Beyond the Collapse: Redemption

By Rei Rosenquist

While hunting for rotten firsh, Bon finds a tool with strange inscriptions. Rebel friend, Strayer will know what to do. Bon takes the tool and heads for the local train.

Aboard, the empty train, Bon and tool rattle out beyond the Collapse.

At the last stop, someone else gets on.

No one ever gets on but Bon.

Keeping their secrets to themselves, the two strangers get off at the end of line in search of Strayer and answers.

What will they find? Betrayal? Friendship? Or something far more magical?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rei Rosenquist
• Release date: Apr 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201444327

Rei Rosenquist

Rei Rosenquist first remembers life as seen out the high window of a hotel balcony. Down below is a courtyard, swarms of brightly dressed tourists, the beach. The memory is nothing but a blue-green washed image. Warmth and sunlight. Here, they are three years old, and this is the beginning of a nomadic story-teller’s life. Over the years, they have traveled to many countries, engaged many peoples, picked up new habits, and learned new languages. But, some things never change. For them, these are stories, food service, and traveling. These three passions have bloomed from hobbies, studies, and jobs into a way of life. These days, Rei can be found in between Tokyo, Kailua, and Bellingham, Washington pouring beautiful latte art, baking off a batch of famous savory scones, and cozying up with a laptop to obsessively write mountains of dark speculative fiction. You can find Rei’s stories and blog at reirosenquist.com. You can also reach them via email at [e-mail] or connect via Facebook (Rei Rosenquist), Twitter (rylrosenquist) and Instagram (rylrosenquist).

Book preview

Chapter

One

The air today is bad.

Like the world is charged with electricity.

I don't like it. I just want to collect my less-rotted fish carcasses and go home.

The ocean before me is dirty, as usual, but I'm used to it. I trudge into the grey and brown water, ankle deep, and begin searching for fish. A few gnarly rotten heads drift past, and I kick them out of my way. The smell is foul, bitter and sharp. I hold my breath as they get caught in the current and tumble into shore.

A big wave rolls in and crashes against my knees, spraying my face with a brine-scented mist. Stale fishy wind slaps across my cheeks. Then, something cracks hard against my naked ankles. I curse and grumble, reaching down out of habit to check for blood. The thing that hit me glints, trapped in an eddy of mucky sand. Its bright and metallic against the receding brown foam.

I stare, eyes wide.

That's no rock or hunk of useless concrete. Not a busted pipe or piece of an old wire wheel. Hell, it’s not even a rusted out, chewed through piece of rebar. No. It’s a not-so rusted, oddly shaped...something. A tool? No idea. Whatever it is winks at me from shards of sun that squeeze through gathering ugly grey everyday-type clouds behind me.

I pull the thing out of shifting waters. It’s hefty but not exactly heavy. Nothing I can’t carry. It's clean, almost new. Salt-crusted, sure. But it looks whole. No broken edges or snapped off bits. That alone makes it worth holding onto. I hold it out into a rare bar of sunlight to examine the shape, see if I know in the dredges of my memory what it is.

A long straight series of tubes with a fairly small shelf attached at the bottom. There’s a piece there at the end that has two knobs and turns. Roughly, but it turns. Through the crusts of salt, I can see some kind of decorative pattern. Etchings, engravings...I don't really know the difference, but whatever is scratched into the surface is complex and pretty, for lack of a better word.

I flip the oddly ornate tool-thing over and over, trying to imagine setting something small on the little shelf, like my deck of cards, but then what? Turn the