Future Rebuilt: A Post-Apocalyptic Harem (Future Reborn Book 2)

by Daniel Pierce

  “You’ll come back. It’s just a flooded floor in a two-thousand-year-old weapons facility stocked with apocalyptic monsters and shit. Piece of cake,” Andi said breezily. She was an excellent liar.

  “My thoughts exactly. What could be worse than a giant spider?” I said.

  Nobody laughed, including me.

  19

  “How many doors?” I asked, checking my weapons for the fifth time. I stood before level four, the stairwell filled with water so it looked like a square fish pond. The surface was scummy, the water murky, and the smell was somewhere between moss and corruption. I didn’t relish going in, but there was little option.

  Andi looked over my shoulder with hesitation, her eyes bright and alert. The only light was cast by amber emergency tubes that ran along the ceiling at each side of the hall; the effect was like a sick sunset over an oil slick. Somehow, the light made the flooded hallway even less appealing, if such a thing was possible.

  “Can you feel it? Andi asked, poking at her jaw with a knuckle.

  The harmonic was even worse down here, given that the facility reactors—there were two—hummed away at the end of the hall in a safe room. I’d have to clear the drains, activate the emergency pumps with Andi’s help, and hope the door’s seals held in a room that had been submerged for an unknown amount of time. Andi assured me the seal did hold, because it wasn’t any normal door. It was a retrofitted submarine hatch intended to withstand water and anything short of a small nuke.

  If everything went to plan, Andi would enter the reactor room, switch the power system to a backup reactor, and secure the future for the Oasis.

  It was a big if, and we both knew it.

  She put a hand on my shoulder as I stood, staring into the still water. “How strong are your hands?”

  “My hands? What?” Her question surprised me, and my reaction included looking at my hands with an accusing stare. “I don’t know. I’m sure the ‘bots have given me a grip that’s more than just human, Why?”

  She turned me gently to face the submerged floor. “Along the left side—you can’t see it, but it’s there—there’s a conduit that can hold your weight. It’s at the very top, where the ceiling and wall meet. One inch, carbon line.”

  “What’s inside it?” I asked. The idea of holding onto a power line for dear life was no solution at all if I got in trouble. It was a way to cook myself in the soup, and death by electrocution was far down my list of preferred activities.

  “Low voltage data lines. No chance of being shocked, so you’re safe there. But the conduit is strong, and the cable inside is even stronger. It might be useful, if you have to go all Tarzan,” Andi said.

  “If I have to swing from anything, it means shit has gone wrong.” I rolled my shoulders and looked at the water again. “Will clearing the first drain begin the process, or do I have to open all three?”

  “First one gets the ball rolling. It won’t do much, but it will start. I think you should clear one, come back here until an air space opens, and then go for the next two. Your ‘bots will help you hold your breath for three minutes or more, but even that might not be enough, depending on how fouled the screens are. They’re just above the floor level, as I showed you on the tablet. The key is getting them open and keeping them open. That’s why you’re going to need this,” Andi said. She handed me a trash bag.

  “A trash bag?”

  “Yes. A good old plastic yard bag, taken from the mess. Fill it with whatever you grab, bring it up here, and we’ll dump it. Lather, rinse, repeat until the level is clear,” she said. Andi was confident, if nothing else.

  “I’d expected something a bit more high-tech, but, sure.” I took the bag, tucked it in the front pocket of my pants, and inhaled. The water smelled ominous, if such a thing was possible. “No sense fucking around.”

  “Remember the cable, okay?” Andi said.

  “I will.” I turned, waded into the water, and dove under.

  The water was warmer than I expected; like an unpleasant bath with amber shadows and streaks of light through the murk. My target was on the left, some ten meters out and along the junction where the wall and floor met. I ran a hand along the wall as I kicked, expecting a six-jawed shark to bite me in half, or at the very minimum a spider that could hold its breath and attack underwater.

  Neither happened.

