Rebellion Read online

  Rebellion

  Stone The Crows Book One

  J. Thorn

  Zach Bohannon

  Kim Petersen

  Copyright © 2018 by Molten Universe Media

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Yocla Designs

  Edited by Jennifer Collins

  Proofread by Laurie Love

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  The Story Continues

  About J. Thorn

  About Zach Bohannon

  About Kim Petersen

  1

  Time stole our history, and the lake buried it. Even before I was old enough to understand the importance of the stretch of water along the shore, I yearned to be close to it.

  I lived in a Hydran village—the old timers called it Gas Works. I’m not sure what that name means, but it didn’t matter to us, those left behind. I knew most but not all the people in the village. At one time, there had been hundreds of families but now we numbered closer to 50.

  I always loved the way the sun struck the massive steel and iron structures towering over our village. At some point, Lord Corvus had reserved this land for Hydrans, and we’d been there ever since.

  When I was little, my grandfather would often say I was smart enough to run a Hydran village. Yet, his face would cloud with fear when he made such jokes. Then he’d tell me I was too stubborn for my own good, which wasn’t a welcome trait to have for a politician. Being his little Rayna would always be enough.

  Enough for what? I used to wonder, as I’d watch him ready for a day crawling the lake. I guess he meant it was enough that I become a Crawler like him.

  The water had reclaimed most of the ruins by then, yet there had been a time when my grandfather witnessed something else. A time when the Seattle skyline soared high in the sky, and people had more than they needed and wasted things we Hydrans had to eventually fight for. Lives filled with an abundance of food, warmth, running water, and electricity. A time when the Crows hadn’t perched atop Queen Anne Hill and no Lord Corvus ruthlessly ruled over our village with a sharp eye and a heartless regime.

  My village struggled under Lord Corvus, yet I’d never known otherwise. I figure that’s why I was always so drawn to the water.

  Because, in the water, there was silence.

  I’d felt most free while crawling, even if only for fleeting moments. I could become one with the water, and on some days, I knew that the lake’s hidden secrets were the only thing to keep me going. Everyone in the village had a job or a responsibility starting as young as 12 years old. I’d been born a Crawler—a scavenger who dived for aluminum to trade to the Crows for food and resources.

  I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. It started like any other morning, but once I slipped beneath the surface, something felt different. During this particular dive, the secrets of Lake Union eluded me, and I tried my best to fend off my impatience.

  I ignored the pressure in my head as my waterlogged fingers fiddled with the worn strap of my goggles, working fast to tighten the strap before the goggles filled with water. I released a timed breath into the snorkel as I swam further into the watery depths.

  The early afternoon sun streaked through the murky water after me, catching particles along its cloudy columns. Normally, I would’ve taken a second to marvel at the way the sunbeams softened and spread through the water like a mantle of golden snow. But not on this day.

  I’d been crawling for hours, with only a couple of nails and some foil to my name. Being a third generation Crawler, I’d rather not have revealed my catch to any other Hydran—not with that kind of haul under my belt. Especially not to Jaef and his goons. Not to mention the fact that I needed a decent load to trade because we were running out of food at home.

  I hadn’t crawled through this area for a few weeks, and I’d hoped the current had swept in some new loot, but I hadn’t found any yet. After diving down a few feet further, I saw an opening that appeared to begin one of the ancient tunnels. Crawlers had discovered many of these underground passageways in my grandfather’s time. They’re dark and unmapped with uneven terrain, and only the best Crawlers have the guts to venture inside.

  I stopped for a second and paddled in a suspended glide as I adjusted my Bright. I moved my head around to shine it in all directions. I’d had this Bright since I’d been a little girl, and it hadn’t failed me yet. Some Crawlers had to constantly repair theirs—fiddling with the bulb or cracking open the case of their old light to check the wiring. I guess you could say that my crawling skill wasn’t the only valuable thing I’d inherited from my family.

  Something caught my attention in the depths a few feet into the tunnel. I wriggled closer to get a better look, curling my legs under me, feeling the surge of adrenaline rush through my veins as I saw a pile of cans through the murky water. Those old aluminum cans had become increasingly harder to find. A pile like this could fetch a week’s worth of grain and, if I was lucky, maybe even enough to barter for a new strap for my goggles.

  Using the arm with my Band on it, I reached toward the pile. A quick touch with the magnetized bracelet would tell me if the precious metal was aluminum versus iron or steel. The Crows only traded for aluminum, making anything ferrous worthless.

