Aftershock

By Katherine Armstrong Walters

After a catastrophic earthquake destroyed Southern California, Jaycen was forced to leave the girl he loves to rescue his mom from the destruction. Hunted by both the government and gangs for his link with the Arydians, Jaycen must find her before they catch him to steal the secret hidden in his blood. Mi

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scene Company
• Release date: Sep 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781951411084

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Copyright © 2018 by Katherine Armstrong Walters.

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. Published by Scene Company Publishing. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

ISBN 978-1-942298-50-2

www.TheSceneCo.com

To my mom, Lois Christensen Armstrong

(1927–2017)

Miss you every day.

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Acknowledgements

Abyss

Prologue

The bedroom was strangely furnished, with a plasma screen TV hanging like a portrait on the wall and an ebony desk with a leather office chair behind it, making the room feel more like an office. Indeed, that was its primary purpose. A small table sat against the wall below a piece of modern art that, at the time was swung away from the wall on hinges to reveal an open safe behind it. An ornate black bed with a richly embroidered white blanket sat decoratively in the corner, the only hint that this was a bedroom at all. The most impressive feature was a massive aquarium, which almost completely filled the entire side of the room.

The television was on, as it had been for days, droning on and on about the devastation in California and the earthquake that had forced the western half of the state to its knees. Despite the repetition of the images, the man at the desk sat forward, sharp eyes alert, his back to the aquarium. Mr. Hahn had a cousin that lived in the midst of all that madness in California, running a branch of his operation. He briefly wondered about her safety—based more on his interests than on any sort of real concern—but brushed it away. She was one that could take care of herself.

The scenes of destruction were magnificent, complete with trails of lava running down the broken hills, torching everything they touched. Like a view of Dante’s Inferno, a catastrophe so enormous that even the officials stood by in awe, helpless against the onslaught. The aftershocks had been so violent that rescuers were forced to stay away from the area. Unverified rumors had been heard that part of the shoreline and blocks of homes and businesses had suddenly tipped westward and slid like food from a dirty plate into the sea.

A huge portion of the San Andreas Fault had folded in upon itself, forming a perilous chasm where a mountain range once had been. Even the National Guard was holding back on the east side of the mountains, only helping the survivors that could reach their makeshift shelters on their own. The military bases along the coast that hadn’t been completely destroyed were shuttling people out by boat to cruise liners that had been appropriated to assist in the massive rescue. Right now the only objective was evacuation. Those who couldn’t make it over the foothills and through the chasm or weren’t lucky enough to find a way out by sea were on their own.

The aquarium behind Hahn burbled quietly and he leaned back into his chair. The news switched to an interview via satellite with an official from the military, answering questions about a supposed underwater explosion outside the Point Mugu Naval Base immediately before the earthquake. Was this the result of a military test gone horribly wrong? Hahn watched the Sergeant Major regurgitate well-rehearsed answers that didn’t directly answer any questions. The military knew they hadn’t caused it. They could only assume it was a natural phenomenon, a gas expulsion from a thermic vent as the fault slipped. The skeptical reporter pressed the man further. Was it an attack from some foreign power? The man’s eyes flickered for a millisecond as he reassured the public that it was a result of the fault slippage, nothing more, but in that instant Hahn could tell that the man didn’t believe his own story.

Hahn breathed in a sigh of satisfaction, knowing that it was his hand that had caused this! He had launched the missile into the underwater vents that had destroyed the Arydians’ home and thrown the country into chaos. He did it, with merely the touch of his finger. He had destroyed their home. His lips pulled back into a snarl of a smile. He had waited so very long, cursing the treacherous scientists that had stolen years of research and taken it to the depths of the sea—then dared to try to use that knowledge against him. At last, he had found the Arydians and buried them in the underwater home they had built from his ideas. A suitable death for them, though not as slow or painful as he would have liked.

