Endless Road by Chris Eisenlauer

Author:Chris Eisenlauer [Eisenlauer, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2019-03-16T22:00:00+00:00

• • •

Several hours after dark, Stoakes arrived at Rekt’s door, which surprised Rekt since he’d never told Stoakes where he lived. Stoakes entered without invitation and closed the door behind him. He produced a black bundle and handed it to Rekt.

“Put this on,” Stoakes said.

Rekt shook the bundle out and stared at the bodysuit he held.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Stoakes said, turning around.

Rekt snorted but said nothing and proceeded to change his clothes.

“Is there anything here you can’t live without?” Stoakes said.

Rekt shrugged. “Don’t think so.”

“Good. You won’t be coming back for a while.”

“I assume you don’t just mean my quarters, but won’t that get me in trouble with Prist?”

“Probably, but it won’t matter if he thinks you’re dead or can’t find you.”

“You’re not going to hit me or anything, are you?”

“Not unless you want me, too. If nothing’s missing, though, there’s little reason for Prist to think you left because you wanted to.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Put this over your head.”

Rekt put the proffered hood on. “I can’t see a damned thing.”

“That’s for the best. No one will be able to identify you, either, if they see you at all. Now don’t be alarmed,” Stoakes said. He wrapped an arm around Rekt’s middle and lifted him easily off his feet.

Rekt grunted. “You did say you were stronger than you looked.”

“No matter what happens, no matter what you feel, don’t be afraid and don’t open your mouth or you’re likely to give us away.”

“Okay.”

Stoakes turned out the lights, went Dark, and with Rekt in arm, exited the room.

Once outside, Stoakes flashed through the mostly empty streets, attracting no meaningful attention. His pace drew several sharp breaths from Rekt, but otherwise Rekt did as he was told and remained silent, until they were shooting up the length of the Root Palace, which made him yelp sharply. By then, it didn’t matter, though. In seconds they were well into the Palace and safely out of view.

They came to a stop and Stoakes returned to normal, set Rekt back onto his feet.

“You can take the hood off now,” Stoakes said.

Rekt did so and nodded, acknowledging the gene soldier factory in which he now found himself.

“You got kind of slippery there for a bit,” Rekt said, “but I still have no idea who you are.”

Stoakes unwound the bandages from his head, revealing short black hair and the perfect, unmarred features of a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old youth.

“I look a little different from what most people remember. I’m the last of the 19th Generation Generals. Call me Stoakes.”

“Salton Stoakes. The Suicide Knife,” Rekt said, shaking his index finger, “wasn’t it?”

Stoakes nodded. The Knife was suddenly in his right hand and rising until its chisel point pricked the tip of Rekt’s wagging finger.

“Ow!” Rekt cried, snatching his hand back and gawking at the bead of blood the Knife had drawn.

Stoakes shrugged. “Thought you might want proof.”

“I didn’t, but thanks,” Rekt said sarcastically.

“Sorry.”

“I’m not going to start feeling compelled to kill myself now, am I?”

“That’s not how it works.

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