Read Online The Push Chronicles (Book 1): Indomitable by J.B. Garner - Free Book Online
Authors: J.B. Garner
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but he wasn’t ‘evil’. Direct violence was out of the question. Even if I thought that a direct confrontation was needed, I had no idea how it could be done. Hell, if it was even possible now.
To try to counteract Eric, to finally show him the light of reason, the only way to go would be to challenge his notions publicly and overtake his growing reputation. Basically, someone needed to be the other party in an election for consensual reality, as corny as that sounded. As the only person I knew on the planet who knew what really happened, I had a growing sense of dread that it would have to be me.
Chapter 7 Facet
I broke my day-old cardinal rule of this new reality as I sipped at my morning coffee. I let my mental guard down and fully embraced at least one of the inane notions the Whiteout had brought on. I was adamant, though, that I was going to do it my own way. I finished jotting down in my scratch pad a brief list of what I thought I was going to need to carry out my plan, then finished my breakfast.
Whatever had caused my unnatural hunger had subsided and my injuries seemed to be healing nicely. I was still worried about that particular oddity, but I couldn’t tell if I was simply being paranoid or not. I was starting to believe that I would just have to accept some unnatural things until the Whiteout had been reversed.
It was probably true that I could have kept with the illness excuse and bought myself another free day but I realized that my laboratory at the university was a valuable asset that I couldn’t deprive myself of. If I was seriously going to try to lead some kind of resistance (was that the right word?), I would need to know more about what exactly Eric’s experiment was doing to everyone and everything on the planet. I couldn’t match his genius, but I had my own specialties to draw on. On top of that, I was anxious to hear what was going to be coming from the federal government this morning. The press conference was scheduled to start in less than two hours and I wanted to be somewhere useful, just in case something insane like national curfews or the like was announced.
It’s a good thing that I left the apartment when I did. While it seemed that the first initial surge of Push activity was starting to subside, Atlanta was still reeling from it. There were entire city blocks cordoned off by police barricades. Bridges and overpasses had been shattered. The part of Downtown I cruised through bore more resemblance to pictures of shattered cities from World War II than anything else.
Even the people out and about seemed in a state of recovering shock, if they weren’t glued to a TV, radio, or mobile device spewing whatever bits of news they could shove out about the Whiteout. The only ‘good’ thing I noticed was that there were far fewer people on the streets than normal. If there was another Push Battle or other unnatural event, there were far fewer innocent bystanders to be hurt by it today.
My favorite parking deck was half-collapsed from some tremendous force, so it took me a few extra minutes to get to the physiology lab. I rushed down the hall, glancing at my watch from time to time, when I caught sight of Dean Tyson with a small stack of manilla folders under one arm and an expectant look on his face. Undoubtedly, the dean had my research group’s next assignment ready and waiting. I raised a hand to catch his attention and met him halfway to the lab door.
“Dear God, Irene, what happened to you?” His eyes were flitting around my face, then the cast, then back again to look at my cuts and scrapes.
“Push Battle. I had to run by the drug store and one broke out right on the freeway nearby.” I may have been lying a little, but it was close enough to the truth to sneak by his notice.
“Fascinating!” Reginald had that same star-struck look I had seen in the eyes of most people when talking about the Pushed. “I
To try to counteract Eric, to finally show him the light of reason, the only way to go would be to challenge his notions publicly and overtake his growing reputation. Basically, someone needed to be the other party in an election for consensual reality, as corny as that sounded. As the only person I knew on the planet who knew what really happened, I had a growing sense of dread that it would have to be me.
Chapter 7 Facet
I broke my day-old cardinal rule of this new reality as I sipped at my morning coffee. I let my mental guard down and fully embraced at least one of the inane notions the Whiteout had brought on. I was adamant, though, that I was going to do it my own way. I finished jotting down in my scratch pad a brief list of what I thought I was going to need to carry out my plan, then finished my breakfast.
Whatever had caused my unnatural hunger had subsided and my injuries seemed to be healing nicely. I was still worried about that particular oddity, but I couldn’t tell if I was simply being paranoid or not. I was starting to believe that I would just have to accept some unnatural things until the Whiteout had been reversed.
It was probably true that I could have kept with the illness excuse and bought myself another free day but I realized that my laboratory at the university was a valuable asset that I couldn’t deprive myself of. If I was seriously going to try to lead some kind of resistance (was that the right word?), I would need to know more about what exactly Eric’s experiment was doing to everyone and everything on the planet. I couldn’t match his genius, but I had my own specialties to draw on. On top of that, I was anxious to hear what was going to be coming from the federal government this morning. The press conference was scheduled to start in less than two hours and I wanted to be somewhere useful, just in case something insane like national curfews or the like was announced.
It’s a good thing that I left the apartment when I did. While it seemed that the first initial surge of Push activity was starting to subside, Atlanta was still reeling from it. There were entire city blocks cordoned off by police barricades. Bridges and overpasses had been shattered. The part of Downtown I cruised through bore more resemblance to pictures of shattered cities from World War II than anything else.
Even the people out and about seemed in a state of recovering shock, if they weren’t glued to a TV, radio, or mobile device spewing whatever bits of news they could shove out about the Whiteout. The only ‘good’ thing I noticed was that there were far fewer people on the streets than normal. If there was another Push Battle or other unnatural event, there were far fewer innocent bystanders to be hurt by it today.
My favorite parking deck was half-collapsed from some tremendous force, so it took me a few extra minutes to get to the physiology lab. I rushed down the hall, glancing at my watch from time to time, when I caught sight of Dean Tyson with a small stack of manilla folders under one arm and an expectant look on his face. Undoubtedly, the dean had my research group’s next assignment ready and waiting. I raised a hand to catch his attention and met him halfway to the lab door.
“Dear God, Irene, what happened to you?” His eyes were flitting around my face, then the cast, then back again to look at my cuts and scrapes.
“Push Battle. I had to run by the drug store and one broke out right on the freeway nearby.” I may have been lying a little, but it was close enough to the truth to sneak by his notice.
“Fascinating!” Reginald had that same star-struck look I had seen in the eyes of most people when talking about the Pushed. “I
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