Bound to Ashes (The Altered Sequence Book 1) (33 page)

“You don’t look so thrilled.”

She huffs and says, “I broke into the control command system. It should have been line after line of attacks, commands, identification techniques.... But all that was written was like
eight thousand
lines of gibberish code, it wasn’t even in the books. I’m not even joking. Eight. Thousand. And at the very end was two words: ‘All done’.”

She folds her arms and looked to us almost expectantly. I breathe in slowly.

“That was the last thing she said.”

Ashton looks a little shocked and when he realizes it, says, “Jules.”

“What I don’t understand is how she broke into their central hub just by....” Alessandra makes a frustrated sound. “Punching it! It shouldn’t have worked.”

I find myself grinning. “But it did.”

She sighs. “But... it did.”

A hot wave wells inside me—she stopped any more Sentinel attacks. Without their codes telling them what to do, just the gibberish.... I was so caught up thinking of how selfish Jules was I failed to realize it was just the opposite. The last shred of herself went to keep us alive.

Alessandra clears her throat and says, “Anyway, we should go grab the others and move out.”

“We’re leaving this soon?” Ashton asks.

“I’d like to get my people here as soon as possible,” Alessandra says. Her friends back in the desert are a lucky bunch of people to have her as a leader. She’s doing all of this for them.

And for us.

And I’m eager to follow.

We’re up and moving again and back with the others in no time. They’re as happy as we were to learn that the Sentinels are reduced to wandering and purposeless machines.

We set to work gathering supplies for the trip. Ashton hands me my pack that he kept, and I trade it for his journal. As we pack, we talk.

“So, you never read it?”

“No. I just kept it, I guess.”

Ashton smiles. “Why?”

I falter. Not like I can tell him I didn’t have the guts to read it, or started talking to it. “Well, you said I could read it once it was done. And... you never finished it. So I figured it wouldn’t ever be done.”

“So you would have just carried it around...?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“Well, thanks,” he says, zipping the bag shut. “But I promise, you can read it once it’s done.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” I shoulder the heavy pack.

“But then again,” he says slyly. “There’s always the editing phase, you know, draft one through fifteen—” and I elbow him in the ribs.

It’s hard to believe we’re on the surface so soon. One, maybe one and a half days tops. Amazing what a few maps and no killer robots can do.

The hinged trap door leading to the surface creaks as we toss it open. It’s night, and the autumn air is crisp and biting. Compared to what I saw in the dome, the outside world seems more... worn out. The soil is loose and flimsy compared to the young and spongy earth of the dome. I breathe in the stale air of pine scent and dirt, relishing it all the same.

I help Alessandra out of the hatch and she sighs contentedly when she plants both feet on the ground.

“Not long until we get there,” she says optimistically, whipping out the new map and gathering her bearings.

“Oh man, no way. Guys,” Vinder says with a childish grin stretched on his face. He points to the horizon.

There’s Punk, standing on the top of the hill. His tail whips back and forth manically and he tears down the hillside. He barks, and barks, and continues to remind me why I often considered what a good rug he’d make. But eventually he’s calm and all wagging and panting. I kneel down and give him what might be the first affection he’s ever had from me.

“You waited this whole time! What a good, stupid dog,” Peregrine tells him, scratching his neck enthusiastically.

The day is lightening, the dark inky sky turning to a pale blue gradually. The trek up the hill is refreshing, it’s so good to have real earth under my feet. The rising sun’s light catches the hill as we get to it.

The sunset starts orange and as it rises streaks of feathered clouds illuminate and slowly burn off. Hazy beams of yellow shoot through the gaps in the trees and falls on our hill. We soak up the warmth for a moment.

“It’s not over yet,” Alessandra says, breaking off into a run down the other side. And, grinning, we all follow.

###

Thank you for reading my book. I hope my intense feelings of gratitude find their way to you, wherever you may be. If you liked it, please consider leaving a review on your preferred ebook retailer. I also accept reviews via email, snail mail, or homing pigeon. 

See you after the fall.

M

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

They say that when you write about the apocalypse, you’re actually writing about what’s worth saving.
So here are a few things worth saving:
My friends. To all of them that read, reviewed, marked up, and shipped drafts back from Italy.
My parents. To my mother’s unending assistance in story crafting and my father’s endless enthusiasm. And to Dawn’s understanding: “You never fell out of love with this.”

My partner. Here’s to Stark for staying up with me just to tell me that what I was doing, or often what I felt I was wasting my time on, was worth it. In a way, that’s the strongest form of love there is. You are worth all of it.

Thank you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Maranda Cromwell is an artist and author living in the Pacific Northwest. She surrounds herself with her fiancé, dogs, and lots of animal skulls. This is her first book.

Find her art and other projects at
http://www.marandart.com