Flight or Fight (The Out of Dodge Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Book Description

  New Releases

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Epilogue

  Free Offer

  Thanks!

  Book 2 Excerpt

  More Books by the Author

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  FLIGHT OR FIGHT

  © Scott Bartlett 2016

  Cover art by: Rebecca Frank http://www.RebeccaFrank.design

  Edited by: Karin Cox http://www.editorandauthor.com

  This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 License. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0

  This novel is a work of fiction. All of the characters, places, and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, businesses, or events is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-0-9812867-7-8

  Flight or Fight

  An Out of Dodge novel

  He could keep his dreams or his humanity, but not both.

  Carl Intoever works for SafeTalk, a firm that destroys anyone who embarrasses its corporate customers. He does this because he hates his life, and like almost everyone else living in Dodge, he wants desperately to escape it. People in Dodge don’t save for retirement—they save for a one-way plane ticket to the western continent called the New World.

  When SafeTalk targets the person Carl respects most, he must choose: will he risk his dreams of escape to save his friend?

  The only thing worse than living in a dystopia is discovering you’ll live in one forever

  Michael Haynes is 91 and tired of a crumbling world. A cancer diagnosis makes him glad - he’s certain his death will improve things for his children. One medical miracle later, followed by a car accident that should have been fatal, and dying doesn’t seem to be in the cards. Michael’s learning something shocking about the universe, and the government wants in. Michael must contend not only with living forever but also with stopping his family from tearing itself apart.

  Sign up for the author’s Readers Group mailing list and get a free copy of the entire Unable to Die series in one convenient omnibus.

  Click here to get started:

  www.scottplots.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  If Carl Intoever were to name the most important experience of his adolescence, he would probably have to go with the day they told him he was the messiah.

  “God,” the preacher told his congregation that Monday, “if there is a God, may or may not condone premarital sex.”

  The congregation murmured.

  “Avoiding sex before marriage…maybe that’s a good idea. It might limit the spread of STIs, and could mean fewer children with uncertain familial situations. But does God have an opinion on the matter? We don’t know. We can’t know.”

  “We can’t know,” the congregation repeated in unison.

  “It could be God really doesn’t like it. Could be! It’s possible that if you do it, you’ll be punished for it after death. Maybe your fingernails will get plucked out one-by-one by a demon wielding rusty pliers. Maybe you’ll be gored over and over by a unicorn!” The preacher shrugged. “But maybe not. I really have no idea.”

  Fourteen-year-old Carl Intoever didn’t have any idea either. Right now, his main concern involved complying with Probablism orthodoxy as closely as possible, so he wouldn’t have to stay behind after Monday School for additional programming. He chimed in with the rest of the congregation whenever the preacher’s rote call demanded a rote response, but otherwise he sat quietly and contemplated the unanswerable question of whether life could be said to have meaning and of whether one should bother getting out of bed on any given morning.

  He’d been kept behind for additional programming before, and ultimately it amounted to having less time to don his gaming headset and lose himself in his favorite digital fantasies. Other than attending school and going to church as his father required, video games filled his days. In Dodge, there wasn’t much else for someone his age to do. Most public spaces used a machine that emitted a high-pitched whine, which only teenagers could hear. Carl couldn’t stand it for more than a couple minutes. Not so within the world of his headset; he was the hero there, and nothing good could happen without him. Inside his video games, he wasn’t hated or feared, or worse, ignored by society.

  When the sermon ended, Carl joined the other youth in the church basement for Monday School and took up a seat in the middle of the classroom.

  “Probablism is the most evolved religion,” the teacher told them once they were sitting. “That’s why it’s still around. Can anyone tell me what natural selection did to the other religions?”

  Briefly, Carl considered putting up his hand. Failing to ever answer a question was a sure sign one needed additional programming. But before he could raise his hand, two rows in front of Carl, Gregory Stronger’s shot into the air.

  “They were too unyielding in their doctrines, and agnosticism subverted them. Nothing is certain.”

  Carl breathed a sigh of relief. The answer he’d been considering paled beside Gregory’s and was probably wrong. Gregory made a practice of constantly one-upping Carl, in church, in school, even in online games. Carl gave silent thanks that at least this time the humiliation wasn’t public.

  “Very good, Gregory. People eventually realized the dominant religions of the day were making claims with insufficient evidence. And whenever evidence did come to light, such as the Earth orbiting around the sun, the claims toppled.” The teacher took a sip of water. “But the Probablist doctrine is built on agnosticism. We recognize nothing is certain, as Gregory said.”

  The preacher’s shadow darkened the doorway, and the teacher noticed and fell silent. They all waited for the preacher to speak.

