A World Rebuilt

By R.K. Ward

Charlie Spencer should not exist. She should have died in the explosion that started World War III. Instead, she survives and finds herself 1,000 years in a future where her very existence must be hidden. The world is still tainted with nuclear waste, causing sickness and death. The waste is also responsible for a small number of mutants whose presence seems to prevent and even cure disease.
Charlie is one of these mutants, her DNA changed by a millennium of exposure to the waste. She may hold the key to restoring health to the planet and its people, but a corrupt government would prefer to keep that power for themselves.
In a post-apocalyptic world where steampunk has become reality, Charlie has to learn who she can trust, and who might be out to kill her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: That Hot
• Release date: Jan 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311590138

R.K. Ward

Smart, urbanite, foodie, funny, cook, passionate, political, irreverent, writer, photographer, busy, mom, wife, shoe fiend, fashionista, frequent hostess.

Book preview

The thank you list of any writer is a long one indeed, and for good reason. Though the story and the writing may be the product of the author's fevered imagination, no book worth reading is truly a one-person show. There are the (hopefully) supportive friends and family, the ever-patient beta readers, eagle-eyed editors and proofreaders, cover artists, publishers, and more.

It's the author's opportunity to give thanks to the crowd of people who helped take the story from a mere idea to a reality. It can be the reader's chance to catch a glimpse into the author's world.

This work is no different. In the process of taking this story from idea to page, I had the help and support of family, friends, colleagues, and more. And I am eternally grateful to all of them.

Chapter One: Rising from the Waste

Doctor! There’s something you need to see over here! The research assistant’s voice echoed through the wreckage. The doctor made his way to the edge of the luminescent pool where she stood. Take away the twisted metal and it could have been pretty, breathtaking even. So long as you ignored the fact the pool was toxic. Water mixed with nuclear waste, the result of a long-ago war whose imprint was still visible on the planet.

What… He had been about to ask what was so important, but what he saw stopped him cold. There was a body in the water, completely submerged. That wasn’t the shocking thing. There were lots of human remains in the water. This had been a primary blast site. All of those bodies were lying on the bottom. They lost any buoyancy long ago. This one floated a few inches under the surface. Face up. Eyes open.

The doctor scanned around them. Seal off this area and bring me one of the large canvas bags. He looked at the body again. Female. He grabbed a long pole and hooked her under the arm. It took a few tries but soon he had her on the shore. On closer inspection, he saw traces of trauma. A large bruise on one side of her face, perhaps a broken arm, most of her clothing burned, leaving only a few rags clinging to her body.

Do you think maybe she fell in? She can’t have been from the original blast. No way. His assistant handed him one of the large canvas bags they used to wrap bodies and other things the general public shouldn't see.

No, he whispered, I don’t think she fell in. Look at her. Take a good look. It took a moment before his assistant let out an audible gasp. She’d seen it as well. The woman had an intricate tattoo snaking down her back. It wasn’t the sort of thing you’d see on someone today. Whoever this woman was, whatever the reason her body had not sunk to the bottom with the others, one thing was clear. She was part of the original blast.

****

That’s your complete report? The university emissary flipped through the pages again. I want to be clear, Doctor White. The work you are doing is admirable, necessary even. I simply disagree with some of the ah… shall we say, methods.

I understand that, sir. And I happen to agree with you, but this has been the only way we’ve been able to get necessary equipment to do our research. Yes, it means playing in a gray area… He stopped as the emissary held up his hand and shook his head.

I don’t want to hear any of the details, Randolph. I want to be able to say this report contains the entirety of your research. That there is nothing else to know. I believe you to be a fine man, honest, upstanding, and with only the best of intentions. I may believe you are right, but I will not admit it to anyone else. Is that clear?

Abundantly, sir. And thank you.

****

Winston, the PCF is the only choice. We have something… I don’t know… bizarre… miraculous… whatever it is, it’s outside the norm, and the last thing I want to do is turn her over to Gee right away.

Randolph knew it wouldn’t take long to convince Winston. This was a huge discovery. A living person found submerged in the waste. He couldn’t call in Gee yet. The last time any researcher had found something significant at a blast site, the entire team had promptly disappeared. So had their research. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the political climate was volatile at best. Unlike the university emissary, he didn’t choose to keep his head in the sand. He preferred to be part of the solution, in whatever form it might manifest.

