Final Days: Escape Read online

  Copyright © 2020 Jasper T Scott and Nathan Hystad

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Cover Art by Tom Edwards

  TomEdwardsDesign.com

  Edited by: Scarlett R. Algee

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book is a triumph of teamwork and collaboration, not only between two authors, but from a number of other people who each played a supporting role. We’d like to thank Scarlett Algee and Christen Hystad for their editing skills, and Dani J. Caile for his proofreading. As ever, many thanks to Tom Edwards for creating such an amazing cover, and to Steve Beaulieu for the typography. And finally, we’d like to thank all of our advance readers: Gaylon Overton, William Dellaway, Howard Cohen, Raymond Burt, Lisa Garber, Mary Kastle, Harry Huyler, Manfred Genther, Bruce Thobois, Gwen Collins, Jon Hagee, Karl Keip, Wade Whitaker, Mary Whitehead, and Dara McLain. We are in your debt!

  ONE

  Kendra

  Kendra crouched in the field, running her fingertips over the sprouting green plant. The soil was dry, but the tenacious spinach broke through the cracked dirt, seeking light from their pale blue star. Today the sun radiated with a ferocity unseen before, sending beads of sweat over her forehead.

  She stood too quickly, and saw stars in her eyes. Evan was there to steady her. “You should be careful. Drink some water,” the older man said. Somehow he acted as if he was only doing some casual gardening in his backyard, instead of hours of manual labor under this relentless heat. He passed her a canteen and she drank greedily, water dripping from the corners of her mouth.

  “Thanks, Evan. How do you do it?” she asked, and he glanced to the sky.

  “Do what?”

  “This. Work in this harsh heat,” she said.

  Evan smiled. “I’m from Tucson, Ms. Baker. This is just another day for me.”

  She already felt better, and returned to her notes. She measured the vegetation in the corner of the field where there was nothing but spinach, and marked any locations where the seeds hadn’t taken hold. Someone would be by later to replace them.

  Kendra peered around, and spotted Andrew in his usual location. They’d erected a carport over the rover maintenance yard, and he was under the cover of the white canvas, using a loud power tool on the vehicle’s rear chassis. The sound carried over the camp, and she noted how Arthur, the skinny red-haired Saints of Mary recruit, glared in the direction of the offender. He’d been one of the few involved in her trial run of a police force.

  She hated to think that her small amount of training now went to help Arthur enforce the reverend’s orders, but such was life. Kendra continued on measuring, recording, a continual cycle of chores day after day. It was better than some of the jobs, she supposed. Others were digging ditches around the camp, some manually felling trees for firewood in the strange purple cotton-tipped forest.

  At first, Kendra had worried about them being attacked by the intelligent creatures from the valley over, but it hadn’t rained since the night Reverend Morris had seized the camp, which meant no hallucinations and no predators. Some days she felt like her mind had to be making this all up. How had they escaped the cataclysms of Earth, only to end up on this distant planet under a hostile dictatorship run by a madwoman?

  The smell of roasting food wafted along a gentle breeze from the new residences. The construction of the apartment complex was complete, and it was currently occupied by the Saints of Mary, while the rest of them remained under lock and key in Eden One and the other empty stations. Kendra was growing tired of using a sleeping bag on the hard deck, but others like Evan never complained, so she had to follow suit.

  Even Roland had given up his grievances about their situation. He walked with more of a stoop now, his eyes forever downcast. It broke her heart seeing her friends in such dire spirits. If only there was a way to improve things. Kendra glanced to the location where she'd buried the gun a month ago. It was protected by a foot-tall tomato plant, but she had the spot well plotted out.

  The time would come for her to retrieve it, and when she did, there would be casualties. She still clung to hope that there would be a peaceful resolution, that the Saints of Mary would realize how insane their leader was. Or maybe Hound would slip, and show them his true colors. Anything was possible.

  Kendra’s stomach growled at the smells. They’d been downgraded to the oat stores over the last few weeks, while Morris ate and drank their luxuries away. Kendra had seen her enjoying a private communion more than a few times, and wondered if that was a crack she could pry into.

  “You okay?” The voice startled her, and she noticed that Evan had gone, toiling along the edges of the field, leaving her to her work. Keller’s shadow blocked the sunlight, and she shut her eyes momentarily, happy for the brief respite.

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t elaborate, because she was really anything but fine.

  “Looks like the carrots are taking hold, but we’re having issues with the potatoes. Of all things, I thought they’d be the most resilient.” Keller crossed his arms, and Kendra peered behind him at the hose settled to the ground. She wondered if anyone would be mad at her for dousing herself with the water.

  She stood, sticking her tablet into a pouch along her hip. “Is this what you came over to discuss?” Her voice was low, and she shifted a few steps so their interaction didn’t appear conspiratorial.

  “We have to make our move,” Keller said softly.

  She nodded. “When? We need a plan. It’s…”

  “We can’t go on like this.”

  Kendra swallowed dry air. “Have you spoken to the others?”

  He shook his head. “Wanted it to come from you. They need guidance, and they don’t trust me yet.”

