Broken Lands Read online

  BROKEN LANDS

  By David Meyer

  Guerrilla Explorer Publishing

  Broken Lands Copyright © 2020 by David Meyer

  Guerrilla Explorer Publishing

  Publishers Note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher and author. Your support of the author’s rights is greatly appreciated.

  First Edition – December 2020

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  Table of Contents

  Guerrilla Explorer Publishing

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  David’s Journal

  Ready for More?

  Broken Ties Excerpt

  Behemoth Excerpt

  About the Author

  Books by David Meyer

  Acknowledgements

  As I neared the end of this book, my wife and I were fortunate enough to welcome our second child, Ember, into the world. Born a “preemie,” her early days were rough and sometimes, scary. A lot of people aided us during this time.

  In particular, I want to thank all of the nurses at Elliot Hospital’s Newborn Intensive Care Unit who helped us nurse Ember to full health. Also, thank you, Mom and Dad, for watching Ryden. Finally, thank you to Natasha, Winston, Kaia, and Winnie for your love and support, before and after. You guys rock.

  Chapter 1

  Wiping sweat from his knitted brow, Titus Foster gazed out at a world he’d often seen, yet never touched. A vast desert of auburn sand, splashed with moonlight, stretched as far as he could see. To the northeast, an enormous mountain, light gray and topped by a single craggy peak, stretched into the dark sky.

  In his younger years, he’d often attempted to picture the hot, dusty landscape in its original form. But his imagination had always failed him. Try as he might, he simply couldn’t picture a world of natural, vivid color. Of dew-soaked green grass. Of oaks, hickories, and maples, their leaves painted with the autumn palette. Of rippling dark blue oceans, drenched with dying rays of sunshine. How did the ancients live amongst all of that color? he’d often wondered. Didn’t it hurt their eyes?

  According to the oral tradition, nature’s colors had started to vanish shortly after the Broken. The Great Fires provided new colors for a time. But eventually, the flames ran out of fuel and those colors disappeared as well.

  Oh, some color still existed, of course. The yellow sun and the white moon hung in the blue or black sky. Light gray rocks were scattered about the endless auburn sand. Dark gray concrete buildings, the dilapidated remnants of a long-dead world, held a myriad of silver-hued machines. So, yes. Colors definitely existed. But they were drab and in rather short supply.

  Beads of sweat sprung up on his upper lip. Using the sleeve of his loose-fitting cloak, Titus dried his russet-colored face. Although the late hour protected him from the blazing sun, there was little he could do to combat the sweltering heat.

  Sand crunched softly behind him. A long shadow stretched across his sandaled feet.

  “Good evening, General Foster.” The voice, belonging to Zayda Howt, was bright and brisk. He sensed no nervousness, no hesitation in her tone. Evidently, she suspected nothing. Well, good.

  It was better that way.

  He stared through the bars of the enormous, one hundred-foot gate for another few seconds. Abutted on either end by an equally-gigantic, encircling wall, the gate served as Natica’s sole entry point to the outside world. He’d spent twenty-two years on Earth and in all of that time, he’d never ventured past the gate. Nobody had. Nobody who’d lived to tell about it anyway.

  A sudden flash of light, sharp and piercing, flooded his eyeballs. It originated from the western desert and he recoiled in shock and surprise. The light quickly faded and once again, moonlit darkness took over the bleak landscape.

  “Did you see that?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Zayda replied, her voice tinged with wonder. “What was it?”

  “I … don’t know.”

  Indeed, he didn’t know. He’d never seen anything like it. He remained still for a full minute, his eyes locked on the western desert, waiting for another flash.

  But it never came.

  Slowly, his interest began to wane. Ultimately, the light didn’t matter. Heck, the outside world didn’t matter. But his investigation? That mattered a great deal.

  Twisting around, he laid eyes on Zayda. She was pretty and vivacious, eighteen years of age, with the well-muscled, yet emaciated physique that characterized the vast majority of Natica’s population. A civilian, she worked at the reservoir, helping to divvy out the daily water rations.

  “Well, it’s gone now.” Cocking his head, he gave her figure a furtive look. Yes, there it was. A telltale bulge under her right armpit. “What brings you out this way?”

  “I just finished my shift,” she replied earnestly. “So, I thought I’d take a walk.”

  It was an innocent answer, albeit one that was a total lie. But he let it pass. “I see.”

  She shifted her gaze, aiming it at the empty sentinel post on the gate’s eastern side. “You’re working the guard shift?” she asked, more than a bit surprised.

  As General, Titus was in charge of the army and second-in-command overall at Natica, subordinate only to his father, King Jayter Foster. As such, he wasn’t known to work ordinary guard shifts.

  “I’m covering for Private Stanner,” he lied. “He should be back any moment now.”

