Earthbound (The Reach, Book 1)
Read Earthbound (The Reach, Book 1) Online
Authors: Mark R. Healy
Mark R. Healy
Copyright © Mark R. Healy 2015
markrhealy.com
Cover Art Copyright © Mark R. Healy 2015
Editing by Clio Editing Services
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Terms and Conditions:
The purchaser of this book is subject to the condition that he/she shall in no way resell it, nor any part of it, nor make copies of it to distribute freely.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
1
Knile had waited years for this moment, but now that it was finally here he wasn’t sure he was ready for it.
He heard her voice in his head again for the hundredth time today
, an echo of the past. Saw her clear blue eyes and the way her eyelashes dipped as she offered him a smile, a smile that was meant just for him. Chestnut hai
r spilling across her shoulders, the cerulean blue fabric of her dress against pale skin.
He saw smoke and flame, saw those same eyes filled with sadness and dread. Saw her soft lips part as she tried to say one last word.
Knile gasped as if he’d been physi
cally struck. He
clamped a hand over his eyes as if that might stop the images from playing in his head, stop the sound of her voice in his mind.
He pushed those thoughts away as he crouched in the gloom
. E
vening had
descended like a blanket across the city. From his place in the shadows he could see the denizens of the slums filter past, shuffling hurriedly from one place to the other like cockroaches searching for a place to hide,
unaware
of his proximity in the fading light. He was close enough to smell them, to touch them. Close enough to taste their fear.
Knile tugged his sleeve and tilted his wrist, watching as the dim light played off the cracked face of his wristwatch. The guy was late. He should have been here by now.
An explosion shook the still evening air, a distant boom that resonated out across the slums from at least two blocks away. In response, a pair of pigeons that had been roosting in the upper reaches of the t
enements near Knile took flight amid a raucous flapping of wings, black against the deep blue sky above the rooftops.
The natives are getting restless
.
Knile checked his watch again, needlessly, the hands remaining in the same position they had occupied a few seconds before.
He felt those thoughts of her returning, clawing incessantly at the edge of his
consciousness
, and he knew that he was running out of ways to stave them off. He needed this to be over.
“Where are you, fat man?” he muttered to himself, tapping impatiently on his wrist.
You’ve been away for years, Knile
, he thought.
Maybe things have changed more than you know.
He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling the walls of the alley closing in around him. Out in the lowlands there were wide open spaces in which he could roam. He’d gotten used to that freedom in the years he’d been out there, and now confinement and claustrophobia were concepts with which he was largely unfamiliar. They were conditions that he’d managed to forget, concerns that applied to others but not to him.
Or so he’d thought. Now he wasn’t so sure. Although he’d only just returned, the concrete and brick
buildings
that thrust up around him were already beginning to feel like the bars of a prison cell. He needed to get out.
“Screw this.”
He got up to leave, but just then another figure appeared in the alley, lumbering toward him with a familiar gait. Details were difficult to make out in the low light, but Knile could hear the ragged breathing, the wheezing, the way the boots scraped and slid acros
s the asphalt rather than lifting
clear with each step. The rattle of keys on a belt. They were all pieces of a puzzle that, when
put together, gave him a fingerprint of the man moving toward him.
It was
him
. The
one he sought.
Knile leaned forward, allowing his weight to transfer to the balls of his feet. He placed one han
d down onto the asphalt like a sprinter waiting for the starting gun, then paused as the man neared.
Now that he
was closer, more details were becoming apparent. Knile noted a distended belly, dishevelled hair, sagging jowls that squeezed out past the respirator on his face – a face that contained an expression so
disagreeable that it looked as though it had been moulded there and left to set like clay.
Definitely the guy.
There was another explosion, closer this time, and the newcomer
flinched, grunting and lifting a hand protectively above his head. The ground vibrated and dust filtered down from the buildings above like misting rain. The man coughed under his respirator and waved a hand irritably in front of his face, cursing to himself.
He stopped at a door not far from Knile, rummaging through the keys at his belt. They jangled and sent little shimmering sounds chasing along the alleyway as the sound of the explosion subsided.
Knile got to his feet, quiet as a shadow.
“Fallon,” Knile said.
The fat man cried out and staggered backward, bumping noisily against a downpipe with the back of his head. Amid his contortions he managed to both dislodge his respirator and drop whatever it was he was carrying. It landed on the asphalt beside him with a wet thud.
His eyes widened as he tried to locate the source of the voice, and from his jacket he produced a small pocketknife, which he held out in one trembling, meaty fist.
“Who is it? Who’s there?” he demanded feebly.
Knile stepped forward and allowed himself to be seen. He gave a little half smile and spread his hands as if to say
here I am
.
Fallon lowered the knife slightly and peered forward, shoving the respirator aside so that he could speak more freely.
“Knile?”
“The one and only.”
“For the love of…” Fallon tucked the pocketknife back in his jacket angrily, rubbing the back of his head. “What the
hell do you think you’re doing, man?”
“What do you mean? You’re the one who’s been asking around for me.”
“Yeah, so what?” Fallon said. “That doesn’t mean you have to creep around in the friggin’ shadows. You don’t have to stalk me. Haven’t you ever learned to use a door?”
Knile walked toward him. “Calm down.”
“Seriously. Do you know how to knock, like normal people?” Fallon said. He glanced down at his feet at the dropped package, then gestured helplessly at it. “And look at this. Do you know how far I had to walk to get this? That trip half killed me.”
“Let me guess? Half a block?”
Fallon scowled. “Screw you.” He scooped up the bundle and then lifted the keys to the door again. “Come in off the street, will you? It’s not safe out here.”
They proceeded inside and Fallon closed the door behind them, flicking at four separate locking mechanisms and then sliding a metal bolt across the entrance for good measure.
“Neighbours are as friendly as ever, by the looks of it,” Knile remarked.
“Neighbours are hungry,” Fallon spat. “Neighbours are desperate. Hard times, man. Hard times.”
Fallon
led Knile down the corridor, lighting a candle in a small room at the end and seating himself heavily at a worn wooden table. He dropped the bundle unceremoniously before him and began to unravel it.
“Wasn’t sure if you’d come,” Fallon said, glancing briefly at Knile before returning his attention to the bundle.
“Well, it was a close thing,” Knile said. “You know I’m not well liked around here.” The room hadn’t changed much in the years since he had
last seen it
. It was filthy and poorly maintained, with jars of bolts, rocks and other indeterminable materials lining the shelving along the wall. One of the jars had smashed on the floor and had been left where it lay, the many pieces of it glinting in the candlelight.
