The wanderers the missin.., p.1
The Wanderers (The Missing Duology Book 2), page 1
Robert Watts
The Wanderers
Copyright © 2023 by Robert Watts
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Robert Watts asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
First edition
ISBN: 978-1-7386946-2-4
Editing by Celestian Rince
Cover art by Maria Spada
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
Find out more at reedsy.com
To the one who never tires of me or my stories.
Contents
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
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Also by Robert Watts
Chapter 1
Branches whipped Clarke’s face as he sprinted through the trees, desperate to evade the men behind him. Though he moved quickly, his pursuers were gaining on him. Clarke’s lungs burned with each breath and his cuts stung as sweat poured off him.
They had found him. They had known where to find him. The Administration was closing in.
Clarke forced air into his lungs with a deep breath. Breaking through the trees, he made it to the edge of Warren’s cove: a once-perfect oasis where he had found the infamous book, The Forest, that kept him alive. He stopped abruptly, surveying the dark water in front of him. Clarke hesitated for a moment. Something in his gut told him to stop. He heard yelling and twigs snapping behind him. Panicked, Clarke looked back, saw his pursuers, and without thinking, dove in.
The icy water shocked Clarke’s system. His eyes burned as he opened them. Just beyond his reach, Clarke saw dark, blurry objects darting away. Frantically, Clarke swam deeper and deeper into the depths of the cove, praying that the near-black water would hide his outline.
Clarke heard the voices of the Administration above the water as they neared the edge of the cove, but those voices faded as he descended into the darkness of the seemingly bottomless pool.
Clarke.
His name rippled through the water. The voice was different than those of the Administration above. It surrounded him. Clarke fought to keep large bubbles of air from escaping his mouth. His head pounded with pain as the pressure from the depth began to mount behind his eyes.
Clarke.
Again, his name vibrated through the water, calling out to him in a strange, muddled voice.
Clarke.
His name sounded as though it was being whispered into his ear. Clarke contorted his body around to look behind him. He spun slowly and peered through the bubbles that he created, his breath becoming more and more difficult to hold. Clarke saw nothing. Then, as though it had appeared out of nowhere, Clarke was staring into a face of decaying flesh and stark, lifeless eyes. Warren’s blank eyes stared back at him. Before Clarke could react, the corpse’s bloated hands shot out, grabbing him by the arms, and began to drag him down. Water poured down Clarke’s throat into his lungs as he opened his mouth to scream.
He kicked and thrashed, desperately trying to free himself from the dead man’s grip.
“No!” he attempted to say as the last of the bubbles rose.
“Clarke! Clarke! Wake up! You’re safe. You’re okay.” Myra’s voice became clear.
Clarke awoke drenched in sweat, thrashing violently against the tight grip that Myra had on him. His eyes opened to see that Myra was only inches away from his face. Clarke looked down and was relieved to see that it was Myra’s hands that clamped his arms, not the bloated hands of Warren’s corpse. He gained enough awareness to look around. Clarke saw the concerned faces of Myra, Leo, and Ralph peering back at him. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he stilled.
“You were having a nightmare,” Charlie spoke in a concerned voice, bound to the tree next to him.
“One hell of a nightmare too, if you asked me,” Myra muttered as she let go of his arms.
“Sorry… I, uh, didn’t mean to wake anyone.” Clarke looked at the ground, trying to hide from the sea of eyes that stood staring down at him.
This wasn’t the first time that Clarke had nightmares about the Administration chasing him. Every night he dreamed about the things that had happened to him since fleeing Renwood. He had been forced to relive Wyatt’s death, Amelia’s murder, Charlie’s betrayal, and Jasper’s demise. Occasionally, the Administration would be chasing him, but this was the first time that he had seen Warren in his dreams.
Clarke shuddered as he ran his hands over where the dead man’s grip had been. They had felt so real but had only been Myra’s hands trying to pull him out of the nightmare.
It was just a dream, he thought, trying to soothe his nervous system. His heart rate eventually began to slow.
Clarke wondered if it would have been better had he stayed behind in The Ruler’s compound when he and Charlie rescued Myra. Instead of escaping with Myra and Charlie, he should have gone after The Ruler. Even if Clarke didn’t kill him, maybe he could have distracted The Ruler long enough to destroy the book, The Forest. If Clarke had done that, he would likely be dead, but maybe Jasper would still be alive and The Missing would have never been attacked. In the end, the book had been what led the Administration directly to The Missing’s camp.
