Read Earthbound (The Reach, Book 1) for Free Online Page A

through the Atrium, so you might have your work cut out to find him.”
    Alton waited until the transfer was complete.  “I can handle that.  Thank you.  We’re done here.”
    “Hey, man, what about my creds–”
    Alton disconnected the call and then immediately dialled another number.  It picked up almost immediately.
    “I need you,” was all Alton said, and then he hung up.
    He began cleaning up the room, replacing blankets and pillows on the bed, picking up a glass that had fallen on the floor.  He slipped into his shoes.  As he passed the bathroom mirror he gave himself a quick inspection, flattening his hair on one side.
    The door of the apartment opened and a man entered.  He was bald and muscular and had a tattoo of a cog on the side of his head just above his ear.
    “Boss,” he said.  “What is it?”
    “Tucker, we have a journey ahead of us,” Alton said, picking up a fresh shirt and sliding it over his shoulders.  “There’s a passkey to be acquired.  Make the transfer to Fallon, and then get what you need and meet me downstairs in five minutes.”
    “I like the sound of this.”  Tucker grinned, and then he turned to leave.
    “Tucker,” Alton said, and the bald man paused.  “Are you sure you can hack one of these things?”
    Tucker nodded.  “You can count on me, boss.  I’ll get it done.”
    Out on the balcony, Alton made one last sweep to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind.  He knew that, one way or another, he would not be coming back here.  This life that he’d created was ending the minute he stepped outside the door.
    That brought a smile to his face.
    He turned his face to the Reach and began his ritual one last time, his mind creating that familiar fantasy, and this time he believed in it with all his heart.
     

 
    5
    Knile moved down the street, the asphalt glistening and wet in the first light of day.  Like much of Link, the architecture here was utilitarian, squat grey buildings bunched together in close proximity as they crowded against the thoroughfare.  Folk were beginning to emerge from their homes and move about now, hurrying away on their errands.  They paid Knile no mind as they went.
    At the side of the road an old man was setting up a cart, spacing out a motley assortment of sickly looking vegetables for display.  As Knile approached he turned and lifted a specimen in each hand and stared at Knile expectantly.
    Knile stopped, famished, but couldn’t picture himself eating what the man offered.  The vegetables might have been sweet potato, he guessed, but they were an unappetising shade of green, covered in black pockmarks.
    “Fresh,” the man said feebly, hoisting the vegetables higher for Knile to see.  He was dressed in little more than rags, and his tangled grey beard was matted with muck.  He wasn’t wearing a respirator, and there were dark sooty lines under his nose.
    Knile leaned forward.  “Did you even use filtrated water with these?” he said.
    “Fresh,” the man said again, oblivious.
    Knile just shook his head apologetically and kept moving.  The man watched him leave, his arms sagging, and then he turned and bent to his cart as he continued his preparations for the day.
    Around the bend, Knile reached his destination.  It was a carbon copy of most of the other dwellings in the street, an ugly box with tiny black windows, but Knile knew that this was the place.  He remembered all the little things – the pattern of cracks in the driveway, the sag of the roof on one end, the old rusted chair on the porch.  Those hadn’t changed.
    Knile trusted his memory.  It had never let him down before.
    He moved quickly down the side of the house and out the back.  There was a small yard here with a cheap plastic outdoor setting situated amongst clumps of desiccated grass, as well as a jumble of solar receptors fixed to stakes in the dirt.  Knile crept to the back wall where a narrow window led to the basement.  He peered