Pangaea: Exiles Read online

  PANGAEA

  EXILES

  Jeff Brackett

  www.severedpress.com

  Copyright 2017 By Jeff Brackett

  OTHER TITLES BY JEFF BRACKETT

  The Half Past Midnight series

  Half Past Midnight

  The Road to Rejas

  Year 12

  Crazy Larry – Coming Soon

  Other novels by the author

  Streets of Payne

  Chucklers: Volume 1 – Laughter Is Contagious

  Short Stories by the author

  The Burning Land

  Ghost Story

  The most recent information on Jeff’s publications can be found on his Amazon Author Page.

  For advance information on new releases, sign up for his mailing list here. The mailing list is for release notices only—no spam.

  For Meloney, who has put up with so much for so long. I love you, wife.

  And for Cricket. We’ll miss you, girl.

  Table of Contents

  OTHER TITLES BY JEFF BRACKETT

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JUNE 17

  2147 AD

  Chapter 1

  Sean tried not to smile as he walked from the drone terminal to the slidewalks. His team presentation had gone exceptionally well. He’d successfully proven his code, and his supervisor had selected his project to present to management next week. The resulting feeling of accomplishment made everything seem brighter. The air was cleaner than normal, and beautiful blue skies with nary a cloud reflected his mood as he stepped onto the slidewalk entrance track to the faster inner tracks.

  He nodded and greeted fellow slidewalkers with what were evidently overly exuberant hi’s and hello’s as they, in turn, looked away, trying their best to ignore him. If his next demonstration went well—and he was sure it would—he was probably looking at a promotion and a serious bump in pay in the very near future. Probably enough of a bump to move himself and his daughter into a safer neighborhood—maybe even into one of the upscale corporate housing complexes.

  He was so lost in his daydreams that he barely noticed the accompanying surge of acceleration as he stepped onto each successively faster track until he was walking along the traffic ribbon at a relative speed of more than fifty miles per hour. Having made his way to the fast tracks, he walked leisurely for the few minutes it took him to make it to the northwest quadrant suburb exchange. Wind whipping through his hair, he smiled to himself.

  The warning sign ahead let him know he had two minutes to navigate his way back to the outer slidewalk. He stepped from the 50mph track to the 45mph, weight shifting expertly as he adjusted to the slightly slower speed, still moving across to the 40, the 35, the 30, and so on until he reached solid concrete at the entrance to the northwest exchange.

  His comm chimed as he walked briskly toward the northwest slides and he turned his wrist to see the smiling picture of his daughter on his wrist comp. He smiled. “Accept call.”

  As soon as he heard the line click he spoke. “Hi kiddo. Guess what happ—?”

  “Daddy?” The sobbing voice robbed him of his words, and he stopped where he stood, suddenly oblivious to the foot traffic that bustled around him.

  “Caroline? What’s wrong, baby?”

  It took her several tries before she could get the words out around her sobs. “I’m hurt, daddy. They hurt me bad.”

  Heart suddenly pounding in his chest, Sean swallowed, trying to get the words out. His earlier elation evaporated with her words. “Who hurt you? What—? What did they do?” He realized he was shouting but didn’t care.

  “Da—” There was a click and Caroline’s picture faded to black as the line went dead.

  “Caroline! Caroline!” People around him stopped and stared as he shouted into his wrist comp. Sean ignored them as he tapped the icon for the computer AI.

  “Waiting,” the comp announced.

  “Call police!”

  “Calling.”

  ***

  The police were already outside his apartment building when he arrived ten minutes later. Breathless from running, Sean tapped his comp so it displayed his holo-ID for the investigator posted outside. “I’m Sean Barrow,” he panted. “I made the call. Is my daughter all right?”

  The man looked at the holo and tapped his helmet. Sean knew his visor was looking at the security information encoded into the holo and comparing it to information in various databases. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barrow. I don’t know what’s going on inside. You can go on in and I’ll let the investigator in charge know you’re on your way up.”

  Sean rushed inside without another word. If the cop at the door couldn’t help him, he needed to find someone who could. He caught his breath in the lift pad as it took him to his floor, where he was greeted by another investigator. She was a woman of slight build, but her demeanor left no doubt that she was all business. “Mr. Barrow?”

  “Yes. Is my daughter all right?”

  “I’m sorry, but before I can discuss any details, I need to see your ID.”

  Once more he flicked his holo on. She examined it briefly and looked back at him.

  Before she could say anything more, Sean interrupted her. “Now, how is my daughter?”

  The woman hesitated. “I’m sorry, but I need you to answer a few questions.”

  “Investigator,” he looked at the badge on her body armor, “Medeiros?”