Okay, Winston sighed, whatever you need. Bring her to the PCF.

Chapter Two: Modern Medicine

What's your name?

Her voice was a hoarse whisper, barely understandable. Charlie...Charlotte Spencer. She was out of breath by the time she got her last name out and it made her wonder what was wrong with her.

And what do you do for a living, Charlie?

She didn't hesitate before answering, Journalist.

He nodded, Do you know the day or date?

She frowned, struggling to recall, It's... holidays. December.

He nodded again, And the year?

This time she was quick, 2020. He made a note on his pad.

Okay, here is the hard one. What's the last thing you recall before waking up here? Take your time.

She thought back. She was on the Metro, on her way in to work. She couldn't recall much more than that. She remembered getting on the car, but that was it. Metro, she whispered, ride in to work. She frowned and shook her head, I don't... I can't...

He put his hand over hers, stopping her. It's okay. It's not uncommon to forget details. It's called retrograde amnesia. For now, we won't worry about what you can't recall. Let's focus on what you can.

Charlie struggled to remember, but couldn't come up with anything more. It was sometime in December 2020 and she was on her way to work. She could clearly remember things prior to that. She knew her home and work addresses and phone numbers, her cell phone number, email address, and all the other little details of life. When she really worked at it, she remembered Thanksgiving, and the first weekend of December when she and her boyfriend Jared had gone skiing. But that was the last date she remembered clearly. After that, it became a jumble with no clear timeline or dates.

Please, she begged the doctor, what happened?

He cleared his throat, On Friday, December 13, 2020, there was an attack on the United States. Washington, DC was the primary target. As far as we can tell, you were in a metro car right at the edge of the blast zone. The car was blasted back up its tracks and buried in the rubble. It took quite some time to sort through the wreckage. You were the only survivor. Frankly, we don't really understand how you survived, but the fact is, you did. And here you are. I think that's quite enough for now. No more questions. No more anything right now. Rest.

She started to say something, to ask questions, but he caught her before she'd even opened her mouth.

The nurse will bring in something for the pain. I imagine you have quite the headache. And with that, he left.

She tried to recall anything from that day. He'd said December 13, so there was an entire week she really didn't remember. She had gone skiing with Jared on the 7th. She barely noticed the nurse coming in with a cup of water and a syringe. The shot barely made her flinch; her only thought as she drank the water in the cup was that it tasted like heaven. It took moments before her world started getting fuzzy. She had so many questions.

Where was she? This didn't look like any of the hospitals around DC. Everything in the room was white, like a hospital, but something felt wrong. The doctor, was he a doctor? Charlie couldn’t recall if he’d introduced himself. She assumed he was a doctor. He wore a white coat and had the clipped, pleasant, but vaguely impersonal attitude of a doctor.

She realized both the doctor and the nurse had British sounding accents. That struck her as odd. The room had no equipment she could see. There were no monitors, no beeping machines, none of the usual electronic gizmos and gadgets that cluttered a hospital room. She wondered if she might be in a convalescent center, but even they tended to have loads of electronic stuff. There were no cards, no flowers, no nothing in her room. Nothing to indicate anyone thought of her, or cared. Where was Jared? What about her family? Her coworkers? Had the attack been so bad that everyone had died? How long had she been unconscious?

The medication was making it very hard for her to focus now; she was drifting in and out of a conscious state, still trying to piece things together. From somewhere outside her room, she heard voices, raised in heated debate. A man and a woman. She only caught snatches of words and phrases here and there before she fell asleep. But what she heard made her uneasy, and it made no sense.

****

How am I supposed to keep this quiet? The nurse waved her hand at the door behind them. I don't want to think about what will happen to me if this gets out!

It won’t be difficult, and you know it. His voice was drawn, tired. If you feel you can’t do this, I will release you from service here. You can be reassigned, you’re skilled, experienced, and I’ll offer a good reference. No one would fault you for leaving a PCF.

What? No! That’s not what I want.

Good, then we’re agreed. He sighed and leaned against the wall. We’re in uncharted territory. I can’t insist you participate further. I trusted you with this, I hope I was not wrong. I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry. Silence is our only option at this point, but it’s not like it will be difficult. The threat of something like tuberculosis or anthrax should be sufficient, don’t you think? And what nurse would be expected to question a doctor’s orders?

