. She gives her captains their freedom so she can have their loyalty, for the good of all. It’s a delicate balance. Her philosophy: We’re better together than apart. Simple but convincing.” He grinned. “It doesn’t hurt that she’s a beautiful woman who uses all of her assets.”

  Wren laughed softly, then sobered. “Is Glenbrook Raven Park likely to fall?”

  He grimaced. “We won’t be back to find out. Once we leave here, we’re committed.”

  Nelson interrupted, jittery as he stood near the gate, barely able to subdue his limbs, anxious to start. “We’re already committed. No question. I have family that needs protecting and last I heard, wanted their father back. I’m going with that.”

  “I happen to know Amanda is firmly planted in the ‘have you back’ camp,” Wren murmured, producing a gentle smile. She knew Nelson thought they’d wasted enough time here in Raven’s territory already—the fact that Dom had been instrumental in their release from the Shifters and ultimately from the POE already forgotten. In his mind, Nelson was darting back through Hume Park toward SFU—for the third time—running toward the antidote, and freedom for his family and community. Truthfully, she was out there with him. They needed to fly to make this happen.

  Dom gazed down at Noah. “You ready, little buddy?”

  Wren was startled by what they both had in mind. They’d practiced this, planned on escaping this way, together, when the time was right. Dom had patiently explained to his son that they would one day need to leave this place, and the boy knew that day had come.

  Noah raised his arms. Dom lifted him onto his massive chest, where he scooped a canvas between Noah’s legs, bringing a sling-like seat up around his little bottom and clipping each side under his own big arms. Noah slipped his tiny hands into the hand-holds on his father shoulders and pressed against him, full of faith. Wren saw that Dom had sewn a Kevlar sheath into the boy’s jacket. He’d done all he could to protect his son. Yet, in what they were about to face, Dom was full of fear for him.

  “You can run with Noah like this?” she asked.

  Dom’s dark eyes burned into hers. “All day long.”

  She believed him.

  The gate was opened, and they filed out: Nelson, Coru, Dom with Noah, Wren, and four Ravens. The gate was swiftly closed behind them, the sound of the bolts finding home behind her stuttering up Wren’s spine. The sky was clear blue, without a cloud, the tall grasses and trees all around them a rich green color from all the rain. A gentle breeze brushed her face, fresh and cool. In the distance, birds were twittering in the trees and shrubs nearby. It was just short of mid-morning, with not a soul, besides themselves, in sight. So deceptively serene, but with potential danger around every corner, behind every tree. She scanned for mental activity and found none nearby, but her failure to detect the hive mind configuration had shattered her confidence in detecting danger. Yes, she could be of help. With her inability to recognize the hive mind, she could also be party to leading their whole team into danger.

  Coru and Nelson glanced at Wren questioningly. She nodded all was clear, wishing she could be more confident in her assessment.

  They set out at an easy jog, with the four big Ravens ahead, weapons at the ready, Dom directing which path they would take with terse commands. Wren saw he had a specific route in mind, and he was not avoiding others. In fact, he planned to make contact with others as they progressed. He believed he could talk with them, make them see reason. She prayed he was correct.

  She caught thoughts deep into their second hour of moving steadily toward the highway. These were easy to pick up now she was closer. These were no hive-minded survivors. They were independent and defiant and proud of it—the Transit Tramps and the Hummers, two gangs with greatly reduced numbers who now needed one another to stay viable. They were busy negotiating a pecking order they could live with. The POE attack had squashed whatever differences they had had in the past. She signaled Dom, as arranged, letting him know she’d found them. He’d taken the news of her telepathy without a twitch. Wren read Dom had seen it all—nothing surprised him anymore.

  They veered north, moving between the tall buildings here, the parkland proper long behind them. It was street by street from here on, only now, they were exposed. There were other minds around them, inside the tall apartments and commercial buildings, sometimes an individual, more often in twos and threes, tucked into what they thought of as a safe place.

  These were formed families, coming from the survivors of the plague, finding one another and joining forces for both protection and for a sense of belonging, the same as people had done all over, up in the Peace, all through the Okanagan and the Kootenays, and throughout God’s Country here in the Fraser River Delta and out to the Pacific Ocean. And possibly all around the world.

  People craved the company of others; it was necessary for their survival, both physically and emotionally. It was written in their DNA.

  As her troop made its way past these pockets of minds, she read that sometimes they were aware of Wren’s group passing by, and in fear, were silent as they passed; other times the urban survivors were unaware, going about the business of making it through another desperate day.

