Faith: A Historical Western Romance (A Merry Mail Order Bride Romance Series Book 2)

by Amy Field

  As Vanda shifted his bike upside down through a paper-thin gap between two cargo transits, he looked down and saw the same courtyard above Neo Time Square that he had seen in his vision that morning. Again his mind’s eye saw her face.

  It had taken four hours of meditation and another pill to get Vanda’s time lapse down to three seconds that morning. The girl’s pretty freckled face had haunted him for hours, as it had been for weeks now. But only in the visions of that morning had he seen her die. He was struck with further images of her recurring death during meditation; her face shortly before it had gone dead touched deep into his soul.

  He dipped the bike down through the thick traffic, the police pods racing down after him, and headed for the courtyard. He ran downwards through the different layers of traffic that clogged the airways, weaving and twisting the bike through the gaps. In his visions, he had been able to view the time on the big clock that covered one of the massive Time Square buildings. It had read 15:08:17. Vanda checked the time in the corner of his helmet. Seven minutes away. He decided to ditch the pods and twisted the bike around some service platforms that stood underneath the huge courtyard. He pushed his manoeuvring of the bike into overdrive as he shot it through gaps barely big enough to fit a man. He noticed one explosion behind him shortly followed by another and realised that he was no longer being pursued. He eased the bike off and then stopped on a service platform. He jumped off of the motorcycle and then swiped his finger across the face of his wristwatch. The bike instantly folded up into a small solid metal backpack, which Vanda picked up and strapped to his back, before heading up to the courtyard.

  Usually, he was supposed to report all strange visions to his contact, Dr Kelvin, but the girl’s face had intrigued him. He had decided not to tell Kelvin, but he had also realised that it would be too dangerous to get directly involved. He had gone out on his bike purely to get his mind off of the vision, not to get involved in any way.

  Once he had calmed his lapse he had headed out on the bike, but somehow had ended up riding through the city and coming to the precise place of the vision just seven minutes before it happened. He was sure that he had done it subconsciously. When he had looked down, while riding through the gap, he had fully expected to see the courtyard below him, as if he had always meant to be there at that point.

  Now he really was getting directly involved.

  Vanda walked onto the main boulevard of the courtyard, the huge neon advertising signs of Neo Time Square all around him peddling everything from clone servants to off world mineral stocks, the blue sky but a thin slither above his head. He checked the time: he only had thirty-three seconds with the time lapse.

  He stood in the centre of the boulevard and waited. Suddenly a voice came in his ear from his comms link.

  “What are you doing, Vanda?” came the voice of Dr Kelvin.

  “What do you mean, Doctor?” Vanda calmly replied.

  “You’re in violation of your contract.”

  “I’m not allowed to be in Time Square?”

  “Not now you’re not— leave the area immediately…”

  Vanda switched his comms off.

  “Shit,” he thought. “They must know about the attack.”

  Suddenly the courtyard filled with government shock troopers and battle droids; much larger versions of sentry droids that resemble mechanical tanks. Vanda was looking all about him when the building in front exploded. The same screaming bodies that he had seen earlier in his vision came spilling out. He rushed forward— he still had a couple of seconds before it exploded for real. He felt the heat from the blast rush over him as the explosion went off in real time— he always felt things in the present. Vanda rushed to the spot where he had seen the girl get shot and waited.

  He looked around.

  There she was, a frantic expression on her face, running for her life, turning now and then to blast the troops that chased her. The battle droids on the courtyard started firing away, incinerating whole crowds of people, the stink of the chemical flames spilling into Vanda’s nostrils. She reached his position.

  “I’m Vanda,” he bellowed at her as he grabbed ahold of her.

  “Who the heck are you?” she exclaimed in surprise as he took her.

  Vanda ripped the backpack off of his back with one hand while he held onto O with the other. The backpack instantly folded out into the bike and Vanda jumped onto it, pulling O onto the back with him. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but as they burst out of there and away from the carnage that crackled on behind them, she felt much safer.

  They thundered along through the city traffic, which by now had become completely static due to the attack on the stock exchange. They weaved in and out of it, police pods and attack craft filling the airways in search of them. Vanda saw several police pods that would recognise them in three seconds. He instantly took the bike down through the traffic, the pods missing them entirely. He then saw that directly down through the traffic - a police frigate waiting for them. He immediately brought the bike upright and glided it down a narrow street way that took them below the plusher areas of downtown Neo Manhattan. He raced along, O holding on tightly to him from behind, when suddenly he saw that at a junction just ahead a police pod was about to cross; he instantly dived left, O almost coming off the back.

  Vanda decided to dive down into the subterranean innards

  s of the vast city. Down there amongst the desperate and the deserted, they would be safe.

  A few moments later, they were deep down below the fog and no longer in danger. They both got off the bike and Vanda folded it up into a pack again.

  O opened her mouth to speak, but before she could let out any sound, Vanda said, “My name is Vanda Kline. I am a shifter and saw you in a vision. I just saved your life.”

  “Well, that clears that up, Mr Kline. I don’t recognise…”

  “I don’t work for the Cause,” Vanda butted in, having already heard the question, “— I do some contractual work for the government.”