The book hadn’t been the only thing that The Ruler had taken from him. The knife that Wyatt gave Clarke before he was killed had been taken as well when Clarke, Myra, and Charlie were captured. Guilt hung over Clarke as he pictured The Ruler holding the knife engraved with Wyatt Lewis. If Clarke ever had the chance, he would get it back. Guilt and anger filled him as he thought about losing the knife, the betrayal, and Jasper’s death.
Clarke shook his head, trying to dispel the pointless thoughts of wishing he could change the past. Besides, it wasn’t Clarke who had betrayed the group and essentially handed the book over to The Ruler. No, that was Charlie.
The sun was up; beams of light illuminated Myra’s face. Her hard gaze softened into a concerned smile. Clarke could tell that she noticed his embarrassment from the scene he just made.
Ever since Jasper had died, Myra and Clarke had gotten closer. Clarke had forced her to open up and at least acknowledge how his death had affected her. At first, she was so closed off that she wouldn’t talk to anyone. Then she pretended that Jasper’s death had no impact. Finally, she had broken down; all the emotions she had been harboring came out in a whirlwind of tears and anger. Clarke stayed next to her for hours until the waves passed. Since then, there had been a mutual trust between the two that Clarke never expected from her.
“Well, now that you’re up—” Leo stuck his hand out to help him to his feet. “We should get moving soon. We have been here too long already. And if anyone is close, I worry that they heard your—um—awakening.”
Another flash of embarrassment flooded his body. Clarke accepted Leo’s hand and the canteen that he held out for him once he was on his feet.
Clarke sipped from the canteen until the water was gone. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave back the empty canteen.
“Get ready. We are leaving in ten minutes. Felch and Pharah should be returning soon, and we need to be at the edge of the marshes by sundown,” Leo said, tightening the top of his now empty canteen.
Clarke nodded and began to gather his belongings. His things consisted of a canteen that he had managed to find in the rubble of The Missing’s old camp and a tattered bag that he had found at one of the supply caches. Clarke slipped the worn straps onto his shoulders and made his way over to Charlie, who was still bound to the tree.
Since no one else was willing to go near her, it fell on him to give her water, food, and keep an eye on her. Most of his job was making sure she didn’t do anything stupid before the group had a chance to decide what they were going to do with her.
“Hey,” he said sheepishly.
“Hey, how are you doing?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably on the ground.
Clarke could see the red skin around her wrists from where the rope had cut into her flesh. Against his better judgment, he did feel some sympathy for her; he knew what it felt like to be alone, to want nothing more than the love of a parent. But then again, she had a family—The Missing. She had acted alone in her betrayal. Her choices and actions directly resulted in nearly all of The Missing—her family—being killed. Not to mention their home being burned to the ground.
“I’m fine,” Clarke said quickly, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. The last thing he wanted was the entire group constantly asking if he was okay after a nightmare.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean—” She stumbled over her words, noticing his embarrassment. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. Everyone has nightmares… We’ve all been through a lot,” Charlie said with an awkward smile.
Clarke’s gaze lingered for a moment, trying to decide whether she was being sincere. He wondered if anything she said was sincere. He thought back to how surprised she had been when The Ruler had turned on her, and when Clarke had told her that her father was dead. It wasn’t like there was anything left for The Ruler to hold against her and use to manipulate her anymore. But something inside him still hesitated at her words. Clarke couldn’t shake the constant doubt of honesty that she had created with her betrayal.
Finally, he broke her gaze, reaching down into his bag and pulling out a canteen. He knelt beside her, pressed it against her lips, and tilted it back.
She drank thirstily, wiping her chin on her shoulder when she had finished. “Thank you.”
He shrugged and stuffed the canteen back into his bag.
Leo, being the planner that he was, had planted small supply caches around the forest with spare supplies. He had done this just in case anything happened to their camp. It was a good thing that he did it, too. The group had been living off of the small rations that they were able to scrounge up until a few days ago.
“Are you two ready?” Leo said, startling Clarke as he came up from behind them without making a sound.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Clarke stammered.
“Good. We will continue west and, with any luck, Felch and Pharah will meet us at the marshes alive and well.”
Originally, Clarke hadn’t believed it to be a wise idea for Leo to send them back to Renwood so quickly after the attack. He had argued that The Ruler may be expecting them to come in search of supplies, but the rest of the group thought it to be essential.
