Crucible: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Next Book 5)

  CRUCIBLE

  (Next #5)

  Scott Nicholson

  Copyright ©2016 by Scott Nicholson

  Published by Haunted Computer Books

  Table of Contents

  Crucible

  Next #6: Half Life

  After

  Zapheads

  About the Author

  Other Books

  U.K. Kindle Links

  “One of the most thrilling writers working today. Miss him at your peril.” – Blake Crouch, Dark Matter

  Get the thrilling conclusion to the Next series, Half Life

  Sign up for Scott’s newsletter for advance copies and giveaways

  CHAPTER ONE

  The wasted valley and stippled hills shimmered beyond the blue curve of the dome, a land so strange that both science and faith had abandoned it.

  From the top floor of the high silver building surrounded by organic glass windows, Rachel Wheeler hid any perception of a world beyond the domed city. If the Conglomerate discovered her curiosity, they would almost certainly kill her.

  Or worse.

  Rachel could fool the other members of the Conglomerate—the two carriers and the two mutant babies they tended—but Kokona kept a wary eye on her. Their telepathic link was muted by the energy field flickering over the dome, but Rachel suspected Kokona was also hiding secrets. The cinnamon-skinned infant seemed to have the power to control the mental connections among the entire group.

  “How do we proceed?” the Conglomerate asked. Even though the assembly of mutant Zaps spoke in unison, they now used Kokona’s voice. In only a handful of days, the wondrous infant had established dominance of the city.

  Kokona alone answered. “Completion of the replacement units should be the highest priority. Since we’ve killed most of our kind, we will need to manufacture better ones.”

  “Shouldn’t we conserve resources?” asked one of the mutant babies, a pale-faced, cherubic thing with wisps of blonde hair curling around its cheeks. Its eyes had probably been blue before the solar storms zapped it into a permanent childhood. Now they seethed and flared with the red-orange colors of the veiled sun.

  “We have unlimited resources,” Kokona said. She waved a tiny hand at the streaks of lightning that flickered and crawled across the face of the dome and the series of clear tubes that converted electromagnetic radiation into plasma.

  Rachel was mesmerized by the crackling, crawling bolts of energy that shot down the tubes into the unseen depths of the city. Much like the constant aurora that swathed the sunset, the tubes cast watery bands of psychedelic light that reflected against the high silver buildings. Their burnished walls were sheer as cliff faces, with few windows to break their metallic expanse.

  The Zaps had constructed the city almost as a mockery of human civilization of the early Twenty-First Century. There were bare streets and occasional features such as benches, newspaper dispensers, and the rectangular blocks of drink machines, but none of it was meant to be hospitable. Most of the cityscape was fabricated from that same organic alloy as the buildings, projecting a desperate coldness. The city’s infantile designers seemed to take glee in the harsh nature of their handiwork.

  “True, the electromagnetic energy is a renewable resource,” said the blonde child, whom Rachel thought of as a wisp because of the thin, frail limbs that were only partially covered by flexible metal clothing. “But our manufacturing process creates contamination.”

  “As long as we’re able to dispense it beyond the dome, then it’s to our advantage,” Kokona said. “Humans will die first, then the animals, and then the vegetation. Our task will be easier.”

  “We’re also killing the others of our kind,” said the second Zap infant, whose voice was high and squeaky. Rachel assumed the child was female, although the smooth features gave no hint of gender. The rest of the Conglomerate was nameless to her, but she’d dubbed this one “Mouse” because of her pointed nose. Mouse added, “And maybe even killing ourselves.”

  “The weak deserve to die.” Kokona’s imperious tone should have been laughable because of her helpless physical form, but Rachel knew better than to underestimate the cunning infant.

  Kokona had manipulated Rachel and her band of survivors into caring for her and teaching her, and then had betrayed them all. She’d destroyed hundreds of fellow mutants just to fend off an attack by a human army, and now she perched in the protective bubble of a living city that built its own defenses.

  “Then we shall not be weak,” said the blonde Wisp.

  Rachel and the other carriers stood behind the tiny, malformed mutants who sat braced upright in narrow chairs. Rachel could see her reflection in the glass as she stared ahead. She’d retained all of her human features since her transformation, and only her sparking, fiery eyes marked her as a half-mutant. But the other two carriers had devolved into nearly genderless creatures, with smooth skin and slack features that made them seem more like waxen corpses than humans.

  That’s what you will turn into if you stay here long enough.

  Rachel hoped the thought remained hidden. Kokona gave no notice. Standing behind Kokona, Rachel could only judge by the mutant child’s reflection, but the eyes took on no extra intensity and the expression of the Asian features didn’t change.

  Rachel gave it another try: I’m going to kill you the first chance I get.

  Still no reaction.

  Then the thoughts of the Conglomerate crowded out her own, but she retained just enough awareness to realize Kokona was absent from the telepathic link. Kokona had either successfully shielded herself, or else had crafted the illusion of such.

  “We should check our facilities,” the Conglomerate said. “With humans in our midst, we may see some random effects on plasma conversion.”