  Here in the city, so different than in the countryside, that business was heartbreaking. It was grubbing out a meal, carefully shared among them. It was scraping together clothes that might be warm enough for the coming damp winter, or attempts to dry wet clothes over a small, and what they hoped was an unnoticed, fire. These isolated people had not been immune to the virus, but had fought it and survived it, the evidence of their ordeal played out in the scars they bore. They were considered the lowest of the low, the unclean, and were called Worms by the reining gangs. Once a person fell down to the level of Worm, there was no rising up again.

  Wren was surprised by these people. Up until now she had only known two paths through the pandemic. One was to fall victim to the disease. Those who contracted the BSV always died. The other path was to be immune. No third path. But here, there were survivors of the disease. She was no medical expert, but didn’t that mean they had antibodies to the Boy Scout Virus? Was this not good news?

  But then, the BSV had mutated since the pandemic and no longer threatened people’s lives, so maybe not.

  The “Worms” of New Pacifica Wild each had thei
r story, and Wren caught snatches of some as they passed by.

  There was a woman comforting a crying child she’d found during the height of the pandemic, half in, half out of the river and near death, and whom she now loved, fed, and protected like he was her natural son.

  There was a man pretending to finish his portion of the skinny rabbit he’d snared and roasted, slipping extra onto his wife’s plate when she wasn’t looking. She was fading before his eyes, and he was sick at the thought of losing her after all they’d survived together.

  There was a man turning away from the sight of his dead companion, whom he had carried from the POE battle site, only to have him die here in their hidey hole. The fool—thinking he could beat the POE. He warned him, hadn’t he? But no, his friend had to go, had to fight. The man wept at being left alone in this cold, unforgiving place, wishing he’d had the courage of his dead friend.

  There was a girl, shaking in a corner, refusing the offer of unleavened bread that had been wound around a stick and cooked over a fire, warily watching the man who had captured her from the Pig Stickers. She knew her tribe was gone, killed by the POE. No one would come looking for her. She was exhausted but too afraid to close her eyes for fear of what her captor would do to her. She didn’t yet know he was a kind man and had brought her to his secret place to keep her from being passed from man to man by the Burners.

  Everywhere she turned her mind, Wren found threads of goodness in humanity, evidence of kindness, humility, generosity, nurturing, selflessness. It was raw and unvarnished. These post-apocalyptic times—yes, it was no longer just a theory, they were actually living in the post-apocalyptic time so many had warned them of—had brought out the worst and best of what it meant to be a human being.

  Wren’s thoughts slipped back to her home, back to her Peace River family. She prayed they were all okay. A longing to see them, to hug them swept over her so strongly she stumbled, and only missed falling when Dom reflexively reached out, righted her then kept moving as if nothing had happened. She noticed Coru was limping badly now, his face was gray and drawn, his pace uneven and dragging. His crutch was all that held him erect. How long could he keep this up? She sped up, grabbing Dom’s arm. When he glanced her way, she nodded toward Coru. “We need to stop soon.”

  “We will. They’re in the Tommy Square. I can smell the smoke.”

  He was right. She’d smelled it herself but hadn’t registered it.

  “When we get there, let me do the talking. You re-dress his wound. I don’t think it’s too soon for more pain meds, either. He’s got to be burning through them.”

  “What?” Coru barked, catching sight of their conversation.

  “We’re almost there,” Wren told him.

  He jerked his head, meant as a nod and struggled on.

  Wren fought against calling out to him, to beg him to slow down, to be easier on himself. Her cautions would not be welcome, or even helpful. Coru had no choice. He had to keep moving, no matter what.

  She glanced at Dom, noting his pace had not faltered, his dreadlocks bouncing in a steady rhythm against his leather-bound broad shoulders. She caught sight of little Noah’s solemn green eyes over those shoulders and smiled at the boy. He stared back at her, his expression unchanged. She read he was tired and wanted to get down but would not complain to his daddy. Noah knew something important was happening here and wanted to help his daddy.

  Suddenly Wren wanted to stop, to weep in anguish at what was happening all around them. Despair and violence and hate and fear and sorrow and death… it was everywhere!

  In the shadowed alley between two empty buildings the four Ravens in the lead halted, and pitched smoothly to the side, motioning their followers to hide in a nearby garbage-shielded basement stairwell. As planned, Wren opened her sensors fully, listening, learning the lay of the land.

  There were a hundred or more urban survivors in Tommy Square, the surviving stragglers from the Tramps and the Hummers. There was a thud, then a cry arose from the crowd.

  She staggered back, covering her mouth in horror. A POE soldier’s head had just been severed.

  Coru quietly relayed what she’d seen to their companions.

  The crowd in the square, just beyond view roared their approval. She saw what they saw, a man with long black hair, his clothes made of cloth wrappings, picked up the severed head and strutted before his followers, displayed the POE soldier’s head dripping with blood. The strutting man screamed this was what happened to traitors in New Pacifica Wild.

