THE CONDEMNED
Book 1 – Rowen
*Note: For purposes of this blog, the content here will be kept to PG standards. However, upon publication, the full novel will include more adult content.
Chapter 2
8:43 pm
To the
traveler, transporting to a new time period felt as if it took several minutes,
when in fact it was instantaneous. Rowen kept his eyes closed until he felt his
body stabilize, letting him know the transfer was complete. The sensation was
similar to whenever an elevator reached its designated floor, and there was
that brief moment of weightlessness before it settled.
It had been
nighttime when he was ejected back into the past. It would still be nighttime,
at almost the exact moment he’d left to when he arrived at whenever he was.
A hot wind
blew over him. Opening his eyes, he found himself standing alone and completely
surrounded by…
Nothing. No buildings. No streets.
No people or traffic. No anything. He was in the middle of a barren field with
only the stars and a three-quarter moon overhead to light his way.
“But at least it’s not cold,” he
whispered. “No freezing to death. No storm to deal with. I’m still alive,
Campanelli. I don’t know what you thought would happen when you sent me back
here, but I’m still alive.”
He took several deep breaths to
steady himself and try to figure out what to do next. Gazing around him, he studied
the horizons, trying to spot a light or something that might indicate
dwellings. Habitations and humanity. Hell, even a passing vehicle in the
distance would be welcome.
Rowen checked his watch. It was a
rare and valuable antique, handed down to him via several generations. It was
not automatically synched to technology. It didn’t light up because the numbers
and hands on the face were made of a luminescent material that glowed in the
dark. And the best part of it was that he had to wind it every day or so to
keep it running. No batteries were needed. No charging of any kind was required.
It was perfect for whenever it was his turn to travel back because he never had
to worry about losing all track of time—especially when it was imperative he
know he was approaching the end of his hour and he finish his business before
the conduit jerked him back to his present.
8:43 pm.
Sighing, Rowen stood straight and
faced forward in the same direction he had on the platform. He knew he faced
due south. He knew he was still in the city, or what would become the city in
the decades or eons to come. He also knew that if he started walking and
remained on a southerly course, he’d eventually reach the ocean. Hopefully
there’d be settlers there. If not…
“I’m screwed.” He shrugged as he
took off walking. “Well, I always wanted to learn how to fish.”
He kept an eye on his watch to see
how far he’d gone. Doing some basic math calculations based how many steps per
minute he took and the approximate length of each step, he figured he was
clocking around three, maybe three and a half miles an hour. It was a mental
struggle not to break into a run, but he was beginning to wonder if he was
truly alone out here in the middle of nowhere. There were wild animals to take
into consideration. Hungry wild animals, not to mention creatures like snakes
and insects.
“Remain calm and keep it steady,”
he told himself. “If you try to go faster, you could attract the attention of
something you don’t want stalking you. You’ll also wear yourself out faster,
and the last thing you need is to collapse out here where you’ll be vulnerable
to who knows what.”
He searched the semi-darkness for
some sign of trees or anything that broke the horizon. By now he knew he hadn’t
gone back a few years or a few decades. He’d been sent hundreds of years into
the past.
At one point, he had to stop to
briefly rest. He took the chance and sat on the ground to give his legs a
break. As he strained to hear anything unusual coming from the surrounding landscape,
he placed his hand on the dirt. It was dry and packed, but not sandy.
“That’s good,” he murmured. “The
only sandy soil I want to feel is a beach, not a desert.” He sniffed his
fingers. “This place is untouched. There’s been no farming or tilling. It’s almost
barren wasteland.”
He checked his watch again. 11:16
pm.
“Get up and get moving, Taylor. You
gotta find shelter before you try to get a couple hours’ of sleep.”
As he plodded along, he tried to
remember the history of this part of the country. When had it been founded? Who
had colonized it? More importantly, when had it been colonized? Unfortunately,
exhaustion was catching up to him. He wasn’t moving as swiftly as he had
earlier, and he knew why. For one thing, he hadn’t eaten since…when?
“A little over twelve hours ago,”
he reminded himself. And that had been just a small bowl of bean soup he’d
taken with him to work to have for lunch. Right after he’d gotten off his shift
and gotten paid, he’d gone to the dispensary to get his mother’s medicine and
took it straight to the apartment they shared with his younger sibling. Then
he’d headed for the labs, hoping there’d be a few food items waiting for him.
He recalled the bag sitting in his
locker, and the heaviness he’d been fighting wrapped around his heart. The
crushing pain became too much, and he was forced to stop. Bending over, he
placed his hands on his thighs as his new reality rose up, along with hot
tears, and he wept.
He’d never see his mother and
sister again. They’d never get the food he’d been bringing home almost on a
regular basis. Worse, it took both his and Gretchen’s meager pay to afford
their apartment, pay the bills, and get their mother the care and treatment she
needed. Without him there to no longer help provide his half of their support…
Rowen shook his head as hard and
heavy sobs continued to wrack his body. He ended up collapsing on the ground
until he finally managed to pull himself together. Using the bottom of his
shirt, he wiped his eyes and blew his nose before getting back to his feet and
pushing on.
By 1:29 a.m., weariness threatened
to overtake him. He was fighting dizziness, and he desperately needed something
to drink. Giving himself another couple of minutes to rest, he stopped as
something caught his attention in the distance.
A light, or several lights dimly
shone, but they appeared to be moving. Shimmering. In addition, was it his
imagination, or could he hear the surf hitting the beach? Rowen sniffed, hoping
to catch the smell of the sea. No such luck. Worse, the dry heat was getting to
him, sapping every drop of moisture from his body.
“It’s not far, old man,” he
promised himself. “You’re almost there. Keep pushing just a little farther. You
can do this. You got this!”
It took effort to stand up again.
Walking now was more of an exercise in trying to keep from falling, but he knew
that if he didn’t force himself, there was the chance he may never wake up come
daylight. And the last thing he wanted was for Assemblyman General Campanelli’s
fervent wish for his death to come true.
He had no idea how far he’d gone
when the ground gently sloped upward. He had to crawl on hands and knees to
climb it. Once he topped the rise, he paused to watch the waves lapping the
shoreline ahead of him. Now he could smell the salty tang. And the lights he’d
observed shimmering were the stars reflecting on the water.
He’d reached the bay and the other
side of the city that had yet to be built.
Rowen didn’t care if his shoes got
wet as he slowly waded into the water. The cool waves gently splashed his ankles
and calves, and he gratefully fell onto the moist sand. Lying on his back, he
gazed up at the panorama of stars in the clear sky. The moon was nowhere to be
seen, but it didn’t matter.
“You gotta get up, Rowen,” he told
himself. “You can’t stay here as much as you want to. There are crabs and other
critters who’d love to nibble on you. Get up. There’s bound to be something
around here safe where you can rest. Just not here. Not here. But that water
feels so damn good.”
He was on the verge of passing out.
Half of him wanted to succumb. The other half was yelling at him not to.
The need to survive won out.
Rolling over, he somehow got back
on his feet and began following the beach to wherever it led. There had to be
habitation somewhere. He prayed he’d find a small settlement or village.
He was about to round a set of
dunes when something pointed was shoved in his back.
“Stop right there,” a deep voice
demanded. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
Rowen never got the chance to
answer. His knees buckled, pitching his body sideways into the dune, hitting
the soft sand, and he slid unconscious down to the water’s edge.
TO BE CONTINUED