  Kendra almost told him there was a good reason for that, but bit her tongue. “We’ll meet up.”

  “When?”

  Kendra looked over at Andrew again and sighed. “Tomorrow night. In Eden.”

  “That’ll be risky,” Keller said.

  She shrugged. “What isn’t?”

  Keller picked up his hose and turned the lever, sending water over the sprouting crops. There were about twenty of them in the immense fields, and something had the attention of the other half of the workers. Kendra peered to the far edge and saw him stalking through camp, without a care in the world. Lewis Hound.

  Her blood boiled at the sight of the billionaire cyborg. Whatever the hell he was, he was anything but their returned savior, like Morris kept spouting. He was manipulative and sociopathic. The mere fact that he’d gone to all the trouble to bring them here, but had allowed Morris to take over the camp, was absurd.

  Someone trailed behind Hound, and Kendra recognized her sister, Carrie. After spending her entire adult life wanting to know what had happened to her missing sister, here she was. It was a cruel twist of fate. Carrie swore she was with Kendra and the others, but she had admitted to being in love with the man, though that was before she’d seen him plugged into machines in his underground fortress. There was no reason for her to be pining for his attention, but there she was, lagging after him.

  “Is she going to be a problem?” Keller asked, raising his voice over the rush of water.
<
br />   Kendra shook her head. “Nope. Not even a little.” She hoped.

  Hound moved toward the complex where the Saints resided, and Carrie peeled away, heading for Eden Five, which Hound had claimed as his own. Carrie had a box of cleaning supplies in her hands, and she was the only one Hound allowed into his suite. So far she hadn’t been very forthcoming with what was inside, and she’d grown reclusive since the coup.

  “I did a count,” Keller said without moving his lips. He continued spraying the vegetation.

  “And?” Kendra had done her own analysis.

  “Over a hundred. More crossing the line every week.”

  A hundred Saints of Mary. How could so many of these intelligent people, brought here for their skills and abilities, have been brainwashed by this woman? “Leaves over eight hundred of us.”

  The rest of the colonists were spread out, doing a variety of tasks around camp. Some were setting traps for the local wildlife, others fishing in the lake, some gathering edible fruits from the shore. Few were using their actual talents for the good of their survival.

  “The odds have us ahead,” Keller said with assurance.

  “No. Their guns and zeal do,” Kendra countered.

  Keller didn’t know about the stash of weapons Tony and Roland had stockpiled, nor the gun in the field. This was at Andrew’s request, but Kendra thought it was time that Hound’s former right-hand man learned their secrets. He had proven his loyalty since finding Hound unconscious.

  The hose sputtered, and the water flow turned to a trickle before cutting off entirely. “Damn it. Pumps have been acting up.” Keller met her gaze, and she pulled her tablet out, returning to work. “Tomorrow.”

  She nodded, moving on as Keller called for Arthur. She listened as Arthur arrived, cursing Keller and his constant issues with the hose.

  “It’s not my fault. The pump keeps clogging at the lake,” Keller told him.

  The sun was finally beginning its descent, but the heat wasn’t going anywhere. Kendra had no idea what kind of seasons they had on this godforsaken planet, but she was already tired of this one. One more full day; then they could meet and figure this out.

  She neared the edge of the crop field, smelling the dirt, the fragrant scents in the herb garden, where a middle-aged woman with a homemade straw hat kneeled and pruned the plants.

  “Doris, would you make me one of those?” Kendra asked, tapping her own head.

  “Of course, dear. What can you give me in return?” Doris asked, eyes twinkling.

  Kendra fought the urge to shout at the woman, to tell her this wasn’t how humanity was supposed to spend their survival. Instead she only shook her head and mumbled, “Never mind.”

  She walked the perimeter, ensuring she’d been to each quadrant for her twice-weekly measurements, and when she was confident the task was done, she slipped the tablet away, seeking the shade.

  “I’m doing the best I can, but my leg. I need to see the doctor!” A man’s voice carried from behind Eden Three. Kendra didn’t want to be involved, but she still found herself walking over to the round section of their spaceship.

  “You’re taking way too many breaks, and slacking off. Do you think Mary will let you keep eating if you’re not pulling your weight?” It was John, the big oaf of a guard that idolized the reverend. His gun was ever-present in a holster on his hip, but he didn’t seem to need it as he stalked toward Brian, a man with broken spectacles. They were taped together at the bridge, and his bald head glistened with sweat.

  “My ankle. It’s swollen, and you won’t let me see Hartford. How can I keep…?” Brian stopped as John shoved him hard, knocking him to the ground. Kendra stayed hidden, and saw there was no one else around to see the altercation—not that anyone would have stood up to him.

  “The good doctor is a busy guy.” John pulled his gun, and Kendra’s instincts took over.

  She stepped from the shadows, hands up at her chest. “John, you don’t have to do this.”

  Brian began to scramble, pushing his back to the edge of the Eden station.

  “If it isn’t Special Agent Blondie.” John sniffed the air like a menacing animal, and every inch of her body crawled with disgust.

  “Brian is hurt. We can’t have injured workers at camp, can we?” she asked.

