The Retreat (The After Trilogy Book 1) (7 page)

In a thrash of movement, the sharp-toothed creature burst forwards, lashing across the ground—jaws wide, and slitted, red eyes trained directly on her. Romy grappled behind her for any hold on the tree.

She covered her face with an arm, mouth opened to scream.

Crack!

The sound echoed through the bush.

The monster skidded half a metre to her feet and collapsed.

Romy shook from head to toe, limping out of its path as quickly as she could. Staring back, she wondered why it fell. Was it dead?

The beast was going to eat her, until that cracking sound happened. Did its tiny limbs break underneath it?

The monster remained still.

Summoning her courage, Romy crept to the side of the immobile river creature and inspected it. Blood flowed from its head in a steady trickle. Her stomach rolled at the sight and her eyes widened in shock. It was dead. There was a hole in its flat head.

There was no sound in space that the human ear could hear. Aside from the staccato sound of lasers and debris missiles leaving the battler, Romy had never heard the echo of a fired gun.

But someone had shot the river animal. With a gun. An
Earth
gun.

A soft snap from behind caught her attention. In her fascination with the scene she’d forgotten one thing: A gun didn’t fire itself.

She remained bent close to the monster, but all her senses were trained on the foreign noise.

There was something else she’d missed, though:

The creature wasn’t dead.

The animal rolled grotesquely, bursting upwards. Romy flung herself out of its trajectory. She was too close. The monster turned its head and she watched in horror as ten-centimetre teeth descended.

A man burst from the bush and threw his weight on top of the thrashing animal. Her first feeling was relief that the Orbitos had found her.

The man was trying to pin the writhing beast to the ground.

And that’s when she noticed he wasn’t wearing an Orbito uniform.

Earth human.

Romy left everything, half hopping, quarter sprinting, and the rest limping, in a random direction.
The first half of the population died. The second half murdered each other.
The tall man wasn’t encumbered like she was with her half-healed ankle. She only had until he dealt with the injured animal to escape.

A second
crack
echoed through the bush and Romy paused, holding her breath, straining for any hint of his next move.

It wasn’t subtle.

The man’s large body crashed through the bush towards Romy, whipping her into action. She looked around frantically. With a weak ankle, it took a full precious minute to climb far enough up a tree that she was above eye-level.

The crashing stopped.

Bark grazed at her ivory skin, but she worked through the pain, quietly dragging herself farther up.

The bush was still. She had no idea where the man hid, and knew that the lack of sound was a bad thing. Every night since the crash, the creaking insect had starting singing at sunset. It wasn’t singing now.

She lodged herself in a straddling position over a broad branch, facing the tree’s trunk. She hugged the trunk and worked to calm her breathing, ears straining. It would be a perfect time for her knot to appear. With guns. Phobos could take the strange man down. Romy recalled the man’s size against the animal.

Better have Deimos help, too, just to be sure.

Romy pressed her shaking hands against the tree. The man was close. She knew this as surely as her own name.

There was no way Romy was climbing down.

R
omy winced at the pain in her neck as she straightened from hugging the tree. She’d spent the night up there, wedged in the fork between the trunk and a thick branch. It was now dawn and her butt was numb in the worst possible way.

Retrieving her belongings was out of the question. If she were hunting someone and couldn’t find them, that was where she’d wait. She didn’t relish the thought of travelling in her underwear, but surely she could find some kind of shelter at night.

She probably should have slipped off in the night, but the engulfing quiet put her off. Now there was more noise to cover her descent.

Romy gingerly tested a lower branch, slipping down onto it when it proved sturdy. In this fashion, she slid down the tree, forcing her stiff joints into action.

The tree took just as much skin off on the way down as it had on the way up.

She paused at the base of the tree, listening.

Nothing. Romy put a slight weight on her ankle and winced. Last night's dash through the forest had set back her healing.

A warm body slid behind her as she made to turn. In an instant, one muscled arm clamped around her waist. She sucked in a terrified breath. He was too close to elbow, and her injured ankle couldn’t hold enough weight for her to kick out. Romy whipped both arms up above her and encircled his neck, intending to bend over far enough to break his hold.

Her plan backfired.

Using his other hand, the man took control of
both
her hands, encasing them in an iron clasp. Romy struggled against him, arms lifted awkwardly, forced to rise on her tip-toes from the pain in her wrists.

A voice rumbled in her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The Earth human spoke! “Get off me,” she ordered.

The man tightened his grip. “No.”

He spoke English. She was in an English-speaking country.

“Release me if you mean no harm.” She pulled at his grip.

“Why would I?” came the infuriating answer. “You’ll run.”

