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  Here

  Christine Zolendz

  Copyright © 2020 by Christine Zolendz

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Blurb written by The Blurb Bitch

  Cover Design by DarkRoad Designs

  Stock Photo extended license purchased from 123rf.com and Photographer Vasyl Dolmatov.

  Created with Vellum

  To all the readers who have ever looked up at the stars and wondered

  Here

  A Sci-Fi Dystopian Romance

  The world, as we know it, is gone.

  And right now there are only two things I’m sure of:

  One, those things that invaded us have my sister.

  Two, I’m getting her back...or I’ll die trying.

  New York City is destroyed.

  Less than a month ago, Earth was attacked, invaded by strange beings focused on demolishing our world. When my sister and I venture out to find help, it happens right in front of my eyes. My twin sister is plucked up off the street by one of the flying creatures.

  And I am hellbent on getting her back.

  Contents

  Part I

  Rune

  1. Kate

  2. Kate

  3. Kate

  4. Kate

  5. Kate

  6. Kate

  7. Kate

  8. Kate

  9. Kate

  10. Kate

  11. Kate

  12. Kate

  13. Kate

  14. Kate

  15. Kate

  16. Kate

  17. Kate

  18. Kate

  19. Kate

  20. Kate

  21. Kate

  22. Kate

  23. Kate

  24. Kate

  Part II

  25. Kate

  26. Kate

  27. Kate

  28. Kate

  29. Kate

  30. Kate

  31. Kate

  32. Kate

  33. Kate

  34. Kate

  35. Kate

  36. Rune

  Part III

  Rune

  37. Kate

  38. Kate

  39. Kate

  40. Kate

  41. Kate

  42. Kate

  43. Kate

  44. Kate

  45. Kate

  46. Kate

  47. Kate

  48. Kate

  49. Kate

  50. Kate

  51. Kate

  52. Kate

  53. Kate

  54. Kate

  Also by Christine Zolendz

  More by Christine Zolendz

  About the Author

  FREE EBOOK!

  Part I

  Rune

  My boots sink into the wet earth as I try not to think about the blood that covers its surface. How many people have died here? I wonder about the women and children who took their last screaming breath right here on this crimson-covered ground. Like great stones around my neck, the thoughts weigh heavy on my shoulders.

  This wasn’t what we set out to do.

  A whir of gears grinds out behind me, followed by the clomp of steel boots sloshing through the muck this place is made of. I know it’s Jex—I don’t even bother to turn—he’s the last of my Sentinel I trust.

  “Sir?” he calls out.

  I hesitate for a brief moment before I turn to him, giving one last glance over the mess of human carnage. I’ll remind myself of the vision later, when I’m alone.

  Jex stands a few paces behind me, his armor scraped and blackened, in some places cracked and caked with dried blood. Tarnished and dented. I’ve never seen him look so savage, his armor usually polished to a silvery glow. I wonder if it will ever get to return to its former glory.

  By the looks of this world now, it’s highly doubtful.

  “None of this was supposed to happen,” I growl. Anger heats my own armor. White noise pounds through my brain. “Are there any left alive?” I ask. I know the answer already. It’s the same as always.

  “No.” He tilts his head to the side, listening to something in the far distance. “Sir, we need to find shelter, someplace safe.”

  “Someplace safe,” I chuckle darkly. “I’m beginning to believe that’s an impossibility.”

  In the distance, up ahead I hear movement, the bustling of excitement—the drone of gears—a screeching that slices out across the twilit sky. I stand and face the sounds, on the sharp edge of existence, waiting to watch the world fall apart.

  Heat flows through my veins, deep under the metal of my armor. A sharp sense of urgency builds up inside me—I can feel them out there strategizing, readying for attack. I don’t know when it started—when the struggle of power began—but I have lived long enough to know what will happen and how it all will end.

  It isn’t what I set out to do.

  When I turn, Jex is gone and the noise of spinning gears is closing in.

  We had lasted for a few generations, united. Until, one generation after the other fell like rain, flooding us with fear and uncertainty.

  We came here for hope.

  We came here for need.

  None of us would have ever guessed our downfall would be caused by a woman.

  1

  Kate

  Being human sucks.

  And I’ve started to wonder if we’re the only humans left here.

  The thought sucks too, but it’s a real one, a heavy one. It’s not just my wild imagination either, not just silly fear. This is real. And it seriously sucks.

  I breathe into my cupped hands for warmth and try to stop the terrifying thoughts. I’m tougher than my fear, I tell myself again and again—I have to be—for the others.

  A cold breeze drifts through the window. It’s just before dusk and we’re dressing to leave. I push aside the curtains to storm clouds hanging low. The air smells like it’s just about to rain. The last thing I need is for us to get caught in a downpour. What’s worse is it might be cold enough to snow.