Even with The Ruler’s grip on the people of Renwood, rumors spread like wildfire. Finding out how many members of the Administration were patrolling the streets of Renwood would give The Missing a good idea of whether the Administration was still looking for them or not. If there was a large presence, it was likely that they were regrouping in Renwood, but if there was little presence, The Missing could assume that there were search parties actively combing the forest looking for them.
Felch and Pharah were no strangers to combat. They were strong, well-trained members; however, they lacked the experience of supply runs into Renwood. Leo had pointed out that, since they had not been on supply runs before, it would be less likely that they would be recognized in town.
While Felch and Pharah made their way to Renwood, Clarke, Myra, Charlie, Ralph, and Leo had returned to the still-smoldering camp to see if anything had survived the flames. When they returned, the devastation from the fires was worse than anything Clarke had ever seen: the charred remains of the community that The Missing had built over the years made the crumbling city of Renwood look like paradise.
It had been hard for the five of them to come to terms with what remained and what had happened. The entire attack was so quick that it hardly felt real. Myra had wanted to stay, to rebuild their community and be close to where they buried Jasper. After long deliberation, Leo had convinced her that if the Administration ever came back to search for them, their camp would be the first place they would look.
“We leave in five,” Leo said, casting a disappointed look at Charlie. He glanced at Clarke before walking away to tell the others of their departure.
“We’re heading west?” she asked.
Clarke was surprised by her question before remembering that she had not been privy to any information or decisions that the group had made. He simply nodded and bent down to untie her from the tree.
She watched him carefully as he untied the rope around her wrists. “What about The Wanderers? West is their territory. Besides, there’s nothing out there but marshland,” she said as she rubbed her wrists, the raw skin showing again how irritated they were from the bindings.
“Leo said there’s one last supply cache in the marshes. Once we find it, we will head through the marshes and to the mountains. Even if the Administration is chasing us, they won’t be able to track us through the water,” Clarke replied.
“What about The Wanderers’ traps?” Charlie asked as he gathered the rope from around the tree.
Clarke shrugged and held out a hand. Charlie took it, pulling herself to her feet with his help. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Most of his thoughts were about how was he going to kill The Ruler if they were heading farther away from Renwood.
Charlie held her hands out to him, ready for them to be bound yet again. She knew the drill.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Clarke tied her wrists and looped the other end through the handle at the top of his backpack. There was enough slack that Charlie wouldn’t be walking on top of him, but not enough for her to run off.
At times Clarke felt it was cruel the way they had been treating her. Charlie had been one of Leo’s most trusted members up until a few weeks ago, and now she was being led around like a dog on a leash.
Charlie never complained, never acted out, and never tried to run off. The group had decided that she would be bound and watched until they could have a proper vote to decide what her punishment would be. But, with all that was going on, a vote was the least of their concerns.
Chapter 2
The sun was high in the sky; hot rays of sunlight beat down on them. Clarke was thankful for the shade that the tree canopy was providing though his shirt still clung to his body, wet with sweat. He looked over his shoulder to see Charlie behind him, her mouth open and panting as she followed in line. The seasons had begun to change. It was hot and humid during the day, but the temperature dropped drastically after sundown. Now was not the time to be without shelter. The group walked in silence for hours, stopping periodically at whatever stream they came across to refill canteens and rest. Clarke appreciated these breaks regardless of how short they were.
“Do you think—” Myra paused, looked over her shoulder, and leaned in so the others wouldn’t overhear her question. “Do you think they’re alive?” Myra grumbled.
Clarke gave her a questioning look.
“Felch and Pharah, I mean.”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Clarke thought of how the four of them had barely survived the last trip to the city, and that was only because of Myra’s experience with supply runs and Jasper’s knowledge of the sewer system.
“They’ve been gone two weeks for a run that was supposed to only take one,” she reminded him.
“We can hope,” he said optimistically with a tilt of his head. But she was right. Felch and Pharah had been gone for too long and Clarke was beginning to lose hope that they would ever come back.
Another two of The Missing killed by The Ruler, he thought.
Myra took a deep breath. “I guess we will find out soon enough. We can’t wait for them forever, you know—Leo said we can only afford to wait two days before we have to move again. I think staying in one place for even that long leaves us extremely vulnerable.”
Clarke nodded, only half listening. His mind was swirling with memories of those he had killed while in the compound and while fleeing the city. How many had he killed? Three, four, more? He had lost count that night when the Administration attacked. How many more people would Clarke have to kill before this was all over? The thought of going back to Renwood was almost too much to bear.