He had people down there now, operatives embedded in the Navy and some of his own that were better adapted for maneuvering underwater, looking for bodies to confirm the Arydians’ deaths. They had fooled him before, so easily believing they were dead was not a mistake he would make again. In particular, he wanted to find the mysterious girl’s body—the one with the power to heal.

He felt like a god, raining down Armageddon upon the helpless masses. The feeling of power it gave him was intoxicating. The council of Leviathan would never doubt him again!

I do hope you’re watching this, my dear, he called over his shoulder to the empty room. They are gone. Every last one of them. Nothing answered but the steady bubbling of the aquarium. A cell phone on the desk vibrated, catching Hahn’s attention.

Yes? He listened for a moment, scratching down information, then his face contorted in fury.

Are you sure? he demanded. The response at the other end darkened his features even more. How! Where is he? he roared. The voice on the other end rose in pitch and he gripped the phone like he would crush it to bits. Instead, he slammed his other hand onto the desk angrily, a primal cry of rage escaping from his lips. The voice waited silently on the other end. He stood and took several deep, calming breaths. When he sat back down and picked up the phone, his voice was steady.

Is the girl still alive? he asked. He nodded at the response, a smile touching the side of his lips. This can work in our favor. If we can get him, he could be exactly what I need. I want you to talk to him constantly until he agrees to come to us. I will have someone waiting.

He scowled at the phone again as the other person spoke. Of course I have a plan to find the others. We can start implementing the next phase immediately. My actions have only made our position more stable. It will be much easier to disrupt the government while so many eyes are looking away to the opposite coast. Tell them it’s time to act. He hung up and dialed another number several times, trying to get through despite the clogged phone lines. She’d better be alive, he muttered to himself. Finally someone answered.

Give me the Shade, he demanded, typing information into his computer as he waited. Lin? Good. Is your operation running? he asked, nodding at her reply. I’ve sent you two photographs. They may be in your area, and they must be found at any cost. Especially the girl. He scowled as the person on the other line protested.

I don’t care about your logistics. You’re in the heart of all this, there is no one else; get your people on it. Offer a bounty, make wanted posters. I don’t care, Lin, just find them! As he slammed down the receiver, his eyes were drawn to the television, panning out on a satellite view of the disaster. The pearly blue and white of the earth was blotted by smears of grey and brown, like a plague. Spreading across the earth, as we soon will be, he smiled to himself. He pushed a button on his intercom and gave a curt order.

Activate the sleepers.

Chapter 1

Grit filled the air with sulfur haze, shrouding broken buildings in tattered gauze cloaks. Jaycen leaned into the hot concrete wall of a building and rubbed his eyes, holding back the cough that threatened to give away his position. Around the corner of the crumbling office, several men armed with crowbars and chunks of rock were prying a door off a small electronics store. He waited until they crawled through the gap into the shop before crossing what used to be an intersection. It had taken him several days to make his way up the coast and a couple more traversing the ruins of the city and still he was nowhere near finding his home.

He jumped over a fallen traffic light, still blinking red as if too stunned to die, and ran down the broken street. A low groan, like a stomach cramp, came from the earth. He stopped dead in his tracks as the sound evolved into a vibration under his feet. Aftershock. He staggered on trembling ground away from the swaying high-rise until he reached the open space of a small park. The shaking became increasingly violent and he fell to the ground as he felt the city collapse around him. A tremendous grating sound was followed by an impossible crack that shook the earth and he clung to the grass, feeling the ground beneath him slide closer to the ocean. The high-rise he had passed crumpled in an enormous heap, blasting the street with greyish dust and debris and crushing the electronics store.

Jaycen rolled to his side, curling up and covering his head, praying the earth would stop heaving long enough for him to get out of the main city and onto stable ground. As the motion started to subside, he peeked between his arms at the dust-filled world around him. The sounds of destruction were too loud and horrible to comprehend, but in his gut he knew he had no choice but to keep moving. Hesitantly, he got to his feet, though the earth was still wobbling beneath him. Glancing over his shoulder at a coastline that used to be dotted with hotels and beautiful resorts, he caught his breath as a ten story building and the land surrounding it tilted, sliding toward the ocean with a noise that shook him to his core, and then fell into the water, throwing up enormous waves and a shower of mist that reached him blocks away. He turned east and ran for his life.