  “Possible,” Kokona said. “They contaminate our purity, but we need them for the time being.”

  Kokona glanced at Rachel’s reflection. She gave a toothless grin that projected a loathsome innocence.

  “We shouldn’t have let them in,” said the Wisp.

  “We need them,” Kokona repeated. “Their complex molecular structure will help with our organic designs.”

  “Haven’t we dissected enough of them?” Mouse asked.

  Kokona flailed an arm toward the widow and the streets far below. “Let them play for now. Let’s not become overconfident. Just because we have them trapped in the dome doesn’t mean they won’t fight back. If there’s one thing we know about humans, it’s that the bloody beasts just love to fight.”

  That’s my friends you’re talking about. Rachel almost said the words aloud despite herself, but somehow managed to maintain her impassive, calm disguise.

  Her boyfriend DeVontay, her grandfather Franklin, and their traveling companion Kevin Millwood had been captured and brought before the Conglomerate. After a futile struggle, the trio had been taken away and were now somewhere in the city. Rachel assumed they were still alive, given Kokona’s words, but she had no idea how long the Zaps would confine them.

  More people had infiltrated the city during an attack by a horde of savage Zaps who were beyond the control of the Conglomerate. Rachel wasn’t sure how many had been sealed inside when the dome was restored after a missile attack, but she suspected it was half a dozen or more. Most were soldiers, although their weapons were probably useless against the protective metal suits worn by the Zaps.

  Rachel held little hope of the humans battling their way into the buildings. She had no idea what sorts of forces the Zaps wielded against them, but ever since she’d seen a metallic duplicate of herself, she worked under the assump
tion that the Zaps could conjure up large armies. And if they could create reproductions of people and buildings, what could stop them from redesigning the entire world to suit their needs?

  But first they’d have to destroy the old world. And the remaining survivors who clung desperately to hope despite the hostile conditions they faced.

  Rachel was still human enough to remember how that felt.

  But she was Zap enough to know she wouldn’t fit into either world now, not since she’d undergone a mysterious transformation that imbued her with certain mutant powers.

  “We should check on the manufacturing facilities,” Kokona said. The words sounded like a command, but neither of the other infants reacted. Their carriers stood behind them, unblinking and mute.

  “It was a mistake to let the humans inside,” Mouse said, patting his chubby hands together in annoyance. “We have all the raw material we need.”

  “You don’t understand the complexity.”

  “We were here first,” the Wisp said, eyes flaring. “We designed the city and the plasma conversion system. We shouldn’t take orders from you.”

  Rachel was surprised at how quickly the rancor developed after they’d so recently spoken with a unified voice. She knew the hyperintelligent infants were jealous and power-hungry, since Kokona had proven so duplicitous. But they failed to see the omnipotence of their combined intellects. Perhaps she could exploit their rivalry to her advantage.

  “I’m merely making suggestions,” Kokona said, lips creased in a sly smile. “It’s your sandbox, and there’s room for all of us. I wouldn’t presume to wear the crown here.”

  Mouse wobbled in his contrived high chair and leaned so that he looked at the Wisp. “Perhaps Kokona is right. I will go check on our animal production, if you will check on our human guests.”

  The Wisp pouted. “And leave her here at the top of the city?”

  “We can read each other’s minds if it comes to that,” Mouse said. “We should trust one another. For we are one.”

  They were interrupted by a distant whirring that drew their attention to the sky outside the dome. A dark shape like a bulbous insect emerged over the horizon and approached through the low clouds.

  “A helicopter,” Kokona said. “The same one that attacked us with missiles.”

  “Should we send out drones?” Mouse asked. Rachel couldn’t help noticing the baby involuntarily deferred to Kokona.

  “No,” the Wisp said, seeking to project authority. “Perhaps it will bring us some more meat.”

  The Blackhawk helicopter kept a wary distance from the dome as it made a slow orbit of the city. The cabin windows were dark so it was impossible to tell how many occupants were inside. The flying machine made no move to swoop in or attack, and no armaments were visible.

  “It’s merely scouting us,” Kokona said. “Just another human display of ineptitude.”

  When the helicopter completed its route around the dome, it headed west, the throbbing of its blades lost in the faint crackle of the plasma conversion.

  Directed via silent command, the Wisp’s carrier collected her from the high chair and cradled her against its smooth, shapeless form. The carrier walked around the long metal table toward the far wall. It stood for a moment, the Wisp staring back at the other two infants.

  “I shall return,” she said. A tube of organic glass descended and engulfed them, sealing them in a vacuum. A circle opened in the floor of the same circumference as the tube, and then the pair slowly dropped from sight. In moments, the clear tube vanished and the floor was again whole.

  “Can she read us?” Mouse asked Kokona, and Rachel at first thought Mouse was talking about her. Then she remembered that carriers were beneath recognition—they existed only to serve their superiors.

  “We can’t communicate with this many levels between us,” Kokona said. “Why? Do you have something to confess?”

  “No,” Mouse said. “I just want to know if you’ll talk about me when I’m gone, too.”

