In a Grain of Sand E-Book

P.K. Gallagher

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

A collection of speculative stories about desperation, love, and human nature. Blood and Wires: After technological advances began to blur the line between man and machine, the world was unprepared for The Flare, an astrological event that left the atmosphere scorched and the world’s digital infrastructure severely crippled. Now, functioning mechanical implants that used to be common are the most desired commodities in demand. People fight for them. Kill for them. But as Adam and Thomas Carn find out during their search for their estranged father, there are worse things than marauders to be faced in the Post-Flare world. Of Mice and Men (and Cats and Rats): Aidan Chandler might be crazy, or he might be completely normal and it's everyone else who's totally mental. At the end of the day, he doesn't think it really matters. What matters is that the people only he can see, like the memory of his father's cruel words, won't leave him alone. But even that doesn't really matter now that he's got a plan. It's a plan that's brilliant in its simplicity, a plan that will silence both of his torments forever. Primary Directive: Judgment Day has come and gone in this second apocalyptic tale, and the verdict wasn't good. After a nuclear catastrophe wipes out most of the world, ailing roboticist Carlisle Evans and one of his earlier creations are among the few left in a world of marauders and ruins.

Leseprobe

P.K. Gallagher

In a Grain of Sand

A Collection of Speculative Fiction

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Blood and Wires

I.

“It’s going to rain soon.”

Thomas Carn was barely able to hear his brother’s words over the howling wind. It buffeted them from all sides as they trudged forward, sweeping unbrokenly across the flat barren landscape. It filled the air with sand and debris, threatening the smallest square of exposed skin with a rash of microabrasions.

There was no such square, though.

The brothers Carn wore the uniforms of post-Flare travelers: leather gloves, boots, chaps and coats to combat the debris and two to three additional layers to combat the frigid air that was not at all helped by the relentless wind. Where Thomas also wore a gas mask to protect both his face and lungs, however, Adam wore only goggles and a kerchief over his mouth and cheeks because, as he’d put it with a shrug, “The imps can still handle basic filtration and dry skin should be the least of our concerns.” He’d laughed then, adding that before the Flare, people had blasted themselves with granules all the time on purpose. “It was called exfoliation,” he’d explained sagely.

Dry skin was a bit of an understatement, though. Where the cloth had slipped or been blown free by the wind, his skin was raw and cracked and constantly on the verge of bleeding.

“What?” Thomas called over the wind.

Adam repeated himself, and Thomas respectfully resisted the urge to roll his eyes even though Adam couldn’t see him. Instead, he glanced up at the night sky without stopping, knowing full well that it would hold no surprises. As always this time of year, it was obscured by dark cirrus clouds that he knew held nothing that would become rain.

“There’s a short in your circuits,” he said, voice muffled by the mask. “It’s been 96 days since we even saw frost. What makes today any different?”

He could hear the smile in Adam’s voice when he spoke: “Today’s day 97.” He paused to adjust his kerchief and then cough. Thomas did stop for that.

“You know,” he said hesitantly, turning to his brother, “we can take turns with the—”

“Are you kidding?” Adam interrupted. “The dust would shred your throat in minutes. Some parts of your body aren’t meant to be exfoliated, you know.”

“And some parts of yours aren’t meant to stand erosion.”

Adam just shook his head and began walking again, eyes fixed on an unblemished horizon that Thomas couldn’t see through the dust in the air. “I’m fine,” he said.

Thomas frowned but fell in step behind his brother. “I wish we’d just get there already,” he muttered to himself. “It can’t be that much further, can it?”

Adam suddenly made a pained sound that was between a groan and screech as he pitched forward to his knees, clutching his head.

“Are you alright?!” Thomas was kneeling at his side in an instant. “What’s wrong?!”

“6.28,” Adam wheezed, voice thin behind the kerchief. Thomas shook his head in confusion, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe despite the gas mask.

“What?”

“6.28,” Adam repeated, sounding stronger this time if slightly winded. “6.28 miles... until Disston.” The kerchief shifted on his face, and Thomas could tell he was smiling.

He stumbled to his feet, a snarl contorting his features behind the mask. “What the hell’s the matter with you?!” he demanded. “We said you wouldn’t use your active imps until we got to Disston. Are you trying to have another seizure?!”

“Calm down, would you?” Adam said getting to his feet. “I needed to make sure of our location anyway. We can’t afford to get lost out here.”

“We also can’t afford marauders seeing you like that and thinking we’re easy targets,” Thomas bit back.

“All the more reason for us to look like we know where we’re going. I mean, seriously, what did you want me to do?”

“How about not killing yourself?” Thomas snapped. “Or at least waiting ‘til we get to Disston to do it so that I don’t have to die with you?”

Adam sighed, made to bring a hand to his head, but then seemed to think better of it. He turned and started back off into the emptiness. “I’ll do my best,” he said in a voice so low, Thomas only heard because it was carried on the wind.

Time stretched behind them as they trekked onward, Adam in front, Thomas trailing him slightly in silence. The angry exterior of his feelings had been worn away—exfoliated, he thought with grim amusement—by time and fatigue, revealing its true self: anxiety. He stared at his brother’s back, regretting his unfeeling, not to mention unmeant, words. Thomas needed his brother, and that was for more than just navigation. They were brothers, and that Adam treated him like it was proof that by at least some stretch of the imagination, Thomas was still human even though the rest of humanity had left him behind.

“I think you’re right about the rain,” he said quietly.

Adam didn’t turn, but Thomas knew that, thanks to his imps, he’d heard.

“Of course I am,” he said. After a moment, he added, “We’ll need to find shelter.”

Thomas frowned. He didn’t want to stop. He’d only said what he’d said to break the silence. “Shelter?”

“You know,” Adam began. “That place where you have a roof over your head and you’re protected from the—”

“Did they give you an implant for increased sarcasm, or is that bit of assholery just you?”

Adam’s shoulders shook for a moment, but Thomas couldn’t tell from behind if his brother was laughing or coughing, and Adam didn’t turn around to show him.

“Yes, shelter,” he said, a smile in his voice. “You don’t want to rust, do you?”

“I don’t want it to take a week to get to Disston, either,” said Thomas. Hesitantly, he added, “If you recall, we might not have one.”

Adam stopped, turned, and lay a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I promise you, we won’t need one. We’ll get there before sun-up the day after tomorrow at the latest. No point in killing ourselves through starvation and exertion if we don’t have to, right? We don’t even have the parts yet.”

Thomas tried to see Adam’s eyes behind the goggles, hoping for some indication that his brother was truly as optimistic as he sounded, but was unable.

“Some might be for sale on the market,” he said. The words were hollow, though, void of any real conviction.

Adam shook his head. “That may be, but we’ll just have to pray they’re still there tomorrow. Even if it doesn’t rain, the sun will be up in a few hours, and we can’t afford to be caught in it. Clouds or no, we’ll roast out here.”

Thomas tried to peer through the dust, thought he saw an almost imperceptible lightening to the clouds, and sighed. “Alright. Any ideas?”

Adam pointed off to the south. “Beans,” he said. “About a quarter mile in that direction. It’s out of the way, so maybe we’ll get lucky and have it to ourselves.”

Thomas followed Adam’s gesture, but with no imps or augmentation at all, he could see nothing. He sighed. I just want to get where we’re going, already. Aloud, he said only, “Lead the way.”

II.