A Dystopian Science Fiction Book Series

Reachers by L.E. Fitzpatrick

Series Excerpt

Cold mornings were the worst. Charlie woke early, feeling the agony ringing through his body; his very own malicious alarm clock. He lay on the bed, unable to move his legs without crying out. John was on the floor, resting calmly on his back, as though there was nowhere else in the world more comfortable. His eyes were closed, but Charlie couldn’t work out if he was still asleep or just waiting – he did that sometimes. Either way Charlie couldn’t risk taking his final pills in the same room. The last thing he needed was John finding out everything.

When the pain had dulled and the ache in his bladder worsened he found the energy to haul himself up. With the crutch bearing most of the effort, he made it to the bathroom and swallowed his last pills dry before relieving himself. Immediately his head started to ease, his thoughts slurred slightly, but it was better than the pain. Anything was better than the morning pain.

He turned to wash his hands and looked down at the orange stained sink. With the aches temporarily subdued he could work on his powers. Letting his hand hover over the tap, he concentrated. His temples began to burn with the effort. His hand trembled, but slowly the tap turned. Water trickled and then flooded out. Compared to what he had been it was pathetic, but the past year had been an endless struggle and this, at last, was an improvement.

He left the bathroom with a smile. John was already up, sitting at the table and going through the file as though he’d been there all night. His fingers loitered on the folded sheet of torn paper. It was the remains of a letter, written seven years ago by the girl in the opposite tower. It didn't say much, just that she had work in a hospital, she would start in a week – a week seven years ago – and it was signed: R.

“Do I even want to know?” John said without even looking at his brother's smirk.

“I turned the tap on,” Charlie announced proudly.

John put the letter down and gave his elder brother an incredulous stare. “Good for you,” he eventually replied in a voice rich with sarcasm. “I boiled the kettle, together who knows what we could do.”

“I mean, smart ass, I turned the tap on hands-free.”

John’s unimpressed expression wavered slightly. “Not bad,” he replied, but they both knew for a man who had once driven a car whilst locked in the boot, it was far from astounding. “See what happens when you get your head back in the game.”

The mobile on the table started ringing. John nudged it towards Charlie, he didn't like phones – or people for that matter.

“It’s him.”

Charlie carefully picked it up, trying not to let it see how nervous he really was. He could do this – he could play the game. He had to.

“Mr Morris, good to hear from you.”

“Do you have what I asked for?” Pinky Morris asked.

“We agreed we’d be done by two and we will. And I am confident you’ll be very satisfied.”

“You’re sure it’s her?”

“We’ve got one last ‘t’ to cross and we’ll be done. But I can tell you there’s no doubt in my mind it’s her.”

“Don’t be late.” He made way for the dial tone.

Charlie stared at the phone. “I don’t like that guy.”

The explosion had taken out the top windows of St Mary’s Hospital. A riot six months earlier had already claimed the lower floors. From the entrance the building looked as desolate as those around it; boards nailed to every surface, decorated in anti-everything graffiti and weathering with the brickwork. If hell had a gate it looked just like the entrance to St Mary’s.

The outside of the hospital did little to prepare Charlie for the inside. The explosion victims were still piling in from the surrounding rubble. What was left of the serious injuries was awaiting identification in the morgue. Charlie squeezed himself into the manic reception room. He reached for his wallet and headed for the front desk, which was really just a sealed cage protecting the nurses inside. His eyes flicked around the emergency room. There was no sign of Rachel.

He didn’t need to see her up close. He didn’t need to visit her work, or do any more investigation to complete the job. She was the girl they were looking for. He was sure of it. What he did need was a prescription and a hospital like St Mary’s was a perfect cover for getting one without John knowing. If Rachel stayed out of his way all the better.

He walked up to the reception nurse. She looked tired, but then every white coat in the building looked tired. She banged her computer monitor as he approached and settled back down into her worn seat behind the mesh frame encasing her desk. The hospital supplemented most of its income from private sales, there should have been no reason Charlie’s purchase would cause a problem. If anything they would be grateful for his custom.

“Morning,” he said with a forced grin.

“Name?”

“Sorry?”

“Your name?”

“Eh, I’m just after a prescription.” He withdrew his wallet, flashing her sight of the notes he was willing to part with to speed her up.

It was then she gave him her full, unimpressed attention. “Pharmacy stocks are running low. Emergency prescriptions only until Tuesday. If you need the pills you give me your name and a doctor will see you and sign off on any drugs you need.”

“Seriously?”

She gave him a self-satisfied smile. “Name?”

“David Jones,” he replied, it was the name on his empty pill bottle.

“Have a seat Mr. Jones, someone will call you shortly.”

There were eight seats in the reception room and forty people wedging themselves into clusters on the dust covered floor. Charlie decided to stand to avoid the possibility of disease. The outbreaks in S’aven came mercilessly fast. When the poor got sick they crammed themselves into hospital waiting rooms to share their bacteria. You were more likely to catch something in St Mary’s than crawling around on your belly in the sewers.

That morning at least the waiting room seemed to be populated with open wounds and broken bones, forcing anyone with a raised temperature to wait outside in the cold. He scanned the faces carefully, checking for discolouration, pigmented eyes, any signs of N-strain or worse. Then he noticed, sandwiched between a man with a towel pressed against his bloody face and a woman with a glass shard as big as her fist wedged into her leg, a kid sweating like he was in a furnace. His body twitched impatiently, jumping at the sight of every nurse walking by. Charlie had seen kids like that growing up all over the city, hooked on a local blend, caught up in crime and left stranded when they were no longer useful. It was a short, tragic life. The length of his future was down to luck, whether it be days or weeks – never longer.

Charlie wiped the sweat from his forehead and fidgeted and jumped when the man standing in front of him got up to leave. Patients were called, more piled in. Soon the open wounds were replaced with the split stitches and infections as the rotation of injuries aged. Charlie watched the doctors passing through, shouting out name after name. He never caught sight of Rachel.

He was considering braving the floor, when a commotion broke out. The drug addict was getting restless. The people around him had been called already, but he still sat there, going cold turkey. Paranoia fuelled him and he just flipped. Charlie watched as the muttering grew into shouting, than as the shouting grew louder. He screamed at the nurse trying to calm him down. Then he pushed her. Another nurse rushed to the commotion, but he had lost control. He grabbed her and attempted to hit her hard in the face.

Charlie flinched, but the punch never happened. Standing behind him, hand on his shoulder was Rachel. Slowly, the kid let go of the nurse. He turned around and stared at Rachel. Charlie peered closer. The kid wasn’t staring at all, he was listening. Only Rachel’s mouth wasn’t saying anything. The kid nodded, shrugged and left.

Charlie swallowed. His senses were tingling. She was a Reacher. He stared at her suddenly feeling the fool. He realised now he should have asked why Pinky was so desperate to uncover this simple doctor. He should have dug a little deeper and found out more about the girl. He should have found out more about Pinky. All these regrets rolled around in his head until they settled on the one fact he could cling to. She was a Reacher, just like him.

And that changed everything.