Ashes to Atom: the Dust Remains: Ashes to Atom, #1

By Ginny Bowman

Growing up a hundred years after the bombs dropped, James and Lucy hadn't ever known a world without slavery and lack.

Until they met a man who could reunite the wasteland, make the world safe and free. Now the twins have a choice; to continue scraping by on whatever the old days had left for them, or make it brand new with him.

Thing is, an awful lot of people don't want life to change.

Nothing ever comes without being earned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ginny Bowman
• Release date: Nov 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393864417

Book preview

The blonde panned her flashlight over the empty conveyors, dust motes the only thing that seemed alive in the abandoned factory. The hundred year old scent of artificial apples still hung in the air, a testament to the power of chemicals. Stepping lightly over the frayed belts, Lucy grinned as she found what they’d been looking for.

James, she said, whistling softly. There were things you didn’t want to wake up, even in the emptiest of places. Maybe even especially those places. Her twin’s flashlight beam shifted, coming closer until he was within speaking distance.

Vault door?

She nodded, shrugging off her pack. Sometimes I wonder if these guys were all paranoid. Locks I can understand, but six inches of steel? Bit overkill.

Sometimes I think you’re just pissy you have to pick all those locks.

Ah, but if I did not pick them then how could you tell all our friends what a genius I am? she chuckled. Even in the dim light he could tell her eyes were twinkling, they always were.

He snorted and scanned the area around them while she focused on the lock. All I can think of when I see a door like that, is how much good shit’s gonna be on the other side.

Let’s hope you’re not wrong, Lucy said.

The power had been cut, the twins had made sure of it before they entered the complex of buildings, so the lock was purely mechanical. A fact that didn’t make Lucy’s job easier as she spun the tumbler and listened for signs of release.

James looked down when he heard the click, a small whoosh of air signaling that the room had been airtight.

Remember, formula and whatever intact bottles we can find. He’s not paying for what he can’t use.

As he shouldn’t, Lucy murmured, too excited by the seal to care about much else. Inside the room, small boxes stood on dust free shelves, brittle from age but intact. They’d been new when the company had secreted the bottles away, afraid of competitors stealing the formula. At least, that’s what the twins assumed. What was clear from the skeletons dotting the factory floor was that shampoo had been protected instead of the staff. 

You grab the formula, I’ll grab . . . her voice trailed off as she took a box reverently from its shelf, tape crumbling and falling away. The bottles are sealed, the plastic solid, she announced.

James gave her an amused grin, folding the papers containing the formula and putting them in an envelope on top of his pack. You know, he’s not going to notice a few missing.

Way ahead of you, she grinned, placing two of the bottles of shampoo in her pack and hugging a bottle of conditioner to her chest. Do you want any?

He brushed the tuft of hair he kept and smoothed his beard. Nah, I'm naturally beautiful.

Lucy rolled her eyes and stuck another bottle in her bag. The rest were piled onto a cart that they’d complained about ever since the client had insisted. 

How’d he know about that vault and not just get it himself? James asked, after the third time a wheel had snagged on a stair ledge.

This may come as a surprise to you, Lucy said, pausing to wipe the sweat out of her eyes, but most elites are lazy fucks. If their daddies hadn't willed them money they’d all be scraping in the dirt.

He shrugged. Yeah. I guess. Doesn't seem fair.

If you wanted ‘fair’, then maybe you should have been born before the bombs dropped, she said.

A bark of laughter echoed in the empty space. My mistake, he said, yanking the cart up the last set of stairs.

Hang on, she said before James could maneuver the cart through the blown out hole they’d used as a door.

Why? he asked, although he looked more than happy to take the break.

I want to see if there’s anything else up here.

There won’t be, but go ahead if you like.

I like, she said, sticking her tongue out and sauntering into the office area. It wasn’t common, not after a century, but every occasionally there was still something left behind. That wasn’t locked away, anyway.

Rows of desks greeted her, relics even in those days from what she’d gathered. Places to put one’s own things had become a precious commodity, according to the neighbor that had taught her and James to read. Health, hell, even death had become an unwillingly shared experience, as the land tried to cope with the mass of people on it.

The bombs had fixed that, at least.

She wandered through, opening drawers and flipping open dead laptops. The skeletons she ignored, they were too common to be noticed. Sometimes she wondered if they regretted dying at work, but as she was likely to die at work as well, she figured it didn’t matter, not in the long run.

Out the corner of her eye, a skeleton moved, a rat skittering by her feet. Nice to see you’ve made it, she said, shaking her head and continuing. After systematically checking the drawers, filing cabinets, and ducking under desks to make sure there were no secret buttons or taped items, she came up with half a pack of playing cards and an unopened can of pop. The cards she kept, the pop she poured into a bowl for the rat population, and went on her way.

Anything good? James asked, sitting on the reception desk and drinking from a jar of water. Glass, their grandmothers had discovered, didn’t wear out and glassmakers were quickly the highest paid profession. If they could be found, at least.

Oh, you would not believe what I found.

He smirked. Let me guess, a half eaten lollipop?

Close, she laughed. Anyway, let’s get outta here while the light holds.

Screwing the lid back on his jar, he nodded and shouldered his pack again. Taking one end of the cart, they hauled it over the pile of rubble formerly a wall, and stretched in the late afternoon sun.

The sign had called it an ‘industrial park’, and the grass and trees that had overtaken the area seemed to second that notion. As for ‘industry’, they’d seen evidence of a hockey puck factory, and another that seemed to make robots. As neither could figure out a use for the former in the new world, and the second usually had security still online, they avoided both.

* * *

That’s funny, Lucy mentioned as they passed through a grove. 

