Highway of Broken Dreams

By J.L. Avey

As an unwilling employee of Golden Hammer Enterprises, Andreas Motto is no stranger to the wrong side of the law. When he finds himself on the wrong side within the borders of a totalitarian regime, he discovered more trouble than he ever cared to know. Separated from his comrades, he must flee a dangerous land, evade a ruthless enemy and endure a hostile passenger in his getaway vehicle. His only hope in living to see his home again is to race across half a continent and catching the first ship home before his employers decide to place a bounty on his head.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.L. Avey
• Release date: Apr 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224801862

Book preview

1Highway of Broken Dreams

J.L. Avey

Copyright 2016 by J.L. Avey

Chapter 1

Looking back into the darkness of the tunnel network, Andreas Moto made his decision. I’m going back, he told Fundazio flatly. They managed to easily elude any pursuers once they slipped underground. The fact that the Navenians went to great pains to label each intersection and every landmark above them expedited their escape. Unlike his colleagues, he would have quickly found himself lost without those labels. More than once he heard one of his friends grumble about his lack of tunnel sense.

The underground was large enough for a sapien and three pygmaeus to walk down without jogging elbows and high enough that Andreas never once banged his head on an overhanging pipe. Somebody expended a great effort to mark out each smaller pipe as electricity or telephone while a larger, central one, long since oxidized green, presumably carried fresh water into the town. A number of bats made their homes hanging from these pipes. A few stirred as the four intruders passed beneath them.

Out of the question! Fundazio, eyes burning like the proverbial forge snapped, his voice echoing down the hall loud enough to spook atls scurrying about on the walkway. The mouse-sized birds tripped over rats as they sought shelter from the thunderous voice. Fundazio stood head and shoulders shorter than Andreas yet managed to still look down his nose at the sapien. At one hundred eighty jahrs of age, Fundazio Mendia had nearly a century and a half on the sapien. The pudgy faced, trim beared dwarf started his employment in Golden Hammer Enterprises before Andreas’s parents,

rest their bones, were even born.

His clear seniority did not prevent Andreas from debating the point. He might lack the experience of Fundazio but he still had his own weight to throw around. While the two argued, the other dwarves stood guard near the exit. Bostria ‘Copper’ Kobre looked back at his two co-workers nervously. Of all the times to start arguing, right as they were at the edge of escaping was not it. Copper glanced continuously between them and the clear view of the Jaipur River beyond the tunnel’s exit.

Copper was unique in more ways than one. Andreas rather liked him; he was a dwarf who actually had a sense of humor and was not afraid to show it. Nor did he hesitate to give his opinion, whether it was welcome or not. We can argue once we’re safe and sound in the Peoples’ Pub.

Fundazio glared at the red-haired dwarf, silencing him in one glance. Unlike virtually all dwarves, copper-colored hair covered Copper’s head and face. There was a story running around the company, started long before Andreas appeared on the scene, that Copper had a sapien ancestor somewhere in the family tree. How else would he have such unique coloration? Of course nobody ever told that to his face. Sense of humor or not, he still have solid dwarven pride.

The third pygmaeus in the group stayed silent, which was far more worrying than had he been shouting. Secretary Oldarkorra just stared silently out into the open air, his finger gently caressing the trigger guard of his Atlus submachine gun. None knew his birth name and nobody ever mistook him for a cleric. When provoked, he would fire off his ‘Loonberg Typist’ like a real secretary hammering away at the keys of a typewriter.

How he managed to find himself in the employment of Golden Hammer Enterprises was beyond Andreas. To put it simply, Secretary was psychotic. He had little impulse control when it came to a fight and was not even that much of an earner. Sure, he had great prowess as an enforcer, provided those who commanded him could reign in his temper. It was only because of their dire need to slip underground that he did not mow down the teacher as she alerted everyone in a two hundred meter radius.

Andreas clenched his fist, thinking about the trouble he caused a civilian today. Chief, you know what the Knights will do to her. Fundazio nodded. He knew quite well what these Knights of the Order did to those who lacked ideological purity. He knew and if Navenians wanted to kill their own, that was fine by him. It was not fine by Andreas, not by a long shot. I’m the one who drug her into this and it’ll be on my hands if anything happens to her.

After you free her, then what? the dwarf knew more than he ever wanted about Navenia and its Verdensorder. Anyone who associated, even under duress, with non-sapiens would be black listed for life. It would be a mercy to simply let them kill her quickly and be done with it.