  I ball up all my hair under a tight cap, pin it down, and tug on my father’s old military vest. It’s cumbersome and threadbare—something I would have never worn before all this—but it hides his old knife and the only flashlight we have left. His holster stays empty, though. He doesn’t remember where his gun went. We’re lucky each day that he remembers to wear pants. I glance quickly in his direction and give him a once-over. He’s staring at the wall and his hands are stuffed deeply into a thick jacket that’s a few sizes too big on him. He’s humming some strange melody and rocking back on his heels as if he’s waiting on a bus. Maybe that’s just what’s going on in his head, he’s just waiting for a bus to get him out of here. There are no more buses, Dad, there’s no more anything.

  His head tilts to the side and I catch of gleam of something sparkling from his ear. He must have gotten into my mother’s jewelry box. I guess I didn’t hide it well enough. I’m not surprised, he has a knack for getting into the strangest things. I zip up the vest and don’t mention the earring, afraid it might upset him, and we really need to go out, just for a few blocks to see if we can find help.

  “Come on,” I say, waving to him and Claire. “Let’s go before it gets dark.”

  Claire coughs out a raspy breath in agreement. I wonder how far she’ll be able to walk. I know at some point I’ll be half carrying her on my back and half dragging her along the street, but I hope it’s not for a while.

  My sister likes to pretend she isn’t sick. She still smiles and tries to make her funny
faces that always used to make me laugh, but I can practically see through her skin. She’s all bones and blue flesh. She’s picking at her face, scratching sores into her skin, and refusing to eat what little food we have left. The bottle of her meds that my mother used to force her to take sits empty on the windowsill collecting dust. Whatever is going on inside her is destroying her from within, and I can’t do a damn thing to stop it.

  I hold her hand as we make our way through the darkened hallways into the lobby of the building. Deep cracks streak down the walls and drywall dust swirls up to our knees as our feet shuffle through. When we reach the front doors, she’s already out of breath and gasping for air.

  “Are you up for this? I could just…” I trail off, because there’s nothing I could do but what we’re already doing. “Just let me know when you need to rest, okay?” I say, brushing a sweaty strand of dark hair off her forehead.

  All she can muster is a tight, pained smile. Her eyes never meet mine.

  I nod once at her and quickly turn my gaze away. I can hardly bear to look at the swollen skin bunching around her once-beautiful blue eyes, or the way her translucent skin no longer hides the millions of tiny red capillaries that pulse just underneath. What she thinks looking at my healthy face, once almost a mirror image of hers, I can’t imagine. A shiver rattles through my shoulders as the phantom pain of what she must be feeling seeps into my mind. I continue staring ahead, biting down on my lip so I don’t cry out in hopelessness. I squeeze her bony hand gently and pull her toward the exit.

  Our father is a few paces behind us, his feet shuffling slowly. “Did you take the foil?” he asks in a low voice.

  My forehead breaks out in a cold sweat and my stomach does a strange sort of twist. “Dad, we talked about this, remember? We need to go and find some more.” I sigh heavily, holding back my scream. I feel selfish for wanting to yell at him, for wishing my life was easier. It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault. But sometimes I think about how all of this would be easier if it were just me I had to take care of. I hate myself for the thought.

  Dad nervously grabs at the tin foil he’s already wrapped around his arms and upper thighs. “But the foil is what’ll keep us safe.”

  “I know, and that’s why we’re going to go find more. Now listen,” I say as I cup my hands against the filthy glass door to look outside, “you need to try to stay with us this time, okay?” I wish I could find a dog leash for him, a short one, because that would be exactly what I’d be using to keep him safe instead of the stupid foil.

  He grunts behind me.

  On the other side of the door the streets are empty and overgrown with thick, dark weeds that grow over the crumbling cement and debris. Just beyond the buildings, the sun is sinking through the clouds, under the horizon, splashing crimson across the sky. A roll of thunder rumbles in the distance.

  My father leans his forehead against the glass and hums another unfamiliar tune. When he pulls away there’s a black smudge of dirt across his forehead.

  “No people?” Claire whispers next to me. “Where’s the people?” she repeats scratching thoughtlessly at her face.

  “I’ve never seen anyone out past dusk. People are too scared,” I say the lie softly because I don’t really believe it. If there is anyone left, I’m sure they’re too afraid of the dark now. Anyone left now would definitely fear the night and the creatures it brings. But we can’t be afraid right now. We can’t stay inside the apartment any longer. There’s no more food. And Claire needs help. We need help. Claire coughs again, building into a fit of flailing hands and deep congestive hacks. She gags and dry heaves at the floor while I rub soft circles on her back. We stay this way until she’s able to stand upright again. It takes a while, though.