  I turned my head from side to side, my eyes darting around to check for signs of other Crawlers. I knew I wasn’t alone out here. I had noticed Jaef and his crew preparing to dive earlier, and I’d deliberately avoided crawling near them.

  With nobody around, I kicked my legs and sprang deeper into the lake, never losing sight of the gleaming, brilliant aluminum cans. As I approached the mouth of the tunnel, my skin erupted in goosebumps. The water became colder, but I didn’t care. I focused on the heaped prize bundled against the rugged rocks near the tunnel, and knew it was mine.

  The gritty bottom bloomed in front of me like a muddy cloud, and I lost sight of the loot. I frowned and then slowed down, blinking through the dreary puff that had just begun to dissipate. Narrowing my eyes and peering toward the aluminum, I felt a wave of relief washing over me when I caught sight of the cans twinkling through the dull light. I was about to dive do
wn for the aluminum when I saw them in my peripheral vision.

  Their bags trailed behind them along with a long line of bubbles as they swam ahead of me. That jerk, Jaef, and his crew had cut me off.

  I wanted to scream, and I might have had I not had a mouthful of snorkel with only a whiff of breath left. Instead, I gritted my teeth and broke hard for the treasure on the tunnel bottom. My arms stretched as far as my reach would allow, and I kicked my feet with the fury of a wild tornado.

  Another gritty cloud billowed up, and I lost sight of the cans again. I swam even harder, pushing through the murky water. The muscles in my limbs had become taut and strong, and I knew I could beat Jaef’s group.

  My head burst through the water cloud just in time to see Jaef shoving my find into his bag. I stopped, my heart sinking as my empty stomach growled. Jaef’s blonde hair floated over his goggles as he stuffed the last of the cans into his bag. He tightened the drawstring and looked up at me, his teeth bared and crooked in a wide grin. He shot me a thumbs-up and then motioned to his crew, a flurry of bubbles floating all around us as they grinned at me.

  I’d seen enough. I couldn’t out-muscle all of them for the haul. If I didn’t leave, I knew I might do something I’d regret. Like twisting my hunting knife into Jaef’s kidneys. With that comforting thought, I turned from them and swam back to the surface and the spot on the shore where I’d jumped into the lake.

  Soon it would be time to take my puny haul to the scrapyard and put it in front of the metal merchant. Maybe I’d come across a pile of scrap aluminum on the swim back and score enough for a little something for my grandfather.

  By the time I dragged myself out of the lake, I’d almost forgotten about Jaef and his thievery.

  Most of what rimmed the shore of Lake Union was left over from the old times. Some of the houseboats still floated on the surface, but most had sunk in the water and provided us with an almost endless supply of scrap metal. When the fog cleared, you could easily see across to the other side. People didn’t live by the water anymore. At least not the normal ones. It smelled, and on long days crawling, I’d come out with a headache and blurry vision. I didn’t want to know what was in the water because it didn’t matter.

  I crawled. That was my job.

  I spotted Asher walking along the bank toward me, and I felt my face flush, my ears burning.

  His full brows knotted together. “Hey, what’s up?”

  I used to be taller than my best friend, Asher, but he towered over me now. At twenty-four, Asher was three years older than me. Despite his age, people in the village called him an ‘old soul,’ and although I’m not sure exactly what they meant, he always seemed wise for his age. He stood at least six feet tall with strong, muscled arms, a lean build, and calloused fingers. And yet, his soft brown eyes and full lips made others feel at ease around him. Especially the girls. When Asher was a boy, he had what we call the wheezing. On hot days, he had a hard time breathing, and so he’d been assigned to work as a farmhand although I’m positive he would’ve been a great Crawler, had it not been for his condition. His dad passed away in a crawling accident, though, so I’m sure his mom was fine with him being assigned to the fields instead of the lakes.

  Asher’s smile faded as I strode closer, the filthy, cold, lake water dripping off me. My wet raven hair stuck against my forehead as my eyes narrowed. I tossed my diving gear aside and held up my dive bag, swinging it around for good measure.

  “Jaef is what’s up. Him and that idiot crew just stole a pile from right under my nose! They were following me, I just know it.”

  I threw the bag down near my diving gear as a snarled growl tore through my throat and rang in my ears. Falling to my knees beside it, I let my hair cover my face.

  Asher’s hand brushed my shoulder, and I looked up at him through tears I hoped were masked by the water.

  He shook his head and smiled. “There’ll always be more. Tomorrow the current will wash it in. My mother predicts a storm tonight.”