Like, funny funny or do I need a gun? James asked, scanning the edges of the new forest. Vines dominated the small trees, being better equipped to grow in a world with very little usable soil. The light flickering in between their leaves made him jumpy, but they’d decided taking the long way around would take too much time.

Funny weird, she explained, picking at a tree trunk. Originally it had been three trees, but sometime in its growth it had twisted and joined in on itself.

Kinda like us, she said, pointing to the lump on James side where their triplet ‘lived’. They could never be sure if they were aware, or were even alive in the proper sense, but it was more than clear that something had gone wrong before they were born. 

James shrugged. He’d never had the patience for musings on their triplet that she had, probably because she didn’t have to live with it. The tree’s different though, he sighed, touching the trunk, For one thing, it doesn’t mind, and for another, all three are the same size.

How do you know it doesn’t mind? she asked, running a hand along the knobby trunk. Hello, she murmured.

Someone here? he asked, looking around the forest again.

Sorry. Look at this. She pointed at a particularly knobby spot. I think the trees grew around something.

Probably nothing.

Yeah, I know, she said, pulling out her knife and picking at the thing.

James sighed and had a seat, leaning against the opposite side of the tree. He touched the lump they’d named Jordan. It never moved, never made a sign of anything but being a thorn in James’ side. Literally. He had trouble resenting them though, no one could choose how they were born. He tried to ignore it, and managed, for the most part.

Got it, Lucy announced cheerfully.

Let me guess, James said, half dozing, it had been a long day, its a model car, or possibly a bag of dog food.

How would a bag of dog food last that long in a tree? she asked.

It wouldn’t, he said tiredly.

Anyway, she said, crouching down near him. Its a remote.

For what?

Dunno. Bit of a let down, really.

Yeah, he said, fighting the urge to rub the bridge of his nose, Shall we go? Before it gets dark.

She chuckled, Let’s. Before you stop us again for something totally irrelevant.

He laughed, long enough for the buzzing through the treetops to seem like it was continuing the humor. 

Fuck—

Drones, she murmured, ducking back to the tree and eying the now lit up remote in her hand. Of all the bullshit luck.

Well, you are the lucky one, he mentioned, pulling out his rifle while she clicked buttons, trying to turn the remote off.

Lucky me, she said, flinging the thing away and pulling out her pistol.

The drones dropped leaves and branches in their attempt to find whatever had signaled them. Red dots marked the places they looked while Lucy and James attempted to stay still and hidden. In their few experiences with the things, they needed almost a full clip to take down, and bullets were getting scarce.

The dots zeroed in on the remote, a sunlit path opening up as the drones clipped through. Lucy and James breathed a collective sigh of relief as one swooped back up through the trees, remote in claw.

Ok, next time—

Don’t go digging in strange trees, Lucy finished for him as if it wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. Still cool though.

Your definition of ‘cool’ seems to be anything that doesn’t get us killed.

Well, ‘shot at’, but basically yeah, she said, having not found a reasonable argument against the accusation.

* * *

Hold up, he said as they reached the edge of the forest, this is as good a place as any to camp.

Buyer’s not gonna take kindly to us being later than we already are.

Then we’ll sell the goods to someone else, he shrugged, and he knows that. One day more or less won’t matter and he’s not paying us enough to walk through the night. And maybe, he added silently, without malice, if you didn’t dig through so much junk we wouldn’t be late at all.

She shrugged off her pack and nodded. Alright, I’ll look for firewood, you can cook.

Chapter 2

The next morning had them walking through yet another factory complex, the paved roads better for the cart they were still dragging behind them.

There used to be so many jobs, Lucy said, turning to look at the outdoor steps leading up to the roof of the sprawling place. They couldn’t tell what it had been used for, but from the occasional scorch marks they assumed it was something flammable.

If there was, why was there still a war? They could’ve been doing what they do, not fighting over shit, he countered. It was an old argument, and good for keeping them occupied on long walks.

Maybe that was some people’s job? Like the military bases, they’re factories for soldiers.

You sound like an idiot.

At least I don’t look like one, she smirked. Anyway, you know I’m joking.

You know I’m not.

She laughed, abruptly cut off by a movement in one of the many windows. Thought the client said this area was mostly unoccupied. Saving drones and rats. Of course.

That’s like saying it’s mostly harmless, and we’ve been over this, he said, swinging his rifle around and scanning the windows through the scope. If it was a cakewalk, he’d be wasting his money on us.

The pair moved quickly to crouch behind a road sign promising drinks and snacks within a quarter mile. Inside the building, hunched shapes chanced glances out windows before skittering back to the safety of the shadows.

Mutants, James said finally, lowering his rifle and leaning on the sign. For the most part the badly off ones tried to stay away from civilization, grouping together for safety and comfort. Between deformity, cancer, sometimes simply insanity; the main settlements had no place for them.

Sometimes Lucy thought they were afraid the mutations would rub off on ‘normal people’. Of course, considering some of the more oozing sores she’d seen, it might after a fashion. As if most normals didn’t have a few mutations here and there. James managed to be accepted by being useful to the villagers, and it didn’t hurt that he towered over most normals with muscles trained by cage fighting. For the most part, all he had to do was stand up and they were shying away, mumbling apologies.

After a few more moments, they decided that this group wanted to have as much to do with them as they did with it. James and Lucy backed away from the sign, intending to continue on down the road. Until the ping of a bullet hitting metal sent them back to cover.

Are they suicidal? Lucy hissed, watching James look through his scope at the the building.

Possibly, he said tersely, glad she couldn’t see the kids just behind the shooter. Without resources, mutants went one of two ways, desperate or suicidal. This one turned out to be both. After a moment, he shrugged off his pack and pulled out a wrapped package of corn and his last bottles of water. We’re nearly at the village, James mumbled, I won’t need it. Placing it carefully within sight of the