The Prometheus Legacy: Prometheus Dystopian Trilogy, #2

By D. F. Wink

★★★★★ 
"The plot thickens."
"An impressive dystopian tale that explores the nuances of human nature and the real meaning of freedom."

 

 

With a gun pointed at his head, Adama was given his final mission by the man who had taken everything from him.

 

In a future world still recovering from a devastating war, Adama leads a fledgling rebellion against the oppressive global government. But when he is captured and brainwashed by the sinister Manasseh, Adama is but an empty shell of his former self.

 

Meanwhile in the city of London, Rahab struggles under Manasseh's watchful eye, still haunted by her past betrayal of Adama's cause. But a chance encounter awakens long buried emotions, and together with old allies, they embark on a desperate mission to crack the cryptic Prometheus prophecy before it's too late.

What they discover is a conspiracy spanning decades, and genetic experiments that could create gods among men. But have they roused powers beyond even Manasseh's control? With the stakes higher than ever before, can Adama defeat the invisible strings pulling him or will they spell the end for them all?

 

With richly drawn characters and a compelling mixture of sci-fi, mystery, and emotional drama, The Prometheus Prophecy is a fast-paced thrill ride exploring forgotten pasts, shattered love, and the limits of humanity – perfect for fans of The Hunger Games and Ready Player One.

Click the BUY NOW Button at the top and dare to join the uprising.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. Wink
• Release date: Jul 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393329008

Book preview

PART 1

ONE

Björn walked through the valley of Glencoe and wondered why the silence bothered him so much.

Several months had gone by since he had lost his friend. Only then did he realize how much Adama meant to him. He missed debating the destruction of the Global Order, following him into battle, forging crazy plans. The spear of defeat pierced them deeply—the armies scattered, the rebellion over. Maybe it was what Adama had stood for that Björn missed most: a new hope he clung to in his heart.

This hope had died with him.

Glencoe Village populated rapidly after the destruction. Word of mouth spread throughout the Outer Areas this was a haven for all those who had escaped the labour camps and now were on the run from the Peace Army. Björn had used his genius skills for evil and hacked the government satellite, projecting an old image from the destroyed village and thus hiding them from the drones with his infamous device. As long as no Global Army trucks drove out here, they were invisible. Non-existent.

He glanced into the face of the woman responsible for his sleepless nights over the last three months. Annie crouched in front of a turf hut—blackhouses, the highlanders called them here. Dark blonde strands of wavy hair fell into a face with delicate features, pointing to a smile that invited the heart to rest. She treated the wound of a six-year-old boy. It was nothing major, just a graze wound, and the chubby kid cried more from fright than pain. The boy had survived the horrors of the labour camps and now faced the uneven hills of the Highlands. Kids forgot much easier. There was something about their alertness to the moment that Björn himself unlearned with the years. But now, he increasingly found himself lost in Annie’s generous face.

It had to be the boredom. The loss of purpose that made him think all these stupid thoughts. After all, he had renounced love since Kaari. But Annie was so different from the frantic, genius girl he had given his heart to once.

Vivendel.

Björn used to call her by the Nordic name of a flower common in Norway, creamy white, tubular and two-lipped. It perfectly described her. Björn smiled involuntarily when Annie kissed the kid’s forehead and sent him off to play with the others.

Annie glanced up to catch Björn’s persistent stare, and he let his eyes slide towards the mountains, pretending not to notice her. Which was stupid, of course. She caught his glance before he could evade hers. Still, he could not help himself. He felt boyish in her presence. At a loss for words. From the corner of his eye, he saw how she got up and walked towards him. Damn.

Annie found an interest in medicine during the past months and became the healer of the Area Three. It was because of Adama; he was sure of it. Because she tried to preserve a trace of his ghost.

Morning. Annie’s voice echoed between the huts, and Björn watched the wind play with her curls and her skirt, which grew dirty from kneeling in the moist earth. The only thing he managed to do was smile, hoping he did not look too foolish. Something happened in his gut.

Just say something. Anything.

Björn cleared his throat.

Beautiful skirt.

You fool.

Annie looked down at the dirty rag he had just complimented her on and smiled innocently. It seemed like she was unaware of the rising tension in his belly. He felt like a stupid teenage boy. Steps came from the right, and Björn noticed Caleb’s figure approaching from the mountains. Thank the gods.

His face was at ease when he returned from his regular morning walks, but it could hardly hide the deep wrinkles under his eyes and on his forehead. Neither could it conceal that his brown hair has nearly completely turned grey. The defeat badgered him. Sometimes Björn heard how nightmares tormented Caleb at night. He had lost his whole family, unsure of where his wife and daughter were and whether they still lived. Waiting tires every man. But sheer powerlessness breaks the spirit.