  “He’s lazy. He’s faking it,” John said.

  “Lazy? Faking it?” She mirrored his words, her training at work.

  “That’s what I said.” John didn’t move, but he stared at her with a sick intensity.

  She kept her hands where he could see them, and moved to Brian’s side. The gun remained pointed at the injured colonist. “He’s crazy,” Brian whispered, and Kendra shushed him before he said too much.

  Kendra rolled up the man’s pant leg, revealing the angry, swollen ankle. “See? He’s not faking it, John. He’s really hurt.”

  John nodded. “My mistake.” He laughed, but the gun didn’t move.

  “Can we leave Brian with me? I have some experience binding sprains like this. I can have him ready for work in a couple of days,” Kendra assured him.

  “Can’t do it. I have my orders,” John said.

  His statement wasn’t clear, but she went along with it, using her negotiation lessons from the academy. “It sounds like you’re a busy man.” She slowed her voice, uplifting the last word, making him seem far more impressive than he was. “Sounds like you’re one of the top dogs around here.”

  He smiled again. “You could say that.”

  “If you let Brian come with me, we’ll be sure to let everyone know just how important and strong you are, John,” she said, swallowing the revulsion at placating him.

  “I have another idea,” he told her.

  “Another idea?” she asked.

  The gun rang out, so fast she didn’t have a chance to move. Brian’s head tilted to the side, the bullet lodged inside his brain. Kendra dropped to her knees, her mind still reeling from the violent death.

  John shoved the weapon into the holster. “He can go with you now.”

  Kendra watched in horror as the brute sauntered off, whistling in the hot afternoon sun.

  TWO

  Roland

  “Was that a gunshot?” Tony asked, peering toward camp.

  “Wouldn’t doubt it. Probably one of Morris’ trigger-happy friends shooting at the clouds again,” Roland told him, shaking his head.

  “If all of these people are supposed to be the best and brightest of mankind, how did we end up with guys like John carrying around weapons?” Tony walked the shoreline, the round pebbles crunching under his steps.

  “You have me. I could try to hack into the manifest again, see what these buffoons did in their previous lives. My guess…” Tony peered at Roland expectantly. “He’s the miracle baby of a hippopotamus and a human. The universe’s unsightly hybrid.”

  Tony laughed at this. Roland grinned, glad he could brighten someone’s day. Since the camp had been overtaken, happy moments were few and far between. “Seriously, though. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Roland thought about a documentary he’d seen about a serial killer in prison, who’d tested among the highest ranks of genius in the world. The film creators had speculated he’d only been caught because he wanted to be. “He might be a genius. You can’t always judge a book by the cover.” He stared into the water, the lake calm under the heat of the day. A few bubbles carried to the surface, popping twenty feet from the shore. “Pump’s busted again.”

  “He could make a spaceship, but not a water pump,” Tony muttered.

  “I’m sure this wasn’t made by Hound, just sourced.” Roland remembered seeing the shipping manifests for the water pumps over the last couple of years as he’d followed the paper trail to the West Coast.

  “Either way, I’m not sticking my arm in that filter again,” Tony said.

  “Maybe you won’t have to,” Roland whispered. The two incoming Saints were louder than a thunderstorm as they trudged through
the clearing in the forest to reach the lakeside. They walked past the water treatment building, the woman frowning the entire time. Roland didn’t know her name, but she’d kept watch over Eden One a few nights while the prisoners slept.

  The man with her was tall, bearded and imposing. Roland hadn’t heard him speak before, and wondered what he sounded like.

  “You two here to relieve us for the day?” Roland asked, wiping his brow with a forearm.

  “Lower your voice, Martin.”

  Roland hid his surprise that she knew his last name. She was even kind of pretty, if you subtracted the scowl and the obsession with Reverend Morris. And the fact she had a gun in her hand, pointed toward him.

  “Nothing wrong with bringing a little humor into a tense situation,” he said. “It’s what I do best.”

  “Maybe if you brought hard work into the situation, we wouldn’t be out here. Mary wants to know why the water supply is short… again,” the woman said.

  Mary. The name made him cringe. Morris was off her rocker, but the fact that she’d managed to bamboozle so many intelligent people felt off to Roland.

  “If she’s Mary, and Hound is the second coming of Christ, does that make her his mother?” Tony asked softly.

  The man stepped forward, cuffing Tony hard across the head. The teenage boy fell to the rocky shore.

  “Enough messing around, you two. If you don’t fix this, we’ll have to find other, more reliable workers to do the job,” the woman said.

  Roland helped Tony to his feet, and quickly lifted his hands up. “What’s your name?” he asked the female guard.

  She lowered the gun. “What does that matter?”

  “You know mine. Only seems fair.” He spoke slowly as the big guy beside her peered toward the pump in the water. It was making a racket now.

  “Eve. Eve Balentino.” A shadow crossed her face, like saying her full name had jarred some distant memories of a life that no longer existed.

  “Eve. I like that.”

  “Shut up,” the man barked. “Go fix the pump, or you’ll be swimming with the fishes.”