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  Earthbound

  Copyright 2015 Adam Lewinson

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

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

  www.adamlewinson.com

  Cover design by Lizzie Gardiner

  Published by A4 Publishing

  Note From the Author

  Thank you for reading Earthbound!

  This is book one of a three book series, which stems from my love of three genres: Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi and Western. I hope you enjoy it!

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  Prologue.

  If you want to know the truth, I’m not gonna tell it to you.

  Pace might but he’s a little busy right now, as am I, surrounded by hordes of metal Mankins with lasers aimed at our skulls. He’d still tell you the truth, though. That’s just who he is. Eff him. Eff them. Eff everybody.

  It’s pretty easy to pick apart Mankins. There’s nobody in there. No soul. It’s just metal. I want to get my hands on the guy controlling the metal. That’s the sweet spot. But right now, I’m not seeing how that happens. I’m not seeing how we get past the thousands of Mankins closing in on us right now. We deserve it I guess. Kind of. But then again, we don’t deserve any of this. We’re innocent. I swear. Mostly.

  Pace and I don’t need to talk through our strategy for escape. By now we’ve been through so many scrapes together that we know each other’s rhythm for this kind of thing. One glance and we know our plan. That’s what we did this time too. But once we ran inside the lobby of this skyscraper and the Mankins started to encircle our position, we glanced at each other. We knew we were effed.

  This is more of a requiem than anything else. If Pace was telling the story he’d made it more romantic. That’s him. Not me. I’m a realist. I know the true nature of the world. The carnally unforgiving nature of the order of things. Kill or be killed. Eff or get effed. And in the end, all you can do is go out in style.

  We’ll do that. In a few minutes we’ll have no choice but to burst out of our position, guns blazing, taking out as many Mankins as we can. Not that it matters. There are just too many of them.

  Regrets? Yeah. Sure. Never had much luck with women. I’m no virgin, let me be clear about that right now. But I’m too much of a loner to have a girlfriend. Pace never had that problem. He did pretty much nothing but boast about his experiences with women while we’ve been racing across the Great Plains over the past couple of months on the run from just about everybody. Girls love him. I’m so tired of hearing about it that I want to punch him in the face. Make it bloody and swollen, so he’ll look more like my sad-ass face. I’m not ugly, I know that. I’ve just been punched in the nose too many times. Pace thinks my nose got knocked a little to the right during that fight back at Town Hall with that asshole Boze and his group of followers known as the Nuggets. I think he’s right. That really hurt and I was too pissed off to let the doctor fix it. Now when I look in the mirror it kind of suits me. Scares people away a little bit. I like that.

  Pace exhales deeply, finishing the last of our water. He leans back against crumbling drywall. He doesn’t want to look at me. I don’t blame him.

  “Sorry about Rebecca,” he mutters.

  I don’t respond. I’m too fuming. Then a moment later he looks over at me to make sure I’m still listening. Still alive. I’ve got a pretty bad wound opened up under my ribs.

  I can’t look at him. He should be really effing sorry about Becca! It’s a worthy apology. But probably too vague for someone facing certain death. Is he sorry because he slept with her, or sorry that I didn’t? I really wanna make him feel pain over that. But now’s not the time for resentment. Now’s the time for forgiveness. But that’s not my style.

  Eventually I just glare at him. Pace knows I’m pissed. But all he can do is laugh.

  I wish I had Pace’s sense of humor. His vagabond debonair style. That’s what girls like. That’s what Becca liked.

  It makes me sick.

  I resent him a little I suppose. He’s always been the golden child. I’ve always been the bad boy. I’ve done so much fighting while he’s done so much loving. Or whatever you want to call it. Just once I wanna get the girl. But that’s not gonna happen. I wish I had done a little more living before I do so much dying.

  Whatever. I don’t hate him though. He’s been my best friend when it mattered. Nothing’s changed that. Death is the only thing that’ll change that.

  “What are they waiting for?” he asks.

  I just shake my head. I wonder, what are they waiting for? We’re outnumbered over a thousand to two. Bad odds, even for us. But it’s Mankins. They don’t think. The person doing the thinking obviously wants them to wait. Maybe wait until I bleed out. Lower the odds.

  I hear the march. Jackboots. That unmistakable clank of metal marching in unison. It’s pretty faint but it’s slowly getting louder. I look at Pace, he hears it too. He knows. We don’t need to say it out loud.

  Bions.

  The guy tracking us gives us way too much credit. He must really want that bounty on our heads – quadruple for dead instead of alive. But still, in this situation he doesn’t need to ship in the Bions to guarantee a kill. If I get the chance to talk to that guy, maybe in the next life or whatever, I’ll have to tell him he’s effing crazy. There was no need for the Bions.

  But why not take every advantage, I guess. We’ve gotten out of pretty bad scrapes recently. Maybe he’s smart not to underestimate us. And Bions give such a good psychological advantage. They’re so much harder to kill than Mankins. Not just physically – they are tougher, but a kill shot is a kill shot – but they used to be human, kind of. So they think like a human. Smarter. Unlike a simple Mankin, they adjust. Also there's the guilt factor. It’s not just all metal. There’s something sentient in there and it's not their fault they're enslaved in metal. That’s the challenge. It’s harder to pick apart a sentient creature but I’ve done pretty much a lot of that too.

