The Extinction Series | Book 2 | Primordial Earth

  Baileigh Higgins

  Primordial Earth - Book 2

  The Extinction Series - A Prehistoric, Post-Apocalyptic, Sci-Fi Thriller

  Copyright © 2020 by Baileigh Higgins

  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.

  Baileigh Higgins asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Baileigh Higgins has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  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.

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  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter 1 - Moran

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5 - Moran

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10 - Moran

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14 - Moran

  Chapter 15 - Bones

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Glossary

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  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Christian Bentulan for the stunning book cover design. You can check out his portfolio at http://www.coversbychristian.com. He’s an amazing artist.

  Plus, a huge thank you to Graham Rintoul for his tireless dedication to my books, his research, and his input. A big shoutout to Mike Hansen for his support and help, and to all the fans and readers out there. I truly appreciate you all!

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Robin Hartmom, a staunch supporter of my work. Thank you for being so encouraging and making me smile with your lovely compliments, Robin. May there be a thousand more stories in your future!

  Chapter 1 - Moran

  Moran leaned against the rough wooden table with both hands gripping the edges. On top lay a crude blueprint of Prime City. The paper was handmade, the ink blotchy, and the edges creased. Still, every line was painstakingly drawn, and the measurements were precise. She’d made sure of that.

  Around her were gathered a few members of the Rebel Faction. Bruce Copeland, her right-hand man, Patti Fry, her trusted advisor, Steven Yingling, a mole inside the Watch, and Kat Mewes, mistress to General Sikes and their latest recruit.

  She pointed at a building not far from the Prime Hotel. “Right. My informant tells me that the last harvest has been stored there while awaiting processing and distribution.”

  “Informant?” Kat asked, her dark eyes boring into Moran’s. “Who is this informant?”

  “That’s for me to know, Kat,” Moran replied, her tones clipped. She disliked being interrupted.

  “How do we know we can trust this informant of yours?” Kat persisted.

  Moran straightened up and pinned Kat to the spot with a sharp gaze. To her satisfaction, the woman began to squirm. “Are you questioning my judgment, Kat?”

  “No, of course not,” Kat said with haste, her cheeks flushed.

  “Good. Then let’s get back to business,” Moran said, leaning forward once more. “The harvest will only remain there for two more nights before it’s removed and distributed. Once that happens, it’s over. None of us will ever set eyes on that food again.”

  “So, we need to make our move now,” Patti mused, her head bobbing as she studied the map. Streaks of silver adorned her thick, auburn hair, but she was still a handsome woman. And a tough one too.

  “Exactly,” Moran confirmed. “We’ll have to strike tomorrow night.”

  “How much are we talking here?” Patti asked.

  “We can’t take everything. We have nowhere to hide such a large amount of food and no way to transport it either. The best we can do is a fifth,” Moran said.

  “A fifth,” Kat exclaimed. “It seems rather stupid to risk our lives for a few bags of fruit and vegetables.”

  “Trust me, Kat. A fifth is enough. It will keep the Rebel Faction going for most of the year, freeing us up for more important work,” Moran explained. “Besides, this won’t be the last harvest. There will be one more around the end of the fall.”

  “And if we steal too much, the rest of Prime will starve. Senator Douglas will take what he needs and blame the shortage on us,” Patti said. “As it is, we donate some of our stores to the poorest of the poor.”

  “Whatever,” Kat said with a shrug. “But what about meat?”

  “The meat stores are running low. The hunting parties haven’t been out for weeks under Douglas’ orders. There’s no point in raiding them now.”

  “That’s too bad. For you, of course,” Kat said, wrinkling her nose. “I can’t imagine not eating meat.”

  “Me neither,” Bruce said with a low laugh. “You must live quite well, though, being the General’s mistress, and all.”

  Kat smoothed her hands over her tiny waist. “Perhaps, but this figure is not the result of overindulgence.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you work very hard,” Patti said, rolling her eyes.

  Kat bared her teeth. “At least, I still have what it takes to attract a man like Sikes, unlike most.”

  Patti grumbled something underneath her breath, and Moran decided to step in before an argument broke out. The two women were not the best of friends. “The Rebel Faction will just have to make do with dried fish for now. We still have a stash stored away.”

  “Ugh, I’m so tired of fish,” Steven exclaimed.

  “Yeah, right. The Watch eats better than the rest of us, so who are you to complain?” Bruce asked in a friendly fashion.

  Steven laughed and rubbed his belly. “You have a point. It’s the reason I joined.”

  “You had soup last night, didn’t you?” Bruce said. “With real meat in it.”

  Steven nodded. “And bread rolls too.”

  “Bread rolls!” Patti cried.

  Steven smirked. “The soft kind.”