Coming to the crest of a hill, he shook his head in disbelief. The scene spread before him looked like a war zone—the streets were cracked and heaped like rocks, huge pines and palm trees had fallen to the earth, crushing cars. Water, oil, and chemicals filled every hole and ran in toxic rainbows into the shallows. Debris from destroyed buildings made it nearly impossible to navigate. He took a few steps and coughed, wiping his watering eyes from the smells that assaulted him. Ash, smoke, and chemicals filled the air, burning his throat. Adding to the odor, the stench of death was heavy all around him. He tried not to think about what was in the cars and demolished buildings as he moved forward, trying to align this mess with the memory of his hometown. The sulfurous scent of brimstone made the city look and smell like the torture chambers of the devil himself.

He ripped a piece of his shirt off and tied it around his nose and mouth to filter out the worst of the dust and smell. Kicking at the rubble in an intersection, he finally found what he was looking for; a piece of green metal, bent and crushed, but still legible. Washington Boulevard. He glared up at the sky, wishing he could see the sun well enough to help him find his direction. He sighed and started picking his way through the remains of the road. He heard a sound behind him, and the hair on the back of his neck began to prickle. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw two heavily tattooed teenagers with a crowbar sprinting his direction.

Jaycen didn’t take the time to find out who they were or what they wanted. He kicked his feet into action, scrambling across the intersection and diving into the crumbled mouth of a partially collapsed parking garage. He heard fast footsteps grinding in the grit as they raced past the entrance to the garage and faded away. Relieved they weren’t chasing him, he crouched behind a red Chevy, gasping to catch his breath.

Somehow he’d thought the only people he would need to look out for were from Leviathan. Now he realized how naive he’d been, with the silly picture he’d had in his mind of a bunch of Leviathan big shots in suits and dark glasses and maybe a few thugs dressed in black hovering around the wreck of COAST waiting to snag him. It hit him hard when he realized Leviathan could look like anybody; there was no way to identify them. And to complicate things, the chaos in the city gave gangs and criminals a distinct advantage over people who, like him, were just trying to survive.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and slid down his cheek as he waited in the stifling garage. Crunching sounds of footsteps outside forced him further behind the cars, where he ducked completely out of sight of the entrance. He sat down and leaned his back against a tire to wait. At least the concrete floor was cool. He pulled out a silver vial he’d tucked in his pocket and rolled it between his fingers, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. In this vial was all Leviathan needed; a stolen dose of Arydia, exactly like the one he had been given just days ago that had changed him and saved his life. He had snatched it from the Arydians when he learned about the earthquake that had decimated the California coast. His mom was somewhere in all this mess, alone and struggling with mobility due to multiple sclerosis. If she was alive, he was going to use the drug on her to heal her like it had healed him. If he could just find her before it was too late.

Guiltily, he stuffed the vial deep into his pocket, black despair wrapping around him like a damp blanket. He silently vowed that no matter what happened he wouldn’t let Leviathan get it. If something happened to him, he’d just have to find a way to hide the vial or destroy it.

Jaycen put his head in his hands, wishing he could forget everything he’d given up coming back here, and maybe for nothing. It was useless. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still see Marin begging him not to go. But what choice did he have? He hated himself for leaving her; he hated himself for stealing the vial and taking the terrible risk of Leviathan finding it, but how could he have lived with himself if he had left his mom to die without even trying to find her? A dark thought kept stabbing the back of his mind. If his mom hadn’t survived . . .

