The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1)

by Melissa Riddell

  Kodiak licks his face. I’m fairly sure that was my dog’s mouse toy that went into a pocket.

  “Hey, dog-snatcher, don’t be getting any ideas.”

  Jareth has the decency to turn with a hint of guilt. “What?”

  Sparky’s boring drone pulls my attention away from that sparkling, impish smile.

  “Most perished due to the impact of a large meteorite.”

  “Whoa. This planet was impacted by a meteorite millions of years ago, too.”

  The large trees on either side of the road twist and bend with the breeze, tops swaying back and forth like waves. A few late sunflowers cling to life next to an old wooden fence separating property lines. Even though the petals are wilting, they’re still exquisite in their struggle to survive.

  I step off the road and cross the ditch. The largest flower beckons, and I try to bend the stem. However, it’s so thick it won’t break.

  Sparky steps beside me and snaps the stalk with a quick twist of fingers. The bright yellow contrasts with the black glove when the flower lays in his palm. He moves it toward me, offering the blossom without a word.

  Peace is in this simple gesture. Don’t be stupid, Tilly. He’s a robot, that’s it. Programmed to serve, programmed to kill. Still, nothing is making him be nice to me.

  My fingers pluck it from his hand. I offer a small smile and sniff the delicate petals. The smell takes me back to the summers of childhood, when my sister and I would gather wildflowers for Mamma’s window vase.

  The robot’s head tilts a bit, but I can’t tell if he’s watching me or calculating complex trigonometry.

  I hold the blossom near his helmet. “Can you, uh, smell?” I’m so dumb. Why am I asking if he can smell? Who cares?

  “Yes.”

  Stepping forward, I push the flower where I think a nose should be, and then feel like an ass. He’s a robot, he doesn’t have a nose.

  He surprises me by leaning into the flower, and half of his helmet hides behind a giant, yellow sun.

  A laugh slinks out of my throat. “Doesn’t it smell good, sweet and wild?”

  “The scent is not unpleasant, but I do not understand the point.”

  Pulling the yellow flower away, I tuck it behind my ear. Gold splotches of pollen dust his helmet. “There doesn’t always have to be a point to an action. I wanted to stop and enjoy the sunflowers. That’s all.”

  I head back to the road with the robot in tow, ready to continue our conversation. “You know, the meteor that impacted our planet, Sparky, also caused an extinction event.”

  Thankfully long before humans were ever a gleam in their mammalian ancestor’s eyes.

  “How big was this meteor before it hit Baltin?”

  Sparky responds without hesitation. “Two miles wide and half a mile long in human measurements.”

  I whistle. “That kind of impact would’ve put the planet into all sorts of turmoil.”

  The atmosphere would be thick with dust. Plant life would die without sunlight breaking through the thick barrier, assuming the planet’s life formed like here.

  Hell, two suns could’ve rotated around his world for all I know.

  “How’d you come to be? You’re mechanical, right? Did they build you?”

  Up ahead, Kodiak and Jareth stop and let us to catch up.

  Don’t worry. It’s just me and the robot pausing to have a scientific chat on the post-apocalyptic road.

  Sparky’s helmet tips back, as if he’s viewing the sky. “The question does not compute. I have always been.”

  “No, you can’t have always been, someone or something created you.”

  I can almost hear his electronic brain churning. “I do not remember being created. I just—was.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I count to five. “Okay, let me try this another way. What’s your first memory?”

  “Being disconnected from my hub.”

  “Before that. You remember prior events, because you explained your solar system’s history.” I drag the tip of my boot across the road to keep my foot from kicking the robot’s leg. It’s like pulling teeth to get certain answers out of him.

  Kodiak walks to me and jumps to my waist in an effort to give me a doggie embrace.

  “Traitor. I saw you giving Jareth that toy. Afraid to give it to me, now? Guilty conscience ripping you apart?”

  He lets out a bark and nuzzles my stomach.

  I hug him back. I can’t stay mad at the big goofball for long.