  “That’s not fair,” Patti said. “The last time I laid eyes on a bread roll was over a month ago. And it was full of twigs and seeds. I nearly broke a tooth.”

  Steven shrugged. “We all know where the good flour goes.”

  “To the upper class, and the Watch,” Kat said, examining her nails for minute flaws.

  “Exactly.” Patti ground her teeth, her fury p
lain for all to see.

  “All right, everyone. That’s enough talk about food,” Moran said, raising both hands in the air. “Can we get back to business, please?”

  “Fine,” Patti grumbled, folding her arms.

  “Fair enough. It’s making me hungry anyway,” Bruce said, pointing at the map. “So, what do you need?”

  “A team of your best fighters,” Moran said.

  “How many?” Bruce asked.

  “At least twenty, fully equipped with weapons and backpacks. We’ll need wheelbarrows too,” Moran said.

  “Won’t that make a lot of noise?” Kat asked.

  “Yes, that’s why we have to make sure the Watch is far away,” Moran said. “That’s where you come in, Steven. We need to know the guard’s schedule.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “We’ll also need a distraction,” Moran said. “I’ll arrange for that.”

  “And I’ll ready our stores,” Patti said.

  “Perfect. We’ll convene again tomorrow at sunset to go over the details. For now, you all know what to do,” Moran said.

  “Except me,” Kat said. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You keep the General and his men as far away from those stores as possible,” Moran said. “That’s your job.”

  Kat shrugged. “That’s easy enough.”

  “Then, I’ll see you all soon. Dismissed,” Moran said, watching as Kat sauntered out of the room, her luscious hips swaying from side to side. Though she was in her mid-thirties already, the woman was untouched by time and a rare beauty by any standards. “Do you think we can trust her?”

  Patti shook her head. “I don’t know. She could be a spy for Sikes and Douglas. Or, she could be sincere in her desire to see them burn. Either way, I don’t like her.”

  “Most likely, she’s simply bored and looking for excitement. But, we can use her for now,” Moran said. “Just to be on the safe side, though, arrange for a back-up team and an alternative escape route during the raid.”

  “Will do,” Patti said, gathering up the map and putting it away.

  Moran slumped into the nearest chair, allowing herself to relax for the first time that day. Being the Rebel Faction leader wasn’t easy, and many a night, she wished she could simply disappear. Fade into the darkness and never return.

  “You miss her, don’t you?” Patti asked.

  “Who, Rogue?” Moran said. “Of course, I miss her. It feels as if a part of me has been torn away, leaving a gaping hole in my heart.”

  “It’s never easy, losing a child,” Patti said, her face crinkling with remembered grief. “I still think about my Tobias every day.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry, Patti,” Moran said. “Why don’t you make us a cup of tea? It will fortify us both.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea,” Patti said, grabbing the kettle.

  While she bustled about, Moran stared into the hearth, her eyes following the flickering flames’ patterns. In them, she saw Rogue, her daughter in all but blood. Petite, feisty, and beautiful. But that wasn’t what made her so special. It was her heart. Her boundless love and innocence despite everything she’d suffered. Yet, the girl was no fool.

  Patti was right. It was hard to lose a child, but Rogue wasn’t lost. She was out there somewhere, wandering the vast wilderness. Moran knew it, just like she knew she’d see Rogue again. Where are you, Daughter? Hurry back, for I miss you sorely.

  Chapter 2

  Dark blue curtains fluttered in the breeze, and Rogue stirred beneath the cool sheets. A broad beam of golden light shone through the gap and fell across her bed. She stretched, allowing each muscle to reawaken beneath the warmth of the sun. Her leg felt much better, and it was good to be alive. Young, strong, and healthy.

  The previous day’s events rushed back, and her eyes snapped open wide. It all seemed like a dream now. A wondrous, unbelievable dream. One moment, she was being held captive as a Prime spy, and the next she’s reunited with her long lost mother. Who says miracles don’t exist?

  Suddenly, her bedroom door opened, and Olivia’s head popped around the corner. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Did you sleep well?”

  Rogue grinned. “Yes, thank you. I could get used to such luxury.”

  Olivia frowned. “Luxury? You call a bed luxury?”

  “Where I come from, yes,” Rogue said.

  “I’d like to hear more about this…past life of yours,” Olivia said with a frown.

  A sense of unease stirred within Rogue at the words. She wasn’t exactly proud of everything she’d done in the past, no matter how necessary. Would her mother understand? “Uh, sure.”

  “Come to breakfast, and we’ll talk about it,” Olivia added.

  “Okay, I’ll be right out,” Rogue replied, slipping out of bed. “Is there somewhere I can wash up?”

  “Of course. The bathroom’s right down the hall next to the toilet. I put a few things out for you, including your clothes. I washed them last night after you went to bed.”

