Zenith Rising

by Gavin Zanker

  Leigh yelled something, stealing his attention. ‘Why are you shouting,’ he tried to ask.

  She started waving frantically. Aiden squinted ahead, recognising Andrew, Faye’s little brother, and beside him Willow, his border collie. ‘What’re you doing back here?’ the boy asked as he ran over and helped prop up Aiden. ‘What happened to him?’

  Aiden tried to thank him, but his voice came out as nothing more than a breath.

  Leigh said something, but it sounded quiet. Faraway.

  After that, the world went dark.

  CHAPTER 70

  SOMETIME LATER, AIDEN awoke inside a cabin. He was lying on a comfortable bed under a thatched roof of straw. He glanced down in confusion at the large, fabric bandage wound around his chest. Beside the bed, Leigh rested her head against his hand as she grasped it with both of hers. Hitch sat with her, his muzzle in her lap.

  ‘Leigh,’ Aiden croaked, his throat dry and uncomfortable.

  Her head shot up; bloodshot eyes, greasy skin. She shushed him and reached out to wipe his brow. ‘Save your strength,’ she said, her voice tiny. The pain was gone from his body now, there was just a cold haze sticking to his skin like a blanket. Leigh noticed him shiver and pulled the cover up around his neck.

  ‘We made it to Havenstead?’ he asked.

  Leigh nodded. ‘Yeah, we made it.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘You know, you were right after all.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Some people — they can be trusted.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ She sniffed loudly. ‘I don’t think I believe you,’ she said with a meek laugh.

  Aiden tried to smile but his face felt so numb. ‘I don’t think I’ll be around much longer.’ She shushed him again, but he continued. ‘Listen, I don’t want you to walk the world alone like I did.’ He paused, thinking back to all the years he had spent by himself. ‘It gets… so lonely.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she said. Her breath caught in her throat. ‘I’m not ready to lose you.’

  ‘No one is ever ready,’ he said, brushing his hand against her soft cheek. ‘I want you…’ He paused to take a breath, feeling lightheaded. ‘I want you to know that I love you.’

  ‘I love you too,’ she said, her face creasing up as tears started escaping from her red-rimmed eyes.

  ‘Thank you for coming back for me, for saving my life,’ she said, leaning forward and kissing his forehead. A tear fell from her cheek, the hot water landing on his nose.

  ‘Thank you for saving mine,’ Aiden said, the edges of his mouth curling into a hint of a smile. ‘It’s been a long day. I think… I think I’ll rest a while.’

  ‘I’ll be right here.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  He lay his head back on the soft pillow, more comfortable than he could ever remember being. Everything was finally complete. After so many years of guilt and self-doubt, he had found Kate and freed her from her nightmare. He had rescued Leigh from suffering the same fate, even getting her to Havenstead, a place she could make a real life for herself. And with Samuel and the Dawnists finished, they wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone ever again. As every muscle in his body relaxed, he smiled to himself; he was finally ready to rest. Focusing on the warmth of Leigh’s hand holding his, he closed his eyes and let himself drift away into the most wonderful sleep he had ever known.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘SORRY I DIDN’T MAKE it out yesterday,’ Leigh said, kneeling down and brushing some loose soil from the slate stone. ‘We were bringing in the new harvest and I barely got a minute to myself.’ She sighed and gazed around at the surrounding forest, gleaming and refreshed from the recent rain. ‘Oh,’ she said, remembering, ‘you’ll be glad to hear Hitch is doing better after that slip. Old Nan said it was just a sprained leg in the end. He’s almost back to his old self already.’ She leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘Between you and me, I think he was playing it up a bit for attention.’

  She traced her fingers across the inscription on the smooth, dark stone.

  Aiden Fielding. Without his sacrifice none of us would be here.

  ‘I still miss you,’ she whispered. ‘Every single day. I thought it was supposed to get easier, but…’

  She could never express how grateful she was for everything he had done for her. For everyone. No one would ever understand the ways he had saved them — from stopping Blanc and Project Solace from unleashing nuclear fallout across the entire continent, to helping save her and the city from Samuel. She bowed her head and mouthed a silent thank you as a tear rolled down her cheek. The old knife on the string around her neck fell out from her jacket. She held it for a second — still warm from the contact with her skin — before pushing it back to rest against her chest where it belonged.

  An excited yapping interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see the two tiny puppies clumsily bounding around the side of the cabin towards her. She grinned, dropping down onto all fours and tussling their heads as they jumped up at her. ‘What are you two miscreants up to then, huh? You hungry?’ One of them nipped her hand playfully. ‘Come on, let’s go get you fed.’