For a second, he wondered if Andreas might use this proposed jail break as an opportunity to melt into the crowd. Unlike the pygmaeus present he did not exactly volunteer for a life long career in the underground. Andreas was not happy with his life, that much even the densest dwarf could tell. There were many aspects of life other sapiens took for granted that were forever cutoff from Andreas. That was fine for Fundazio and his fellow dwarves–after all they were literally born to work–but it left the sapien dissatisfied. Far more so ever since Gustavus died.

Andreas shook his head. I don’t know yet but she would not be in this mess if not for me, That makes her my responsibility now. Had any other sapien been so adamant, Fundazio would have dismissed it as foolish lust. He remembered being Andreas’s age after all. The teacher might even be a fine looking woman by sapien standards, enough so that he might feel attraction. This was not just any sapien, this was Andreas. Even jahrs after Gustavus’s death, he still sought absolution for his failure. It was a shame the sapien did not realize that forgiveness would not come until he forgave himself. Honestly, the man could be as stubborn as a pygmaeus at times. Usually that was a good thing yet this was not a usual time.

He knew the truth and Andreas knew that he knew. This was about never letting another innocent coming to harm through his own action, or inaction. Fine! Go off and be boneheaded! Fundazio dismissed him with a wave and a rude snort. "We ain’t waiting around for you. We have a contract to fulfill. By the time you free that troublesome woman, if you do, we will be clear across the border."

The dwarf hoped he was not making a mistake. The other two dwarves exchanged their own concern looks. Copper because he considered Andreas not only a friend of his but a genuine friend. Secretary because he thought Andreas was out of his mind. Both understood his motivation, even if they thought he was wrong. Unlike Fundazio, neither considered the likelihood of Andreas dodging his responsibilities. Getting killed, sure but never once did they think he would simply vanish.

They also knew he would never turn on them. He would say nothing if captured, which in itself was a very big if. Working alongside dwarves for half his life, Andreas developed a similar depth of stubbornness and determination every pygmaeus knew from birth. Even so, Fundazio disliked leaving loose ends. If he did try to start anew somewhere on the continent, the company would have to hunt him down and silence him.

Andreas nodded in reply. Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you miss me. Fundazio only grunted in response as he catapulted himself out of the manmade cave. He landed less than a meter below on the soft shores of the Jaipur. Two more dwarves followed in rapid succession, not bothering to look back as they left Andreas to his fool’s errand. As he watched, he wondered what would prove more challenging; breaking into the Knights’ local office or breaking out of the city. One thing at a time, he told himself as he began the arduous task of backtracking into Shownastadt’s sewers.

Faint red light streamed through barred windows, granting little illumination on the future of Katrina Orkan. How fast life moved. This morning she was a teacher preparing lessons and by the afternoon she found herself sitting in a dim cell. She wondered for much of her time what had happened to her kids, to her students that is. What had they thought when she failed to appear? She knew another teacher would have substituted for her but what did administration tell the children? Anything? Perhaps they only thought she was unwell.

In more ways than one, she was quiet unwell. She was starting to feel rather queasy. In the State, even suspicion of contact with non-sapiens was enough to blacklist somebody for life. If she was lucky, the Knights would release her and she could move to a new town. She clearly could not stay in Shownastadt. Nor was she likely able to keep the same friends and– she sighed at the thought one losing one person in particular. She finally found a decent man and the scum of the earth came along and turned her life upside down.

Hopefully he would understand, would believe her. More importantly, find it in his heart to forgive her. After all, Sanders was not a vindictive man, not like the officials who would write ‘unreliable’ down next to her name in the public achieves. She prayed that mark would not follow her to a new home. Perhaps in jahrs long past, before wires and radio waves she might have managed. Now, there was no telling. It was a hope as dim as the setting sun.

If she was unlucky she knew–or she suspected she knew enough about what occurred within the walls of political offices to worry. Anyone with a tenth-dinar’s worth of sense feared and avoided the Temple of Justice, as the Knights called their offices. Nobody save Knights ever came here willingly. Like everyone else in Shownastadt, her manners were refined enough to prohibit her from asking questions. The informant was a part of life nobody could avoid. After all, how would the State know where trouble was if nobody informed them? Katrina was starting to wish she kept her mouth shut when she informed those Knights.

The Knights found their two dead comrades exactly where Katrina told them. They, however, found no trace of the dwarves. The only evidence of battle they discovered were several cases ejected from a submachine gun. The cases matched the bullets extracted from the fallen Knights, or so she assumed. The fact that she was in the company of the murderers did not bode well for her future. That Katrina was captive to the dwarves mattered little to the strict code of the Knighthood. Thus she found herself inside their offices, waiting their mercy.