Oddly, his reply only served to sear away her galloping fear. Romy let her entire body go slack. “Well, who are you, then?”

The man's chest vibrated behind her. Was he . . . laughing at her? She threw her head back and caught him in the face. It didn’t crunch as she’d intended, but it was satisfying.

. . . Until she found herself flat on her back.

He straddled her hips, and no matter how she writhed, it was impossible to free herself. The man just watched her, in slight amusement.

Realising she wasn’t going anywhere, Romy gave up her struggle and took a good look at her attacker.

The tall man was tan with jet-black hair and the most incredible grey eyes. He was older than her, but just by a few years.

Her stomach flipped. The acid water. Was it finally taking effect?

“Who are you? Why are you here?”

“Saving you from a crocodile. Would have thought that obvious. What kind of fool washes without checking the water first?”

Romy gulped at the reminder while trying to process what he’d just said. “Crocodile?”

The man observed her, grey eyes turned flinty and hard. And the way he was staring while
continuing
to pin her down was really getting on her nerves.

She broke the quiet. “You didn’t tell me who you are. Are you an . . . Earth human?” Romy ground the words out.

His expression smoothed. “I crashed here five years ago.”

The air left Romy’s lungs. “W-what?”

He
was
from the Orbitos. That made her feel a lot better.

The man nodded. “Crashed. Been by myself.”

Five years by himself? No wonder he was looking at her like she was some kind of strange experiment. He was bound to be a little rough around the edges if he’d lost his knot.

“For five years?” she repeated. “I take it you couldn’t get in touch with the Orbitos?” She frowned at the black singlet that hugged his chest tightly. His pants were also black, with pockets down the sides. “How are you still alive?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Just am.”

Romy rolled her eyes.
Well, that was helpful
, she thought. “Where is your uniform?”

He snorted. “You expect me to wear it for five years?”

She clamped her mouth shut so no more stupid questions came out.

“I’m going to let you up,” he grunted. “I’d rather not have to track you down again—which I will if you bolt. There are all sorts of dangerous animals and plants out there. You’re not safe. Understood?”

Romy thought about it and nodded. He rose in one swift motion and she clambered to her feet.

“My name is Atlas,” he said, his back to her. “What’s yours?”

She took her time answering, still trying to piece everything together. He’d been here for five years. This place could support human life.
How do the Orbitos not know about this?

“Romy.” She hated how her voice shook.

The man, Atlas, pulled her supplies and another pack—which clearly belonged to him—from the shrubs at the base of her tree. He’d returned to the riverbank and then crept up on her. How did he sneak up on her? She could’ve sworn she hadn’t fallen asleep.

He frowned and looked down at her pack in his hands. “That’s not an Orbito name. Unless they’ve moved away from historical names.”

“They haven’t,” she said. “My full name is Rosemary.” She noticed she was fidgeting with her hair, and dropped the limp strands.

He smiled a curious half-smile. “Rosemary was draped around the neck of Aphrodite when she arose from the ocean.”

Romy gave him a doubtful glance. “It’s also used in cooking.”

She smiled a moment later when the man gave a larger quirk of his lips.

“And Atlas was forced to carry heaven on his shoulders as punishment.” She was sorry for the words when his face hardened.

He brushed both hands on his sides as he stood straight and regarded her before finally saying, “It’s also a book of maps.”

She nodded warily, questioning his sudden change in emotion.
Five years
, she reminded herself. He tossed Romy her belongings.

She dug out her orange suit. A night in underwear was acutely uncomfortable without protection from the tree bark. If she did run again, it would be while fully clothed.

“What happened?” he asked in a low voice. He opened his pack and passed her some slightly pink meat. It looked tough.

Romy stared at the foreign food in her hand and glanced away.

She ignored his question and asked her own. “How did you find me?”

He bit into his own food—whatever it was.

“You ask a lot of questions for a space soldier who shouldn’t possess curiosity.”

Romy blushed. “Can you blame me?”

He studied her, swallowing. “You know what kind of noise a battler makes when it enters Earth’s orbit and crashes to the ground?”

“Because I’ve spent so much time on Earth?” Romy rolled her eyes.

The man’s eyes flashed with laughter. “Neither did I until I saw your craft streaking through the sky yesterday.”

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she drew closer towards Atlas without thinking, gripping his hand. “Did you see where the rest of the ship landed?” She leaped to her feet, ready to go right then and there. “What luck that you found me! I had no idea where to start searching,” she babbled happily. Her knot! He could help her find them.

“No.”

“How long do you. . . ?” Romy trailed off as she looked into the man’s grey eyes again. They had the experiment look again.

