Tracker by Deven Kane

Author:Deven Kane
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Publisher: Smoke Valley Press
Published: 2022-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Nine

Amos didn’t dream every night, as far as he knew. “Everyone dreams,” he’d been told more than once, but for the most part, he couldn’t recall after waking up whether he had or not.

It was also true, on those rare occasions when he did remember, it wasn’t always dark or terrifying. Some dreams were just random, disjointed images which made little sense to the waking mind.

There was one notable exception, of course, a full-fledged nightmare which needed no embellishment from an overactive imagination. It was worse than a nightmare, truth be told, because it was real, his own private horror show set on infinite repeat.

He could (and did) employ all sorts of mental tricks to block it out of his conscious thought, and these proved successful—as long as he was awake. But his sleeping mind had no such safeguards.

There were a lot of things he’d prefer to purge from his memory. Military operations, for starters, even if they were indirectly connected to the bonds he’d formed with Garr, Don, and Doc Simon.

The discovery that he’d been Implanted was at the top of the list, compounded by the crippling dread of not knowing when his Implant might be activated. Add to that the deadly cat-and-mouse game they played with the Trackers.

More than anything, it was the constant reminder that an unknown person or persons—Hoarders, naturally—had invaded his body and embedded the loathsome Implant, making him a pawn in their unknown game.

But it was the Story he dreaded the most when he slept. He’d replayed it so many times, trying to wring some sense out of it, to envision what he could’ve done different, wondering if an alternative outcome was possible.

It was a pointless exercise, and he knew it—rehearsing imaginary happy endings was only a mind game, futilely designed to appease his guilt. In real life, it changed nothing. The Story remained.

As time went on, he’d been able to suppress the waking memories enough to get on with his life. Time heals all wounds, or at least, that’s what he told himself. Over and over again, as long as necessary. At times, it seemed to be working.

His dreams played by a different set of rules.

It happened again during the first night of their journey back to the cave. He and Don made excellent progress, covering more territory in a single day than Amos had hoped. As dusk approached, they set up camp in the forested hills outside the City, sheltered by a rocky outcropping they’d chosen as a windbreak.

They didn’t bother with a fire. It was too risky in such close proximity to the City. They’d packed trail rations which didn’t require reheating, and the nights were much warmer as spring gave way to early summer. Amos took the first watch, while Don curled up in a shallow cleft in the rock.

Amos held his position nearby, leaning gingerly against the trunk of a tree. His self-inflicted incision was still tender. If the wound was getting infected, as Sheila worried, Doc would be able to treat him in the near future.

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