Partials series 1-3
The only hope for humanity isn’t human. But she’s fighting to stop a war that could destroy them all…Books 1-3 in the Partials series.PARTIALS:In a world where people have been all but wiped out by a virus created by part-human cyborgs called ‘Partials’, and where no baby survives longer than three days, a teenage girl makes it her mission to find a cure, and save her best friend’s unborn child.But finding a cure means capturing a Partial…FRAGMENTS:Venturing deep into the wasteland, Kira’s only allies are an unhinged drifter and two Partials who betrayed her yet saved her life – the only ones who know her secret. Back on Long Island, what’s left of humanity is gearing up for war. But their greatest enemy may be one they didn’t even know existed.It is the eleventh hour of humanity’s time on earth; this journey may be their last.RUINS:Humans and Partials alike are on the brink of destruction, and their only hope is to work together. But there is no avoiding it – the final war to decide the fate of both species is at hand, and every faction seems determined to tear the others apart.Both sides hold in their possession a weapon that could destroy the other. Kira has fought her way through madness and ruin, but the greatest horror lies in a place she had never dared to consider: herself. She has one chance to save both species and the world. But it might be at the cost of her life…
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Partials series 1-3
Partials
Fragments Ruins
Dan Wells
HarperCollins Childrenâs Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk
Partials
Text Copyright © 2012 by HarperCollinsPublishers Jacket art © 2012 by Craig Shields. Photo of girl © 2012 by Howard Huang. Jacket design by Alison Klapthor. Typography by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2012 Fragments Text Copyright © 2013 by HarperCollinsPublishers Jacket art © 2013 by Craig Shields. Photo of couple © 2013 by Howard Huang. Jacket design by Alison Klapthor. Ruins Text copyright © 2014 by HarperCollinsPublishers Jacket art © 2014 Craig Shields. Photo of girl © 2014 by Howard Huang. Jacket design by Alison Klapthor.
Dan Wells asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.
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Source ISBNs:
9780007465224 9780007465231 9780007465248 Ebook Edition © September 2014 ISBN: 9780008106072 Version: 2017-01-31
This book is dedicated to the rule breakers, the troublemakers, and the revolutionaries. Sometimes the hand that feeds you needs a good bite.
Contents
Dedication
Part 1
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Part 2 - Three Months Later
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
Part 3 - Four Hours Later
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
Acknowledgments
Newborn #485GA18M died on June 30, 2076, at 6:07 in the morning. She was three days old. The average lifespan of a human child, in the time since the Break, was fifty-six hours.
They didnât even name them anymore.
Kira Walker looked on helplessly while Dr. Skousen examined the tiny body. The nursesâhalf of them pregnant as wellârecorded the details of its life and death, faceless in bodysuits and gas masks. The mother wailed despondently from the hallway, muffled by the glass. Ariel McAdams, barely eighteen years old. The mother of a corpse.
âCore temperature ninety-nine degrees at birth,â said a nurse, scrolling through the thermometer readout. Her voice was tinny through the mask; Kira didnât know her name. Another nurse carefully transcribed the numbers on a sheet of yellow paper. âNinety-eight degrees at two days,â the nurse continued. âNinety-nine at four oâclock this morning. One-oh-nine point five at time of death.â They moved softly through the room, pale green shadows in a land of the dead.
âJust let me hold her,â cried Ariel. Her voice cracked and broke. âJust let me hold her.â
The nurses ignored her. This was the third birth this week, and the third death; it was more important to record the death, to learn from itâto prevent, if not the next one, then the one after that, or the hundredth, or the thousandth. To find a way, somehow, to help a human child survive.
âHeart rate?â asked another nurse.
I canât do this anymore, thought Kira. Iâm here to be a nurse, not an undertakerâ
âHeart rate?â asked the nurse again, her voice insistent. It was Nurse Hardy, the head of maternity.
Kira snapped back to attention; monitoring the heart was her job. âHeart rate steady until four this morning, spiking from 107 to 133 beats per minute. Heart rate at five oâclock was 149. Heart rate at six was 154. Heart rate at six-oh-six was . . . 72.â
Ariel wailed again.
âMy figures confirm,â said another nurse. Nurse Hardy wrote the numbers down but scowled at Kira.
âYou need to stay focused,â she said gruffly. âThere are a lot of medical interns who would give their right eye for your spot here.â
Kira nodded. âYes, maâam.â
In the center of the room Dr. Skousen stood, handed the dead infant to a nurse, and pulled off his gas mask. His eyes looked as dead as the child. âI think thatâs all we can learn for now. Get this cleaned up, and prepare full blood work.â He walked out, and all around Kira the nurses continued their flurry of action, wrapping the baby for burial, scrubbing down the equipment, sopping up the blood. The mother cried, forgotten and aloneâAriel had been inseminated artificially, and there was no husband or boyfriend to comfort her. Kira obediently gathered the records for storage and analysis, but she couldnât stop looking at the sobbing girl beyond the glass.