  “You owe me some bacon, buddy. Better get that sniffer in working order next time we find a grocery store.” Ruffling the fur around his neck, I grab his front legs and set him back down to the pavement.

  Jareth shifts his backpack off his shoulders and sets it on the road to stretch his arms. A slight crease forms on his forehead. “What’re you talking about now?”

  “Sparky here was giving me some background information on his solar system.” I wiggle my eyebrows, unable to hide the satisfaction at my alien information collecting abilities.

  “I see.” He rakes a hand through his unruly curls and gives me a wink with a small, knowing grin. The crooked tooth slants against the rest of his perfect teeth, and I realize it’s the most authentic thing about him. Most people would see it as an imperfection and have it corrected—or would have, pre-EMP—but not him.

  Even with everything he’s gone through, I get the feeling he’s always been comfortable in his skin.

  It’s like trying to lift a one-ton boulder when I pull my eyes away from his mouth.

  Where his lips touched mine last night begins to ache, and my hand rubs the skin.

  Damn it, Sparky, why’d you have to barge in like that?

  Kodiak sniffs the road then heads into some tall grass.

  “Don’t go far, boy.”

  My thoughts refocus on Jareth, the man, not the comic relief. The memory of his warm body next to mine last night replays. He intrigues me with both his beauty and vulnerability. Knowing he felt comfortable enough to share such an awful experience with me melts my heart. Add his sexy factor into the mix and he’s becoming irresistible.

  A couple of buttons at his collar are undone, and that dark, tanned skin shows. Farther down, the worn jeans fit his hips like a second skin. How many tattoos lie hidden underneath?

  Hello? No distractions, remember?

  Ahh, hell, can’t a girl fantasize without acting on the thoughts.

  A faint whisper of laughter sounds in my head. Doomed.

  Jareth snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Tilly.”

  I don’t know how long I zoned out, or when he took notice. Oh God. Mortification flushes my entire body.

  “Well, damn, Red. Might as well strip me right here and now.”

  “What?” My face is so hot, I can feel tears of steam form in my eyes. “No. I wasn’t—”

  “Sure you were.” With one step, he closes the gap, standing toe-to-toe.

  Now would be a good time for Sparky to shoot lightning out of his fingers Roman candle style and incinerate me on the spot. It’s preferable to Jareth’s knowing, mocking chuckle.

  His chest, millimeters away from mine, makes me realize how close he got without me noticing.

  Something’s wrong with me, that’s the only logical explanation for my intense attraction to this man. It must be a lingering effect of the head injury.

  “Might be kind of fun.”

  Busted. The only thing I can do is stare at him, eyes glassy and face on fire.

  “Yeah. If you call leaping out of a plane without a parachute fun.” I swallow, forcing the embarrassment deep down where it belongs.

  Bending forward, he puts his lips right next to my ear. “I might even let you see what’s in my bag.”

  Can one die of embarrassment? I hope so.

  Kodiak growls, and I grasp at the opportunity like a junkie needing a fix.

  “What’s up, boy?” Instead of answering, the crazy mutt begins to bark and snarl, then run
s off into the trees next to the road.

  Jareth follows the dog’s running form. “Hey, Kodiak, get your butt back here.”

  “I know that growl.” The swish of his furry tail blends into the dried tall grass. “Don’t bother. He’s found a squirrel or rabbit to chase. He might be a while. We should go ahead and set up camp.” Filling my lungs with a deep breath, I exhale with a sigh. “I smell rain.”

  To my relief, Jareth keeps the rest of his comments to himself.

  The trail Kodiak makes chasing his quarry clears a path to follow.

  Jareth climbs over the top of the rough, mesquite fence and then holds his hands out to me. “Come on, I got you.”

  My head shakes. “No thanks. I’m quite capable of climbing a fence myself.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  I hoist myself up on the top rung, and my foot slips. “Well, shit.”

  “First time?”

  “No, smartass. The wood’s slippery.” I try again and manage to straddle the top rail and get a foot on the other side. The bootlace on my other boot catches on a long splinter of wood, and I try to shake it free. The rapid motion causes me to lose my grip and topple to the ground, right back where I started.