  She nodded. “Candace Medeiros.”

  “Look, I sent recordings of the call she made when I called you guys. I don’t have anything else I can offer. Now I need to see my daughter!”

  Just then, another voice called out from inside his apartment. “Is that the medical examiner?” A man poked his head out from inside as he spoke. “We need to…” His voice trailed off as he saw Sean. “Oh shit.” He ducked back inside.

  Sean suddenly heard the pounding of his heart in his ears. Medical examiner.

  Medeiros cursed. “Mr. Barrow, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in there just yet. We’re still investigating, and we can’t let you contaminate the scene.”

  “Medical examiner?” Sean repeated the phrase. They were the only words that held any meaning for the moment. Waiting for a medical examiner meant… He reached out to steady himself on the wall, but he misjudged the distance and staggered. He swallowed convulsively as his throat swelled and his sinuses filled.

  Inspector Medeiros helped steady him. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Barrow. Once the medical examiner gets here and fin—”

  But Sean was no longer listening. “Caroline.” It was a whisper, but it echoed in his ears with the rushing of his pulse as his groping hands found the wall. Leaning heavily against it, he slid down to sit on the floor and began crying. All his dreams, all his hopes…

  And Sean’s world came crashing in on him, burying him in memory.

  ***

  Not again. Please, please, please… I can’t go through this again. The words kept spinning about in his head, making it impossible to think straight. Present and past became muddled as he recalled these same feelings from when his wife had disappeared twelve years before. Their apartment had been trashed, and there were obvious signs of a struggle, but whoever had broken in left no prints or DNA evidence whatsoever. To be sure, there were other signs that something had happened. There was the broken coffee table and dishes, and the blood stains and spatters on the walls and carpet, but the only DNA had been Connie’s.

  The police had been sympathetic back then, as well. But his wife had been the seventh such missing person case in his neighborhood in a year’s time. They called the mystery abductor “Mr. Clean” for the lack of evidence he left.

  And when he was no longer a mystery, they called him the “Mr. Clean Killer.”

  Mr. Clean eventually slipped up when victim number ten’s dog bit him as he attacked the woman. The dog’s teeth had punctured the protective suit he wore and he’d become enraged at the animal, killing it with a chair. But the damage was done. DNA retrieved from the dog’s mouth led the police to the killer, and the man confessed to a total of sixteen abductions and murders.

  In exchange for leniency, he showed how he had created a hermetically sealed suit of synthi-skin under his clothes, complete with gloves and a rebreather. The man was a chemist and had easily gained access to everything he had needed to create the clean suit. Eventually, he led them to a burial site outside of the city, showing where he’d buried each body.

  Since he had confessed, there was no trial. There was a single day when Sean had been asked to testify about Connie’s disappearanc
e and that was all he’d heard about it until a week later when he’d received a synopsis from the police.

  By that time, his wife had been gone seven months, and the initial shock of losing her had resolved itself into a twisting ache in his soul. He had learned to live with it, but he knew that if he let it, the pain would destroy him, eating him up from the inside. So he had pushed it down deep within, and elected to spend his time and energy on the more positive goal of raising and protecting Caroline.

  He’d taken that role seriously and had become much more safety conscious. Part of that entailed the installation of a security system in their new apartment, and in his shock, Sean hadn’t remembered to tell the police about it. The system wasn’t top of the line, but it was the best he’d been able to afford. It included sonic and visual stunners, gas, and an auto-dial connection to the nearest security station, all activated with the press of a button. But Caroline hadn’t had a chance to hit that button. None of it had done her any good.

  The system also had several motion-activated, high-resolution video cams, though it wasn’t until later that night, after the police had put him up in a local hotel, that Sean remembered them. He opened his wrist comp and accessed the cloud storage where his security feed stored for forty-eight hours. He copied the footage to his wrist unit, sent a copy to Inspector Medeiros, and braced himself before watching the feed.

  There was no sound. He hadn’t been able to afford the upgrade. But video was horrific enough. He watched as four young men in hooded beach shirts shoved their way into the apartment, striking Caroline across the face. He watched as they did unspeakable things to her, leaving her lying naked on the kitchen counter while they rampaged through the house.

  He saw her regain consciousness… activate her wrist comp.

  That was when she called me.

  He saw her mouth move and recalled her voice as she sobbed into the comm.

  “Daddy?”

  “Caroline? What’s wrong, baby?”

  Video Caroline moved her mouth silently. He saw her mouth move as she tried to talk. His memory provided the words when she managed to get out more. “I’m hurt, daddy. They hurt me bad.”

  One of the boys must have heard her speaking. On the recording, Sean saw him run into the room. Sean recalled shouting into his own comm. “Who hurt you? What happened? What did they do?”

