Deliver Us: Ouroboros Archives Book One Read online

  My eyes drift there, it has to be north. I turn my head to the left, which means that is west. Home must be that way.

  The moon is sitting southeast, and the big dipper is high with the pan edge pointing north. I should’ve remembered that lesson too—I could have relied on the sky for directions. My compass may only work once if I don’t find more vegetation to keep the needle afloat. If only I’d paid more attention.

  I drink the small amount of water from the dish and carefully wrap everything back in the cloth. Slinging the pack over my back, I take my first step out into the unknown desert.

  Chapter 3

  MY FEET CARRIED ME northwest over the rolling hills and deep sand for more than an hour. The energy I had when I began is gone and the lack of sleep is dragging me down. The dunes continue forever in the distance and I’m second-guessing my location. Maybe I’m in Australia, where dunes can go on for hundreds of miles. It’s technically part of the Forbidden Zone, but I’ve heard that people have traveled there and returned safely. Or I’m in another part of the Forbidden Zone, a place so toxic it has been sealed off for almost two hundred years. I doubt they’d build a prison there. Yet those strange people must have come from somewhere unusual. Can I even call them people? They’re more like aliens from another planet, here to take over our world and use us as their slaves. I can’t think about them now, I need to focus on finding survivors and information. And I need to start at home, on my turf, in a familiar landscape and with familiar people. People I can trust.

  The soft sand becomes rocky and more solid under my boots. Brush scrapes my pants. I need to pay closer attention so I don’t trip on the rugged terrain. Based on how long I’ve been walking, the expanse of the dunes was probably about four miles. Definitely home. I stop and listen, hoping to pick up the sound of one of the Bullet trains that pass through these dunes. My father had taken me through the area many times on our way out East. As the train flew through, we’d have a few moments to admire the beauty of the rolling sand mounds, seemingly untouchable and forbidden.

  No sound of a train, no sounds at all in the desert. I suddenly miss the dunes and fear what lurks in the bushes and under the rocks of this new area. Fear is a luxury I can’t have, and a more immediate goal is shelter. The sun will soon rise and with it my exposure to both the sun and my captors. I push on, hoping to cover three miles per hour—a slow pace considering how far I have to go.

  The sun peeks up from the horizon behind me, and I’ve picked up my pace now that I can see where I’m walking. At least three hours have passed since I left the outside of the prison. Bushes and brush scatter the desert, but trees are in short supply. This is no place to be in the summer heat, the temperature will reach upwards of 115 degrees. If I don’t find a tree soon, I’ll have to settle for a grouping of thick brush.

  Another hour of walking and I’m dragging my body, the heat is rising to the point that I feel like ripping off my clothes. A large mesquite tree appears about fifty feet to the north. It’s the first one I’ve seen so far. A small seedling must have blown out to the rough desert and took hold in the sand. Four branches shoot off in all directions and provide a full canopy that shades the ground below it. The temperature drops several degrees as soon as I enter the shade of the tree. Five large rocks surround it—not in a perfect circle, but in an odd shape—like seats staring up at the tree as if it was going to tell a story. I wonder if the placement of the rocks was a natural occurrence or man-made. It’s like a ring of protection and I imagine that nobody will be able to breach the barrier of the rocks as I rest. My pack serves as a lumpy pillow, and I’m asleep within seconds. I don’t have the time or energy to wonder if I’m safe.

  Chapter 4

  LOURDES OSPREY ABBOTT resided in a quiet farmhouse nestled at the base of the mountains in an area formerly known as Colorado. Green pastures could be seen for miles and animals grazed peacefully, keeping the grass from overgrowing around her land. A gentle river flowed directly in front of the house, about a hundred yards away, and animals came to drink there every morning.

  There wasn’t another soul living in this area for hundreds of miles. People hadn’t lived in the central zones of the continent for hundreds of years. Lourdes relished the seclusion and the quiet. Throughout the year families would visit the majestic mountains, rivers, lakes, and wildlife. It couldn’t be compared to that of anywhere else in the world. And when they came she opened her home, or one of the other homes on her land, and played the part of a gracious host.