  I shoot daggers at Jareth’s face, daring him to laugh. He doesn’t chuckle with his voice, but I can see it in his eyes. Asshole.

  Sparky has yet to climb the fence, so he’s still on the outside. He lowers a hand for me to grab.

  The thought of my skin, so close to that deadly electricity, gives me a shiver.

  He continues to offer a hand, silent and still.

  A few moments pass, and I decide to take the plunge, letting him pull me to my feet. The scratchy cloth makes me want to jerk my hand back and rub it on my pants, but I fight the urge.

  When I’m upright, he lets go.

  My hand drags across my jeans when he turns his back.

  Jareth’s voice teases. “Hey, bud, stop encroaching on my territory. I’m supposed to be the smooth one.”

  I open my mouth before I think. “Smooth like a hairy pair of nuts.”

  It sounds like Jareth chokes. “You know, I’m not even going to touch that one.”

  Sparky points a hand to the fence and shoots several short bursts of lightning into the wood. A section falls away, large enough for me to walk through.

  “Thanks, Sparky. You’re not completely brain dead.” I waltz through and blast Jareth with a triumphant smile.

  He peers into the deep, wooded area, as if trying to follow Kodiak’s trail. “Do you always let him run off like this?”

  “It’s not like I can make him stay if he doesn’t want to. I’m not leashing him. He’s free to do as he pleases, just like you and me.” My feet stumble to avoid a jutting rock. “You know the saying ‘If you love something, set it free. If it doesn’t return, it was never meant to be yours. If it does, love it forever’? I would never think of restraining him just to stave off loneliness.”

  He nods his head but continues to frown when we head farther into the forest.

  “Don’t worry.” Man, the way he’s moping, you’d think he lost his best friend. “Once he catches the poor critter, he’ll prance back, mighty squirrel hunter sated.”

  About fifty feet in, a small clearing opens.

  Jareth pulls a green four-person tent from his gear. “Unless outsmarted.”

  So begins the tedious process of setting camp for the evening.

  Chapter Twelve

  I straighten the last of the tent poles and anchor the shelter’s canvas. A strong gust of wind sweeps through the clearing and flaps the waterproof material. Jareth is somewhere in the circle of trees, scouting and setting a snare.

  The sky darkens to charcoal gray, and fat, heavy clouds block out the sun. Distant rumbles of thunder send vibrations through the ground, quaking up through my bones.

  I’d been hoping to make another campfire. But it’s now a fruitless task with the sky about to burst open above our heads.

  Kodiak plods to camp with nothing to show for his trouble, head hanging low.

  “Aw, poor boy. I’m sorry. Did they trick you again?” I grab the sides of his face and give him nose kisses.

  I set a bowl of water and dry dog food near the tent’s entrance.

  “Here you go. Better eat up before it starts to pour.”

  Tail wagging, he eats his supper.

  Ever present and ever silent, Sparky lingers near the tent.

  I can feel his eyes—or sensors, whatever—on my skin, and my scalp prickles. He’s the very definition of a creeper.

  “Hey, Sparky, think you can find some dry wood to store for safekeeping?” Anything to get his stare off me.

  When his head swivels in my direction, I try to keep my face blank. Damn, I’ll never look at owls the same way.

  “We need to stockpile dry wood and kindling before the rain hits.” That’s banking on Jareth catching anything in the trap. “Gotta be prepared in case Jareth gets lucky.”

  He tilts the helmet to the thick, green pines encircling camp, and then back to me. “Wood? I am not certain I understand.”

  I take a deep breath and count. Five. Four. Three. “Wood.” Two. One. “You know, the stuff that burns?” Struggling to keep my composure proves arduous. “We need to get a dry load before the rain comes, or we’ll never get a fire going.” Arm extended in front of me, I point. “Can you look around for some small pieces, like branches, twigs, and larger logs to keep it going? Nothing over a foot or two long, though.”

  I head to the tent to grab a jacket then freeze in place. “You do know what a fire is, right?”

  Standing underneath the gloomy sky, he doesn’t answer the question.

