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  THE CITY

  After The Fall | Book Two

  Charlie Dalton

  PROLOGUE

  AN ESTIMATED one hundred and fifty million meteorites and asteroids inhabit our solar system. Adrift, aimless.

  But not all space-bound rocks live without purpose. Some are destined to be fried to a crisp as they sail on a direct collision course with the star at the heart of the solar system. Other times, they get caught in the gravitational pulls of bustling planets. Some become omnipresent moons around larger host planets. And some will crash land into a moon or planet’s surface, leaving an enduring scar for astronomers to study and analyze for centuries to come.

  Right now, a consortium of meteorites, small and clustered, are making a predictable journey across the solar system, heading for Earth’s night sky. They even have a name. The Perseid Shower. One of the greatest natural fireworks displays nature offers.

  A subtle shift in nature’s forces can affect how these rocks fall. An unusual lean in Jupiter’s gravitational pull can change their trajectory a tiny, minuscule amount. Mars, making a last-minute flyby, can alter their projection even further. But even a tiny variation can have a massive effect when measured over eons.

  One week before the shower is due to hit Earth’s atmosphere, a small but significant event is about to take place. It’s not only nature that can force destiny’s finger.

  Approaching a meteorite in full flight mode is not an easy thing to do. Thankfully, the creators of this particular probe were experienced with such maneuvers. A small device like a windscreen wiper brushed off the debris that spun from the meteorite’s craggy surface. The probe edges closer, then closer still, toward the meteorite’s face. Within inches of touching down.

  A crack forms in deathly silence. A large rock splits off the meteorite’s main body and strikes the probe, knocking it out of commission. A signal is sent, and another probe takes its comrade’s place. This probe lowered inch by inch, onto the asteroid’s surface. Drills dig into the meteorite, tendrils grasping the rock. It crouches low, and from its underside, a gas sprays the meteorite, injected via its razor-sharp tendrils.

  On the microscopic level, the spray consists of bacteria that glows green, infecting the rock. Beneath the surface, where there is at least a little protection from the constant barrage of space radiation, it has a chance of survival.

  Space is an unbelievably intense environment, harmful to every living thing. Even bacteria struggles to survive. It is torn apart by the endless bombardment of cosmic rays. Bacteria, in its effort to survive, must reproduce faster than the time it takes for the universe to tear it apart.

  It repeats and copies itself over and over in an endless cycle, developing random resistances and a stronger constitution with each new generation. A search for perfection that can never be met and will never end.

  The probe bleeped, sending another signal. Mission complete. Strapped to every large piece of the meteor shower, another drone bleeped. They would remain attached to the meteorites, burning up and disintegrating as they passed into the planet’s atmosphere. Undetectable. Unknown.

  Until it was too late.

  1.

  JAMIE AND Donny were present when their father was stripped naked, washed, scrubbed, and prepped. They were present when he was placed on the gurney and wheeled through the endless disinfected corridors. They were present when the overhead light was switched on and the surgeon slipped the blanket down to Donald’s naval. They were present when the incisions were made with the aid of long metal arms that moved according to the surgeon’s voice commands.

  They were present when the surgeon was covered up to his elbows in their father’s blood when the machines made a high-pitched noise and it looked like it was over. And they were present when the surgeon, after six hours of surgery, finally closed their father up and wheeled him into the corridor.

  2.

  JAMIE AND Donny were physically present for it all. But their minds were somewhere else entirely. The surgeon—the old man who had met them when they’d first arrived at the City—could hardly stand on his own two feet he was so tired.

  “We can take him,” Donny said. “Where do you want him?”

  “In the first private ward on the left,” the old man said. “I’ll hook him up to the machines.”

  He had to. Likely no one else left alive knew how to do it.

  Jamie and Donny wheeled their father into the private room. The old man told them where to place the bed. He attached some wires and leads to Donald’s body, plugging him in.

  Was it good for people to be so dependant on these machines? Jamie thought. If you depended so much on devices, then what would happen when you could no longer use them? When you didn’t know how to do anything yourself? When everything was suddenly so difficult?

  That was precisely what had happened, he realized. The Fall had brought the world to their knees. They’d come from a world of such ease, the machines having taken the brunt of the donkey work off their hands. Then they were cast into the world the way it was now. It must have been quite a shock.

  Many had died simply because they didn’t have the knowledge to survive. For that reason, Jamie was a sight better able to protect himself than someone even as smart as the old man. It was easier to survive when all you had to do was learn how to press a few buttons in the right order. Even the old man didn’t know how to fix the machines. They were equal on that front.

  “Do you want us to clean the operating room?” Jamie said.

  “That won’t be necessary,” the old man said, checking his watch. “I’ve set the machines to do it. In fact, they should be hard at work as we speak.”

  Machines had always been an abstract idea to Jamie. His father had explained to him countless times about how they worked, their purpose. He’d drawn pictures to properly explain what they looked like. He’d even had some old machines they’d found dumped in the desert. A washing machine, his father had called it. He’d laid hands on it like he was greeting an old friend.