  “Thanks, but you didn’t have to,” Rogue protested.

  “Oh, it was no bother,” Olivia said, waving a hand. “Now, hurry up, or your food will get cold.”

  “I’ll be right there, Mom.” The word felt strange to Rogue, and she rolled it around on her tongue. After their reunion, everything had seemed perfect. Now, however, she felt weird and out of place. Guess I’ll just have to get used to it.

  Dressed in an old t-shirt Olivia had loaned her, she made her way to the toilet. It was a strange affair, one she’d used the night before after a quick tutorial. Unlike the smelly outhouses and bucket systems of Prime city, this was a compost toilet. It looked like a wooden box with a built-in seat, and it automatically separated the urine and solid waste. One rinsed the funnel with a cup of water from the washbasin and sprinkled sawdust over the rest from a nearby bucket after use.

  “We pipe water from the river, and a filtration system renders it drinkable, but we don’t like to waste. Therefore, we use compost toilets. Besides, it produces an excellent fertilizer for the crops,” Olivia had explained.

  “You use it on your food?” Rogue had asked with a shudder.

  “Only after it has been composted properly,” Olivia said. “Don’t you do the same at Prime?”

  Rogue thought about it for a while. All that waste had to be disposed of somehow and using it for manure made sense. “Probably. I never worked in the fields, however, so I’m not sure.”

  “What did you do?” her mom asked.

  “Uh, other…stuff,” Rogue had said, avoiding the subject.

  Her mom had accepted the vague answer the night before, but now it was clear she wanted to learn more about her daughter’s past. Could she handle it, though? The idea that her daughter was a thief? Even worse, a murderer? It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill those people in the market on purpose.

  Rogue shook her head. Maybe not, but the Quetzalcoatl attacked because of her. In a way, it was her fault. Knowingly or not.

  Shaking off the morbid thoughts, Rogue ducked into the bathroom next door. There she halted in shocked surprise. She hadn’t seen such a place in forever. Maybe before the Shift, but definitely not after. It contained a shower, a washbasin, a full-length mirror, a rack of towels, and a wooden bench.

  On the bench lay a toothbrush, a hairbrush, a couple of hairbands, and her clothes. For a moment, Rogue forgot about her worries, eager for the chance to freshen up. She reached for the toothbrush but stopped when her mom appeared again.

  “Hey, sweetie. There’s no hot water. The past few rainy days drained the battery banks, and the solar panels haven’t had a chance to recharge yet.”

  “You mean there’s water in the shower?” Rogue asked. “Actual, running water?”

  “Well, yeah, but it’s cold,” Olivia said.

  “I don’t care,” Rogue cried. “I’m jumping in.”

  “What about your food?” Olivia protested.

  “I don’t mind cold foo
d either,” Rogue said with a wide grin.

  “Okay,” Olivia said with a shrug. “I’ll wait.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, before I go. We make our own toothpaste, soap, and shampoo. It’s over there,” Olivia said, pointing at the washbasin.

  After a brief but invigorating shower, Rogue brushed her teeth using a dab of powder from a little pot. It was different from what she was used to. In Prime, they used wood ashes or charcoal to clean their teeth, but Olivia’s mixture tasted like salt and peppermint. A decided improvement.

  The soap was a lot nicer too. The creamy bar smelled of lemons and left her skin feeling squeaky clean while the shampoo rendered her hair soft to the touch. Dressed in the outfit Seth had given her, black tights, a red shirt, a light canvas jacket, and hiking boots, she secured her belt and machete around her waist.

  Refreshed, Rogue made her way to the breakfast table. The air smelled of freshly baked bread and fried onions, a combination that had her stomach rumbling with desperate longing. “Mm, that smells delicious.”

  Olivia flashed her a smile. “I hope you’re hungry. I made plenty.”

  “Oh, I could eat a T-rex,” Rogue said, pulling out a chair.

  She sat down and watched her mother bustle around the kitchen, putting the final touches on the meal. The older woman looked relaxed and happy. Her thick, braided hair was still dark, with only a few silver strands to show her age. Her tanned skin glowed with health against the white cotton shirt and beige slacks she wore.

  Olivia’s home reflected that same effortless grace. The place was small but homey: A two-bedroom cottage with a kitchen, living room, and a patio that overlooked a flourishing herb garden. The furnishings were simple, mostly plain wooden furniture covered in homemade cushions.

  There was even a bowl filled with fresh fruit in the middle of the table.

  Rogue reached for an orange, rolling it between her palms. She pressed it to her nose, inhaling the sharp smell of citrus. It appeared that life in the prehistoric world had been good to Olivia, and Rogue felt the faint sting of envy.