  “Oh, I, uh …” She trailed off, her unfinished thought dangling awkwardly in the air.

  “Well, I don’t want to hold you up any longer.” He offered her a broad smile. “Enjoy your walk.”

 
“I, uh, will. Thank you, General.” And with that, Zayda took her leave. She stuck close to the curving wall and, moments later, disappeared behind a maintenance shed.

  Leaving his position, Titus trailed after her. Upon reaching the shed, Private Crast Ulfgord stepped out of the shadows. “She went that way,” he mouthed, with a nod.

  Titus returned the nod, then continued forward, with Ulfgord in tow. Sticking to the shadows, he walked past another shed. Reaching another soldier, he received new information on Zayda’s whereabouts.

  Silently, he threaded his way between a pair of concrete entryways, which led down to two of the fort’s many underground apartments. Another soldier awaited him, pointing him toward the bathrooms.

  It continued like that for a good five minutes until, at last, Titus pulled up on the outskirts of a remote machine shed. Private Lunit Stanner, his unofficial second-in-command, was waiting for him.

  “She’s in there, Sir,” Stanner said softly, with a glance at the shed.

  “Good work.” Titus twisted his neck, cracking it lightly. “And the others?”

  “No sign of them. I suspect they’re already down there.” He arched an eyebrow. “So, it’s really her, huh?”

  He nodded. “I spotted the bladder. She had it hidden under her right arm.”

  “Too bad. I always liked Zayda.” Stanner exhaled. “Well, how do you want to do this?”

  “The water is our first priority. Once we figure out where they’re hiding it, we’ll take them down.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  While Stanner relayed the orders, Titus hiked across the sand. His lips were chapped and his throat felt parched. It always felt parched.

  Fury rose up within him. He harnessed the fury, directing it at Zayda and her co-conspirators. They deserved what was coming their way. That and much, much more.

  Surface water had vanished with the Broken. Nowadays, Natica depended on four underground pools for its drinking and washing needs. The pools, accessed via aqueducts, were of unknown size. As a result, Natica utilized a strict rationing system.

  Demand for water was incredibly high. As such, there was a burgeoning gray market where residents traded materials, work shifts, and other things for water rations. For the most part, Titus ignored these transactions, seeing as how they didn’t violate Natica’s Code of Conduct. But sometimes, as with this current case, he had no choice but to intervene.

  Three weeks ago, Titus had received a tip that a certain resident—Andlor Isforth—had been trading an unusual amount of water on the gray market. Quietly, he’d initiated an investigation, one that soon exposed a devious ring of thieves.

  The thefts originated with Zayda, who skimmed precious water into a bladder hidden under her cloak. A second conspirator, Gorik Skefford, manipulated inventory levels on the reservoir’s master computer, covering up the theft. Private Keyst Yolk pretended to search Zayda at the checkpoint, thus allowing her to exit the reservoir untouched. The final conspirator, Andlor, moved the stolen liquid via the gray market.

  All in all, it was a tidy operation, one that had robbed Natica of an untold amount of water. And in a world where everyone was always on the verge of drying out, such a crime was akin to attempted murder.

  Reaching the shed, he eased past the rough red curtains that hung at the entryway. With a dozen privates in tow, he descended a flight of stairs. Pausing at the landing, he peered down at a concrete floor, some twenty feet below him. It was illuminated by a couple of flickering torches. A large machine, quiet and still, rested against the east wall. It was polished and well-maintained, thanks to the tireless efforts of Reverse-Engineering. He had no idea what it was supposed to do. Most likely, no one did. But it was kept operational anyway, as per the Code of Conduct’s precautionary principle.

  Near the large machine, he spotted other machines, which were also a mystery to him. Racks of loosely-organized hand tools were positioned along sections of wall.

  He aimed his gaze at the middle of the room, where Zayda, Gorik, Keyst, and Andlor were locked in a quiet, tense conversation. Titus couldn’t hear the exact words, but he saw Andlor gesture at the west wall a couple of times.

  Shifting his head in that direction, Titus noticed several chunks of concrete had been pulled from the wall, revealing a hidden crevice. Numerous containers—jugs, canteens, and pitchers—rested within its confines.

  He directed Stanner’s gaze to the hidden space. The private studied it for a minute, then nodded.

  Titus’ heartbeat quickened. Standing tall, he marched down the steps, leading the privates behind him.

  The conspirators turned his way. Lines stretched across their faces as they tightened their jaws.

  Titus walked off the bottom step and inhaled the air. The temperature was a bit cooler down here then on the surface and he couldn’t help but enjoy it.

  “Hello, General.” Zayda offered him a smile, but her pursed lips and flustered face spoke to her true feelings. “Can we, uh, help you?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “By opening your cloak.”