Still, Caleb always smiled when he spotted Björn, as he did now. He became the leader of Outer Area Three. Another burden to bear. But Caleb would never let it show. Björn never heard him complain, never sensed fear or panic in his voice, doubt or quivering. Caleb was a rock.

There was some mandatory chitchatting between the three of them. The weather, the fake reassurance of their well-being—although they knew that nothing in truth was fine. It was just bearable. Questions roamed their minds that probably would never find an answer. At least it seemed so now, in this place where time stood still.

Annie stopped Caleb before he had the chance to leave.

There is someone I wanted to talk to you about.

Caleb nodded, folding his hands in front of his torso.

Well… There is this woman, you know her, the one with the scar on her back. She refuses to talk about where she got it—presumably from some terrible incident in the camp. Now she hasn’t left her hut, or even her bed, for three straight days. Her body is absolutely fine as far as I can tell, but she still complains about headache and fatigue.

Depression, Björn murmured.

Annie raised an eyebrow. It was such a delicate gesture that Björn let a smile slip. He forgot that she had grown up in the Outer Areas. Depression was only a term for the cities, an occurrence so common that everybody was diagnosed with it. The white pills were the omnipresent cure. But for Outer Area folk, who worked hours on end and fought infections and famine, depression was a luxury they couldn’t afford.

It’s common with people who had traumatic experiences, Björn explained. A disease of the mind. There is medication for it in the cities.

Let’s give therapy a try first, Caleb said, tone unwavering. Where can I find her?

Annie pointed to a turf hut further down the path. Caleb nodded and left. A broken man to heal the broken.

Sometimes Björn wondered if Caleb had fallen victim to the symptoms of depression himself. Or was it his stoic demeanor that prevented him from forging some crazy plan to retrieve his wife and daughter from the cities? Anybody else would have pondered such a plan. He had rebuilt Outer Area Three instead, as if leaving his past behind. Björn had a hard time believing that Caleb, of all people, accepted powerlessness. Or had he just fallen victim to utter resignation?

It occurred to Björn that he was alone with Annie. The knot in his throat returned.

Well… I… you… Björn’s mouth babbled before he could control himself, as he suddenly picked up a sharp buzzing coming from his hut right behind him. It startled him for a moment. What was it? A warning? Was something wrong with his drone deviation? But no, it made no such sound. Before he could even process what he heard, he turned around and sprinted into the hut, frantically searching for the source of the buzzing. No, this could not be it.

Annie followed him, watching his hectic movements with narrowed eyes.

What is it?

But he gave no answer. He was too preoccupied with this sound that only one device could make. But could this be real?

Finally.

Here it was.

Something that looked like the ancient phones from the nineties, with a two-way intercom system. This was the buzzing. Björn refused to believe his ears. No, this could not be it. But maybe it finally was?

He pressed the button and gently, as if doubting his own common sense, asked:

Rahab?

TWO

Place one foot after the other.

That’s it.

Her feet walked across the marble floor. Those looming, cold, perfectly white walls pressed in on her.

The smart home devices tried to create the illusion of comforting companionship by adjusting the temperature just to the right degree when she entered a room, turning on the coffeemaker in the morning, and playing her favorite tune while the lamps switched on a gentle light.

It was the song of a Scottish bagpipe.

Rahab breathed in the air that was nowhere close to the fresh wind that blew across the highlands. It smelled hollow. The sun rose beneath the glass windows while she overlooked the city, as she had every morning for three months now. But when she closed her eyes, she saw Glencoe.

Turn off the song, she mumbled towards the muffled air. It only tortured her.

Stop comparing every damn thing to your old life. It’s over.

Without touching the coffee, she got dressed and walked out into the street.

Place one foot after the other.

That’s it.

True, the electric cars reduced emissions here in the city centre of London. But it smelled of all kinds of street foods, perfumes, and people. The space seemed to get narrower with every passing day. Everything about this city reminded her of her old life as a teenager, a life she tried to return to like chasing a long-lost ghost.

She pushed herself toward her morning classes in economics, classes she had started back then, before she’d fled with Caleb to the Outer Areas. She hated economics. She hated the rules and limits and walls they tried to press her into. Rahab felt like a monkey caged in a zoo. She smiled at that notion and took out a bottle, sipping water to drown out the piercing pain in her belly. City food had been messing with her stomach for weeks. She was used to natural ingredients, she figured. Maybe it was the stress, because she had been on and off the pills for weeks now. She wanted to scream, but took a deep breath instead. He monitored her all the time, she was sure of it. The CCTV cameras constantly observed her. He could have hacked her lenses, traced her new RFID chip, installed cameras all over the apartment.