  Can you imagine the torment? They want to be killed. It’s putting them out of their misery. But they’re programmed to survive anyway. Hell, maybe there are a few out there who just wanna live like anyone else. I dunno, I didn’t ask many of them before I shot them dead.

  The jackboots get louder and closer. Pace just laughs. I shoot him a what-the-eff look.

  “So much for getting starbound,” he howls. This keeps him in stitches. I don’t see what’s so funny. Never did have much of a sense of humor. Instead of honoring him with a response, I reach into my pack and grab my last bite of buffalo jerky. Never did like it. Too salty. But it’s ruined anyway cause I’m thinking it’s the last bite I ever eat. Probably is. Could have been so much better.

  Eff Pace – he’s right about us never getting off Earth. That was always his fantasy anyway, not mine. Me, I like having both feet on the ground. He wants to fly. He wants to go out there into the stars and find out what happened to our ancestors. Eff ‘em, I say. They left, they forgot about us, the last thing I wanna do is catch up with them. Well, someone else is gonna have to follow after them anyway. Clank clank clank. Man that’s lou
d.

  I load two of my last few charges into my Persuaders. I’d remove the safeties but I pried those off already. Never did much like safeties. I look at Pace. He and I know it’s time. Take our stand before the Bions get here. We have no chance now against the Mankins – we have zero chance when the Bions arrive.

  “This is gonna be difficated,” I say.

  We crouch into position. Can’t lift our heads much more or we’re in firing range. The lobby of this skyscraper was in pretty bad shape before we got here anyway, and it didn’t handle the energy blasts well as they accompanied us inside. The windows were shattered before anyway, but now big chunks of concrete were gone too, which at least gave us ground cover for a while. I suspect the Mankins’ blasts knocked the hell out of what was left of this building’s foundation. Maybe the skyscraper will collapse on top of all of us. Hah, that would be justice. But there’s probably no hope for that. As we’ve learned, these structures were built pretty strong. Despite the neglect and rot, they’re still hanging in there. That’s kind of how I always saw myself being if I was lucky enough to live to an old age. Yeah, don’t remind me. But at least we’re gonna die in the only place that’s ever felt like home. The Old City suits me so much better than my real home ten miles away. I belong amongst all this decay. Although I wouldn’t mind seeing Black Eagle Falls again. If only to try to figure out what was so seductive about them. Why my mother decided to jump in and never come out. Maybe I’ll ask her soon where I’m going. No, not that I’ve ever been much for church schooling, but I’m quite certain that wherever my mother is, I’m going somewhere else.

  I wonder if there’s anything I’m supposed to say. I look at Pace. I bet he’s wondering the same thing. And then I see this slight moistness in his eyes. He’s not scared, that’s not him. He’s not afraid to die either. Neither am I. It’s something else. I feel the same way. But eff him if I’m gonna say it out loud. Instead we both nod. It’s time.

  As I apply some pressure on the triggers of my twin Persuaders, one image pops into my mind. Becca. Why the eff should I think of her? Other than she’s the most beautiful effing thing I ever seen. She’s never ever even looked at me the way I wanted her to. She’s just got doey eyes for Pace. At least that’s what I always thought. But Pace had to go putting ideas in my head. Hours on end riding across the plains and loping our way over mossed-up freeways, you gotta fill up the time somehow. He was just talking. There is no way she likes me. That she’d want me. Pace, fine, but me, I’m just the other one, the bad one to stay away from. But I can’t help but regret that I never even told her how I felt. I’d do it now. If I ever had the chance.

  Pace and I rise up in unison. Instantly we feel the sting of energy blasts whizzing past our cheeks. I don’t mind the singe, I just want to keep shooting until they connect with my skull or my chest. Man, they’re everywhere. We line our backs up against each other, as we always did when we got cornered. He takes one flank, I take the other. They’re easy to kill, these Mankins. They’re cheap – really bad programming. So it’s just a numbers game. We just keep firing until invariably one of them will get in a lucky shot. I kill a dozen. Maybe more, I have to stop counting, but I can’t help myself. I give Pace cover while he reloads. He does the same for me – or tries anyway. I get nicked in the thigh. Have to keep standing. Have to hold up Pace. He’s not as good a shot as me. I think I just killed my fiftieth. Going for my record. That’s a way to go out. I’m killing a lot of ‘em. Maybe we have a shot. Maybe. But there’s just too effing many of them. And we’re nearing the end of our ammo. I’m not hearing the sound of jackboots anymore. I squint away from the sun and see them – the Bions are here. They’re raising their cybernetic arms and taking aim. Unlike the Mankins, they don’t miss. I raise up my arms too. But unlike those stupid robots, I don’t need to take aim – it’s second nature by this point. I can manage two more Bion kill shots, one from each gun before the others beat me before I have the chance to beat them. I pull back the triggers.

  And then everything turns white.

  1.