  At that O jumped back and brought her fusion pistol out, placing it right up against Vanda’s temple. Vanda just stood there calmly — he, of course, knew what her reaction would be before she knew herself.

  “It’s okay,” he calmly said, O’s pistol drilling into the side of his head, “I don’t think I work for them any longer. However, we do need to get out of here and to someone that can hack my chip. Yes, (O was about to ask about it, but Vanda began answering the question before she had the chance) I have a tracking device that doesn’t work so good down here, but will eventually give away our position. Please, I need your help.”

  “Why did you take me out of there?” O interjected. “I left friends down there, who possibly needed my help.”

  “You would have died— I’ve seen it many times.”

  With that O went silent and the two of them headed into the deep labyrinthine streets of lower Manhattan. She knew someone that they could see who would be able to hack Vanda’s chip.

  Down there in the lower levels, most of the telescreens were cracked or broken, but the odd one worked and as they passed them they saw the news of the chancellor’s death and those suspected of it. Vanda paused as he saw his face up there on the telescreens. He too was now a wanted fugitive.

  Soon he and O were in a bustling collection of tight alleyways encrusted with little shops selling cheap goods. The place was a huge marketplace, and the two of them had to squeeze their ways through the walkways tightly packed with scruffy looking people of all kind. The smell of rotting meat seemed to permeate out of everything and the sun’s rays never made it this far down into the city depths, so the place was lit up with miles and miles of neon lights that hung from every ceiling and ordained every wall. Vanda began to worry that they’d be recognised, but no one seemed to batter an eyelid at them. That was because down at the bottom of the city nobody cared for the fugitives of a government whose jurisdiction doesn’t spread this low.

  Finally,
O found the place she was looking for. They ducked into a small shop, whose door was only four feet tall. Vanda had to stoop down low as they went through.

  Inside the cramped shop, there was an ocean of cables strewn all over the floor and across every surface. They walked steadily to the back of the shop and then continued down a cramped corridor, O leading, before finally arrived at a small metal hatch that sat on the floor of the far end of the hallway.

  O bent down and knocked on the hatch. A light beam came out of the hatch and scanned O. The hatch instantly unlocked, and O opened it up. She began to climb down through the hatch but stopped as her head was about to disappear and looked up at Vanda.

  “Don’t…” she pronounced.

  “I won’t mention that I worked for the government,” Vanda answered before she had a chance to finish.

  “Okay,” she said and carried on going down.

  Vanda followed her down into a little cave full of pieces of tech and cables. Vanda saw O walk up to a huge pile of cables, and then the cables move suddenly as she approached. Someone was underneath it, or within it all. The pile of cables stretched out a little hand from within it, which O took. It then turned around, and Vanda saw a little oriental face poking out from within all the cables. The cables appeared to be plugged into some kind of suit that the little man was wearing. The weight of it all hunched him down, and when he moved, he looked like a giant hunchback.

  “Sit,” the little cable covered man entreated Vanda.

  But Vanda could see nowhere to sit, so he just sat on the floor. Vanda then allowed O to do all the talking; he didn’t want to give away the fact that he was a shifter. O explained to the man, whose name was Zilo, that Vanda needed a government chip hacked and that he was a Cause member who had escaped from a government camp. Zilo gave him a curious look. O then explained that Vanda was a mute. The old man seemed reassured by this and came over to Vanda, dragging the deluge of cables with him as he did so.

  He came up to Vanda and grabbed the latter’s head roughly, pulling it forward and examining the back of Vanda’s neck. He placed two fingers there and sat musing for a while. Vanda noticed that the old man’s eyes turned a light neon-blue as he did so. He was a neurolian— a networker; that is, someone who has adapted their genetic makeup so that they can plug themselves into whole computer networks and change its programming with their minds. The suit was an entire network of databases continuously plugging him into everything. Vanda had heard of such people but had never seen them in the flesh. They were illegal and mostly worked for the Cause. But then the government had captured a few of them, drugged and then forced to combat other neurolians for them.

  A few moments later and the old man became animated, and his eyes returned to their former dull color.

  “It’s done,” he muttered.

  Suddenly he grabbed a screwdriver that sat next to him and flung it directly at Vanda. Vanda instantly caught it, having a three-second advantage.

  “Huh!” the old man cried out. “I knew it— he’s a shifter.”

  O stood behind him with a worried look upon her face.

  “I knew it the moment he walked down here,” Zilo continued and then addressing O, he added. “Do you know?”

  “Yes,” she gently pronounced.

  Zilo then grabbed hold of Vanda’s arm and began inspecting it carefully.

  Looking up at Vanda, he asked, “When did you take the last of your medication?”

  “What?” Vanda replied.

  When he had left for his ride, Vanda had forgotten to grab his meds. He had only consciously expected to be out for a couple of hours max.

  “Your withdrawal is coming on,” Zilo informed him. “Look— your skin is fading. You’re nearly completely colourless.”

