REHO: A Science Fiction Thriller (The Hegemon Wars) Read Free Page A

to move toward the center of the earth.
    The stone, once dropped, wants to move toward the center of the earth.
    The stone, once . . .
    ***
    Reho woke, his sweat-drenched body shaking in the cold room. He pushed the dream to the back of his mind and adjusted the thermostat, then selected a peanut butter sandwich from the vending machine in the room. He ordered a few extra sandwiches and stuffed them into his pack. At an inflated cost of nineteen points, he would have enough calories to make it the rest of the way. Points were never an issue for Reho. He had more than he could spend from his winnings at the races in Red Denver. After eating, he stretched again and returned to the sofa.

Chapter 2
    Reho woke. This time, the room was warm, and he felt rested. The LED lights running along the ceiling flashed red, signifying that time was up. The audio alarm must have been broken. The ceiling’s speakers, which had played music before, now emitted only a faint buzz. Reho checked his Casio: 5:38. He’d slept six hours. Fragments of his second dream filled his mind, but it was nothing like the one he’d had when he first slept. He recalled the boys bouncing the ball, except it wasn’t a ball, but the squashed, bloodied head of a knock-down-drag-out he’d killed in the Blastlands years before.
    The event had haunted him since. The traveler had approached Reho for food only to stab him while he slept. Reho had offered some dried meat and a canteen of liquids. The old man had stayed with him for three days during his trek to the Great Lakes. The night before they reached OldWorld Chicago, the traveler pushed a military knife, standard nine inches, into Reho’s upper back while he slept. Awakened by the pain and confused, Reho had ripped the knife out and slashed the man’s neck with enough force to cut through the flesh and break bone. The aged man’s head had fallen to the side. Reho shook the images from his mind.
    He stood and stretched his body, feeling well rested for the first time in weeks. He activated the panel near the door and pushed the flashing red button. The LED ceased to flash, and a display came on without an automated voice.
    Insert smartcard to clear balance. Current Balance: 63 points .
    Outside, the sun rose in the east. The wind blew, tossing a wad of dried, knotted weeds across the street. The boys were nowhere in sight. Reho ate one of the peanut butter sandwiches as he left Traveler’s Rest Stop. His mind drifted to the boys and old woman, as he wondered if servicemen would ever bother returning here. The place had become a dead spot. Traveling the Blastlands was only for those willing to kill or be killed. He’d seen his share of dead servicemen, their vehicles either burned or driven until the fuel was exhausted. Once the fuel was gone, the vehicles sat as lifeless as their occupants, left to waste away in the Blastlands.
    ***
    The ground darkened as he moved closer to the coast. The light, dusty terrain that characterized the Blastlands slowly faded to a blacker soil. From time to time, sparse pockets of life emerged: a sunflower stood alone, its shadow cast across the otherwise barren ground. Ahead, maybe a mile farther east, he saw an ocean of green grass.
    Reho drank the last liquid from his canteen. He spotted Virginia Bloc’s western wall. Its high, chain-link fences, topped with rusted barbed wire and unoccupied guard towers every quarter mile, told him he was home. The nearest entrance lay a few miles to the south. Judging by the empty guard towers and pervasive stillness, it would be more convenient and would provoke fewer questions if he just jumped the fence. The town was at peace; the guard towers hadn’t been occupied since before he was born.
    The twelve-foot-high fence ran like an endless wall in both directions. Reho’s eyes followed it. There was no one around. Few people lived this far outside of town. The closest occupied buildings were the textiles, and they lay a mile farther