  If anything, the water was still but not stagnant, meaning it was in some degree of flux. I figured the drains were working, just not up to full capacity. Whatever was happening down here was a slow backup, like a sink that got clogged but will clear itself overnight. This difference between my surroundings and a sink was the location—the water around me was spooky as hell—and the low, irritating hum grew in my back teeth. The closer I got to the malfunctioning reactor, the more pronounced it was. I wondered if the water around me made it worse, but in the middle of my thought, my hand bumped against the distinct shape of a drain, right where Andi said it would be.

  I surfaced, not out of desperation but convenience. I’d been under for about a minute, and there was a silvery layer of air above me, shifting in the amber emergency lights. I pushed up to the ceiling, lifted my nose, and took an experimental sniff. The air was stale, moldy, and warm, but breathable. I’d smelled worse in a gym. I filled my lungs and dove again, reaching the drain immediately. With my left hand, I grabbed the mat of waste covering the drain, slowly easing as much of it into the plastic bag as I could without shaking it around. The less I moved the thick layer of debris, the more I could remove. Since vision was limited, I went by feel. There were leaves, and sticks, and shredded bags and other trash that would have swept down from the upper levels, most likely the stairwells during a torrential rain that managed to break into the facility somewhere.

  When the bag was full, the drain was open. I put my hand over it and felt a gentle pressure, pulling my palm down to the grate. Water was flowing out faster than before, and I knew, for the moment, I could return to Andi and plan our next move. One down, three to go.

  Out of curiosity, I swam forward first, toward the looming darkness of the tunnel. My fingers jammed hard against an unmovable wall, the metal surface slick with algae. I rapped my knuckles on it, hearing the metallic warble through the water, then turned and kicked hard for the stairwell. I’d ask Andi why there was a wall, because it wasn’t on any of the maps I’d seen, nor had she described it.

  I broke surface, sucking in the fresh air of the stairwell as I dragged the bag behind me, pulling it free of the water in a sodden mess. “Clear. One down, and it’s draining. I can feel it working.”

  Andi’s relief was palpable as she smiled at me in the brighter light of the landing. “You’re—I’m glad you’re back. That was fast.”

  “It was right where you said. I cleared it, filled the bag, and managed to avoid being eaten. So far, I’d say we’re winning,” I told her, hauling myself up the steps to sit on a stair, dripping.

  “Anything in the water?” she asked me, her face a mask of concern.

  “Not that I saw. It’s just a flooded hall. I wouldn’t recommend it for a casual swim, but there’s actually a bit of air up top. The place isn’t completely flooded because the reactor is still throwing power. When you get down there, the hum is a lot worse. I don’t know if the reactor is less stable, but it’s way more pronounced. Makes my teeth hurt,” I said.

  Andi looked thoughtful. “That’s just a proximity issue. This was all you took from the drain?” She poked at the bag with suspicion, as if it might begin spilling monsters. Or snakes. Or both.

  “That’s all that was on it. Heavy, not moving. I cleared it in one piece, and the water started to pick up speed through the drain. I don’t know how long it will take, but there’s a problem. I found a wall that wasn’t on the map you showed me,” I said.

  “Metal?” she asked, not missing a beat. “Floor to ceiling?”

  “Yep. You know what it is?”

  “Security hatch. Naval design, s
ort of, but it’s totally mechanical. We don’t need to worry about power to move it for access to the next chamber,” Andi said. I was glad of her confidence, because in the gloomy water, I didn’t see things in such a rosy light.

  “How? It was a wall. Don’t moveable walls rust in place?” I asked.

  “Sure, but there’s a hatch in the middle of the room, and that is something you can handle, especially with the water gone. It’s secured with a single bar, rotates down and locks. No computer, no secret code, nothing. Just your muscles versus a bar that has to lift an inch. We designed it that way because of water pressure and the FUBAR principle, but even if that goes wrong, I have another trick up my sleeve. Or on this tablet, I should say,” she said, brandishing the computer.

  “Please tell me it isn’t explosive charges that have been submerged for twenty centuries. That might be a problem,” I told her.

