Centalpha 6 Part II
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About this ebook
Breyden is at a major crossroads in his life - return to the life he had known and be a part of the corrupt, evil People’s Government or become a high-priority target of that establishment as an outlaw, hunted by it and his own father.
With the aid of some new friends, Breyden sets out to build his own army to fight the system. His efforts to gain the necessary people and equipment to start his revolution puts him at odds with an underground government also set on maintaining their control of people who run from the dominant authority.
The deeper he digs, the more Breyden discovers just how far the People’s Government’s reach extends and to what lengths they and his father will go to take him down. His efforts to strike out at his enemies and bring freedom to earth and the universe will leave thousands of lives at risk.
James Todd Cochrane
James Todd Cochrane was born in Fremont, California. He received his BA from Utah State University, where he majored in Business Information Systems with a minor in German.A writer since elementary school, he published his first novel, Max and the Gatekeeper, in 2007. The sequels, The Hourglass of Souls and The Descendant and the Demon’s Fork, followedHe now lives in Madison, Wisconsin, where he writes part-time while working as a computer programmer.His first novel, Max and the Gatekeeper, is on the Accelerated Readers List and was a 2010-2011 Alaska Battle Book.
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Centalpha 6 Part II - James Todd Cochrane
Centalpha 6
Part II
James Todd Cochrane
Special thanks to all my family and friends for their help and support. Thanks to all my fans. You inspire me to keep writing.
All rights reserved. Published by Dark Moon Publishing Inc.
Copyright 2012 James Todd Cochrane
Smashwords Edition
Published November 20, 2012
www.darkmoonpublishing.com
ISBN 978-0-9882110-2-5
Edited by Janet Michelson
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
About the Author
1
Breyden lay frozen in place for a minute after his father left. Ignoring the spinning in his head, he jumped to his feet and bolted out the door of the underground apartment. In one long stride, he leapt off the platform and down onto the tracks. Without a clear head to guide him his foot snagged on the rail, and he nose-dived onto the tracks, the second rail barely missing his head.
Panic drove him back up and forced his legs to start running. He had no idea what he would do when he reached the other troops without a weapon, but his desire to rescue the girl overcame his fear of the odds.
Breyden’s head pulsed with pain, and it felt like it might explode. It took every ounce of concentration he could muster to navigate the dark tunnels. He was so tired. He recognized his symptoms as a concussion.
As he passed a section with people standing around burning barrels, all eyes turned towards him. A few harsh comments that he should get out of their area reached his ears, but then silenced as he plunged into the next tunnel.
How can I stop them? He knew where they were headed, and if they teleported out before he reached them she would be killed.
His breathing and footsteps reverberated off the tunnel walls. He clutched his side as a painful stitch spread across his ribcage. A light appeared farther up the tunnel, and he slowed to a jog and tried to control his breathing. Before he reached the opening gunfire exploded the dirt, blocking the mouth of the tunnel. The rapid fire of the machine gun drowned out all other sounds. Breyden sprang to a side wall and made himself as flat as he could.
This is none of your business, Sub,
his father shouted at him from the platform beyond. Stay out of our way unless you want to join the other prisoners.
How did he know? Breyden thought, as he spotted a place of cover closer to the other side of the tunnel.
Before he let fear cement him where he stood, Breyden dashed across the tunnel. Bullets chased him across the opening. He hit the corner behind the cement support hard as he cleared the opening. Several bullets vibrated the column as they smashed into the other side of the structure.
This is your last warning,
his father hollered.
Let me go get him,
another soldier offered.
No, make ready to leave.
Breyden inched towards the edge of his cover to get a glimpse of the platform, while his eyes searched for a weapon and a solution. There was no way he could save anyone while being pinned down and weaponless. His heart ached to save the girl. It was as if he would lose the only part of his soul worth saving if she disappeared forever. She had opened his eyes to the truth.
He cautiously peered around the edge of his cover. There on the platform stood the entire squad in a circle, surrounding the captured prisoners and equipment. Like before, a small rectangular device rested on top of the collection of goods. Standing in a tight-knit group next to the contraband were the prisoners, each with a hood pulled over his or her head. Breyden frantically tried to recall details about her height and build in an effort to determine which hooded prisoner was she. They were too jumbled together. How many were there?
Breyden hopped from his hiding place as the room flashed a blinding white. For one brief moment his eyes locked onto his fathers, then nothing. No,
he screamed, the noise echoing up and down the empty tunnels.
He dropped to his knees, his despair deeper and lonelier than the empty tunnel itself. His only friend in the truth––gone. Friend,
he moaned. How was I a friend? I arranged her death.
He let this thought stew in his mind. He wanted to sleep. His concussion started to cloud his thinking once more. Forcing himself to maintain a reasonable train of thought, he put a hand against the wall and rose to his feet. His survival training started to kick in. He knew he needed to take steps to avoid problems from his head injury.
Taking one step and then another, he started back down the tunnel in the pitch black of the empty subway system. Even after several minutes, he couldn’t make his eyes see anything in the darkness. With his hearing now acting as his main sensory receptor, he detected the scurrying of rodents and other strange noises.
He didn’t know how long it took him, but eventually he made his way to the section with people standing at the burning barrels. He decided to head back to the girl’s underground apartment where he could rest and clear his head. He struggled to deal with his sense of failure. He wanted to cry, but soldiers don’t cry.
I’m never going back,
he hissed with venom, as he marched through the area with homeless standing around barrels.
Good for you,
a drunk shouted at him from the closest group.
It’s always nice to see one of the elite fall on his face,
a woman next to him added, and the entire group roared with laughter.
You won’t last two days on your own. You’ll crawl back and kiss their feet by then. You’ll see,
they taunted.
Their remarks only hardened his resolve. Suddenly he stopped and turned towards the group. My father knew I would come. Knew I was there. You’re wrong,
he spat, and pulled his ID card out of his wallet and stepped up to the barrel. I’m free.
He dropped the card into the fire.
So, you are,
stated another voice, deeper and not slurred from the influence of alcohol. What set you free?
A round man with a walking stick approached. He pulled back the hood that had been hiding his face to reveal long white thin hair and a scraggly beard. But, why would an elitist—a soldier—want to be free?
Because I know the truth,
Breyden stated, eyeing the man as he approached.
And what truth is that?
he asked, as the fire light flickered off his face.
That innocent people are being murdered,
Breyden stated. He felt dizzy with remorse as an image of the girl dropping into the lava pit stabbed at his conscience. Killed because of him; gone forever, just as his science professor. His knees trembled and his hands shook. He held them out over the fire to see them vibrating in the dancing light.
That’s a serious accusation,
the man’s rough voice taunted. "Do you have any proof?’
As a matter of fact, I do!
Breyden swayed and staggered to the side.
The old man reached out and caught Breyden before he toppled over. Breyden’s head felt like someone had split his skull with a hatchet, and he struggled to keep from splattering the old man with vomit.
You’re not well,
the old man said, as he helped lower Breyden to the floor of the tunnel.
Breyden had trouble focusing on anything around him. He could hear voices, but the words were unrecognizable as if they were in a foreign language. The world grew dark. Breyden didn’t know if it was the result of being underground, his injury, or the enormous weight of the guilt he carried.
He thought he would feel different somehow. That leaving would tear down the walls of his prison, but now his world had turned smaller and darker. His dreams were endless loops of the girl plunging to her death or his father and school friends hunting him. He couldn’t escape them,