She tried not to think about the fact that few who entered a political office ever walked out again. Being innocent gave Katrina confidence that she could be one of the few. After that–her name was already tainted and her life in Shownastadt flaming wreckage. She doubted the academy would allow her to return or that many of her friends would speak with her. Again she thought about Sanders. Would he be among those who ostracized her?

At least the Knights had not hung the label of sympathizer around her neck. Anyone with that could pretty much forget about living in the State, to say nothing of living at all. The State dealt harshly and quickly with traitors. In the early days of Verdensorder, traitors were everywhere. She did not remember much of what happened in those days. After all, she was but a little girl at the time and knew nothing of politics. She did remember her parents were always afraid though she never really understood why. They had nothing to do with non-sapiens and thus nothing to fear.

I just had to go in early today, Katrina muttered into her hands. What was it all for? She just wanted to have a nice weekend without worrying about work. A weekend spent with someone special, a rare treat when her nation was geared for a war and men could find themselves conscripted at a moment’s notice. Even with the war, was there really any crime in finding a little happiness? She cradled her face in both hands, staring for minutes or days at the dark concrete floor. Curse those dwarves and their whole mafia. Those thugs took from here in minutes what she spent jahrs building. Now all she had to do with her time was wait. Perhaps she could repair the damage, though it would not be happening in Shownastadt.

Katrina gave the Knights her testimony about what happened but that was not enough. They continued to question her for another three hours. For the most part, the asked the same question over and over to which Katrina naturally gave the same reply. After that they began to delve into personal information utterly irrelevant to the crime. She knew better than to point out the flaw in their investigation and reluctantly told them everything they wanted to know. Her answers satisfied them for the moment. She hoped they would not return and ask the same questions again. She loathed repeating herself—an ironic pet peeve for a teacher of young children.

How many hours passed since then? Who could tell in this cell? All she had to go on was the sunlight filtering into her cell. She knew it was the same day. Katrina heard the gears of the daily clock tick away on the outside from the sound of autos passing to that of children playing. She invested the better part of a jahr educating the youth of Shownastadt. She had hoped to make an impact on their lives, but children’s’ minds were so malleable that they would forget about her in less than an astro.

The rapping of footsteps down the hall peaked her attention. She recognized jack boots on concrete from a kilometer away. The Knights had returned. So much for not answering more questions. She almost sighed, but the air caught in her throat as she watched the Knights pass her cell. They were not here for questions, at least not from her. Between two bulky Knights marched a third person, one well groomed and very familiar to Katrina. It was Sanders, her sweetheart. She met him not long after settling in Shownastadt. His expression was dark as he passed. He blatantly ignored her, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes. What had the Knights told him?

Katrina buried her face in her hands again. She tried to fight back the tears and spent much of the day winning the battle. The sight of them hauling Sanders down the hall away broke her resolve. Sobs racked each breath she took. The thugs took even him away from her. What was left for Katrina now? She could think of nothing. Maybe the Knights would let her go soon, or maybe they would ship her out to one of the prison camps. Either way her life was all but ruined. Why did it have to end like this?

Katrina cursed her luck with each step she took. What a fine way to start off the day. The only reason she came in early was that she could have a pleasant weekend completely free from thoughts of work. Instead that so-called messenger handily derailed her attempts to get ahead. He was too well groomed to be a simple messenger. Given the secrecy in Doctor Hawk’s work, she could only assume he came from somewhere within the Order. So she took the messenger for his word. He had a trusting face and the same cold, cunning eyes she expected to see staring out of the head of a commissar. It was never wise to question their type.

Instead of being a defender of the chosen people, he turned out to be from the supply end of crime. Because she took him for his word she was now hostage to what she could only assume to be the dwarven mafia. According to the now banned films, they fit the description; pin-striped suits and short, meticulously groomed beards. She would not venture to guess from what gang they came. There were so many of them that it was a miracle the law could keep track of them all.

Perhaps they did not. How else could these few slip through the net? How indeed. The Verdensorder long ago expelled all pygmaeus from the land of the chosen. The Order declared all dwarves and gnomes to be little more than criminals. After all, they slunk around in the shadows and lived in the sewers. It was from there, they could surface at night like rats and raccoons to feed off the hard work of the chosen.