“No,” he repeated.

Romy’s mouth dried, and as elated as she’d been seconds before, she now felt close to vomiting. Her head throbbed painfully. “No, what?” she managed to get out through the tightness in her throat.

“I only saw the one. I assumed they were with you. . . .”

He assumed that the rest of her knot was with her. And that she was the sole survivor.

How far could the eye see in the sky above?
Thousands of kilometres.
A gasp sounded in her ears and she knew it came from her mouth.

It could take her years of travelling to find her knot.

Despair built inside of her, overwhelming everything else. “I crash landed with my . . . my knot,” she said through numb lips, staring down at her hands in an attempt not to cry. “My part of the ship was torn off sometime during landing, I think. I lost consciousness partway down. I’m trying to find their part of the wreckage. But I haven’t found a clue yet. I, I was heading in the direction of the ocean next.” A tear leaked out and she dashed it away before Atlas noticed.

“It’s as good a place as any,” he said quietly.

Romy held up the dried meat—anything to change the subject. “What is this?” It seemed almost like chicken.

“Kangaroo.”

“We’re in Australia?” Romy’s mouth dropped in surprise.

“Queensland, Australia,” he clarified. He gave her a sideways look. “How do you know what a kangaroo is, but not a crocodile?”

Romy frantically reviewed what little she knew of Australia. Big and dry. Nothing that could help her find her friends.

She waved a hand when she noticed Atlas waiting for an answer. “Oh, I only know a few animals; kangaroos, koalas, pandas, kittens, lemurs—and a couple others.”

His lips quirked again. “You’re only interested in cute animals.”

Annoyance bubbled within her. “No, I’m not. I like tigers, and pygmy hippos. Hippos were one of the most dangerous animals in Africa.” This time she was sure he was holding back laughter. His lips were pursed. Who did that for any other reason?

Romy narrowed her eyes, daring him to laugh. “And how do you know this is Queensland, Australia?”

He picked up his pack, shouldering it. “Because I’m an Atlas.”

He made for the edge of the clearing, looking back when she didn’t follow. “Come on. Let’s go to the ocean.”

There was something off about the black-haired man’s reaction to her. Was he just close-mouthed and unused to talking? He just seemed so comfortable here. And so knowledgeable. How had he survived so long on his own? Romy frowned.

After five years alone, she wondered, shouldn’t he be ecstatic to find another human? Shouldn’t he have asked if she’d been able to contact the Orbitos? Romy glanced around. Atlas was on Earth; he had lived here for years. It was every space soldier’s dream.

Maybe he was worried she would contact the Orbitos. Maybe he thought he’d be forced to return. Which was ridiculous. The Orbitos would leap at the chance to reinstate human life on Earth.

Romy threw her bundle over her shoulder and decided to walk with the man for now.

He hadn’t hurt her, aside from trapping her while they talked. And he’d saved her from the crocodile.

He might be the only other human left on Earth.

She’d follow him.

Really, she had no other choice.

Because she didn’t want to be alone.

* * *

A
tlas made very little conversation, though his grey eyes followed Romy’s progress at all times—much to her discomfort.

On the odd occasion Atlas did speak, it was to drag her away from a poisonous plant or point out things to avoid. She learned that the slithering creature was called a snake. The name was vaguely familiar. She’d grown quiet when he told her most were venomous, many fatally so.

Actually, the man made it sound like every single thing in Australia was designed to kill you.

“If it’s so dangerous, then how have you survived so long?” Romy was getting annoyed at how surprised he was that she’d survived for three days.

He didn’t answer—just for something new.

“Don’t touch or eat this plant,” he instructed, pushing it back out of her path with a stick. “It’s a black bean.”

She sidestepped around it, now walking on her injured ankle.

“Worse than nightshade?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve tried either.”

Romy giggled and though Atlas’s eyes still faced forwards, she thought they softened.

“How are you still so . . . okay?” he asked. It was the first sign of hesitancy she’d seen in the Orbito soldier.

Her smile faded, knowing what he spoke of. Every soldier knew what happened to those who lost their team. In fact, most knot survivors were transferred to Orbito Four for “special treatment,” which was a nice way of saying most survivors went crazy. The genetic engineers held the survivors there until the soldiers’ expiration dates to study the phenomenon. And then, upon expiry the survivors were recycled into a new knot. The thought of Knot 27 dying. . . .

She shuddered, studying the dusty red ground.

“They’re not dead,” she grated out. “My knot is still alive.”

He glanced back at her and lifted a dark brow. “Odds are, they’re dead.”