  Lourdes grew up on the Pacific coast of the North American continent. She raised her only son, Zeb, on the coast as well—after all, it was the only home she knew, and she wouldn’t dream of raising him in a life of seclusion. But she always longed to live in the peacefulness of the mountains. Sixteen years ago, she made that move and has never regretted it. And travel back to her childhood home only takes a few hours by Bullet.

  She vividly remembers the day she decided to move for good. Her visions were increasing at an extraordinary rate, but they seemed to quiet when she got away for a holiday in the mountains.

  “It’s the stress you put on yourself,” Zeb would say. “Of course your craziness goes away when you’re relaxed.”

  “My visions are real. I see things. Things about the future.”

  “You’re imagining things. I know you, Mom. The more worked up you get, the more you believe these visions are real. Have they ever come true?”

  She wouldn’t answer him because she couldn’t put the truth into words. In her heart, she knew what was real. She had suffered from visions most of her life and they almost always came true in some form or fashion.

  The first vision she remembered was as vivid as if it had occurred yesterday. She was five years old and was playing on the brown rocky cliffs near her home. She watched as a young neighbor boy jumped along the rocky beach at low tide. His name was Jonah, and she liked to watch him play his imaginary games—fighting off giant sea creatures and saving the world. This day as she watched, he looked up and motioned for her to come down. She hesitated. Her father strictly forbade her to go down to the beach without an escort. “The tide could rise at any moment and swallow children out to sea,” he always said.

  Jonah was insistent and waved his hand with force, summoning her to go down to the beach. Lourdes really wanted to play with him, there were few other children her age in the village, most were older or lived closer to the city by the bay. Carefully, she climbed down the slippery rocks, her bare feet gripping the rough, wet crevasses that kept her from sliding. When she reached the bottom he was running up the beach, leaping over medium-sized boulders like an emu trying to take flight, but never achieving liftoff. She watched in awe as Jonah seemed to glide through the air. He turned toward the ocean and skipped over the rocks that peaked above the water like mini islands. As he did, he turned to make sure she was watching and upon catching her eye, he smiled widely.

  He ran toward Lourdes, jumping high directly in front of her, an attempt to impress her. She giggled and ran up the shore, enticing him to chase her. He did without hesitation and came up behind her, their feet splashing in the water as it gently rolled up onto the beach. Their running slowed, and he grabbed her hand. Lourdes froze and seemed to cease to exist as she was thrown into the future. Her visions played like a movie in her mind, but the scenery was as familiar as home.

  A young girl with long stringy locks of brown hair was standing on a high platform as thousands of people were looking on from the ground below. The sky was gray, and a cold breeze made Lourdes shiver—a cold she had never experienced before. The girl hesitated and scanned the crowd as she prepared to deliver a speech. Lourdes felt the energy and excitement of the people as they stared up in anticipation.

  The girl’s voice was loud; her words were firm and were delivered with conviction. She lifted her right arm and made a powerful fist toward the dark sky. Lourdes couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the people cheered and lifted their
right fists in unison. Then it was over, she was back on the beach. Jonah at her side, holding her hand and staring at her frozen body. Then she fainted.

  When Lourdes awoke, she was home in her bed being served warm tea as her father felt her forehead for a fever. She continued to have the same vision over and over throughout her life. As time wore on more information was revealed, and the vision became longer. Other visions appeared as well. She saw her life play out before her—her marriage to Jonah, the birth of her son, and the births of her grandchildren.

  When her granddaughter was born, the visions increased to the point of exhaustion. She couldn’t hold the baby without being thrown into the future. Even being near her brought vivid dreams that she couldn’t control. The future she saw terrified her, and she knew that this child was destined to play a role in it.

  “Please listen to me. I had the same dream again. People are going to get hurt. We have to get away from here.”