  She stood and headed back into the cabin, running her fingers over the leaves of her potted herbs that were flourishing on the porch. The puppies scampered around her feet as she entered the kitchen, where Hitch lay in his bed as usual, his paw still bandaged. Curled up beside him was Andrew’s collie, Willow. Leigh’s latest painting hung above their bed — a forest of vibrant greens growing beneath a snow-capped mountain range.

  ‘How are the happy couple doing?’ she asked, scratching them both behind the ears. ‘Hungry too, I take it?’

  She clicked on the radio, just catching the end of a record, and set about dishing out some cooked chicken and corn into each of the dog’s bowls.

  ‘That was an old favourite of mine; I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. I’m Grace Ludgate, and I’m here to bring you a bit of good news from Rim News Radio. In light of Catherine Caldwell’s exposé on Mayor Reinhold’s history of illegal dealings, it’s clear that no one wants another dictator given sole control of our city. So it’s been decided that we will vote in a new council to help govern the day-to-day runnings of our home. Any resident of the city can be nominated, even newcomers like the refugees from Carson Waters, so don’t be afraid to get your vote in. Julian Caldwell, ex-Syndicate spokesman and interim governor of the city, has put his name forward for one of the positions. I caught up with him at the unveiling of a monument honouring those lost in the Ravager attack. Here’s what he had to say:

  ‘“Once the city gets back on its feet we’re going to need strong leadership to keep us moving forward. However, that responsibility shouldn’t fall to one person. We need a fair system that puts the interests of the many above the few. That’s why from now on, the city will be governed by a set of representatives who speak for the people. If I’m voted in, I’ll make sure no one falls through the cracks again. The people here don’t live to serve others — our hard work is our own in this world and I intend to do everything I can to keep it that way. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s still a lot of work to be done here.”

  ‘Well there you have it, folks,’ Grace continued, ‘I know who my husband, Robin, and I will be voting for. It’s been a long three years of rebuilding since the Ravager attack that devastated our city, and while the future is uncertain, it is ultimately bright. I hope you all turn out in the coming days for the council vote being held in the recently renovated town hall. Until then, here’s a little something upbeat to keep your spirits high.’

  An old swing track came on as Leigh finished preparing the food and put down the dog bowls. She twirled around to the beat, awkwardly swaying her arms, careful not to step on the bumbling puppies at her feet.

  ‘We have to get you some lessons.’

  She stopped and turned to Andrew, who stood in the kitchen doorway with a smirk on his face. She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘I’d like to see y
ou do better,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, you wanna see?’ he said, racing forward.

  She squealed as he chased her around the kitchen until they both collapsed on the floor, giggling and out of breath. She stared into his lovely eyes for a moment before pushing her lips against his. Finished with their food, the puppies bounded over and started licking their faces. Andrew groaned and stood up, wiping the dog saliva from his nose. Leigh just lay there staring at the ceiling as another tear trickled down her cheek.

  This one wasn’t because she was sad though.

  She wiped the tear away with her sleeve and grasped the pen knife around her neck. A wholehearted smile touched her lips. ‘We made it,’ she whispered.

  THE END

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  About the Author

  Gavin Zanker is a science fiction author with a love of stories, especially the ones where the hero dies at the end. He spends his time drinking tea while waiting for the apocalypse in a quiet corner of England, where it rains a lot but not nearly enough. You can contact him and find news of his work at the links below.

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  A Funeral of Feuds Preview

  For Adam Bennett, life is somewhat troublesome, and it’s about to get even worse.

  Returning to his childhood home for his mother’s funeral, Adam finds himself once again under the same roof as his dysfunctional family. While he finds some escape in a curious encounter with an old acquaintance, the situation soon spirals out of control. Between his derisive siblings, an unexpected guest with a burning grudge, and his brother-in-law’s fear of clergy, this funeral might just have the elegance of a man backing his car down the motorway.

  With healthy doses of irony and fatalism, A Funeral of Feuds offers an absurd comedy with laugh-out-loud moments that’s sure to go down well with anyone fond of British humour.

  THE DRIZZLE WAS still coming down as Adam switched off the engine and stepped out of his slate-grey Volvo estate. As the midday sun failed to pierce the slurry of overcast clouds, knots of earthworms squirmed their way across the sodden driveway.

  Adam blanched at the sight.

  He couldn’t stand worms. They were slimy and weird and he hated the squish they made beneath his shoes when he accidentally stepped on one.