  When she nods she’s ready, I pull the door open and a stale-smelling wind whips up past us. It’s the kind that reeks of rot and decay. Everything here is drying, crumbling. The once-great mountains of concrete and steel turned to dust; a city’s bones turning brittle.

  “Okay. We could do this, okay? We got this. We’re going to be fine,” I say. The three of us clasp one another’s hands and one by one, we walk out onto the quickly corroding sidewalk.

  2

  Kate

  “Feels like we’re being watched. There’s got to be millions of eyes on us,” my father hisses as he pulls a long sliver of foil from the front pocket of his jeans. He lifts it up over his head and wraps it around, making a bizarre cone-shaped hat. “We’re going to need forks,” he whispers with a grim twist to his mouth.

  “Right. I’ll keep an eye out. Foil and forks,” I mumble, trying not to lose my patience or my sanity. I tug on Claire’s hand and start leading them down the street. My eyes dart everywhere, watching, waiting for something—anything—to move. She’s almost impossible to make walk, dragging her feet and trying to tug me back home. I keep moving, though, and speak in soft tones about what we need to do. I wish this were easier.

  I wish I wasn’t so damn scared.

  We walk slowly past boarded-up buildings stained with graffiti. Solid blue flags flap out of windows and off the roofs of abandoned cars. Broken bottles and shattered glass crunch under our boots, and on the corner, an enormous billboard hangs dangerously off the side of a building. The words GO HOME are splashed in drippy red paint across the front of it.

  My father hums louder the farther we walk down the street and he’s somehow managed to wrap foil across his chest and midsection within the last few feet we’ve moved. “Foil, forks, and Frisbees,” he sings quietly.

  Somewhere far off in the distance, a quick round of gunfire explodes through the silent streets. A burst of raw, hot fear spreads down my body and I pull them both closer to me, wishing they could walk faster. Or that my father could, for just one minute, shut the hell up with his stupid, off-key singing so I could freaking think.

  I don’t even have a solid plan as to where to go. My only thought was to walk up Seventh Avenue toward Times Square and try to find help. There have to be safe places to go. Someplace with food and medicine. Someplace with hope.

  It’s too absurd to think that we’re the only ones left in a city that once held eight million people. I just have to find out where everyone went—where they all evacuated to—then everything will be fine again. I need to focus and look for help. There’s got to be help here somewhere.

  We’re in New York Freaking City, for God’s sake.

  We stay close to the buildings as the sky slowly darkens—only moving a few feet at a time—scanning the streets for danger. But of course, when the sun fully sets and just a violet glow peeks out over the horizon, we lose my father. “Dad?” I whisper as loud as I think I should.

  There’s no answer.

  Cursing out a low continuous loop of swear words, Claire leans her back against a small storefront, which once sold antique furniture. Its walls are now charred black and it smells of burnt wood and filth. She’s breathing heavily and slowly sliding down toward the ground. There’s a jerky twitch to her head every time she grunts out a curse. I need to get her somewhere she can’t feel all this stress. I need help.

  “Okay, just sit here for a few minutes,” I say, sweeping the sweat-soaked hair from her cheeks. I yank the last bottle of water from my pack and twist off the top. “Drink some,” I say in a calm, steady voice. Inside my head, I’m panicking.

  She looks up with bloodshot eyes and my body tightens, fighting the urge to cringe from just looking at her. I’m not even sure if she has the energy to lift her hand to reach for the bottle so I place it against her lips and let her sip slowly.

  When I think she’s had enough, I sit down next to her and let her slump against me. She exhales a trembling breath and it’s so shallow and raspy that for a moment, I think it might be her last. I twist her face toward mine, clutching her chin in my hand. Her face is so sunken in—her lips so blue—my heart feels as if it’s plummeting into my stomach. “Stay with me, Claire. Don’t you give up on me,” I
beg.

  After a few beats she takes a deep inhale and tries to smile through horribly chapped lips. “Kay, kay,” she whispers. Her voice is my favorite sound in the world.

  I pull her closer and hold her against my chest. I don’t know what else to do; a hug is the only thing I have to offer her right now. A hug and a steady, confident voice, because if she even got a small whiff of how terrified I really was, there would be no calming her down. She needs to think that everything is going to be okay and that we’ll be fine. So I sit with her, stroking her hair softly, and lie about how funny this all really is. All the while biting my own tongue until it bleeds the color of my fear and anxiety. How am I supposed to make her understand? This is too damn scary to understand. None of it even seems possible.

  Across the street, a shadow moves along the ground and I strain to listen. The streetlights have long been destroyed, and in such utter darkness all you can do is rely on your ears and your instincts. I lean a little forward, concentrating on the break in silence.