  “Carl Intoever.”

  Carl stood, his chair scraping noisily against the floor in the silence. The preacher pointed a bony finger at him, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously. “I summon you to my chambers,” the preacher said.

  Making his way through the sea of chairs, Carl tried to remember whether he’d committed any spectacularly unorthodox acts lately. Why else would the preacher want to speak with hi
m? Maybe the Monday School teacher thought additional programming would be a waste of time in his case and had recommended extraordinary measures. What if they kept him for the rest of the day?

  He followed the preacher out of the classroom and through the pristine corridor, past the statue of the pasta-creature, and past the blank-canvas portrait of the invisible unicorn.

  “Do you know why we’re called preachers and not priests, Carl?”

  Carl cleared his throat, buying time. “Um,” he replied. “Oh! Because that title would carry unseemly connotations of certainty.”

  The preacher turned his head and smiled. “I’m beginning to see why you were chosen.”

  Carl’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Ch-chosen, preacher?”

  The preacher tittered. “Patience!” He pushed the door of his chambers open. “Enter. Have a seat.”

  Carl sat before the giant desk, and the preacher sank into the lush armchair behind it. “What I am about to tell you, you must share with no one.” The preacher squirted some hand cream from a large bottle and began to rub it into his hands and arms.

  Carl shifted in his seat. “Okay.”

  “Are you ready?” The preacher continued wringing his hands.

  “I think so.”

  The preacher smiled. “You, Carl Intoever, are Schrödinger reborn. The messiah.”

  For that, Carl had no words. The silence stretched on. Finally he said, “But Guardian, surely you mean I might be—”

  “No. Of everything in the Universe, this one thing is certain. You are destined to someday deliver humankind unto salvation. You will save us, Carl Intoever.”

  Carl breathed. “Wow.”

  “I know,” the preacher said, nodding. “It’s a lot to take in. Run along, now.”

  Carl got to his feet, but he hesitated before leaving. “Um, so…what do I do now?”

  The preacher raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you’ll know in time. You’ll just know.” His brow furrowed. “It might take a while.”

  Carl nodded and left the preacher’s office. Monday School had ended, and the other youth filled the corridors. A few glanced at him with curiosity.

  He returned their stares, and found himself fighting to suppress a grin.

  Somehow, he had suspected this all along.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Twenty-eight-year-old Carl Intoever peeled off the blankets and willed his limbs to stir. He wanted them to propel his torso, catlike, over Maria without waking her. They wouldn’t, though. He suspected they were in secret conversation with his brain, which didn’t wish to start the day, not even a little.

  Finally, he managed to heave his mass up and to the right. He didn’t quite make it to the floor. He landed partially on Maria, who squawked and beat him savagely with her pillow. Something loosened inside his bowels, and he ran for the washroom. “Don’t know why you must have that side anyhow!” he shouted back at her as he ran. Maria got up much later than him, so she should be the one to sleep against the wall.

  Not long after he’d unlaced his pajamas and eased himself onto the seat, the wall before him turned on, displaying a white background with black text:

  “HAVING A SHIT, ARE WE?”

  Carl sighed. He’d spent the better part of last night bolstering the house’s firewall. It didn’t matter, of course. The hackers always found a way in. This one was probably some geezer. His best defenses would be laughable to a geezer.

  The text dissolved, and another message replaced it: “YOU’RE LOOKING PARTICULARLY SPOTTY TODAY, CARL. DID YOU KNOW THAT?”

  “Bugger off.”

  “YOU’RE A VERY UGLY MAN.”

  Given his status as the messiah, Carl found adulthood surprisingly dreary and aggravating. Nothing about his life suggested he was special, and so, other than him, no one could discern his divine origins. He wanted to be a good person and to help people, which he assumed would contribute to fulfilling his holy mandate, but he didn’t see how anyone could manage it while still living in Dodge, where success typically required a lot of nastiness.

  He’d recently concluded that his destiny had to be waiting for him in the New World, a society that, according to the promotional videos, wasn’t set up to incentivize bad behavior. Most everyone in Dodge spent their adult lives saving money for a one-way airplane ticket to the New World, and Carl was no exception. Until he got there, he would simply have to put being a good person on the back burner.

  Right now, all he wanted was to get to work without feeling like a complete piece of shit.

  He finished up in the washroom and stumbled into the kitchen for his daily omelet. As he took out a frying pan, the wall behind the sink came alive.

  “THERE AREN’T ANY EGGS, CARL. I’VE ALREADY CHECKED.”

  Carl opened the fridge to verify that claim. “Bugger,” he muttered. Sighing, he put away the pan.