  Even so, at this particular moment he found himself envious of them. They didn’t have to drive three hours in the rain to return to their family home for a funeral, they didn't have to spend the next few torturous days with a family that drove them bonkers, and they certainly didn’t have to worry about a frisky middle-aged landlady with a concerning affinity for knitwear and cats rooting through their belongings while they were away.

  Fate had no plans for worms. They could squirm away in any direction their little hearts desired.

  Adam paused. Did worms even have hearts?

  He squinted down at the wriggly things. He supposed they must; how else would they be alive? Just as his fingers reflexively went for his phone to trawl the internet for an answer, he stopped and scolded himself. His mum had only just died. He shouldn’t be stood out here in the rain stalling and pondering the anatomy of worms, he should be inside, grieving and spending quality time with the rest of his family.

  The thought made his stomach clench more than the sight of the worms.

  He sighed as he looked up at the familiar house before him, blinking away the rain that ran down his brow and dripped into his eye. The semi-detached four bedroom property didn’t scream wealth like a lot of the flashy quasi-mansions around here—with their intimidating automatic gates, elaborate water features, and glazed extensions—but it was certainly proper enough for Newtown Linford, the quiet English village in which he had spent his childhood.

  While his family had never been poor, he took a certain pride in the fact that they had gotten by with less than most in the area; no doubt rubbed off on him from his parents who were equal parts stubborn, proud, and wholly offended at the slightest hint of charity. One night many years ago when money had been a little tight, one of the neighbours had stopped by carrying a box full of groceries. Dad had responded by tossing a rock in his general direction. It wasn’t discovered until a few days later that the neighbour was in fact running the groceries down to the local food bank and had just popped round on the way to ask about borrowing the strimmer to touch up his lawn.

  Not many neighbours stopped by the house after that.

  Adam took one last look around the drive way, desperately searching for anything that might give him an excuse to get back into his Volvo and speed away. Parked across the street, he noticed a small, red hatchback. He had almost gotten a red model from the Volvo dealership, but he didn’t want to rock the boat too much; he figured classic grey would suit him fine until he needed some adventure. Staring at the rain-drenched windows of the hatchback, he thought he caught the glint of a pair of binoculars pointing at him. There was some movement in the driver’s seat, the engine came to life, and the car tore away down the street, disappearing into the haze of drizzle.

  Adam frowned. Had they been watching him? He shook his head at his own foolishness. Maybe this was how his grief was going to finally hit him: a slow decline into hallucination and paranoia. If that was the case, at least it might help him feel like a real person for once, instead of walking around numb inside like a mannequin.

  He trudged up the driveway, careful to avoid stepping on the worms that inched their way to wherever it was the lucky little bastards were heading. As he reached the front door he could already hear the voices of his family inside. He hung his head, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

  At least he had remembered to bring a gift this time. Last Christmas his sister, Riley, had paraded her tin of fancy biscuits around like a wise man bearing frankincense. He wasn’t going to let her get away with that again, no, this time he had come prepared with a bottle of wine. He had considered springing for a pricier bottle in the supermarket, but decided he didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard. None of his family knew anything about wine anyway, so he just went with a standard bottle of moderately priced merlot.

  As he stood waiting, he realised then he’d left the bottle in the car. He turned around to go grab it, but stopped. It was too late now; he’d already rung the doorbell. But he didn’t want to walk in without it. He swayed back and forth for a second until finally making up his mind and lurching awkwardly towards the car.

  The door opened just at that moment.

  ‘Shit!’ Adam said, pivoting back towards the door and almost stumbling off the step.

  His brother, Dizzy, answered in his Australian drawl. ‘Little brother, that’s probably the worst greeting-someone-at-the-door I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘I left something in the—’ Adam shook his head. ‘One second.’ He dashed back to the car and fetched the bottle of wine from the passenger seat while Dizzy watched him with an amused smirk.

  ‘How are you then?’ Adam asked, returning to the front door.

  ‘You know me mate, indestructible. Terrible news about mum though. As soon as I heard I was
on the first flight back here.’

  ‘Seems unreal I won’t see her pottering around the house like usual,’ Adam said, peering into the house. ‘Sounds like Riley is already here as well?’

  ‘Afraid so. I’ll warn you now though, she brought Larry and the kids with her so you might want to grab yourself a strong drink. I know I’m about ready for one.’

  A Funeral of Feuds is now available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H33ZTLW

  Bibliography

  THE FIELDING SERIES

  Forged in the Dawn, The Fielding Series #1

  Solace Within, The Fielding Series #2

  Zenith Rising, The Fielding Series #3

  OTHER WORKS

  A Funeral of Feuds

  Copyright

  ZENITH RISING

  Copyright © 2019 Gavin Zanker

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.