Katrina thought briefly about bolting down the corridor and barricading herself past the first open door. She was not sure how much good that would do against determined gangsters, what with none of the doors having locks. They would just smash down the door and make short work of her–assuming the psychotic one did not simply cut her down as she ran. He had a twitch in his finger and his crazy look in the eye always on her that made Katrina believe he was looking for an excuse to pull the trigger. Dying was not on Katrina’s list of things to do.

She had only the flimsy promise of the lone sapien in this gang, a traitor to his own species, that they would release her once clear of the city. Was this how the drowning man swept away by the river felt? Clinging to driftwood in the slim chance it would keep him afloat long enough to break free of the current? It struck her as a poor strategy since it was the current pushing the driftwood. Yet, it was the only strategy at the moment. A slim chance of living was better than none.

There had to be a way out before then. She refused to chance their word once in the countryside. She could tell the gangsters were a bit lost once they reached the first floor. Their leader, the one with the graying beard, asked aloud which way to go now. None of his goons had any answers. Katrina could hardly believe her ears. Surely if these people were brazen enough to enter the State and clever enough to elude detection they would also have a means of escape.

Perhaps it was for the best they said nothing about it. There was no way they would allow her to live if she learned too much. She glanced both ways down the hall, hoping no one stuck their heads out the door. The crazy, trigger-happy dwarf would surely shoot them. They were at least safe in not even knowing gangsters invaded the academy. As strange as it was for a teacher to think it, ignorance could truly be bliss.

Once out under the pink sky, all of the gangsters tensed. Beneath the fist-sized red sun the stout figure of three dwarves stood out like flares in the night. Nobody would mistake them for short, fat sapiens. To start with, no pureblooded sapien could grow a beard. They kept near the brush and under the trees, their pet sapien dragging Katrina along for the ride. She did everything she could to slow their escape without getting killed.

They came to a stop before stepping out into the parking lot. Gray caps, their leader said, pointing towards a pair of armed men in gray uniforms. It was a simple patrol, the type who supposedly kept undesirables out of the city. Katrina scowled at them, wondering who in their office fell asleep at the switch today. The gangsters waited patiently in the shadow for them to pass. She sensed this might be her best chance for escape. She glanced repeatedly at the crazy dwarf, the one she overheard named Secretary. He turned his angry stare at the patrolmen, apparently forgetting Katrina existed.

Katrina was not about to be hauled off by these thugs. Andreas still held a tight grip on her arm. She knew she could not break the grip. Instead of pulling she decided on a thrusting attack. She picked up her foot and slammed the heel down on Andreas’s polished shoe. Andreas hissed at her but could do nothing. She quickly followed with an elbow to his face, knocking the crouching man off balance. Instead of dragging her down with him, he let go for a second to catch his balance. A second was all the teacher needed.

She bolted from cover and out into the open. The racket she caused by leaping through a violet Towneform hedge caught the two Knights’ attention. Dwarves! the first called. Both ignored the fleeing woman and focused on the short figures. Both drew their weapons with a single smooth motion, matching the dwarves as both sides took aim. Katrina quickly veered to her left, seeking shelter among the shadows of the buildings and narrowly avoiding entrapment within a crossfire. She did not look back when gunshots shattered the quiet morning air.

Katrina’s breaths came in gasps as she pumped her legs. They already burned from her abrupt workout. She felt no pain; adrenaline already flowed in her veins from her earlier ordeal. She would feel sore and tired later. For the moment she must insure later existed. Once clear of the fight she continued to run. So fast that she almost ran over an atl sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. They often reminded her of flightless sparrows, or perhaps feathered squirrels. Some called them feathered rats, but not her. Cute as they were, she did not slow down leaving the atl to hop furious to avoid trampling feet.

Safety lay ahead as she rounded a corner. Help! she called out to a pair of Knights running in the direction she fled. Katrina skidded to a stop in front of them, her breath trying to catch up. There—dwarves. Dwarves are over there, she pointed back down her path. They broke into the university— Katrina pieced together her story while the Knights listened.

Both of the gray clad men looked at each other, equally suspicious of the teacher’s story. Anyone with contact with non-sapiens was suspect and their order had protocols to follow. The Knight on the right, the senior officer, picked up his radio and called for backup. He told them to check out the utility shed next to the loading dock.

Very well, now if you’ll come with us, the leader gestured back towards the way he came.

Katrina hesitated, deepening the Knights’ suspicion. But those gangsters are over there! They’ll escape.