  He trudged back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. His toothbrush chimed when he laid it down again, signaling it had registered the amount of toothpaste used and logged it on his public consumption record.

  As always, his briefcase awaited him in the porch. Carl laced up his boots and reached for the access pole to slide down into the ground-level lobby. Homes were designed this way to keep them above frequent flood waters. As his fingers touched the pole, the wall before him became a screen displaying more text. Something perverse inside made him stop and read it.

  “YOU’RE A DETRIMENT TO THE SPECIES, CARL…A PROPER EUGENICS PROGRAM WOULD HAVE PREVENTED YOU FROM EVER EXISTING.”

  A messiah is destined to suffer; Carl knew that. Even so, this was a bit much.

  He slid down the pole into the vast lobby. As he did, he realized he’d forgotten to apply NanoSpray. Today would be the day he got skin cancer; he didn’t doubt it.

  Gregory Stronger was walking by as Carl landed, and a smile sprang automatically to Carl’s lips. Encountering Gregory this early suggested grim things about how well his day would go, but Gregory was currently his senior at work, which meant brownnosing would now commence. Carl hated brownnosers, but he hated his life even more, and escaping it meant taking opportunities wherever he could get them. There was always the possibility Gregory could get Carl’s contract extended.

  “Good morning, Gregory!” he said.

  “Morning, Carl.” Gregory had been thumbing his phone, and Carl’s presence didn’t cause him to stop. “How might things be?”

  “Oh, well, you know. I’ve got hackers again.”

  Gregory sniffed. “I paid a geezer in accounting to set up my security. Haven’t had hackers since.”

  “Brilliant! You’ll have to refer me.” Which was bollocks, of course. He couldn’t afford that, and they both knew it. “Are we still on for drinks Thursday? Six-thirty, did we say?”

  Gregory considered it for a moment, looking up temporarily from his phone. “I’d estimate a seventy-one percent probability I’ll be there.”

  Carl suppressed a frown. Making plans with a devout Probablist was perhaps the most frustrating exercise ever. “Brilliant,” he said.

  They walked through the dimly lit lobby in silence, weaving through the forest of access poles. Every now and then a resident would slide down one, and everyone below had to take care that they weren’t landed on. It took Carl and Gregory ten minutes to reach the exit, and by then they were most of the way to work.

  They watched through the window as a strong gust of wind blew the raindrops horizontally against the glass.

  “I’ll hail a taxi,” Gregory said. “You can ride for free, if you like.”

  Carl didn’t trust that. Offering a free ride meant Gregory wanted something.

  But he accepted the ride. What else could he do?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Judging from his morning, Carl’s day was shaping up like any other. Disappointing and dehumanizing. He could almost see a parade of identical days stretching before him to the horizon. The only escape lay in embracing the drudgery and working hard, the sooner to buy a pl
ane ticket from Air Earth and get out of Dodge. To that end, he sent Maria a text as soon as he got to his workstation: “You gonna look for jobs today?”

  His own contract would end soon, and he didn’t expect it to be renewed. He spent most of his free time searching for another. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of Maria. Five minutes later, she still hadn’t answered his text.

  He sent another: “I’m counting on you. We’ll never get to the New World unless we both pull our weight.”

  He glanced up from his phone just as Brenda strolled by his workstation. The words “A responsible resident of both air and earth” were currently emblazoned across her smartshirt, underneath the logo for Air Earth. “Hi, Carl,” she said, wearing a warm smile.

  “Hi, Brenda.” His gaze lingered on her as she passed, remaining focused on her chest until Carl realized what he was doing. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. That had probably been a bad idea. Maria had access to his lifelog, and if she happened to watch that part he would be in for it.

  For a moment Carl considered whether he should break things off with Maria in order to find someone self-motivated like Brenda, who was extremely orthodox and worked hard to afford a plane ticket out of Dodge. But he quickly scrapped the notion. He likely wouldn’t be able to stand Brenda-level orthodoxy. Part of his attraction to Maria stemmed from her disinterest in participating properly in society.

  He threw himself into his work in the hopes that management would notice and extend his contract. His work consisted of fielding email complaints from social network users whose posts had been removed. Carl’s current contract was with SafeTalk, a firm corporations paid to safeguard their brands. SafeTalk had an arrangement with Unfurl, the dominant social network, whereby bots scanned the millions of hourly posts for ones that violated the trademarks of SafeTalk clients. The bots automatically removed the infringing ones. Users, such as the one whose complaint Carl was currently reviewing, found that upsetting.

  “This is bullshit,” the user had written. “My friend referenced CabLab last week in almost exactly the same way I did. Why was my post taken down while hers wasn’t?”