  “You have to stop this Mother,” Zeb would say.

  “It’ll be safe in the mountains.”

  “We’re not moving to the mountains. I have work to do, we can’t leave our home, or the city.”

  “Not even to keep your daughter safe?”

  “She is safe here with us, her parents. Stop with your crazy ideas, and go to the mountains if you want, but we’re not going with you.” He was analytical and logical, seeing the future was something he could not understand.

  So she moved to the mountains, where she could think clearly. And she devised a plan to teach her granddaughter ways to survive and prepare her for the future she knew was inevitable.

  Chapter 5

  “LULU, WHERE ARE YOU?” It’s dark outside; only the moon and the stars shed light on my surroundings. The blades of grass tickle my bare feet—it’s prickly and I don’t like it.

  “Lulu!” I shout. Where is she? Hiding from me, for sure. She always does this.

  “Use your tracking skills,” she whispers, and I turn toward the sound of her voice.

  I can’t see her, but I know she is there. Tracking skills. My grandmother always played these games, trying to teach me skills to survive in nature. I never understood why it was so important. The moonlight shines directly on a shoeprint. I see another, and four more, and then the trail ends. A broken branch is two feet to my right. Yes, this is a clue that something or someone walked that way. The dirt path is cold as I tiptoe closer to the old oak tree. Laughter escapes when I see her homemade cheese crackers making a short trail. She’s leading me now.

  As stealthily as possible, I make my way to the tree and quickly pop around the back. “I got you!”

  Lulu grabs me in her hands and throws me up into the air, “Yes, you did. You did well, Liv.”

  I wake with a start, still lost in my dream and desperate to find my grandmother. The sun is low in the sky, I slept the entire day. I don’t think I’ve slept that many hours since this nightmare began.

  My stomach growls for the first time since I left the Underworld. I reach into my pack and pull out the water bottle and the cloth bundle of food I managed to save for this journey. A quick pull of the twine causes the cloth to fall open and a tangerine to roll out. I quickly grab it as if to protect it from theft and place it back on the cloth with the rest of my meager stash. Two bread rolls, two tangerines, five crackers, and one piece of dried meat. Hardly enough to last for a long journey, but it was difficult to save food when there was so little provided, and we were always hungry. I tear one roll in half and eat a tangerine. The water will be the most critical item to my survival, so I carefully ration it. Hopefully, I’ll find a village before this food runs out.

  To the west, the sun is bright as it sets on the horizon. Purple, pink, and orange melt into the atmosphere. The mountain range far into the distance stretches from north to south. It’s flat in some areas with soft peaks here and there. I recognize the mountains—another confirmation that I’m not in a land thousands of miles away. The ocean waits just beyond and that gives me a burst of energy, an urgency to get moving. The ocean is calling me, pulling at my soul.

  The sun begins to dip below the mountain range. I used to watch it sink into the ocean every night. My family would sit on the beach in the evenings after dinner and stare out at the dark-blue water as it mixed with the brilliant colors of the sun and sky. It was always captivating.

  About four years ago, Zeke started to come to watch the sunset with us every day. Even if I didn’t see him all day, he’d show up just as the sun started to touch the top of the water. He’d plop down in the sand next to me, and we wouldn’t speak a word; it was like a sacred ritual where speaking was prohibited. When the bright golden tip of the sun finally dipped below the ocean, Zeke would look over at me, tilt his head to the side, and flash a crooked smile. Then he’d get up and walk back home. Only if it were a Friday or Saturday would he stay awhile. On those days we could sit on the beach and talk for hours into the night. My dad would call me in forty times until he finally got fed up and went to bed, but not before yelling, “Zeke, you walk her to the house when you two are done talking.” I could see him shaking his head as he said it.

  An ancient ghost town I once visited with my family lies approximately sixty miles from the dunes. Abandoned over two hundred years ago, it’s mostly in ruins, but just west of it is a set of preserved vacation homes we still use today. If I had to guess, the area is probably thirty miles from where I am. Another eight hours of walking and I may be able to reach it before dawn. That is if I’m heading in the right direction.