  There was another POE soldier standing at the center of the square, shaking and crying, his hands bound behind him, barely maintaining his feet. He was young, with short clipped blond hair and clean streaks down his dirty face, cleaned with the tears he shed. He was terrified.

  The leader, a man many identified as Cruise, with the head held aloft in his fist, had full intention of repeating his actions with this soldier. It was Cruise’s hope that once he had, no one would challenge his right to lead. No one. Not even Trent.

  Cruise glanced warily at Trent, the leader of the Tramps who was standing proudly beside a POE trannie he had captured, a prize indeed and his bid to be seen as a potential leader of the newly formed gang.

  Wren could read the man holding the severed POE head would win this battle for the hearts and minds of the newly amalgamated gang. What they didn’t know was the POE soldier they were about to kill knew something about the trannie they did not. It was timed to self-destruct in less than an hour. And the POE who still lived knew how to stop it.

  She whirled round. “Go! Go now. Stop them from killing that man.” She fumbled with the clips on Dom’s sides. “Leave Noah with me. He can’t see this.”

  “Why should we save a POE?” Nelson demanded.

  “We need that trannie for Coru. Their prisoner can stop it from exploding, killing people, children. He can fix it so we can use it. And because he was captured; he was drafted. Die or join, that’s what they tell them. Because he’s a victim in all this, the same as we are!”

  Nelson’s face darkened as he prepared to go and fight to save a man he knew was undeserving. “Yet, he’ll let children die from a sabotaged trannie? Yeah, he’s a nice guy.”

  “He’s not even thinking about the explosive. He’s lost hope. He’s thinking about his sister.”

  Nelson wasn’t impressed. He was only acting because he trusted Wren. Coru was silent, no emotions coming to Wren at all. Coru had also lost hope; he was thinking about his brother.

  With Noah released, Wren pulled him from Dom’s hold and hugged his little body to hers, watching her team climb from the stairwell, close the short distance to the end of the alley and reveal themselves to the crowd crying for POE blood.

  As soon as the Indies appeared, silence dropped over the square like a dark spell, deep and deadly. Nothing good could come from people who struck out before they could be struck, who were this afraid of everything around them.

  “God help us, God help us,” she prayed, pressing Noah’s face away from the scene. “Please let us pass. Please help us save what’s left of this world. Please God, I beg you…” She crouched down in the corner, closed her eyes and watched through Coru’s mind and any other minds she could scan along with his.

  The Hummers and Transit Tramps drew together, their weapons seized up, and at the ready, facing these newcomers, startled and angry at themselves at being caught short.

  The POE soldier fell to his knees, knowing he was about to die, lost in his memories. Kathy. Kathy. I’ll be with you soon. I wish I’d died with you. I wish I’d never seen this hell on earth.

  In flashes, Wren saw he and his sister Kathy had been wards of the court, passed from one foster home to the next, until he aged out of the system. He’d worked hard down at the docks and visited her every Saturday, promising he’d come take her away when he had enough money and was old enough to be her guardian. The day he’d come for his sister, after fighting his way into the quarantined section of t
he city, was the day she died in his arms. With the world around him collapsing, he’d been captured and drafted into the POE one month later.

  Facing the advancing Indies and Ravens, members of both the Hummers and Tramps minds clicked into suspicion of the other, both gangs thinking remarkably alike. This was too easy, too practiced. This would not have happened when they were strong, before the POE.

  They narrowed their eyes acutely aware they had thrown in with their sworn enemy of only two days ago. Was this a trap, a plan to pick them off? Let them pretend they were new allies, only to catch them unawares and slaughter them, steal their women, steal their provisions, what’s left of their territory?

  Every gang member, to the one, experienced this piercing fear, this doubt in their newly aligned cause. Had they been deceived?

  Then a thud of recognition, straight to the chest, emptying lungs, sending limbs shaking, eyes searching for escape. Dominic Derrek!

  A mental shudder of fear stuttered through the two gangs. They glanced at one another uneasily. Was Dominic behind this? Was Dominic taking over the Park? Was this Tanya’s response to the POE attack? Send out her highest Captain to squash them all?

  They moved closer to their new allies, their only option, shifting into a loose shield before their women, knowing they were already finished. There was no chance against Dominic, not with their number so thin…but they would not go down easily. They would fight ‘til the end...

  Coru watched the faces before him, saw them change from fierce to afraid at seeing Dom beside him. Coru glanced at Dom. What were they seeing? Why were they afraid?

  Dom held out his palms in a show of peace, stepping forward. “We come in peace to your land.”

  There was a collective hitching of breath, eyes staring back at Dominic, disbelieving; yet wanting to believe. Today, I will not die?