I doubt that, the officer replied dryly. Now come with us. We have questions you must answer. The second Knight flanked Katrina, cutting off any escape route. As if anyone could escape from the Knights of the Verdensorder. The situation gave her a bad feeling. She bowed meekly in submission. There was little point in arguing with them. All she could hope for was they would apprehend those criminals. If she could help, she would. However if she were doing the right thing, then why did it feel like she leapt from one captivity into another?

Andreas flashed an electric torch from sign to sign. Not only did the Navenians deeply love symmetry and carefully labeled each intersection, they were also considerate enough to provide maintenance lockers full of tools at various intervals. As with so many other things in Shownastadt they were not locked. He helped himself to a torch and a few batteries. The dwarves would have loved living here, though no friend of his would ever admit Navenians produced a single good idea. They appreciated order as much as the Verdensorder but without the obsessive compulsion to micro-manage every aspect of life. Well, of everyone else’s life. Pygmaeus were quite obsessed with order within their own individual spheres of influence.

As he splashed through small puddles of runoff water, he tried conjuring up images of Shownastadt’s map from memory. According to the map, the local political offices were somewhere on Sixth Street. He could not recall the exact intersection. Baxret Avenue sounded about right. He flashed his torch at an overhead gas pipe. Revilo Street—he still had a little ways to go. He never should have left his map in the glove compartment.

He pressed further into the dark depths, following the rumbling of water. The constant stream of waste water flowed through the sewer like a fresh mountain stream. It might almost be a pleasant babbling sound if not for the noxious fumes accompanying it. It reminded him a bit of Tropadiso City’s waterfront. Did the Navenians bother treating their waste or did they just dump it mindlessly into the river? Seeing how they corralled their undesirables into slums along the Jaipur, Andreas would bet on the latter. Not content to dispossess the original inhabitants and reduce them to remedial laborers, Navenia’s Verdensorder decided to rub their collective noses in the new reality.

His walk in the semi-dark was also less tranquil than walking along a stream in the mountains. The babbling of the toxic brook was one thing but the relentless chirping of atls was starting to grate on his nerves. Outside those birds were fine. Inside these manmade caverns he found their previous sing-song voices distorted into shrill screams. There was no way of knowing how many of them lived in here, not with all their voices overlapping. Ten or ten thousand of them might surround him at that very moment.

When he arrived at an intersection clearly marked as the Temple of Justice, Andreas almost laughed. If one word could describe the Order it would be arrogant. It was enough to make him look forward to wiping the smug look of their collective faces. These people were so confident in their security as to label their location in the sewer. It must never have crossed their minds that anyone would be foolish enough to trudge around underground seeking them.

It also gave him pause. Perhaps they have some secret security system that allows them to act arrogant while never being in any real danger. Considering these tunnels emptied into the slums, allowing those partitioned off from their former homes a chance to slip beneath the net, entry could not be as simple as climbing the ladder and pushing the hatch open.

He checked his ‘957 before ascending the ladder. It still held ten rounds, all ready to fire at a moment’s notice. He always carried a few extra clips within concealed coat pockets in case ten was not enough. As the wise gnome once said, it was better to have and not need than the other way around. He only hoped his excessive preparations were enough to escape the place. Without a doubt he would be running low by the time he and the teacher extracted themselves from the joint.

He took a final look around the underground, wondering if he would be coming back this way. If not– he hoped they kept an auto running in their garage to assure his escape. Push button or key ignition, it mattered little to him. Even without a key, it only took connecting the right wires to start an engine. Deciding to worry about the details in a few minutes, he climbed up to the porthole above and gave the iron weight a cautious push. Andreas rolled his eyes as it gave way. Like everything else in this town it remained unlocked.

Pushing the hatch open as quietly as possible, Andreas poked his head into a dimly lit basement. Archives, piled box upon box, some reaching from floor to ceiling. It was no dungeon, not unless poor chump sentenced here was a perfectionist. So much for the Verdensorder being the pinnacle of organization. Mixed among the cardboard boxes of files sat half-empty crates and bookshelves with more open space than books.

Emerging from the dank pit, Andreas gave his limbs a good stretch. If getting into the basement was any indication, this jailbreak would be the easiest that any Golden Hammer ever pulled. It was almost disappointing. Again his thoughts returned to a sophisticated, advanced alarm system. The visible lack of security did not leave Andreas with a secure feeling. Navenia was supposed to be home to some advance espionage equipment. Perhaps they lined their basement walls with sensitive microphones. If so, they knew he was here. He drew his weapon and began slinking through the basement, trying not to topple any column of boxes. If they did not know he was here by now, they would in a few minutes.

Katrina sat bolt upright,