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Back Ruins Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Dedication
  2. Contents
  3. Part 1
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-one
  25. Part 2
  26. Chapter Twenty-two
  27. Chapter Twenty-three
  28. Chapter Twenty-four
  29. Chapter Twenty-five
  30. Chapter Twenty-six
  31. Chapter Twenty-seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-nine
  34. Chapter Thirty
  35. Chapter Thirty-one
  36. Chapter Thirty-two
  37. Chapter Thirty-three
  38. Chapter Thirty-four
  39. Chapter Thirty-five
  40. Chapter Thirty-six
  41. Chapter Thirty-seven
  42. Part 3
  43. Chapter Thirty-eight
  44. Chapter Thirty-nine
  45. Chapter Forty
  46. Chapter Forty-one
  47. Chapter Forty-two
  48. Chapter Forty-three
  49. Chapter Forty-four
  50. Chapter Forty-five
  51. Chapter Forty-six
  52. Chapter Forty-seven
  53. Chapter Forty-eight
  54. Chapter Forty-nine
  55. Chapter Fifty
  56. Chapter Fifty-one
  57. Acknowledgments
  58. About the Author
  59. Back Ad
  60. Credits
  61. Copyright
  62. About the Publisher

Samm stood in the center of the hospital cafeteria, watching the Partials react to their latest bit of news. All nine were awake now, gathered here in wheelchairs and hospital beds, most of them still too weak to walk and some of them far worse. Number Eight, a soldier named Gorman, was still on oxygen, his lungs too atrophied to function completely on their own. None of them were officers, but they’d served together before the Break, and they all looked to Gorman as their leader.

“Twelve years,” said Gorman. His face was gaunt, his eyes watery and sagging. He was physically eighteen, like every Partial infantryman, but he was so sickly he looked decades older. “That’s . . .” He paused, lost for words. “Twelve years.”

“Almost thirteen,” said Samm. “I don’t know exactly when you were sedated, but it’s 2078 now.” He glanced at Heron, silent in her corner, and then at the door—it didn’t lock, but Calix had promised to keep everyone out so they could have some privacy. So far she’d done her job well, and the meeting had remained Partials-only.

“The rebellion started in 2065,” said a soldier in a wheelchair. “We might be a month or two off, but that’s close enough to thirteen to make no difference either way.” Samm had learned his name was Dwain.

“The last thing I remember was coming here,” said Gorman. He gestured feebly at the complex in general. “It was when RM was in full swing, when the brass finally decided the humans weren’t coming back from it. We’d been assigned to search the ParaGen compound, to see if there was something we could do about the plague, and then . . . well. Here I am.”

“You don’t remember who sedated you?” asked Samm.

“There was no ‘who,’” said a soldier named Ritter. “I was in full gear when it happened—I don’t remember exactly, but it must have been on a patrol. I think it was . . .” He flashed a burst of frustration across the link. “I don’t remember. In one of the lab buildings, maybe this one, for all I know. It was like a chemical attack.”

The other Partials linked their agreement, and Samm nodded. “The same man who imprisoned you had one other, a soldier named Williams, who he modified to produce a targeted Partial sedative in his breath. We . . . have no way to change him back.”

Everyone shifted uncomfortably.