  Vanda looked at his hands. They had gone even paler than they usually were. His exposure to the spice hadn’t just affected his temporal awareness; it had also affected the pigmentation of his skin and bleached almost all the color out of his body. When the effects of his meds wore off, the color of his skin would immediately fade until it was almost transparent. They called it ‘ghosting’ at the Institute. He was supposed to take a pill every three hours and couldn’t afford a break. It had now been three and a half hours since his last.

  Vanda felt the sure signs of a temporal seizure about to kick in. He began to sweat. He felt the room start to shrink around him, and the ceiling began to push down on him. He felt like the very air of the room and his vision was squeezing him began to whir. The sounds in the room began to blur, and he felt himself shrinking. His time-lapse began to spread out: five seconds, and then ten, followed by twenty seconds, the room becoming more and more confusing as the seconds passed. He reached his hand out into the room to see if he were still in it, but his hand hit something solid about a foot in front of him, which he couldn’t see. Suddenly he no longer saw the room, its walls dissolving around him, but being carried along a long corridor. He was having a temporal seizure.

  It was common for shifters who regularly take government meds to have fits when they don’t take them for too long a period. Their bodies grew a dependency to the drugs and going without them causes catastrophic damage to their temporal field. Vanda needed to get to medication quickly.

  Within the fit, he attempted to cool his mind, to focus it back into its present moment. But every time he opened his eyes he was in a different place, causing him to become more confused. Now and then he would feel someone stroking his hand, but when he opened his eyes to look, he saw no one there. Sometimes he would catch the face of O looking down at him, a worried expression on her freckled face, but when he reached out to touch her, he felt nothing there.

  Eventually, he slipped into unconsciousness.

  Unfortunately, Vanda found no respite in sleep. He found himself in a great hall made of glass. Outside he saw an expanse of blue, cloud-filled sky, the likes of which he had only ever seen from the window of an interplanetary shuttle whenever he was flying in or out of Earth’s atmosphere, but never from the ground. Outside the hall stood hundreds of people all dressed in white, the cut of their outfits different but always white. They looked so clean and beautiful. They were all rejoicing something and service droids hovered about them giving out drinks and refreshments.

  Everyone stood on the most beautiful sky top balcony that had been carved from white ivory taken from the gigantic whale-like creatures of V’ranasi 6. The balcony was huge, around a hundred meters in width and spreading out the side of an enormous tower that adorned the sky tops of a huge city. The ground was covered with perfectly manicured grass, and an orchid of peach trees bordered the whole thing. Vanda looked across the sky top and saw across a large expanse of city rooftop communities that looked like small islands placed on top of mountain-sized skyscrapers. It was beautiful, and each island was covered in little suburbs and lakeside communities. It was heaven on Earth and something that Vanda could hardly believe possible.

  All of a sudden the sky filled with hundreds of television screens and everyone looked up, parents pointing the screens out to their children. Other people, such as those close to the edge of the ivory balcony, ignored the screens and began looking down over the edge with electro binoculars. Vanda looked up into the air at the screens and saw that they were displaying images of the bottom levels of the city. In fact, they were showing the subterranean levels of every city on Earth, going from one city to the next. The lower level city streets were full of people, all looking very scared, crying, hugging one another, holding up placards that Vanda couldn’t make out.

  There suddenly came a flash of light, both on the screens and down below, and the people up on the balcony began to cheer, as did all the other people on the upper levels, including children. Vanda ran outside and looked over the edge of the huge balcony. An enormous bright light with lightening bolts careering out of it was covering the whole of the lower level. He looked back up at the screens and saw the light begin to fade.

  When it h
ad, all the people were gone, naught but ash being blown along on an atomic wind.

  Vanda suddenly awoke. He was surrounded by people he didn’t recognise and in a strange room. His vision was blurred. He saw the face of O come into view, but he didn’t reach out for it as he was sure that his lapse was still too far-gone. He flinched as she reached out to him and he felt her touch his arm only ten seconds later. “They must have gotten some meds inside me,” Vanda thought.

  “It’s okay,” O reassured him. “You’re with the Cause now— they’re my friends.”

  Vanda waited for the ten seconds to pass and then he solemnly pronounced to O, “Then I have to tell your leader that the government plan to incinerate everyone on the lower levels of every city on Earth.”

  Part Two

  Deep inside the Cause’s secret base, Vanda spent several days in and out of temporal seizures.

  The team of doctors that constantly surrounded him did all they could to help. But, no matter what, they couldn’t get his seizures under control. During this period, Vanda felt so alone, trapped in a world between worlds and O did her best to keep him company, regularly sitting by his side. However, he could never see her in the present moment and therefore was unable communicate with her.

  Several times he was presented with her panicked face, tears streaming down her cheeks, and realised that something was about to happen in that room that would move her to such emotions. It filled him with trepidation; for he fully expected that she was crying over him.

  Once he was sitting up in his bed when he suddenly realised that there was someone next to him and that they were talking to him; informing him of something. He quickly realised that it was Zilo, but that the little man was no longer wearing his network suit. Vanda hadn’t realised how old the man was when he had seen him before and also how tiny. He was now sitting in a chair, hunched forward and leaning on a long black cane; his hands rested upon it.