No, he couldn’t afford to think like that. He had a responsibility. He was going to find his mom and help her. And somehow, somehow he would find a way back to Marin. He forced himself to his feet, creeping cautiously out through a ragged gap in the concrete when a whimper made him turn around. Cocking his head to one side, Jaycen paused, listening.

There! There it was again!

He stood, wrestling with indecision. Of course he wanted to help, but what could he possibly have to offer? Plus, he needed to move quickly. If he found someone hurt, how could they keep up? Or for that matter, what if they couldn’t move at all? If he stayed behind, he might never find his mom, and if she was in trouble, even a small delay could count. He pulled his makeshift mask down and rubbed the sweat and grit out of his eyes tiredly, letting out a long, slow breath.

On his knees, he went back inside the destroyed parking garage.

Hello? he asked softly, hoping nobody would answer. Maybe it had just been the beams creaking. No, he saw something. Something flicked up for a moment in the back seat of the Chevy he’d been hiding behind. He crept up to the window and looked in, praying there wasn’t a mangled person inside.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Well, hey! He heard a muffled whine in response. Curled in the back seat, looking weak and dehydrated, was a black and white Australian shepherd. It lifted its tail in a halfhearted thump, then lay still. Jaycen checked the doors and found one unlocked. How awful, he thought, to be trapped like that in an unlocked car, all for the want of opposable thumbs. Opening the driver’s side door, he was assaulted by a terrible stench of dog waste.

Ugh! he gasped, waving his hand in front of his face. He flipped the lock to the back door and opened it up. The dog could barely move its head. Jaycen was surprised that the dog had survived as long as it had. The car had to have been here since the earthquake, which was what? Four, five days . . . maybe a week ago? Then he found the dog’s secret; several gnarled bottles of Gatorade lay mostly empty on the floor below the seats. Smart dog!

Hey, Gator, he said, rubbing the top of the dog’s head. The dog pushed its dry nose against the palm of his hand. Let’s get you out of here, buddy, he said, putting his arms around the dog and hauling it out of the car. The dog was too weak to stand, so Jaycen carried it out to the dusty lawn behind the parking garage and laid it down, then began searching the grass until he found the valve for a sprinkler system. The dog eyed him curiously. The valve was rusted tight so he kicked it until the handle came off, sending a fountain of water shooting into the air and falling around them like summer rain. Jaycen turned his face up to the welcome coolness and let it wash the grime of the past few hours off his face before picking up the dog and moving out of the spray. He set the dog down by a dip in the cement where water was pooling. The dog lifted its head and eagerly lapped up the water. Jaycen did a quick check and realized the dog was a girl.

Well, I guess I can still call you Gator, he laughed. It’s fairly non-gender specific. He patted the dog’s wet fur. The smoky sky was getting darker. It would be night soon.

Leaving the dog to rest, Jaycen went back inside the parking garage and started searching cars for anything he could use. A small rumble overhead made him stop in his tracks. A few chunks of concrete fell down, then the rumbling stopped. He didn’t want to spend any more time in here than he had to. Cautiously, he moved forward, exploring every car he came to, praying he wouldn’t find a body.

He found a screwdriver under the seat of a tan Volkswagen Bug and used it to pry open the back door of a family-sized SUV, where he hit the jackpot! A kid-sized backpack, three small blankets, a worn teddy bear, several unopened bags of fruit snacks and granola bars, a large windbreaker and a ten-pack container of juice boxes. He was tempted to gather up the Cheerios scattered all over the back seat and floor, but he decided he wasn’t that hungry . . . yet. He did, however, grab a plastic action figure for the dog to play with. He dumped the folders and crayons out of the backpack and stuffed everything but the blankets inside. Walking back, he tried not to wonder what had happened to the owners of all these vehicles.

