Recursion (Book One of the Recursion Event Saga) by Brian J. Walton

Author:Brian J. Walton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Camton House Publishing

I limp through the woods. My pack, retrieved from the church, drags at me. As we walk, I lean against Genevieve’s shoulder, putting most of my weight on her. Our breath explodes from our mouths in plumes. The sun is now high in the sky, and it warms my skin, providing some relief from the chill in the air. I realize with surprise that this is the first time it’s actually been sunny since we’ve arrived. I check my wound. I sacrificed a sleeve of my shirt for a bandage and the thin cotton is growing a deepening red. We'’l need to change it soon.

“Maybe the message got through,” Genevieve says. “Maybe Command will send help.”

“There wasn’t time.”

“The message could have gotten through,” she says.

I shake my head. “Even if they send help ,it may not make a difference. With the Paris Station down, we have no way of knowing how long it will take them to get here. There’re several routes. It depends on which Stations have available agents. It could take weeks, even months.”

“We can’t think that way,” Genevieve says.

I pause and straighten, peering around the gloomy woods.

The rain has stopped since the attack on the Listening Station, but the muddy ground sucks at our feet. The farmhouse is only a few miles from the church, but between the mud and my injury, it has already taken us several hours.

“Are we close?” I ask.

“Another half a mile.”

I feel a wave of dizziness. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve sent reports from the Listening Station many times,” Genevieve says. “Come on, you’re tired. That is all.”

As we continue our limping pace, I try to work out our next steps. Leung may be in danger, or she may have gotten away. The Interlopers have, once again, tried to thwart our next step. And this time they have succeeded. Something about this mission, from the moment I emerged in the fire, has felt wrong. But I can’t figure out why. If only my mind was clearer. It must be this wound. Or my lack of sleep. I’m losing too much blood.

I appraise the injury and my impromptu wrap. It’s not that bloody. The bullet must have missed an artery—thank God. I’m lucky the magnets aren’t strong enough to guide it straight to my head.

Still, this is our third day without a proper meal. And I haven’t been able to sleep without being plagued by dreams. I’m not thinking right. I need to get back to the Paris Station, to Vic.

But Vic is missing. And the Paris Station is now a hole in the ground.

I need to focus. My hand goes to the collar of my shirt and reflexively touches the ring underneath.

Whose ring is this?

I can’t remember. My chest tightens. There is something wrong going on and I can’t figure it out.

“Do you remember what we were talking about in the church,” I say. “Right before the attack?”

“That’s enough about your dreams,” Genevieve says. “And this is proof. They came after the Listening Station. Not you.

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