Withered World Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Copyright © Sara Kincaid

  Kansas City, MO

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced—mechanically, electronically, or by any other means including photocopying—without written permission from the publisher.

  www.writervsworld.com

  ISBN 978-1974557189

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017912901

  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, North Charleston, SC

  For Mom, Dad and Jesica.

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Acknowledgements

  Despite knowing that writing a book is a huge undertaking, I decided to go through it a second time. Thank you to mom, dad and Jesica for always supporting me and for listening as I prattled on about this crazy story. Thanks, also, to my mom for volunteering to be an editor. I really appreciate your suggestions and your keen eye for mistakes! You rock!

  Thank you to my writing buddy Jen for being willing to have those hard conversations with me. That first draft really sucked and needed major changes. I appreciate you being brave enough to say so! Also, thank you for talking through plot issues, characters and more. I probably wouldn’t write as much if you weren’t around.

  Thank you to all of my beta readers: Bridget, Jen and Stacey. I am so grateful for you taking the time to read my crappy first drafts and for pushing me to keep going, even when things were tough. Thank you to Richard for being an awesome editor. Your attention to detail is spectacular! My prose is a lot cleaner because of you.

  Also, thanks to Mike for your enthusiasm and support, for being my editing buddy and my sounding board. Hope you’re ready to help me plot the next one!

  Lastly, thank you to all of my friends and family for your enthusiasm and encouragement. It really means a lot and it’s great knowing that I have a loyal group of fans, no matter the ultimate outcome.

  “To forget to dig the earth and to tend the soil is to forget ourselves.”

  — Mahatma Gandhi

  Prologue

  Wherever I walk, the grass wilts. I know only a moment of softness under my feet. As soon as I set my toes upon the ground, the grass shrivels and browns. The life I take, I do not take needlessly. I must have it to survive; for I am a Curare unlike any other.

  The world is parched and full of decay, much of the soil white with salt and chemicals and the sky thick with ash. Humanity has not cherished our home. We have destroyed her with cheeky arrogance, behaving like a spoiled child. We have behaved like errant kings luxuriating in the spoils we believed to be ours and ours alone. Perhaps, many theorize, this is why the Curare came into being, a last-ditch effort by nature to save herself, a plea from nature to humanity by giving them the power to choose, urging them to open their eyes.

  On the surface, we Curare seem normal. Human. Even within our bodies, we are the same. Our differences, it would seem, lie only in our ability to command the elements.

  One would think that nature has blessed us with the power over the elements and perhaps, if the world was a different place, we would feel blessed, too. But nature is not without a sense of humor. For each time a Curare seeks to manipulate an element, for good or bad, he must make a careful decision to sacrifice part of his own life. Is the manipulation worth the consequences? For this is the price we all pay to wield the power of the elements.

  And then, there is me. A Curare by name and practice, a rogue among a group already in chaos. My abilities are not turned inward, but back upon nature herself. To live, to thrive, and to manipulate the elements, I must draw from the earth. Thus, beneath my toes, the grass wilts and in my hands, I carry death wherever I go.

  Chapter 1

  When the day finally came for me to run, I felt as if I had been standing still so long I had grown roots that reached deep into the earth, anchoring me to the ground. My feet did not want to move, although I was fresh and filled with energy. My mind slowed with the realization that the time had come, even as my heart thumped at the prospect of danger.

  It was only when Leo grabbed my hand and plucked me from the place where I stood, the place where seventeen years of fear had finally become reality, that I was able to find my momentum and tear myself away from the only life I had known. “Let’s go,” he hissed in the darkness, his stormy eyes hidden in shadows.

  In that moment, I imagined in myself a change. No longer was I the pale girl with wispy black hair. No more would I wear the mask of the girl who was too sick to go to school and afraid of being discovered by the CPA. Never again. Instead, I used my arms and legs, strong from years of field work, to fling myself into action, my feet matching Leo stride for stride, though he stood hands taller than I.

  All I had ever seen was the reaches of South Farm. From the hills in the west, the tiny town center that sprung up like weeds and the surrounding farms, to the veiled pathways and trails I had followed to keep my secret hidden in the arms of my second mother, the earth.

  I had never dared to venture into No Man’s Land. That barren desert of death lay beyond the borders of the farm community and served as the unceremonious dumping ground for an untold number of Curare. Their bones bleached in the harsh sun, the result, and reminder, of the government-ordered cleansing of the farmlands that had taken place nearly thirty years ago.

  Leo’s face was partially obscured by a mess of dark hair that hung in shaggy curls around his angular face, but I could see his concern, veiled in onion-like layers. His skin was dark even though he wore long sleeves and pants in the fields, and he smelled slightly of hard work and grass.