Gator lay with her head near the puddle, eyes closed. Alarmed, Jaycen dropped his stash and ran over to her, but she was just asleep. Relieved, he looked around the lawn. The building complex and the parking garage formed a square that surrounded the grassy courtyard on all sides. All in all, he felt fairly well surrounded and protected, as long as there weren’t more aftershocks. The courtyard had a bench next to a short cement pillar with an ashtray on top and a garbage can inside. He retrieved his things and set up a bed on the bench, folding one blanket below the bench where he gently laid the dog before lying down himself.

Staring up at the black, murky sky, he let his mind wander back to another night, not too long ago. He pictured the California Oceanic Alliance of Science and Technology, or COAST, the place where he had interned the past two summers and met Marin. He remembered Marin looking out over the balcony at COAST, the moonlight dancing on the black waves below, the wind brushing her long hair out behind her, one bare foot crossed behind the other. It was one of his favorite memories of her, one he kept closest to his heart. He had watched her for several minutes with his heart pounding in his throat before he had dared go out and talk to her. It was the first time she had opened up and spoken with him, the first time he’d dared hope that she might learn to care about him as much as he cared about her. Back when life was normal and hope was something real. Before either of them knew what she was.

And now he was one of them as well. An Arydian. They were refugees from land itself, guarding scientific knowledge that their enemy planned to use to dominate the world. And just like them, he would be hunted the rest of his life.

A gap appeared in the smoky clouds, letting a few stars briefly shine through. Was Marin looking at the stars, too? Or had they made it to their new base somewhere in the millions of miles of ocean out there? Was she missing him? And most of all, did she still love him? Unwillingly, his thoughts turned to Marcos, the Arydian guy with the dark, wavy hair and the fancy Greek accent, who was also obviously in love with Marin.

Jaycen ground his teeth in frustration. Worse than leaving Marin at all was leaving her with a guy like Mr. Movie Star waiting in the wings. He closed his eyes trying to think of something else. He didn’t want to wonder what Marin was doing . . . or what Marcos and Marin were doing.

Angrily, he shoved the teddy bear under his head for a pillow and tried to find sleep.

Chapter 2

The rain fell in sheets, beating the fall leaves from their branches and clogging the gutters on the dark street. Dr. Nathan Greer wiped the water off his face, grateful he’d at least remembered to grab his raincoat as he’d walked out the door, even if he did forget his umbrella. The streets of D.C. were crowded despite the late hour, and a cab blared its horn at him as he sloshed across the street in front of it. He cut through a narrow alley hedged between two tall buildings and the rain was temporarily blocked. His footsteps slowed as he got closer to a steel cargo door, painted a dull white, built into the back of one of the buildings. Dread seeped in each step. In the darkness, the door was about the only thing he could see. He took a deep breath. He knew this meeting would only end in two possible ways.

He took one last look up at the dark sky, wishing for the comfort of at least the stars before he walked inside and learned his fate. He would have liked to see them one last time, but the sky was dark and angry, like the man he was about to face, and nothing he could do would change it. Reaching out his trembling hand, he knocked once, paused, then knocked three times in succession. The door opened instantly, light spilling out into the misty alleyway. He hesitated, unable to make his feet cross the threshold, but a heavy hand caught him by the shoulder and yanked him forward before slamming the door shut behind him with a metal thunk.

The docking bay was dim, but a hanging lightbulb in the corner highlighted a desk with a single chair in front of it. He was pushed roughly toward it. A man, Daruth, looked up from a stack of papers and took off his reading glasses, setting them on the paper and smiling up at Greer pleasantly, showing perfectly white teeth, contrasted by his smooth olive skin. Daruth was a small man, someone you could walk by every day of your life and never even notice. His hair was dark with a slight wave, and he spoke with a quiet, almost musical, Middle Eastern lilt.

Welcome, Dr. Greer, Daruth said, folding his hands mildly on the worn metal desk in front of him. Please, do sit down. It is a wild night out, and wild men are on the prowl, no? He laughed softly as hands pushed Greer into a hard metal chair. Daruth leaned forward and looked into Greer’s face eagerly.