Suddenly the nurse understood. Yes, Doctor. Of course, everything will be as you've ordered it. I'll make the appropriate notes. Forgive my outburst.

He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, I’m the one who should be asking your forgiveness for this.

Chapter Three: The Morning After

The nurse greeted her with a mug of clear broth. Doctor says we'll try some broth today, her tone was cheerful. Feel like sitting up? Charlie nodded, watching the nurse to see how she would adjust the bed. But the nurse came along and stuffed a bunch of pillows behind her back, propping Charlie up gently.

Do you want to try this? Just hold the mug. I don't think you can manage a spoon yet. The mug was half full of amber liquid, but it felt like a ton in Charlie's hands. Still, she managed to bring it to her mouth for a sip. It was warm, salty and like the water the day before, tasted like heaven. Go slowly, the nurse warned, as she settled in to watch and help if needed.

It took her several minutes to get through half the broth, and then she was tired. The nurse eased her back into a more restful position, Nap time, I think.

Charlie stopped her as she was about to leave, Wait, where's the thingy...ummm... to adjust the bed.

The nurse gave her an odd smile, To what? Adjust the… Oh! Oh, goodness, no, there’s nothing like that here. If you need me, there's a bell on the nightstand. She pointed at an old-fashioned looking brass bell sitting within reach. Rest. Doctor's orders.

Charlie was left alone. She was able to move more than she had the day before, and tried looking around the room again. The bed was small, simple, metal framed, and painted white. The bedding was all white. The walls were white. Even the bedside table where the nurse had put the bell was white-painted metal. She couldn't see a window, but thought there had to be one behind her somewhere, because the quality of the light was different now than it was yesterday. She couldn't quite crane around far enough to see.

The room had a bed, the small table, a straight-backed wooden chair and an old-fashioned looking hospital screen of white cloth gathered on a metal frame. When she had been sitting up, she could just see the top of a doorframe above the screen. That was it. The room was completely empty otherwise. There were not even any cabinets, or closet or bathroom door. Unless those were behind her.

She did rest, despite the nagging thoughts bouncing around in her head, but when the doctor came in later, she immediately asked if the bed could be turned so she could see the window. In time, of course. Right now, I'm worried that would be too much light and you're not strong enough to get up to adjust the curtains yourself.

After a quick examination and asking her how she felt after eating some, he pulled the chair close to the bed and sat. I'm not sure you're ready to hear more, but... we may not have much time. Right now, you're something of a secret. Very few people know you exist, and that's a good thing. No one knows how you survived and in the current climate, that could be frightening. He stopped, Charlie had given him a quizzical look.

As a doctor, I am concerned about burdening you with too much information too soon. I am not sure you can handle it. However, I feel you need to know these things before your existence becomes common knowledge. I'm warning you now, there is a chance you could have a very serious psychological reaction to what I'm about to tell you. I will sedate you if you become too agitated. Do you wish to proceed?

She nodded for him to go ahead, then waited.

What you have to understand is that the attack was a nuclear missile with a plutonium core. It destroyed most of DC and the surrounding areas. Then came the aftermath. The country was in chaos, there was almost no immediate disaster response. It was too dangerous to get anywhere near the blast zone. It was a very long time before clean up began. What records there are indicate there was a minor nuclear winter, and fallout was severe. When they found you, well... the car you were in had been frozen.

The entire Metro system had been rocked by a series of explosions, water mains broke, flooding the tunnels, then a strange nuclear reaction encased everything in what amounts to frozen nuclear waste. No one understands how it happened. They weren't prepared to find any survivors. That's not what the project was about. Some areas have recovered, but others are still hot. Especially around DC where the Metro lines were. There is still significant nuclear material somewhere in the lines, and it has to be found and cleaned up.

He paused and waited for her to process the information. The DC attack wasn't the only one that day. It was the beginning of an all-out world war. The political climate is very different than what you've known, but we'll get to that. Your train was essentially sitting in a nuclear slush, somehow completely frozen in time. The blast killed most of the occupants. Actually, all but you were killed by flying debris.