  He’d introduced the various moving parts and how they worked together in tandem. Jamie had pretended to understand. It wasn’t until he saw them, like living things, whizzing around and carrying out all manner of tasks, that he fully understood their significance. It made him tired just thinking about the things they could do.

  The ingenuity and creativity of the people from before the Fall never ceased to amaze him. And yet most of them were now gone, dead, wiped from the face of the Earth. They had failed to survive while others far less intelligent had survived. What did that say about the world he and Donny and Fatty had come from?

  “What happens now?” Donny said.

  “Now, we rest,” the old man said. “Your father. Me. All of us. Get something to eat and sleep. You must be exhausted.”

  Jamie looked down. They were still wearing the same clothes they’d worn when they’d gotten to the City. Dirty, dishevelled.

  “You can choose any rooms you like,” the old man said. “I’m located right at the end of the hall. There are dorms if you prefer to stay together, or individual rooms if you want some privacy. Or a combination of both. The entire facility is empty, so do whatever you like. You’ll find plenty of clothes in the children’s ward. You only need take a look.”

  “What happens to Dad now?” Jamie said. “Will he get better?”

  The old man removed his gloves, a puff of powder whispering as the skin-tight plastic was rem
oved.

  “The surgery went well,” he said. “But there might be complications. The wounds he received, they’re very serious, severing several major organs. It’ll take some time for him to heal completely. But I remain optimistic.”

  Just hearing those words, no matter if they were fake or not, made Jamie feel better. He needed some hope to cling to, and the old man had given it to him. He could tell by the relaxing muscles in his brother’s shoulders that he was feeling the same.

  Donald was on the very brink of survival. Life on one side, the unknown abyss of death on the other. He swung like a pendulum from one extreme to the other. Which side he might end up on, no one knew. He’d taken two powerful spikes in the gut from a creature no human eye had ever seen before. As far as Jamie knew, anyway.

  “There’s nothing else we can do for him now,” the old man said. “Besides keeping him comfortable.”

  “Thank you,” Donny said. “For everything.”

  “You’re welcome,” the old man said with a warm smile. “Happy to help. If you don’t mind, there’s a bathtub with my name on it.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Jamie said. “Your name. You never told us your name.”

  “Dr. Graham Beck. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Formally.”

  He shook hands with them and left. Two brothers in a strange city, in a bizarre room.

  “I’ll watch him,” Donny said. “Someone should be here when he wakes up. You get something to eat.”

  Jamie looked at their father. Placed a hand on his creased forehead.

  “You really think he’s going to be okay?” he said.

  Donny shrugged.

  “He should be dead already,” he said. “Any extra time is a bonus.”

  His attempt to cheer Jamie up fell flat.

  “You heard the doc,” he said, trying again. “He’s going to have to fight. The good news is Dad has always been a survivor. He’s never lost a fight yet. And I’ve never known him to throw in the towel.”

  Jamie smiled. It was weak. All he was capable of at that moment.

  “I’ll bring you something to eat,” he said.

  Donny gave a nod in reply.

  Jamie moved to the door. Looked back. His brother pulled a chair up beside their father’s bed. Took the giant, tanned, worn skin of his father’s hand between both of his own.

  More than anything else that had happened to them the past few days, that image, framed by the doorway, had the greatest impact on Jamie. To see the obvious love and affection from his brother toward his father. Their relationship had, at times, been strained.

  Donny, bearing his father’s name, was always looking to rebel and carve his own way. It couldn’t have been easy living in the commune leader’s shadow. Jamie had no name to bear, no physical resemblance—he took after his mother—so he got off easy. Not that he was always well-behaved.

  He was suddenly very tired. He walked down the corridor, the automatic lights leading him like gingerbread crumbs into the unknown.

  3.

  LUCY AND Fatty had taken the opportunity to select their bedroom—a shared dorm room—and left to fetch food from the cafeteria.

  None of them wanted to be alone. Especially right now. They’d spent too long together, been through too much. Their recent experiences had brought them a whole lot closer than the combined years of regular living in the commune had. Funny how you clubbed together like that.

  “Did anything else come back to you?” Fatty said. “You remembered where you came from and how to get into this place.”

  “It wasn’t really like I remembered it,” Lucy said. “It was more like my body knew what to do. Muscle memory, I think they call it. It’s automatic.”

  “But this is where you came from, right?” Fatty said.

  “Yes, I think so,” Lucy said. “In the memories I have, the rooms looked a lot like this place.”

  Fatty nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of Lucy. She was a kid, younger than all of them, and yet possessed a kind of confidence and knowledge the rest of them didn’t. Fatty liked to label people, placing them in relevant categories so he knew how to deal with them. Lucy didn’t comfortably fit in any of his pre-made compartments.