  "Hello.” I wave in front of where his eyes should be if he had any. “Anyone home?”

  Looming pines and a few scattered cypress trees and oaks frame the background. He couldn’t look more extraterrestrial if he tried.

  I resist the urge to knock on his helmet like Jareth did the other day. He finally speaks. “And how should I carry this wood?”

  “Uh, in your arms.” My answer sounds more like a question.

  With the subdued lighting, his dark clothing looks more like a dull gray with silver threads laced throughout the fabric. It’s as if the fading light forces his mode of dress to change.

  With Jareth out of the camp, it might not be a good idea to provoke the robot. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

  The sky overhead casts a gray haze over the camp. My neck rotates in a stretch, first to one side then the other, working away the tension of the day.

  Patience, my mother would advise. Patience and prudence get you there faster than haste.

  “Let’s try this again.” This time, I try to keep the sarcasm at bay. “Humans survive better with heat, which means Jareth and I will be able to keep heading towards your—uhm docking station—hub thingy.” In my head, though, the hub has become synonymous with Sissy.

  My anger with Sparky is still in a full-on intense rage, but the desire to see my sister is getting stronger with each mile we leave behind.

  Unsure if he understands my request, I wave him off in disgust. “Why do I even try?” Is he really of a higher intelligence than humanity?

  Now that I’m left at camp to do a woman’s work, I relish the peace, even if it’s temporary.

  A seed pod from a tree bounces off the tin-can’s head. In a squat, he retrieves it. He holds it between his fingers. It makes me wonder if he’s able to test the compounds of the items he touches. The thought makes my skin crawl.

  “It was a stupid idea to bring that robot.”

  Glancing at me, Kodiak chomps a piece of dog food between his teeth and then shoves his muzzle deep inside the bowl.

  “You know it is. We’re going to get ourselves killed by his stupidity.” Or if he decides to call some friends over, what then?

  This thought makes me check the sky again. Other than some billowing rain clouds blowing this way, it’s empty
.

  Jareth may be sure we won’t run into any spheres, but I’m not. So far, we’ve been lucky, but it won’t last.

  I take a seat outside the tent entrance and stretch my legs out. Jareth. Just thinking his name twists my insides, and I don’t know what to do about it.

  Kodiak finishes the last morsel of food with a crunch and sits at my feet, earning a stroke on his neck. He gazes at me with his doggie smile, the tip of his tongue showing through his teeth.

  “Come here.” I motion for him to get in my lap. “Let’s hang out. We haven’t gotten much time to talk over the past few days, have we?”

  Wiggling his butt, he scooches until he reaches my stomach. His ninety-pound body covers me and part of the ground.

  He lets out a low woof and licks my face with his long, pink tongue.

  “Gah. Yuck—stop that.”

  He ignores my plea.

  I chuckle and hug him close—glad for his company. “Good grief, boy.” I choke on a wet, musky scent that’s akin to horse urine and furry dog butt. “You smell. When’s the last time you had a bath? Hell, when did you clean yourself last?”

  When I say the word bath, his face changes from happy to serious. Little eyebrows draw together, and he watches my hands as if I’m going to make a tub of suds appear out of thin air. Is there something to what Jareth’s been saying all along? “Oh, so you know what the word bath means?”

  My fingers brush the top of his head, and he shies away, tensing his muscles as if he’s about to run.

  “So, you don’t like baths?” Unable to help myself, I giggle. “I thought all dogs love water.”

  There’s a look of reproach in his eyes before he turns his head to ignore me.

  “Well, don’t worry. We’re not going to get wet today unless our tent has a hole in it.”

  A soft snort issues from his nostrils. He lifts his head and gazes around the woods. A chittering group of squirrels, high up in the boughs of a nearby tree, catch his attention.

  My back settles against the outside canvas of the tent, and I take in our temporary stopover.

  The house from last night, more exact, the soft folds of the bed and couch—and bacon—float into my mind’s eye. “This isn’t so bad.” My butt and legs, now numb from the unyielding ground, beg to differ. It could be worse. Don’t go there.