Read Anywhere But Here (The Starborn Ascension) Online
Authors: Jason D. Morrow
Anywhere But Here (The Starborn Ascension)
Anywhere But Here
The Starborn Ascension: Book One
By
Jason D. Morrow
Edited by Beth Morrow & Emily Simpson Morrow
Cover Art
By
Melchelle Designs
Copyright © 2014 Jason D. Morrow
All rights reserved.
Books by Jason D. Morrow
The Starborn Ascension
The Starborn Uprising
The Marenon Chronicles
The Starborn Ascension is a new series set fifty-seven years before the events of The Starborn Uprising, which features the character of Mora and her fight for survival. This series can be read independently but the two are linked considerably.
My body stiffens at the silence after the rumbling truck engines shut off. Doors squeak open and firm footsteps grind against the broken asphalt. I sit next to Lucas, frozen in place behind an abandoned car long ago stripped of tires and dried of gasoline. I try to keep my breath shallow so the cold, autumn air won’t reveal our hiding place through puffs of smoky vapor. I grip my hatchet tightly as the sound of footsteps comes closer. The weapon was once meant for splitting wood, but the sharpened blade and reconstructed grip on the handle have made it much more useful for killing greyskins, or in this case, raiders. But I hope it doesn’t come to that. They will most likely have guns, and no matter how good I might be with this little hatchet, a bullet will always win.
Lucas turns his head to the other two in our party, Ethan and Gilbert, who are crouched behind a rusted dumpster. The rubble and debris throughout this ghost town is good for taking cover, but I fear the raiders have already seen us. Why else would they be getting out of their vehicles? They would never take the risk of greyskins detecting them unless, that is, this is their territory. Then they would know if the area was clear of the undead human-eaters.
I don’t know why I close my eyes so tightly. In some way it makes me feel invisible. I try to listen to their chatter, hoping that their conversations will tell us that they don’t see anything. But I’m not so lucky.
“I think I saw some movement,” a high-pitched voice says. “Behind that dumpster over there.”
“Then do something about it,” a gravelly voice snaps.
I jump slightly when I feel a hand squeeze my arm. “Waverly,” Lucas whispers to me.
I open my eyes at the sound of my name and I meet his stare. His blue eyes seem as though he can see right through me. The three years of traveling together through these desolate lands that were once our home has taught us a lot about each other. In this new world, fear is the most common emotion, and the best way to cope is to have someone you love next to you. We live in fear together day-by-day.
“They have guns,” Lucas says to me. “And they’ve seen us.”
“We’ve got to try and run,” I say.
He shakes his head slowly and peeks just above the broken window at the back of the car. I can see from his softly moving lips that he’s counting. My heart sinks when he mouths the word
eleven
and then ducks back down.
It’s too many,
I think.
He rakes his fingers through his shaggy, blonde hair and takes a deep breath. “They would catch up to us within seconds,” he says, pulling his makeshift spear next to him. It’s not much more than a long, wooden stick with a sharp knife tied to it by thin rope. “They don’t seem too friendly - not really the type to just let us go.”
“Raiders usually don’t,” I say. I look past Lucas at Gilbert and Ethan who seem equally nervous.
“Come out, rats!” the gravelly voice yells. His words echo off the buildings around us.
With my back against the car, I look straight ahead, hoping to find an escape route that will allow us to lose the raiders, but all I see are a couple of alleys and the main road. It wouldn’t take long for them to catch us, especially if this truly is their territory.
I look past Lucas again and see Gilbert mouthing something to us. “What is he saying?” I whisper to Lucas.
Lucas shrugs. “I’m not sure.”
I despise Gilbert. His slick, dark hair and pale, gaunt face has always given him a devious look. The moment Lucas and I met him and Ethan two days ago, I knew he would be trouble. He is one of those people that is all about self-reliance and cares less about helping others survive in the process. He is exactly the type who would lead a band of raiders but is probably too young to gain a following.
We had met Gilbert and Ethan in a standoff just about like this one, before we all realized that none of us had guns and that none of us were raiders. Gilbert seemed to know this area better than any of us, and we soon found out that they had learned of a place called Crestwood. Incidentally, that was where Lucas and I were headed too. We had learned of it from an old man whom we met on the road. He had said Crestwood was a large town, led by a good man who wanted only to provide a safe place free from greyskins and raiders.
“Likely there is limited space,” the old man said. “And good luck getting there. You’ll have to cross hundreds of miles of greyskin-infested lands, and if they don’t get you, the raiders certainly will.”
Now, one week out, I wish Lucas and I would have listened to him and tried to form a different plan. Because of Gilbert’s poor leadership, we now sit hunkered behind thin cover, just waiting for the raiders to either kill us or move on. We are nothing but a bunch of teenagers hoping to survive, facing grown men bent not only on survival, but ruling over every traveler they come across.