  “Da—”

  The video showed the boy grab her arm and smash it down on the false granite counter.

  That was when her call got cut off.

  The kid slammed her arm into the stone counter over and over, until pieces of the wrist comp scattered across the smooth surface… all while his daughter screamed in silent agony.

  When the boy stopped, her forearm had an unnatural bend in it, as if she had an extra joint between elbow and wrist. The kid fished around in a drawer and grabbed a knife, waved it in front of Caroline’s face. Sean could see him shouting something at her, and her head shook back and forth as she cried. And while there was no sound, it was easy enough to see her mouth as she repeatedly screamed the word “no” at him.

  The other boys came into the room and there was some sort of discussion while Caroline sobbed on the counter, eyes clenched tightly against the physical and emotional torture she endured. But they snapped open as the knife plunged into her chest, and her mouth opened in another scream.

  Four boys.

  Four plunges of the blade.

  The cameras caught it all. Every torturous detail, and Sean forced himself to watch each second. Unable to sleep, he watched the video again.

  And again.

  He watched several times that first night, memorizing the faces of the street thugs who had raped and tortured his baby before killing her.

  The video was clear, crisp, and damning. It allowed the inspectors to easily identify and apprehend the killers, and Sean watched as they were brought in, comparing the faces in his memory to those of the monsters who exited the police cruisers.

  He continued to watch the video every day for the next five months as the case wound its way through the court system, stoking the fire of his anger in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to do when his wife died. This time there was no distraction, no reason to disassociate himself from the pain. That reason had died with his daughter, and he looked forward to seeing the resolution of this case. He wanted these delinquents to suffer the way his daughter had suffered.

  It should have been an open and shut case.

  It should have been.

  But politics and nepotism intervened. One of the boys was the nephew of a high-level politician, and the video evidence was suddenly found to be “suspicious.” Defense counselors trotted out expert witnesses who testified that the digital coding of the file appeared to have been tampered with. They brought out some of Sean’s co-workers who unwittingly damned his case by proclaiming him to be the best programmer in their division.

  By the time the closing arguments were given, the Defense had cast enough doubt on the viability of the evidence that there was no way the jury was going to convict.

  Sean left before the verdict was announced.

  Chapter 2

  More than two years later, Sean pawed drunkenly at the hooded figure walking out of the bar. “Hey friend, you got any spare cred? Even a few coins’ll help.”

  The young man shoved him back. “Jet before I get whizzed, you fuggin keg head. Nothing here for you. Not unless you wanna top off your night with a helping of pain.”

  Sean held his hand up. “No pain.” He backed away into the darkened alley beside the bar, stumbling and falling as he did. Several coins and a wrist comp fell out of his pocket when he hit the ground, and he hurried to gather them up.

  “Hey, what’s that?” The voice was right behind him.

  “Nothing. Just my stuff. Not gonna bother you any more, friend.”

  “No bother. Just let me help—”

  Sean grabbed the wrist unit and bolted down the alley before the other could finish his words. Pounding footsteps told him his pursuer was close on his heels. He drew to a halt where the alley came to a dead end.

  The voice was only a few feet behind as the other man sneered. “Nowhere to run, old man. So how about you give me that comp and…”

  His words trailed off as Sean straightened up, shedding the helpless drunkard persona as he turned to face his pursuer. His eyes narrowed briefly when Sean drew the rebreather out of his hood and settled it over his face. Hands already covered with his synthi-skin gloves, Sean drew his blade. He’d trained faithfully for more than two years, working forms and sparring, both empty handed and with weapons. Until this week though, he’d never used any of his new skills in actual combat.

  Tonight was the fourth and last time he planned on using them. The skirmish was brief, and the thug dropped, twitching in the filthy slime that coated the back alley into which Sean had lured him.

  ***

  “I’m here to see Inspector Medeiros.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, sir. But I think she’ll want to see me.”

  “Uh huh…” The man never even looked up as he tapped keys. “Sorry sir, but Inspector Medeiros is busy. If you’ll leave your credentials, I’ll see to it that—”

  “Please tell her I’m here to confess to the Mr. Clean copycat murders.”

  The man sighed and tapped more keys. A sheet of paper spat out of a slot on the counter. “Please fill out the confession form and sit over there with the others.”

  “Others?”

  The man finally looked up from his console and pointed to a table where three other men sat clutching similar sheets. Sean shook his head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.” He pushed a small box across the counter, opening the lid and turning it so the bored desk clerk could see the contents. The clerk’s eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at. “You’ll find that these fingers match the four victims,” Sean continued. “I took one from each and froze it to keep the evidence as fresh as I could.”