You know, Dr. Greer, I have many talents. One of them is the ability to read the future of a man just by looking at his face. He paused, watching Greer with interest. You need not say a word. I know just by the look in your eyes that you don’t have my money.

Greer opened his mouth, but Daruth held up a hand to silence him. No, no. You undoubtedly have a pocketful of lies and excuses that you wish to bore me with. But I have no interest in them. Daruth stood, catlike, and strolled to the front of the desk.

Gamblers are a foolish breed, Greer, full of baseless optimism. Don’t you ever learn that the only person who wins the game is the one who owns the table? He flicked a glance at one of the large men standing behind Greer. Without warning, a blow hit Greer in the side of the head, knocking him to the ground. Daruth motioned for the guard to pick him up. He was forced into the chair again, his head pulled back by his hair, his neck terrifyingly exposed.

Daruth moved forward, bending down to look into Greer’s eyes. He reached out a delicate hand and took Greer’s chin, forcing Greer to look at him.

Greer’s mouth went dry, his heart was beating painfully hard in his chest, his exposed jugular vein bulging conspicuously with each pulse, but he tried to meet Daruth’s gaze in a desperate effort to somehow convince him that he was wrong, that all Greer needed was more time and he would find a way to get the money. Daruth stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. His dead, flat eyes showed no spark of sympathy. It was like looking into the pit of death itself, and suddenly Greer realized it was over.

Daruth leaned next to his ear and hissed quietly, I own your life. This is the part where you promise me anything in exchange for it. Greer saw the sick anticipation on Daruth’s face as he struggled with his emotions.

Desperate words tried to form in Greer’s mouth, incoherent deals and bribes and begging bubbled through his brain, but he clamped his mouth shut and swallowed. He knew the words would be useless, except to give Daruth pleasure, and Greer refused to grant him that. Daruth glanced at him in mild surprise.

This is your only chance, gambler. Beg for your life.

For a moment, Greer felt hope rise, but one look into Daruth’s sadistic eyes told him the truth: he was going to die. Right now. Nothing would change that. But if he had to die, he wasn’t going to give a slime like Daruth any satisfaction in it. He bit the side of his cheek. This was his own doing. He knew when he made a deal with this devil that he could end up like this. And now it was done and the devil was calling his due. He shook his head in defiance and kept his mouth shut.

Daruth’s eyes clouded over in anger and he pointed a finger at the guards holding Greer. Instantly fists rained down on him from every angle; he was knocked to the ground, kicked in the back, then in the stomach. Something hard slammed against his head and his vision spun, pain radiating from every part of his body; still he kept his mouth shut. He curled into a ball, trying futilely to protect himself from the assault, wishing for death to come and end the agony.

Suddenly the beating stopped. He lay on his side, breath coming in tight gasps, waiting for the final pain that would end his life. He closed his eyes, a tear slipping from the corner and falling with a silent splash. He was almost relieved they were finally going to kill him and get it over with.

For several moments he lay against the cold cement floor, waiting. Finally, hesitantly, he opened his eyes. All but one of the men had moved away from him and Daruth was standing in the shadows beside them looking uncomfortable. Greer rolled to his knees, an unconscious groan of pain escaping his lips. Before he could even try to stand he was grasped under the armpits and dragged into the chair once again. The man who picked him up shuffled away to join the others near Daruth. He didn’t know what they were waiting for, but it didn’t matter. He braced himself, still waiting for the blast of a gun, or the slash of a knife across his throat.

Instead, out of the darkness, a man in a suit walked over, dark eyes gazing at him thoughtfully. Daruth stood in the corner, eyes averted. A kind of horrifying curiosity sunk into Greer’s heart. What kind of person could make Daruth cower?

You are a doctor, are you not? the man said in a precise voice. Greer’s brows wrinkled in confusion.

Yes, he croaked.

Do you want to die tonight, thrown out as tomorrow’s trash?

Greer shook his head imperceptibly.

"Good. Then I may have use for