  Being at the end makes me think about the beginning. Not the beginning of my life – fortunately I can’t remember coming out of my mother’s womb. Or my baptism. Welcome to the world. Now drown. No, I’m thinking about the beginning of my dying.

  It was only about six months ago, although it feels like a couple of years. I stood on the edge of the Missouri River, staring thirty feet down into blinding white water. Black Eagle Falls was seducing me. The fall would probably kill me, or if not, odds were good my head would smash against the cement remains of what used to be a dam. But no matter if it didn’t. I’d just open up my lungs and inhale. Gladly. Not much point in sticking around long enough to officially become a man, old enough for me to legally be able to buy a drink – not that the laws ever stopped me anyway. No, I pretty much became a man at the age of twelve. In that very same spot, I stood and wondered why my mother willingly jumped in. Why she allowed herself to drown. Why her body washed up a few miles further down the shore. Becca was with me then, I’ll never forget it, with her arm around my shoulder, trying her damndest to comfort me. I didn’t need comfort though. I already knew what it was like to lose a parent. I just needed to understand why.

  But six months ago, Becca wasn’t with me anymore, I’d made damn sure of that. I was alone, ten some odd years since my mother died, not sure why I was still breathing. I’d grown in those ten years, filled out, gotten stronger. Figured my body mass would make me fall faster. That’s about all I cared to know about physics. But I do know a lot about nature. She’s been reclaiming the earth over the past couple hundred years, taking back what people bastardized. Plant and animal life are reassuming their dominance. Monuments to mankind are barely recognizable anymore, compared to what I’ve seen in history books, which isn’t much cause I’m not much of a history student. All we’ve got left are our effing settlements, and if our birth rate continues the way it has been, then given another thousand years, there’ll be precious little evidence that man was there at all, if the earth even lasts that long.

  The earth wouldn’t miss me. Probably never wanted me anyway.

  People wouldn’t miss me much either. No, I’m just like my old man. It took me a few years but I’d figured out why my mother killed herself. It was only a matter of time before I followed in his footsteps. Better if I end it myself before innocent people have to die.

  I looked up at the sky for what I thought would be one last time. Everyone talks about how lucky we are, how effing beautiful Montana is. But I don’t effing see it. It’s all I’ve ever seen. It’s just all gray to me. So I let my eyelids slide shut. My body started to tip forward. It was the call of the waterfall, I couldn’t resist it. Speckles of cold water peppered my face. And that deafening roar of water was so soothing.

  That was it, I thought. Time to go.

  I can’t tell you why I didn’t fall in. I’m not really sure. Maybe it’s cause I couldn’t tell whether that’s what my mother would have wanted or if she would have been disappointed. I dunno.

  Okay, I’m effing lying to you already. I know why. I heard a voice say my name. “Asher.” And it was her voice. Becca’s voice, as if she was standing right next to me. It had to have been her. But when I opened my eyes, staring at all the effing gray terrain all around me, Becca was nowhere around me. Course she wasn’t there. She’s just in my head. I cursed and took a few steps back from the edge. I guess I knew I was ready to die. But there was something I needed to do first. I just wasn’t sure how or exactly what.

  Kinda disappointed, I went back to a field where I’d set my horse free. My horse’s name is Charon by the way. We understand each other. He gets me where I need to go. Guess that’s why he waited around for me. Probably knew with his horse sense that I didn’t have the guts to jump in.

  I got back to our settlement around nightfall. It’s called Great Falls. There’s another waterfall nearby that goes by the same name. Not very original
. We got five falls all told. Black Eagle is the closest to our settlement. Then Colton Falls, Rainbow Falls, Crooked Falls and then the biggest one of all Great Falls. That one has a ninety foot drop. Guess that’s why they call it Great. Really effing clever.

  I didn’t want to go back to my family’s house. Never did until I had no choice. So instead, well past curfew, as usual, I haunted the only saloon in our little settlement. I planned on taking up my usual stool at the bar, where nobody bothers me so I don’t bother anyone else. And that’s exactly what I did.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a shot glass nudged over in my direction. I could tell by the color, it was filled with the good stuff. Hell, I couldn’t afford that. I glanced up and saw it was Pace who owned that whiskey. Of course it was, effing rich boy. He gave me a nod. I ignored him. I can pay for my own liquor. Most guys give you an expensive drink, there are strings attached. But as I’ve learned, not Pace. He just likes to share – to be the guy everyone likes to hang around with. It was probably easier for him back then, when he worked for his father at the bank. He was lucky I guess, making good money, growing up without really understanding hunger, like the rest of us.

  At that point me and Pace were less than friends. Not enemies either. I just kinda figured it was best to not know him. He’s a talker. Case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not much of a talker. I was kinda cringing, hoping he wouldn’t strike up a conversation. Bragging about his exploits with the pretty girls in town. That’s what he liked to do. Maybe it was just bar talk, I don’t know how many of these girls Pace was actually with, but I suspect everything he told me was true. As I’ve learned over time, Pace has a problem with lying, whereas I have a comfortable relationship with lies. Anyway, I was hoping that refusing his liquor was enough to shut him up, and for a time it was. When he finally spoke, I don’t think he was talking to me.