Ruins of the Fall (The Remants Trilogy #2) by Nicholas Erik Page A

stained by Vlad’s blood, but it’s a damn good thing I thought to retrieve it before Jana interred him. It might only be a single sheet, but there’s a lot of good information on here.
    “What do you have?” Evelyn says, her voice startling me. I’m off by a spindly tree. It’s the kind of place you don’t expect visitors. “Just like our old spot in Seattle, right?”
    “Ev…”
    “I know it wasn’t real,” she says. “I’m a big girl.”
    “That’s not what I meant.” Even in the dark, with the fires a ways off, she cuts a striking image. Long blond hair cascading down to her well-proportioned hips. Endless brown eyes that you could drown in, if you’re not careful.
    “What’s on the paper?”
    “Something I got from a friend.”
    “Now I know you’re lying,” she says. I smell the faintest hint of lilac carried on the breeze, and it brings me back to all those times in HIVE. And the time outside, in the real world. Her apartment. “You don’t have any friends.”
    “So you two hate me too?”
    “The church mouse? I don’t think she could hate anyone.” This must be what she calls Carina, which I find slightly amusing. Evelyn steps forward, and now the aroma of lilac is overwhelming. I wonder how she manages to smell good, even out here, where beauty has vanished. “She told me something interesting, though.”
    “What’s that?”
    “That she loved you.”
    I don’t have an answer ready for this type of situation, so I say, “The paper, it’s about—these images. And some other stuff.”
    “Flashbacks, kind of.” Evelyn nods, giving me a little knowing grin. But she lets me off the hook about Carina, which I’m thankful for. A small act of mercy, but it seems like a big one, given how things have gone over the past days. “I’ve had a few.”
    “Anything bad?”
    “You remember Ramses?”
    “Yeah,” I say. “I’ve been seeing him more than I’d like.”
    “It hasn’t been bad for me, Luke,” Evelyn says. “But Carina, she’s not taking it too well.”
    “Maybe she’s lovesick,” I say, immediately regretting the joke. A light wind whistles past, rustling the tree’s dead branches.
    “Don’t be an ass.”
    “Sometimes that’s hard.”
    “I believe that,” Evelyn says. “The flashbacks. Cold sweats. I’ve been taking care of her.”
    “Sounds familiar,” I say. “Besides anyone taking care of me.”
    “You can take care of yourself,” she says, and reaches over to touch my arm. “Figure out what’s on the paper.”
    “You don’t want to know more?”
    “I don’t know if I could trust what you tell me anyway.” Her fingers slide away from my skin. “But I think you’re decent enough to do something close to right.”
    She walks away. I watch as the breeze rustles her flowing blonde hair and smile. Not quite a ringing endorsement, but out here, it’ll have to do.
    I turn my attention back to the paper. It gives me an engineer’s view on how to solve the current problems. Why Atlas believes the conflict started in the first place—belief. What everyone is seeking: salvation.
    And how to break free of the cycle.
    By giving everyone exactly what they want. It’s as cryptic as it sounds. No explanation about what people want, or how to find out. At the bottom is a warning about HIVE: you can’t just pull the plug. The light of civilization will go out .
    I feel a strange power course through my veins when I read the words. I’m the last chance the world has. Not by fate, or talent, but perhaps just by circumstance.
    Not really a hero.
    Just someone doing what’s close to right.
    And that, I think, is in the rarest supply of all in this new world.

13 | Survivors
    Two days later, we roll through what used to be South Dakota without any problems. Unlike my last trip through the Lost Plains, this one has been uneventful—although calling it pleasant would be inaccurate. The temperatures at night are sub-zero, and black-ice slows our journey. But