  She laughed, her teeth white in the light of the landing. I could see her tension draining like the water, which was now visibly lower in the stairwell. “We’re okay. When we designed the hatch system, we figured flooding might be an issue. There’s a bolt at the ceiling. Pull it down, and it rotates an internal series of six more that hold the hatch wall upright. There wall lowers on hydraulics, like a ramp.”

  “Which direction?” I asked. If it went away form us, then it would allow the first chamber to flood again, if only halfway.

  “Depends on the water pressure. The hinges are capable of going either way. Just to be safe, You’ll want to pull the bolt—if you even have to—and get the hell out of the way, okay?” Andi said, opening the trash bag to look inside. “Gross. The future is disgusting.”

  “What’s in it?” I asked, looking at the debris. The smell began to drift up, and it was a lot less pleasant than the stagnant water. “Huh. Rat hair, I assume. You’re right, that is disgusting.”

  “And . . . baby scorpions?” Andi asked, nudging something dark with her finger. “Is that a shell? I mean, carapace?”

  I pulled the object from the trash, turning it over in my hands. It was longer than my hand, black, and curved. Like a shell, but not a scorpion. It was flexible, and came to a point on one end, like a teardrop. There were ridges inside as if something had been attached. “I’m no entomologist, but I would say with high confidence that this is definitely some kind of bug.” I nodded for emphasis as Andi burst out laughing.

  “Brilliant. You’ve got a future in bug science. Clearly.”

  A noise came down the stairs, and Chloe appeared, then Silk and Mira. They wore expressions of concern.

  “How’s it going?” Silk asked, taking in my dripping appearance.

  “One drain clear. Any idea what this might be?” I held up the odd shell, handing it to Chloe who was the only person willing to take it from me.

  “Looks familiar. It’s not a scorp. Different legs and shape. Hm.” Chloe held the shell out to Mira, who bent the shell in her hands, feeling the flexibility. “What do you think?”

  “I’ve seen it too,” Mira said. “Can’t recall where.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Silk said, holding her hands up in defense. “I’ve lived my life trying to avoid things like that, not get close enough to make friends.”

  I took the shell back, dropping it on the floor as I began to empty to trash bag. “Can’t say I blame you. There aren’t many things in this world that would make good pets.”

  “Least of all you,” Andi said.

  I gave her a dignified nod, because I’m a refined individual, and then I stood, crammed the bag in my pocket, and began descending the stairs to the water. “That hum is getting old.” I pushed at my temple where the whine of the reactor was drilling away like an unwelcome dentist.

  “Jack, one bolt and then step back, okay?” Andi said.

  “Got it. See you with our next collection,” I said, wading into the receding water with a jaunty wave. I didn’t feel jaunty, but it was a good policy to keep the team from sensing my distrust of the submerged chambers.

  20

  The water greeted me again, warm and sullen. It was a meter lower and falling, but still over my head. The lights were brighter, and the wall loomed into sight faster because I knew what to expect. With some of the mystery gone, the second chamber was more of an engineering problem than a looming place of death. I surfaced at the wall, filled my lungs, and went to the center, looking for the control hatch, but not before marking the position of the bolt that would be my emergency release in the event things were frozen shut after years underwater.

  I tapped the bolt and handle. Neither moved, but I didn’t put any muscle behind it because the hatch was smaller and made better sense. I lowered myself to the hatch, found the secure handle, and realized I could see it in the murky water.

  The lights grew brighter with each passing second, and to my relief, there were no armored crocodiles or piranha swimming toward me. With an internal sigh, I put both feet against the hatch, took the bar in my hands, and twisted with everything my ‘bots had to give me.

  The handle moved. Not much, but enough to feel. I surfaced, filled my lungs again, and went back down with a glimmer of hope. Taking the bar again, I jerked it to the side like I was breaking a lugnut free, and to my utter surprise, the handle rotated completely, banging against the hatch with the noise of a muffled gong. Before I could recover, the door edged open as the water pressure between chambers began to equalize. There was less on my side, and more on the other. Gravity began to work, and the door swung open, releasing a darker current of water to mix with the amber gold of what I swam in.