The best guess is you were wedged in a seat and somehow managed to avoid too much injury. The freeze must have been almost instantaneous; there was very little blood in the car. It looked like the explosion happened and then everything instantly froze. There were no medical personnel on the team, just scientists, nuclear specialists. They believe as things started thawing out, your body floated out a broken window. When they found a living body, there were instant murmurings of the implications.

The world has changed, how would the public react? It could cause mass hysteria. The government would want to study the situation. Could this be developed into a weapon, or defensive mechanism? The medical community would be completely at a loss. How had a human survived both a nuclear blast and freezing? Would there be radiation sickness? Would the person be brain dead? Would their systems be damaged in any way? The team kept the discovery as quiet as possible. My brother was on the team that found you. That's how I got involved.

He looked down at his hands and shook his head. This medical facility is where they bring people to die. We're strictly about palliative care here. When medical science has done all it can, when there is no more hope, this is where people come. It was an ideal place to keep you. Once someone enters these doors, there are very few records. No one recovers here. No one leaves. And very few visit. No one wants to be reminded of dying.

He straightened up, I think that's enough for now. You need to eat more. You need to rest. We'll talk more later if you think you're up to it. I'll have your bed turned around tomorrow, not today.

After he left, the nurse brought in another mug of broth, this time with a few crackers on the side. Charlie managed to eat the entire thing, and stayed sitting up after. When the nurse came to collect the mug, she brought a folder full of papers. Doctor White said you might want to read something.

The folder was full of faded old mimeographs of news stories. They repeated the story the doctor had told. The Middle East, Korea and a few small Eastern European countries had all exploded at the same time. Stupid happened. Missiles got launched and DC got hit. So did London, Paris, Dubai, Sydney, and Moscow. Surprisingly, the damage in most areas was minimal and the fallout not as bad as expected. Emergency response teams cordoned off affected areas, and life went on, forever changed as the entire world coped with the impact of nuclear winter.

Charlie looked up as Doctor White came back into the room. Doctor, her voice was still barely a whisper, this is impossible. It would take years, decades even, for things to cool down enough to be approachable. There have been enough nuclear accidents to teach us that lesson. And for things to be growing again? That's... well it's just not going to happen for a very long time.

The doctor shrugged, You're right. It does. And it did. This is the hardest part for you. I was not even born when the attack happened. No one alive today was. It happened over 1,000 years ago. You were frozen in a state of suspended animation for over a millennium. You were found two weeks ago. This really is like something out of a fantasy. There is no way, it's not possible, for the human body and brain to have survived in that state. And yet... he held up his hands at her. Here you are.

Wait... Charlie stammered. What year is it?

The doctor looked at her sadly, The date would make little sense to you. We changed calendar systems after the attacks. But if we calculated it based on the old system, it would be 3030, one thousand and ten years later. It's early spring, which is why they were starting on this project. There's limited arable land, and there's a big push to continue the cleaning up to produce more viable land. The date, in the current system, is 52 Spring, 1,010. The system came into use eight years after the day of the attacks and they were set as year zero. The year is divided into seasons and each season into days. It's all quite easy, really.

Charlie's head was spinning with so many questions, but she pushed them aside. I want to hear all of it. Everything. What happened. Who did what. What's changed. And then I want to know, what's going to happen to me? Because as far as I can see, I don't exist. Or I'm not supposed to. What happens from here?

You read the articles the nurse brought? Charlie blinked at him for the odd change of subject. I have a reason for asking. You are capable of understanding language and speech, and of conceptualizing things. You are capable of speaking, using correct concepts and context, though your voice is rather disused. I wasn't sure if you'd be capable of reading, of processing the printed word into the correct concepts. We don't know what kind of brain damage you may have suffered. We have no way of knowing the impact of the blast, the exposure to radiation and the long freezing. This is completely new territory.

Great, Charlie mumbled, I'm a medical curiosity.

He laughed, See, to me, this is a positive thing. You understand sarcasm. Your long-term memory has been unaffected as far as I can tell. The situational amnesia is to be expected, but frankly, the fact that your body survived is one unbelievable point. The fact that your brain survived as well takes this into the realm of fiction.

He handed her a thick folder. "There really isn't a lot to go on. After the attacks, the entire world was in chaos.