Momentary Stasis (The Rimes Trilogy Book 1) by P R Adams

Author:P R Adams [Adams, P R]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Promethean Tales
Published: 2016-10-14T00:00:00+00:00

Sunset cast long shadows as they turned off Casuarina Drive onto a dirt trail. Just outside the driver-side window, waves rolled onto the beach, then dragged themselves back into the deeps. The current tore detritus from the shore, then abandoned it to float aimlessly on the surface.

The HuCorp rental car bounced and shook, creaking in protest as the dirt trail turned onto a long-abandoned gravel path. Rimes wasn’t sure the little car would make it.

He stared out his window.

A security camera was partially hidden inside some scrub brush by the road. It was the first operational piece of equipment he’d seen for kilometers.

Rimes watched it through the rear window, risking a momentary glance at Kleigshoen. She looked at him triumphantly. Rimes looked away. Metcalfe remained focused on the narrow path ahead.

“I haven’t seen anyone for a good five minutes,” Rimes said.

“This section took the brunt of Cyclone Jonathan, and they never rebuilt it.” Metcalfe's voice was cold. “It’s a shame. It used to be so pretty.” He glanced into the rear-view mirror.

Kleigshoen looked away.

Rimes said, “There were some people in those shacks as we came into Nightcliff.”

“Immigrants. Squatters,” Metcalfe replied. “People move into your territory. If you don’t do something about it, they ruin everything. We did everything we could to help them, but … there’s not much use trying anymore. They made their choice, right, Jack?”

Metcalfe swerved around a corner, and a cratered parking lot came into view, empty except for an older, rust-red EEC sedan in the center.

Three buildings, one of them surprisingly intact, stood beyond the broken stretch of asphalt. The crumpled remains of an Olympic-sized pool lay in shadows across a ruined lawn.

Their HuCorp sputtered and came to a halt next to the sedan.

“Is this a secure facility?” Kleigshoen leaned forward. “Brent, are you sure about this?”

Metcalfe’s jaw muscles clenched. He exited the car without uttering a word.

Rimes got out of the car. His memories were a mess now, a tangle of the last few hours, the last few days, the moment. He wanted so badly to be with Molly in their modest little apartment. He wanted so badly never to have been with Kleigshoen, never to have been pulled into the whirlpool of passion, physicality, and political games he thought he’d escaped years ago.

“Brent, is this—are we using aggressive interrogation techniques? Is that why we're out in the middle of nowhere, away from legal authorities?”

Metcalfe thrust his hands into his pants pockets. “Careful now, Jack. We’re all sacrificing a small part of our souls here, aren’t we? What’s a little torture in the grand scheme of things?”

Kleigshoen closed her car door. “Brent—”

Metcalfe turned on her. “What, you think his hands are clean? He’s no better than me. Take a knife to someone, put a bullet in them, poke an eye out—we do what we have to do. Don’t we? Am I right, Jack? Whatever it takes for the mission?”

“That’s enough,” Kleigshoen said. Pain and anger played across her face.

Rimes rubbed the heel of a palm against his forehead.

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