  It took everything I had to keep the tears from really flowing, but I hated weak people, and I didn’t want to be one of those girls who needed a boy to comfort me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and studied my toes—white, wrinkled, and with the nail beds covered with grainy sand.

  “Rayna?”

  I looked up at Asher, seeing his lips curved into a smile as he reached for my face and traced the frown lines on my cheek with his finger.

  “You know, if the wind changes, your face will stay that way, right?”

  I laughed and shooed his hand away before standing up.

  “You’re full of shit.” I reached down and gathered my diving gear.

  “Maybe, but I got you to smile,” he said, handing me my snorkel. “C’mon, you better get home and get cleaned up.”

  We walked to our village in silence, parting only when we reached the fork in the road.

  Asher turned to me there. “Catch you later.”

  His smile had faded, and a heavy seriousness crossed his face.

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Ash.”

  I watched him walk away before getting ready for the daily trip to the metal merchant. And like I did after every crawl, I turned and sneered in the direction of the Crows living their privileged lives in the Nest atop Queen Anne Hill.

  2

  As I paused at the halfway point from the Lowlands to the yard, a light breeze blew thick and musty. I took a deep breath when I reached the shade of the maple trees that hung over the road. The hike up to the Kerry Park Scrapyard made my legs burn. I could never get used to the steep incline, not with pulling my haul behind me and the rope rubbing my hands raw.

  I must have walked the road a thousand times, yet I never got used to climbing the hill. It didn’t come with a payoff. I mean, it wasn’t as if I was ascending to a promised land or the place my grandfather called heaven. No. This was an ascension to the gates that held the precious metals, and I had never seen beyond the wall. None of us had.

  I just knew the metal merchant would screw me again, always haggling over the amount of aluminum or the exchange rate. Crawlers brought the metal merchant a haul, and he weighed it, then gave us what he considered a fair trade of food. My grandfather was a Crawler, as was his father before him. Nobody could really remember when the aluminum trade started, but that held true for many Hydran traditions.

  The Crows had built the wall out of stones, chipped brick, and mounded earth. It stretched high into the sky and completely enclosed the scrapyard as far as the eye could see. The scrapyard itself had been constructed with more thought than our village, and that should tell you all you need to know about the Crows who don’t even live inside its walls. They built a small city called the Nest, another few hundred feet higher and sitting on top of Queen Anne Hill. And the leader of the Crows, Lord Corvus, doesn’t even live in his own city. Along with his counsel and family, he rarely comes down from the top of the Space Needle which overlooks all of the ancient ruins and villages that have cropped up over the years.

  My friends and I, we’ve all sat on the Troll, staring up at the Space Needle and making up stories about that crazy structure. Why is it there? Who built it? How did they build it? The old Hydrans claimed to know, but their stories seemed only slightly less ridiculous than ours.

  My group hung out under the bridge in old Freemont where the Troll lives. He’s not a real troll—just a sculpture that somehow survived war, famine, flooding, and time. Crow law prohibited us from handling weapons, but that didn’t stop us from secretly practicing them in the dark recesses of Freemont. When you’re 18 years old, you believe you are both invincible and beyond the rules.

  I could hit a bullseye with my bow at 100 yards and even with his beady eyes, Jaef could do the same with a spear at 75 yards. We made sure to stash our weapons every night before returning to the village.

  Sometimes we scavenged through the buildings still standing in Freemont, but they’d been picked clean over the decades. One time, A
sher found an old picture of the Needle surrounded by buildings with electric lights and nestled in the comfortable palm of the Cascade Mountains. Honestly, it didn’t look real.

  “Watch out!”

  Some Crawlers a few years younger than me had blown by on their cart, riding it down the road with their food rations stuffed in the back. One of them almost knocked my legs out from under me, which would have spilled my cart.

  “You watch out!”

  My Crawler friends and I, we didn’t do stuff like that anymore. It didn’t seem as fun, the older you got. I waved my fist in the air, but they’d already coasted down the road and around the bend toward our village. I looked down at my measly haul. Two days? Three days? I’d be lucky if it fed my grandfather and me through the end of the week. The metal merchant was constantly tweaking the exchange rate as if there was some master mathematical equation he used to figure out how badly he was going to cheat us.

  Looking up the hill, I didn’t see any more Crawlers preparing to ride down, so I stopped and reached for my canteen.

  Save some, I reminded myself. Corvus has been rationing the well water.

  I stamped my foot down, watching the gravel and dust ripple around my boot. Then I looked at my rickety cart, and to the top of the gate, which I could see from my vantage point.