Nathan Hystad - The Survivors - Books 1-3

“Hold on to your butt,” I said as I pushed the throttle forward. The scooter pushed faster, and we carried past the edge of the forest and over the small river. Once clear of the trees, the grass got thicker, still red in hue. It was like a field after a battle in the ancient days; the grass looked like it was covered in the blood of the slaughtered. I almost expected to see fallen soldiers, but it was quiet, not a tree or animal in sight.

Leonard reached over my shoulder and pointed forward. “Look.”

The city crept up on us, only a few miles away now. The buildings rose high into the midday sky, some above the rose-colored clouds. The skyscrapers reminded me of the abandoned city where Slate and I had met Suma those few months ago; only this city wouldn’t be abandoned. It was full of Bhlat, and at that moment, they were in possession of my loved ones, trying to take over Earth. The Kalentrek pressed against my chest as it sat tightly in my breast pocket. I wouldn’t risk taking it off my person. The power it possessed was immense. The life it could snuff out in a heartbeat scared me.

What would Leonard think of me if I activated it among them? What would I think of me? I clenched my jaw, resolved to do whatever I needed to do to save my friends, but at what cost?

“Now would be a good time to tell me the plan,” Leonard said when the city limits looked two miles away. I spotted roadways, and ships were flying through the sky: some were small, like floating cars, while others were large vessels, criss-crossing through a three-dimensional rush hour.

“First step, hide the scooter.” I pulled over in a field lined with young trees. Crops grew from what seemed like fertile ground; loamy soil stuck to our boots as we got off the vehicle.

“Then what?”

“We activate our cloaks and walk to the palace.”

“What palace?”

“The one where our target’s located.”

The communicator buzzed again. This time, Magnus’ voice came into my ear. “Dean, we’re on their ship. This’ll be our last communication. Are you almost there?”

“We’re at the city. Give me a couple hours.”

I heard the hiss of an airlock, a string of Bhlat words, and the call cut off.

I activated the translator so I could make out what any passing Bhlat were saying. I showed Leonard how to use it, and the first time he heard a Bhlat’s voice, he stopped in his tracks, unable to move. It was even harder to get him to keep going once he laid eyes on one of them.

We were on the outskirts of the city, but luckily for us, most of their transportation happened in the sky. Massive pedways connected the buildings, like in the dead city I’d visited, leaving only a few to roam the streets below. This was to our advantage. Though we were wearing cloaking uniforms, they weren’t infallible, and eventually, someone would notice us.

The first Bhlat civilian we encountered was once again much smaller than the initial contact I’d made on the Deltra station. That one had been an eight-foot-tall warrior, and this was a six-foot male, wearing a robe on the warm day. He moved slowly, like time meant nothing to him, causing us to slow down behind him. I mentally urged him to move along, but he just stood there, face to the red sun, sniffing in the afternoon air.

He said a string of words that translated into my ear as, “Blessed are those who are still walking today.”

He said it a couple more times before opening his eyes and looking toward us. I froze, my heart pounding so hard I thought it was going to jump out and startle the Bhlat. It felt like his eyes made contact with mine; pinks and oranges swirled beside each other in his eyes, and I stared into them, petrified and mesmerized at the same time. Then he looked away, moving on to whatever chore he was set upon.

“Dean, was that a Bhlat?” Leonard asked quietly once no one was around.

“It was.”

“They don’t seem that scary,” he said, a trembling hand still set on my shoulder.

“They won’t all seem intimidating. Who are you more scared of: an old man back in your hometown or a jacked-up soldier with a gun?”

“I get it. This place just seems so normal.”

“We keep moving,” I said, ignoring his comment.

The surface of the sidewalk was paved with a dark asphalt-like substance. It was hard but had a slight give to it, one that wouldn’t crack with season changes. Each building had doors leading into it, a couple with armed security guards. I wondered if they were banks, and just what Bhlat commerce was like on the planet. We avoided anywhere we saw Bhlat outside, and every so often, I looked up to make sure we weren’t being spotted from above.

Terrance had passed some rumors on about there being a palace from which the Bhlat fleet was ruled. A king or emperor ruled them with an iron fist, killing any that opposed him. I took it all with a grain of salt, since they were just distant rumors, but now, they were all I had to go on. The farther we got into the city, the more people we passed. Our clothing made it next to impossible to see us, but we still made noise and had a physical presence. If someone bumped into us, it was over.

We came across all sorts of Bhlat as we kept close to the sides of buildings. Children kicked a ball in the alleys, dust covering their robes. Females chatted about the weather as they carried boxes from one building to another. It all seemed so normal .

Sweat poured down my body, and even the suit’s built-in air conditioning couldn’t stop me from overheating. It was getting warm out; with the layers on and the anxiety of where we were, I was flushed all over.

“How are you holding up, Leonard?”

“Terribly. Is this what being a hero is all about?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then you can have all the glory from now on.”

A loud Bhlat voice carried over to us from around the edge of a high-rise building, and we stopped. I motioned for Leonard to go flat against the wall. I wanted to grab my rifle, but that would expose me, so I stayed still.

“The Tarna will not be seeing petitioners today. Go back home,” the voice called. The word Tarna didn’t translate, and I understood that to be the name or title of someone.

Taking a peek around the corner, I saw a line of people that went on for as far as I could see, toward a section of the city to the east.

“I’ve read enough medieval books to know that the peasants petition the king at the palace. Follow that line, and we find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow,” Leonard said, nervously laughing.

He was probably right. A group of petitioners turned and walked past us, their heads down low. “We need water. How are we going to grow the crops? Theos bless us,” a Bhlat woman said through long sharp teeth.

“Shhhh. Don’t say that name,” her friend hissed back. “Sometimes I wonder why I spend time with you. Shouting out blasphemy on the streets.”

They kept moving, and my heart rate returned to only slightly escalated instead of full-on panic. The woman had mentioned the Theos. The old gods’ name still escaped the lips of our enemy. That was interesting, yet they didn’t know about the portals, which made it even more of a mystery. Maybe there was a card I could add to this last hand I was playing.

Motioning for Leonard to follow, I turned around, heading toward the block parallel to the line of people. We’d follow the line, but from a distance. From here, I spotted what could only be the palace. It was a huge building, walls standing as tall as the skyscrapers near it. It looked a meld of glass, stone, and metal from our vantage point: as futuristic and imposing as I could have imagined.