  Her smile vanished and she looked at Andlor. In turn, he stared at Titus. His face was angular, as if chiseled out of stone. Sandy hair, thinning at the top, draped down to his broad, powerful shoulders.

  “We can explain. Really, we can.” Zayda untied some ropes, then pulled her cloak back on the right side, revealing the hidden bladder under her arm. “You see—”

  “Save it.”

  Her voice turned desperate. “You don’t understand …”

  “I understand you’re stealing water. And the punishment for that is banishment. The Code of Conduct—”

  “Screw your Code of Conduct.” Andlor’s eyes glittered dangerously in the flickering torchlight.

  “We only took a little bit,” Zayda said softly. “Nobody will ever miss it.”

  “What about the next generation?” Titus countered. “And the one after that?”

  “Screw them, too,” Andlor retorted.

  Titus exhaled, long and loud. Then he glanced at Stanner. “Secure the water.”

  The private started toward the crevice. But Gorik cut him off. Meanwhile, Andlor and Keyst rushed toward the containers of ill-gotten liquid.

  Titus’ adrenaline raced. The thieves were facing certain banishment. There was no telling what they might do if they got their hands on the water.

  Launching himself across the room, he slammed his right fist into Keyst’s jaw. The man’s mouth slammed shut and jiggled weirdly for a few seconds. Then he collapsed in a heap.

  Seeing this, Gorik started to turn toward Titus. Just then, Stanner planted a vicious fist into the man’s belly. Gorik’s eyes bulged. Dropping his hands, he doubled over at the waist. Two other privates joined Stanner and together, they tackled Gorik to the ground.

  Meanwhile, Andlor crossed the room. His meaty palm swatted at several of the jugs, sending them crashing to the floor. As water spilled out, he reared back with his other hand, targeting a row of canteens.

  Pivoting on his toes, Titus darted across the room. Colliding with Andlor, he dropped the man with a hard tackle. They clenched, then rolled sideways. The back of Titus’ head smacked against the floor and he saw stars. Seizing advantage, Andlor climbed on top of him. Wrapping his hands together into one enormous instrument, he hammered Titus’ chest and shoulders.

  Titus felt the blows, felt their power and strength. Despite the pain, he rather enjoyed them. As Natica’s future king, people treated him with utter deference. No one dared challenge him, let alone fight him. So, a good brawl, such as this one, was to be appreciated.

  Andlor aimed another hammer at Titus’ chest. But this time, Titus grabbed hold of the intertwined hands. He twisted violently and Andlor lost his balance, spilling to the side. Titus snapped off an elbow, connecting flush with the man’s cheek. The spark went out of his eyes and he went limp.

  Rising up, Titus scanned the room. Zayda stood against the wall, trembling quietly. Keyst lay in a heap, unmovi
ng. Gorik was on all fours, clutching his stomach and crying softly.

  Stanner, meanwhile, directed the soldiers in a feverish attempt to sop up the spilt water. Once things were under control, he glanced Titus’ way. “Your orders, Sir?”

  Titus exhaled a few times, catching his breath. “Take the water back to the reservoir. As for the thieves, escort them to prison and prep them for banishment.”

  “Very good, Sir.”

  Leaving the salvage operation, Private Stanner approached Andlor. With the help of another soldier, he lifted the barely-conscious man to his feet. Other soldiers took charge of Keyst, Gorik, and Zayda. Then they started for the steps.

  Titus lingered behind, watching over the recovery efforts. He’d successfully crushed the ring. In the process, he’d bested two of the thieves in combat and saved a good deal of the liquid. All in all, he should’ve been on top of the world. But instead, he felt a twinge of disappointment.

  With the investigation behind him, things would go back to normal. Normal was good. But it was also boring.

  A bright light, red and flashing, appeared. Noisy beeps flooded his ears. His disappointment forgotten, Titus spun toward the wall. The large machine, which to his recollection had never done anything before, had suddenly come to life. It was so shocking he could barely speak.

  “Get Sanza,” he shouted at last, lifting his voice to its highest decibel. “Now!”

  Chapter 2

  Titus stared at the large machine. He was exhausted and achy. Part of him wanted to curl up in his sandbed and go to sleep, if only for a few hours. But the promise of excitement kept him wide awake.

  Soft footsteps broke his train of thought. Peering upward, he watched a familiar figure glide down the staircase. Tall and lanky, with curly red hair that blazed with the force of the sun itself, Sanza Curt was the living embodiment of a statue. Just twenty-one years old, she’d displayed an unusual amount of skill and deftness for her age, which had assured her meteoric rise to the top of Reverse-Engineering.

  Stepping off the last stair, she offered him a withering look. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Of course, she hadn’t called him Sir or General like everyone else did. She never called him by title.