You are getting paranoid again.

The city had changed over the last ten years. It got faster, livelier. Maybe she only had the impression because of the lenses. When she had left, they had just entered the market. Now everybody wore them. And they interacted with everything—the passing people, LCD screens, shop windows. They regularly sent friend requests, comments, and news articles, and they reminded her of daily appointments.

Sarah Lit sent an invitation to the Fabric tonight, the display on her lenses showed.

Sarah was a fellow student. Rahab blinked longer than usual to erase the information. She avoided clubs since she stranded back here in this sleepless city. Social media annoyed her. It seemed like there was no moment of calm. Everyone constantly posted everything—photos, invitations, updates. She had forgotten the pace this life demanded.

It was ridiculous to think she could just pick up where she had left. Be like one of her fellow students. Ten years had gone by, for the gods’ sake, ten years she could never erase.

Listen to yourself. What gods?

The day came, and she ran on autopilot. She was not popular amongst the lady circles, she had never been. But now she was even reticent with the men. She was officially on her own. Attending the lectures was not even mandatory, and she had tried to stay in her apartment. But it drove her mad. The guilt. The thoughts. She had to do this, didn’t she? She had to protect Amber.

But what for, Rahab? To never see her again? To let her be raised into this same loneliness?

Pain spread inside her chest at the thought of Amber. At the thought of her children. Before her eyes could tear up, she shoved the memory away. Maybe she should take a pill when she got home.

It got dark outside already. The last days of winter still covered the city. But there had been no snow this year. With lights on, London looked even more alive than during daytime. She crossed Oxford Street, full of commuters and shoppers, and she felt bombarded by the advertisement in her lenses and on the walls of buildings.

A city that never sleeps. It was alluring and disgusting at the same time.

She slowly approached a skyscraper and took the elevator to her apartment among the top floors. Once Adama’s apartment. Adama. His shadow chased her ceaselessly. She entered the living room with the marble tiles and the top-to-bottom glass windows, took off her jacket, and stormed into the bathroom to take off the stupid lenses. She wanted to be alone, although she was never alone now. How she longed for those long reclusive hunts in the woods, the solitude between the mountaintops.

Stop chasing ghosts.

And yet she couldn’t.

She looked over to the white pills on the kitchen counter, tempted to take them and forget. But how could she forget her own daughter? How could she ever want to abandon her? This was what the pills represented. Abandoning what she meant to her.

She looked across the living room, remembering how Adama had given her this book and kissed her hand before being led away by the police. The book.

She entered the bedroom and took out the black leather book from under the mattress. Paradise Lost. The entire book was a poem, written in old English that she found very hard to understand. In the back of it was a message from someone named John. But there was more.

A tiny little device that looked like an earpiece and had an on-switch at the back. A switch she had never turned. Why? Out of fear, maybe.

What do you want, Rahab?

She squinted. Maybe she should finally go to a club and embrace this city for what it was—a fake freedom drowned in ecstatic experiences for days, weeks, and years on end. Maybe this was good after all? She would have, like in the old days. Except back then she had not been a mother. And though she found that this role still didn’t suit her like it did the other women in Area Three, she could not erase the feelings that came with it. She had become profoundly different.

Rahab turned the switch. More out of an impulse than anything else.

Nothing happened. She considered it might be broken, or had been caught up in the book by mistake. Her heart sunk—and only now she realized how badly she wanted out of this hellhole. She knew this device had been her safety net all along, a fantasy of escape. And if it wasn’t real…

A crackle. She turned and put the device close to her right ear. Another crackle. And then, a male voice spoke, very quietly.

Rahab?

She did not answer. This wasn’t Caleb or Adama; she would have recognized their voices instantly. But why did the person on the other end know her name? Was this a trick set up my Manasseh? A test?

Rahab, is this you?

She hesitated.

Yes. It was a mere whisper. Her hands shook.

By the gods… the voice whispered.

A long pause followed, as if the person on the other side had forgotten to breathe. My name’s Björn. I’m a friend of Adama’s.

At the mention of his name, her entire heart cringed.

Adama.

Where… where are you? Are you alright? he continued. His voice sounded overwhelmed.

She nodded until she realized that he could not see her.

Yes… yes, she whispered. The realization dawned on her that maybe Manasseh heard her, too.

Are you still in London?