  In the current, things were moving.

  At me.

  I kicked like a demented donkey, slashing the water to a foam as I reversed gears and made for the stairwell at a speed that was somewhere between raw panic and naked terror. In ten seconds I erupted from the water, spinning to face the flooded chamber with my hands up in an approximation of a boxer’s stance, though how I intended to punch something underwater was a bit unclear.

  “You, um. You saw something?” Silk asked, her brow lifted in concern. She, Chloe, and Mira all had their guns trained on the water, while Andi stared at me in disbelief.

  “I’ve never seen someone come out of the water like that. He’s like a dolphin,” Andi said, reaching out to me. Her expression hovered between concern and laughter.

  “It’s not funny. There are things in the water,” I said. Then I realized I sounded a bit hysterical, so I took a breath or three.

  “Did these things attack you?” Chloe asked. She at least had the good sense to treat my experience with the severity it deserved. Then her lips curled up in a smirk, and I knew she too had gone over to the other side.

  “No, but they would have if I stayed in the water. Why are you all laughing? Are they underwater kittens or something?” I asked.

  Chloe held up the shell from earlier, smiling broadly. “Toe biters. I recognized it from the springs up north.”

  “Toe biters? And you think this nickname makes me feel better? What if they’re actually—oh, shit.” I looked down at the shell, a sheepish grin on my face. “Waterbugs? Big waterbugs?”

  “Yes. Granted, if there were a few thousand of them you might be in trouble, but I don’t think they can really hurt you. Unless you take your boots off,” Chloe remarked.

  “Of course,” Silk chimed in. “Then he would be maimed, one toe at a time. Hell of a way to go.” She shuddered dramatically, dragging her full lips into a sympathetic frown.

  “I don’t like them. I’m on your side,” Mira said in solidarity with my wholly legitimate concerns about the army of predatory bugs.

  “See? She gets it.” I glared at everyone except Mira, who appeared to be the only person truly on my side. If the bugs were no big deal, then everyone should be in the water, frolicking with them or whatever the hell you call swimming with insects the size of toasters.

  “We could electrocute them. All,” Andi offered. “It’s simple.”


  “Go on. I’m listening,” I said.

  “Are you that concerned about them?” Chloe asked, without a hint of sarcasm. She knew I had a reason for my concern, even if I was masking it with a breezy attitude.

  “Not them. But what’s been eating them? Sure,” I said.

  “How do you know something’s been eating them?” Silk asked, her expression thoughtful as she peered into the lowering water.

  “Easy. If there wasn’t something preying on them, then the water would be full of them. To the point that they would starve themselves out, or at the very least reduced to a population of only a few. There were hundreds of them boiling through the opening. That means there is biomass coming into the chambers, and biomass feeding on what’s in the chambers. At least that’s how I see it.” I hefted a sword and looked back at the water. “I’m going back in as soon as the water drops to thigh level. We don’t have time to wait, and the lights are bright enough to penetrate to the floor. I’ll see whatever is coming.”

  “And if there is a predator, we can take it out here. With a rifle,” Chloe said, unshouldering her weapon.

  “Just don’t miss. I don’t want to be ventilated again. It hurts,” I said, smiling wryly.

  “I won’t” Chloe said. She meant it. Mira and Chloe were expert shots. You had to be in the desert.

  “Almost time,” I said, judging the receding waters with a jaundiced eye. I fought the urge to spit in it, imagining millions of wriggling beetles and their quest for dinner.

  The water began to ripple, and we all grew still as the surface broke apart in wavelets as the water level continued to fall. I heard a low hum, then Andi gestured to the drain.

  “Secondary pumps kicking in. The water will fall faster now,” she said. I noticed she had her own weapon ready.

  “No time like now, I think.” I watched the water with serious reservations, but the motion seemed to be only beetles—hundreds of them, but still, just waterbugs and well below the level of any of my exposed skin.