  She had more in common with Jamie than anyone else he’d met. Odd, weird, a little outside the box. In Fatty’s mind, Jamie occupied his own little section. It was a surprise to his labelling system that they’d become friends. They were simply too different. Yet, they worked well together. Theresa liked to say they complemented each other (although Fatty couldn’t ever recall a time when he openly complimented Jamie or vice versa for that matter).

  Where Fatty was nervous and unsure, Jamie was confident and knowledgeable. Where Fatty was (rightfully) afraid and concerned, Jamie was too foolhardy. Fatty’s reticence had often prevented them from doing something they would later regret. At least, that was how Fatty liked to look at it. He wasn’t sure how Jamie felt. In fact, he almost certainly didn’t feel the same way. Fatty could be a bore at times. If being safe was boring, then Fatty was the most boring boy ever to have lived. And he was proud of it.

  They swung around a corner and located the cafeteria.

  “Wow,” Fatty said, standing stock still and taking in the most beautiful room he’d ever laid eyes on.

  A host of tables in squares of varying sizes were arranged throughout the space. The nooks had been carved into special areas where people could meet for important meetings. It had a warm feel to it. Nothing like the dining area in the commune.

  Vats of food, constantly warmed by heated pads on their metal bottoms. A section for desserts. Another for drinks. Another for. . . Fatty had to stop and take a breath, to collect himself. He was going to hyperventilate. Yesterday, he’d felt resigned to his fate, certain he was going to die. Now he was in a place he’d only ever seen in his dreams.

  Heaven.

  Fatty could hardly keep himself from heading around back and checking out the kitchen. Everything was so clean and futuristic. Imagine what he could do with all this amazing equipment. The new kinds of food and recipes he might rediscover. He could hardly contain his excitement.

  He lifted the lids on the vats, emitting a cloud of steam like a magic trick. Most of it was not new. The mashed potatoes were thick, mixed with milk and butter. Extra creamy. Fatty ladled an entire stack onto his plate. Then another plate of sausages and bacon. Another for vegetables.

  “We can’t carry all of this,” Lucy said.

  Damn. Lucy was right. Then what were they supposed to do? He didn’t want to ladle it back into the containers. Then he saw the solution.

  At the edge of the room were a host of dessert trollies. He wheeled one over to his pre-piled plates and began placing them on the trolley.

  “I got a trolley for you too,” he said, pushing it in Lucy’s direction.

  He didn’t even notice the smile on her face. He was too busy piling the plates with goodies. They could pick and choose what they wanted when they wanted it. Fatty’s stomach growled. He was probably going to make himself sick. He smiled and shook his head at himself.

  Getting sick from eating too much food! Imagine that! Usually, it was the other way around.

  “You’re sure we need to take all of this with us?” Lucy said.

  “Am I sure?” Fatty said, scooping a dollop of the mashed potato onto his finger. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. “I’m certain beyond any doubt.”

  4.

  “DO YOU think Donald is going to be okay?” Fatty said, speaking around a mouthful of mashed potato, that same expression of ecstasy on his face.

  “I don’t know,” Lucy said. “I know they have advanced medicine here but his wounds were pretty bad.”

  They sat on a bed, filling their faces. They were working on the dessert section when the door opened, admitting Jamie. He had dark grey bags under his eyes and his hair looked like a bird had made a home in it. He flopped down onto one of the beds and lay
still.

  “So. . . What’s up?” Fatty said, rubbing his bulging stomach. “Did the operation go well?”

  Jamie was silent a moment before he answered. Lucy was already expecting the worst.

  “The doctor said it went as well as could be expected,” Jamie said.

  “That’s great news,” Fatty said with a smile. It faded. “Isn’t it?”

  “Only if he pulls through,” Jamie said. “We won’t know until he recovers. Or doesn’t.”

  “Where’s Donny now?” Lucy said.

  “With Dad,” Jamie said. “He wants to be there when he wakes up.”

  “We brought a load of food from the cafeteria,” Lucy said. “You can eat whatever you like. Fatty made sure to bring some of everything.”

  “You’ve gotta try the mashed potatoes,” Fatty said, extending the plate. “I can’t get enough of them.”

  “Maybe later,” Jamie said, rolling over onto his side. “I’m not hungry.”

  He clearly wanted to be left alone.

  Lucy picked up a plate and spooned a little of everything onto it. She did the same with the desserts on another plate. Jamie was already snoring by the time she shut the door behind her.

  She moved down the corridors—seemingly infinite—and turned this way and that, using the painted signs and their corresponding arrows to guide her. Somehow she knew which way to go before she reached a junction, relying on her own intuition.

  She turned a corner. And came to a stop.

  Two men in long white coats were talking in hushed whispers. Lucy just stood and stared. They were like ghosts.

  One of the men turned. He looked directly at Lucy. And smiled.

  “I see you’re awake, L,” Dr. Beck said. “Come. We have much to do.”

  Lucy blinked, and the two men were gone. Another memory. Lucy shook her head and wished they would actually make sense for once, give her more of a clue of what they were about than a mere glimpse of the past. She pressed on.