  Dusk arrives and darkens the horizon. The purple sky turns to gray, and the pink scattered clouds turn a dark shade of charcoal. I pull the strings of my pack to secure my possessions and leave the safety of my tree and ring of rocks. The desert is cooler now, still dry with heavy air, but without the heat of the sun bearing down and sucking the energy out of life. I forge ahead into the night with the moon to my left, walking fast and scanning the ground and all that is around me.

  Walking alone through the dark desert, my mind plays back memories. From one memory to another and back again. Images play over and over like a recording stuck on replay. I haven’t been alone like this any time in my life. At least in the Underworld, there were others to talk to, to analyze how and why our world got turned upside down.

  Jeremiah was my second and only real friend in the Underworld. Taller and older than I, his light-brown eyes with flecks of gold sparkled when caught by the dim light of our cell block. His bronze skin wasn’t much different from the people of the Pacific coast, but somehow prettier. In my entire life, I’ve rarely seen anyone that handsome. My cheeks warm at the memory of our first meeting.

  Chapter 6

  ON THE MORNING OF MY abduction, I woke in a small, cold metal room with a stabbing pain in my left hip. My head hurt and my brain was foggy. The last thing I remembered was being in my cozy bed at home. Within minutes of waking, the door flew open and two of my captors barged in.

  I backed away and hid my hands behind my back so they couldn’t see them shaking. I’d never seen anything like them, but their features were humanlike and they spoke my language, though it was an accent I’d never heard. They had long, thick hair the color of cream and skin that was pale and pasty, lighter than any I’d seen before. These people were definitely not from Earth.

  For the first five days, they kept me in solitude except for a few trips to other rooms for various purposes like examinations and meals. Every day they grabbed me by the arms and took me to a medical facility where a doctor would do a thorough examination—taking vitals, several vials of blood, and always a urine sample. Then a man and a woman would lead me to a large dim room, set me on a cold metal chair, and spew bits of information at me about my future.

  The first day, a woman with sunken cheeks and a sharp pointed noise did most of the talking. She moved as close as she could without stepping on my toes and leaned in, her body hovered above me and her face contorted in a scowl. Her s
cratchy voice shot out statements like a semi-automatic rifle.

  “You are here to work. Your previous life is over. Don’t bother thinking about it because you will never return to the life you knew. You will obey the rules and do as the guards say,” she said, turning her back to me. “Or, you will be punished.”

  That first day, I didn’t say a word. My body shook uncontrollably, and silent tears burst like a geyser the second they threw me back into my cell. I’d never experienced that kind of fear.

  But after a couple of days of the same, something in me changed. My head was spinning with questions. What did I have to lose?

  Day three began with me screaming at the top of my lungs. Every expletive I could summon came out of my mouth. I demanded to know where my family was, threatened that they would regret this, and ordered my immediate release. They never flinched, they didn’t raise a hand to me. Only a few times did they pause and wait for me to finish my tirade before continuing on with their instructions as if nothing happened, as if I was not actually there at all. My courage was fake, my croaking voice and shivering body surely betrayed me.

  At one point I shouted, “Where are you from and why have you invaded our planet?” It was the only time the male guard smirked and acknowledged my outbursts.

  He looked over at his female colleague and laughed. “She doesn’t think we’re human.”

  The woman laughed and nodded. “Well, we don’t look like them, do we?”

  Nothing else was said.

  Twice a day, I was led to another small room that was not as cold and unwelcoming as the others. Large meals were served that reminded me of home. Not exactly like Dad’s but similar to the foods I was used to eating: white fish with lemon seasoning, chicken breasts in green sauce, and pasta with tomatoes. Vegetables and bread rolls with butter accompanied every meal. It was the one comfort I had to look forward to as I sat in the dark, cold cube for hours on end.