  He had held my hand only once before. I could feel his energy pulsing through his body and the little invisible tendrils I wielded to draw energy from the world around me were themselves drawn to the beating of his heart. I knew enough to control them, but I was left in tune with the silent song of life coursing through him.

  Peculiarities beyond the sensations of his hand gripping my own surfaced as we ran. Our hearts pounded in unison and our feet beat out a pattern of retreat. Jagged locks of jet black hair bounced in my face, obscuring my vision. Finally, in a copse of trees, I staggered to a halt and ripped my hand from his grip. “Why are you helping me?”

  He stumbled beside me and took an aggressive step forward, his gray eyes hot with rage. “You’re going to do this now? With the CPA on our trail?” The Curare Planetary Agency. They had sprung up not long after Bram’s secret was blasted across the Net and set out to collect and catalog each of us they found.

  “They haven’t been here searching for me before,” I retorted, my tone like acid.

  “I didn’t bring them here,” he whispered roughly. “I’ve been here all along. To find you. To help you.”

  “Why?” I matched his aggress
ion and stepped forward. My heart pounded in my chest.

  Leo gritted his teeth and seethed silently before answering. “I can’t tell you until we’re out of here. Can’t you trust me? I’ve lived with your family for three years now. I’ve protected your secret since the day you revealed it to me.”

  He emphasized the word you and I knew it was true. I had shown him my true self. I had played the part of normal human for so long and he had never suspected what I was. I knew I was successful because I had not been captured and dragged away to the CPA stronghold. But I didn’t share this with him out of trust. Instead, it was a challenge. I believed he was a spy planted in South Farm to find me. I clenched my jaw in frustration. “Don’t give them what they want,” he begged.

  I looked deep into his stormy, heavily lashed eyes, and I pulled at the life force of the grasses beneath my toes, wishing that the earth herself could guide me. So used to being told what to do, when I had the chance to decide for myself, I hesitated. I raised my sharp chin to show my defiance, more of the CPA than of Leo himself. “Okay,” I agreed.

  Then, like the deer of the past, we were off through the trees and tall grasses once again, my bare feet wrapped in ribbons that wound up my calves so that my heels and my toes could maintain contact, leaving brown spots of earth that matched the splay of my toes and my heel in our wake, deep in the heart of the wild weeds.

  Strange sounds rumbled like thunder above us and I flinched. “Transports,” Leo whispered as we crouched beneath bushes and waited for them to pass by us. My eyes darted across the dark sky, but the black night hid them. Once the sounds faded, moving behind us toward the heart of South Farm, we were off again. Leo was breathing heavily beside me while the energy I leeched from the earth kept me from getting winded. I could have run forever.

  I didn’t think to feel afraid, shot forward like an arrow suddenly released after years of waiting. A lifetime of fear, of expecting capture, was, in a moment, forgotten. Leo came to a crossroads of two of my secret paths through the thickets and I stopped again. “Where are we going?”

  “Let’s worry about that after we get out of here. Follow me.” Leo started to inch into the field. When I refused to follow, he sighed, visibly frustrated, and adjusted the weight of the small pack on his shoulder. He planned for this. “You know I’m risking my life to help you, right?”

  “We shouldn’t go that way. My footprints will give us away. I know these fields better than anyone. We should go around. On the other side is a small animal trail. It’s just dirt so my prints won’t show. Then we can get out. If that’s still your plan,” I challenged, putting my hands defiantly on my hips. Though we were in danger, I prided myself on this slight rebellion. If I was going to die that night, it was going to be on my terms and not his.

  Leo grunted but refused to rise to the bait. “Okay. We’ll do it your way.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the trees.

  We stumbled through the bramble and I again felt the beat of Leo’s life force through his hand. Somehow it mirrored the pulsing I constantly felt from the earth.

  At the edge of the tree line, I stopped and watched the winding dirt road, waiting for signs of activity. Around the bend, lights flickered inside one of the houses. Together, Leo and I watched as the door of the house was flung open and the occupants dragged out onto the grass. A CPA soldier held a woman by her flame-red hair and another held her children under each arm.

  We were far enough away from the scene that we couldn’t understand all of the words shouted by the family and the officers. One of the children, the younger of the two, was hastily stabbed with a needle.

  I watched, frozen to the spot in silent horror, as the girl reacted to the injection. A blue light emanated from her body and she began to seize on the ground. Leo whispered “Pop” breathily like a curse, and I knew that I was watching a child failing the test for Curare, though I had never seen it before. The CPA had discovered a Curare, a young one at that.