Yes. She whispered, lower.

Listen carefully, he urged. I might have a possible way out for you. Do you understand? I can get you out of there.

Björn stared numbly at the stones piled up to form the wall of his tiny hut. It felt hot inside, although the fire in the far left corner barely burned. Annie lit an oil lamp to create more light on this bleak winter afternoon. The hut was shabby and chaotic as always, cables and devices lying all around the tiny space, even on his bed. He was too shocked to be embarrassed, to even notice that it was the first time Annie had been inside his home.

Rahab made the call.

When Adama had requested the earpiece several months before going to his certain death, Björn thought him a dreamer. Manasseh had manipulated Rahab into betrayal. Why even trust her? And now this thought would not let go. What if the beast was with her? He would not give away any information before he was certain that this was not a trick. But how could he be? At least the call was encrypted and untraceable.

Where are you now? Björn’s voice lost its initial emotion and became calculating.

In the apartment.

It’s probably wired. Go to the bathroom and turn on the shower.

No answer came. Just several seconds of crackling and silence, followed by a soothing white noise that sounded like running water to Björn. He looked over to Annie for the first time. She bit her lower lip in tension, not uttering a single word.

Are you alone? Björn asked into the device.

Yes.

Rahab was presumably afraid of being monitored herself. If she was not a traitor still, if this really was a call for help.

Do you want me to get Caleb?

Caleb? Her voice froze. He exchanged glances with Annie again. No, the answer came. Why did Adama leave this here?

In case you wanted to get out.

How?

Björn paused. Now came the interesting part. He hesitated for a few more seconds, fighting with himself whether to give her that information. Maybe it was a trick after all? Annie bent forward, so close that he sensed her breath tickling his ear, and his heart made an involuntary leap.

It was his last request, she whispered.

Of course she would make her case for Adama, the ghost she never stopped chasing. But how could he deny her, or even him? He owed it to his friend, and this debt weighed heavier than the possibility of endangering many. Björn nodded.

You must find the digital underground. They’re the only ones who can get you out of there.

Silence.

How?

Put the earpiece into your ear and make sure you conceal it with your hair. Get dressed and leave the apartment.

Turning on his huge laptop, Björn established a safe GPS connection. It would be hard with no internet out here. Hard, but not impossible. He started typing while numbers and commands appeared on the screen. Annie stared in amazement, and he felt like a superhero. His self-appointed retirement was over. Once the shower is off, don’t speak, not in the apartment, not on the street, not until you get into a safe zone. I will navigate you all the way, he continued. Tell me your address now.

And still, doubts nagged at his mind. Maybe this was a huge mistake after all?

Rahab turned off the button. She would switch it on at the front door, signaling that she had left the house.

Only when the device completely quieted did Björn notice how tense his entire body had grown, and he made a deep breath to relax.

It’ll be alright, Annie said, calming him with her soothing voice. This was the right thing to do.

Björn remained quiet, not sure about this.

It could take a while, she added.

I hope it doesn’t. She might get second thoughts.

Annie brought them some bread and ale while Björn researched Rahab’s location, trying to come up with the best way to navigate her through the city. He was very aware of Annie’s presence, despite the tension of the moment. She came so close he sensed how her clothes touched his skin. He suppressed the impulse to jerk back.

She sat down next to him and examined the hut for the first time. Now he felt uneasy. The space was chaotic, full of electronics half built, scattered all across the wooden floor. As if his soul lay stripped open before her. But she only smiled, small dimples decorating delicate cheeks.

You’ll have to tell Caleb, she said after letting out a deep breath.

He nodded, knowing that it would break him. It would awaken his demons. Maybe he would tell him after Rahab was on her way out of the city already? If she made it, that is.

He still shuddered when he thought about whom he threw Rahab to. Valaris. The underground leader at the stables. The woman evoked goosebumps, possessing the cunning genius of an ugly rat. She would not be fond of Björn, who fled the underground to live in the Outer Areas years before. He had been her best programmer back then. Her golden boy.

Why did you leave? Annie asked, as if reading his thoughts.

He hesitated.

Because I found out some things I didn’t like.

He had followed Kaari into rebellion back in his teenage years. Still in Norway, the two of them had joined the Sub and travelled to the British Isles. But after she died… Björn took a deep breath. The memory of it still brought a foul taste to his mouth. After Kaari, he was looking for an alternative way to protest. He thought the underground rebellion held the same values he and Kaari once sought.

"When I joined the underground, I still was looking for a way to change the world. Improve it. But the underground grew more criminal every year, which I refused to see at first.