  Kokona smiled. Words sluiced into Rachel’s head and she found herself speaking along with Mouse and Mouse’s carrier: “We’re the Conglomerate. We are all one.”

  “Okay,” Mouse said after a moment, and apparently gave a telepathic command so that he, too, was carried to the far side of the room. The clear tube descended and transported the pair away.

  Rachel and Kokona were alone.

  A deep throbbing came from beneath them, the city’s engines running as it built itself. Rachel could only imagine the animated creatures the machines were minting. New things to populate the ravaged landscape.

  “Carry me to the window,” Kokona ordered Rachel.

  Rachel turned the high swivel chair so they were facing one another. If only she could wrap her hands around the tiny throat and squeeze the life from this loathsome mutant.

  Kokona grinned and wriggled, apparently reading Rachel’s intention. “You can’t. You love me. And when you love something, it owns you.”

  Never mind that the love was involuntary, a sick kind of slavery. Kokona had used helplessness and cuteness to worm her way into Rachel’s heart. The very act of caring for the child had created a deep bond that even betrayal couldn’t break.

  Kokona, however, would have no problem killing Rachel when the time came. She’d already made that clear.

  “You’re worried about DeVontay and the others, aren’t you?” Kokona said.

  “What are you going to do with them?”

  “Keep them around. Their lives are in your hands. They’re safe as long as you obey me.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  “No. I’m something the world made.”

  Rachel glanced to the heavens. At one time, long ago, she’d believed in a compassionate god that cared for its creations. Now all she saw were the amorphous bands of aurora feathered against the high blue ceiling that trapped them all beneath its traitorous atmosphere.

  “Carry me to the window,” Kokona repeated.

  Rachel lifted the tiny mutant and cradled it against her chest. The fit was natural. Rachel was grateful Kokona no longer required milk. The Zaps gained their sustenance through the collected plasma, so those demanding brown lips would not drink from her flesh.

  Rachel herself had little appetite, fueled by the same radioactive energy. She ached to be hungry, though—it was one more human trait to which she clung with fierce desperation.

  She crossed the burnished alloy floor that felt like it could turn to liquid at any moment. At the window, she tilted Kokona so that they were both looking out over the silver spires of the city. The plasma cycling through the collection tubes was hauntingly beautiful and mesmerizing, like a forge where stars were birthed.

  “All this can be ours,” Kokona said.

  “No,” Rachel said. “I don’t want it.”

  The baby beamed up at her with a child’s cruel and selfish need. “You’re my carrier. Did I give you a choice?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Looks like they want to fatten us up,” DeVontay Jones said, squinting at the rows of tin cans with his one good eye.

  Franklin Wheeler patted his stomach. The bearded old man was in good shape for his age, because you had to be in order to survive, but time and nature had dragged down the muscles of his youth. “Well, I don’t think a hunger strike will do any good. Bust that thing open and let’s see what kind of mystery meat they packed inside it.”

  In the two weeks they’d been confined in the narrow series of subterranean rooms, they’d opened a number of such cans. None bore labels and each contained a different type of food. Even the word “food” was a bit subjective, since the mushy contents seemed to be a mélange of proteins and vegetation.

  They’d waited two days before opening the first can, but judging by the silver-gray rows of them that lined the shelves of the small room, the Conglomerate expected their prisoners to be around for a long, long time.

  As DeVontay worked the strange, flimsy can open
er—the only implement in their quarters—Kevin Millwood slouched on the long metal bench and said, “I bet it’s radioactive. Eat that and you’ll be crapping glow-in-the-dark rainbows.”

  “You’ve been saying that ever since we got here,” DeVontay said, nodding toward the narrow chamber off the hallway that housed a metal toilet and sink. “And you’re still using the throne.”

  “I don’t have a bucket, or I would use that instead,” Millwood said. The hippie pushed his granny glasses up his nose and shook his long, graying hair. “I don’t trust what might crawl up out of there.”

  “There’s water in the bowl,” Franklin said. “And it flows from the sink, too. Nice of the Zaps to install plumbing.”

  “We don’t even know if that’s water coming out of the tap,” Millwood said. “Could be some kind of poisonous mutant juice.”

  “They didn’t go out of their way to make us comfortable, but they don’t want us to die, either. At least not right away.”

  “They designed this cell like our bunker,” DeVontay said, driving the blade of the opener into the can. A vaguely nauseating odor emanated from it, but DeVontay’s stomach growled in hunger nonetheless. “Like they’ve been to Milepost 291 and took notes.”

  “That’s no surprise,” Franklin said. “Could’ve been the drones carried back the information, or maybe some of those rogue Zaps escaped. Who knows how far their telepathy can carry?”

  “Sure, but how did they know to have this cell ready?” DeVontay dug his fingers into the dark green foodstuff and scooped a handful into his mouth. He passed the can to Franklin and held his nose as he chewed and swallowed. The aftertaste was redolent of spinach and soybeans.

  “The Zaps have been two steps ahead of us all along,” Franklin said, peering suspiciously into the can before eating from it. He smacked his lips, dribbling cloys of food onto his ragged beard as he added, “They were ready for us. We walked right into it.”