  I had successfully avoided the Pop tests during my school days in spite of the clockwork yearly visits made by the CPA and their soldiers. My parents convinced the school that I was sick and I was able to lay low because the teacher was a close friend of my mother. I missed dozens of days of school a year. I was rarely truly ill. Instead, I’d spend the time wandering our farm, learning to cultivate the land and master my unwieldy abilities. My mother ensured that I received an education. At night, I’d curl up with a book, a real book, the crisp pages like brittle leaves in my hands. These little gifts of knowledge and escape were my only treasure, given to me by my mother, who possessed the sole key in town to the old library. I liked those books because they were one of the few things I could touch without fear of killing them.

  The officer grabbed the girl after her body stopped seizing and carried her to a transport waiting nearby. The mother began to cry louder and her words were clear. “You can’t take her! She’s not seventeen yet!” The officers didn’t care.

  My knees dug into the ground and my eyes filled with tears. It was my own nightmare come to life. The little girl groaned but lay unmoving on the bare floor of the vehicle. The door to the house opened again and a middle-aged man came barreling out with a howl of anger and hurled himself at an officer.

  I jumped to my feet as the sharp crack of gunfire reached my ears. We saw the man sputter and fall to the ground. The screams of the remaining child and the mother were heartbreaking and they rang in my ears along with the blast of the gun.

  The sound of the gunfire unlocked my body and I scrambled back into the field and began sprinting home. I only got a few feet before Leo brought me to the ground, his arms wrapped around my knees. I fell to the soft earth and felt my breath leave me in a huff. I gasped for air and crushed the supple grasses in my hands, tearing large chunks of lush flora from the ground. They quickly shriveled and died.

  After recovering my breath, I flailed and scratched at Leo’s arms, fighting to free myself from his grasp. Tears flooded my eyes and blurred my vision. “Let me go! Let me go! I have to get back to them!” I wailed. “If I’m not there when the officers get there, they’ll be killed!”

  Leo put a rough hand over my mouth. “Be quiet or you’ll kill us both! You can’t go back!” He let go of me and gently put my face between his hands and looked into my eyes, obviously sorry for his roughness. “You can’t go back, Vea. If you do, they’ll capture you and still kill them.”

  Behind him, I could see the stars shimmering in the darkened sky, a rare sight outside of South Farm, or so I’d heard. Where would we go? Would the hunt never end? I wanted to tell Leo of my fears, but I couldn’t share my weaknesses with him. “They’ll be killed because of me,” I sobbed.

  Tenderly, Leo brushed the tears from my cheek. I cringed at his touch. “They’re willing to sacrifice themselves for you. If you go back, their sacrifice will be in vain. The CPA will torture you until there’s nothing left.”

  I bowed my head, catching sight of the necklace given to me by my mother for my seventeenth birthday just a few weeks ago. I took the small bird in my hand. Its wings stretched out wide from tip to tip, a swirl of flames licking at its toes. What my mother had meant in giving me this strange bird that burned, I didn’t know. Maybe it was just a going away present. I had turned seventeen and was now of age. If the CPA found me, I’d be taken away. I was running away, still leaving, and would never get to see my family again.

  Leo helped me to my feet. I stuck my bare toes into the earth and sought the comfort that only nature could provide. My body shook until I felt the connection I craved. The electric tendrils of energy flooded my veins and the shift of the earth grounded me. Leo watched me silently and waited.

  At the border of South Farm, I looked out across No Man’s Land. While in the heart of South Farm, it was easy to remain oblivious to the destruction just outside the border. All at once I realized that I would never again feel th
e grains of wheat slip through my hands or smell the fresh scent of the earth and know the satisfaction that I had worked and cultivated it.

  Heavy-hearted, I stepped from my home into the hellish chambers of the wasteland. As my feet separated from the cleansed earth, I felt the severed connection deeply. When I placed my toes upon the spiky grass of No Man’s Land, I felt my body latch onto a food source that was sick down to its roots. My body cringed at the sensation of the tainted energy as it flowed into me. And yet, I thirstily drank from that poisoned cup.

  From the plains of No Man’s Land, I looked back toward my home and could see the clouds gathering for a storm. Pretty soon water would rain down, erasing any errant footprints we had left in the brush save for my dainty tracks of dead grass. Even though I knew the coming rains would lead the CPA soldiers to our path out of South Farm, I still felt happy, for the rain signaled life.

  As Leo and I hurried away, the skies opened and the raindrops pelted down, falling slick and fast. I turned my face upward and let the thick drops run down my face and neck until I was soaked and my hair hung in thick ringlets. It was in those same life-giving raindrops that I felt nature’s tears. They mingled with my own, sinking into the earth to rest beside the bones of our martyrs.

  Aster,

  Have you ever wondered if something more was possible? Something beyond the drudgery of the transport vehicles and our endless commutes into the City and back out again? Something more than the drab, colorless hemp we drape over our bodies?