I crane my neck to look through the front car window. The man standing in front of the other raiders is tall and dirty. He looks thin. Too thin. But this is not uncommon to see. I think all of us are too thin these days. Food is scarce, so it’s a good day if any of us have had one decent meal. He carries a large rifle in both hands, ready to take aim and fire at anything that moves. He wears suspenders to hold up pants that are too big for him, and a straw hat shades his face from the sun above us. From here, he looks just like a scarecrow.
I duck back down before he sees me, and I look over at Gilbert. He’s still moving his mouth, trying to communicate something to us. I squint my eyes and stare at his lips.
“Don’t make a sound,” he seems to say.
I shake my head and rest it against the car door. “He doesn’t want us to move,” I tell Lucas.
“I don’t know what he’s expecting us to do,” he answers.
“Rats!” Scarecrow calls out. “Show yourselves now, and I might let you live.”
I look at Lucas and he stares back at me. We both know there isn’t a chance these guys will let us live. That’s not how they work. It didn’t take long for groups of marauders to form all over the place when the
greyskin virus
showed up three years ago. It first started when looters began tearing through abandoned buildings in the cities. Those looters soon found out that large televisions and computers weren’t going to make them any money in the future. The smart ones hoarded the food and weapons. They formed into groups and quickly became known as raiders. The idea was that you either joined their lawless exploitation of people in need or you died. I suppose that most of us chose death instead.
People like Scarecrow rarely let their victims live. Anyone that is alive and not a part of their little clan is just another person taking up food and supplies that the raiders might need. I can only see this standoff ending in two ways: we try to fight them off and die in the process, or we try to run away and they mow us down with their guns. I feel sick at the thought, but I’m not surprised that we’re here right now. I’m only seventeen years old, and I’ve learned to hate this world that I live in because it comes as no surprise that my end will be at the barrel of a gun. I’m just glad it’s not by the teeth of a greyskin.
“I’m going to try and negotiate,” Lucas whispers to me.
“No!” I say. “You know they won’t listen.”
“I have an idea, Waverly,” he says.
“Lucas, please don’t! If we stay hidden, maybe they’ll turn back.”
“Maybe they won’t,” he says, his eyes sullen and serious.
He starts to raise his hand in the air and I reach out and grab it with mine. Instantly a bright light flashes before my eyes and I feel like I’m floating in the air.
Has an explosion gone off? No. That’s not it. What is this? What am I seeing? I have heard of out-of-body experiences before, but this is very strange. I can almost feel my physical self standing apart from the group, yet I can’t wave a hand in front of my face. It’s as though I am a spirit hovering around the scene unfolding before me, taking it in from a safe distance. No one can touch me. No one can hear me. In a way, I don’t even exist, yet I also see myself crouched behind the car as though there are two of me: the one hiding from Scarecrow and his men, and this one that feels no fear and cannot be seen.
When I look at her, the version of me that is hiding behind the car, I see Lucas pull his hand away.
“It’ll be okay, Waverly,” he says to her.
I watch her from the short distance, a look of shock and confusion is spread across her face. It’s hard to watch myself, seeing the pain of fear.
Lucas holds his hands up in the air and slowly stands. Scarecrow and his men point their guns at him instantly, and Lucas winces as if he almost expects a flurry of bullets to rip through him. When no gun goes off, he raises his head to look at the raiders standing in front of their trucks and SUVs.
When I look at her…Waverly…me. I hate what I see. Her brown falls around her face and shoulders in tangles as she whispers frantically to Lucas. Her thin, pale arms shake in fear. These last three years have not been kind to her. She’s not very tall, add malnourishment to the mix and she looks sick. As I watch, it seems that her whispers to Lucas go unheard.
Gilbert shakes his head, muttering curses toward Lucas while Ethan sits quietly frozen with white-knuckled fingers holding tightly to his weapon.
“There are more of you rats,” Scarecrow says with a scowl. He holds his gun a little higher, taking aim at Lucas. “Have them show themselves or I’ll split your head open like a rotten fruit.”
Lucas holds out his weaponless hands, trying to calm the lead bandit. “We don’t mean any harm,” he says. “We’re just trying to pass through.”
“I don’t care what you’re passing,” Scarecrow says. “Have your men show themselves or I’ll blow your head off.”
“I assure you,” Lucas says, “we don’t want a fight, but we have you outgunned two-to-one.”
Scarecrow’s eyes narrow at Lucas’ words.
“Now, you can take my word for it and drive away, or you can take your chances and blow my head off.” Lucas starts to lower his hands. “So, why don’t you just play it safe and drive out of here and let us pass through?”
Scarecrow seems to ponder his words for a few seconds. “If your men are so heavily armed, then why are they afraid to show themselves?” He looks back at his men for affirmation, and gets a few nods in response.
“Doesn’t matter to you,” Lucas says. “You’ve got a choice to make. For you and your men’s sake, I think you should turn around and let us pass.”
Scarecrow smiles at this. His teeth are yellow and crooked, many of them are even missing. He doesn’t look much different from a greyskin. “How old are you, boy? Fifteen? Sixteen?”
