by S. S. Segran
“You’re not having lunch?”
“Not really hungry.”
Roderick helped himself into a chair; Jag would have offered, but he knew Roderick wasn’t always fond of being assisted, especially with things he considered easy.
Once he was settled, he pulled out a sandwich from his bag and began eating meticulously. After a few mouthfuls, he looked Jag in the eye. “You look horrible,” he said. “You sleeping okay?”
“Yeah . . . I mean, no. That’s kind of why I wanted to talk—I need to get something off my chest.” Jag paused, hesitating. He’d wanted to talk about his disturbing dream, but was unsure now whether to even mention it. The more he thought, the more silly he felt for even wanting to speak about it.
Again, Roderick seemed to read his mind. “I’m all ears. You know that. I don’t laugh at your problems—you’ve never laughed at mine.”
Jag slid his phone into his jeans’ pocket and leaned back with a sigh. “It’s just . . . I’ve been having these dreams. And they’re always the same.”
Roderick frowned as he munched on his sandwich. “Is this a nightly thing?”
“No. Happens often enough to bug me, though.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Since . . . since returning home last summer.”
Roderick stopped mid-munch. “Oh.” He put his sandwich down and cleared his throat. “I know I’ve asked before, and I know other people have, too, but you really can’t remember a thing, not even in the slightest?”
Jag shook his head and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “The only thing I remember is the crash in Kody’s dad’s little Piper Comanche over Yukon, and then finding myself in a hospital. But there’s like a three-month gap in between and no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember a thing.”
“And you weren’t injured? Head trauma or something?”
“According to the doctors, no. Apparently we’d walked into the small town. I remember none of it. The other four say the same thing too.”
“That’s just strange.” Roderick picked up his sandwich again. “You and Tegan, Aari and the others don’t really hang out anymore, do you?”
“We’re a bigger target when we’re together in this place,” Jag said wistfully. “We do meet up after school sometimes, but it feels different, you know? Like a huge part of us is missing—which is true, I guess. And we’re all frustrated because of people like that idiot and his friends this morning.”
“They’re just a handful of dimwits who’re all bark. I mean, they’re loud and rude, but most people are sympathetic toward you guys.”
“Yeah. But sometimes it’s a handful of people that do the most damage.”
Roderick smiled sadly. “I understand.” He pushed the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth. “So, about that dream.”
“Right. Basically, I’m in the middle of some kind of—I dunno, it feels like a battleground. There are these people, two groups of them, and they’re fighting each other. One side has guns and the other is using bows and arrows. And there are these animals that I’m pretty sure spawned from the depths of hell; ruthless killing machines. And then . . . and then there’s this guy I keep seeing, an older guy, maybe in his late fifties. He moves really fast, but each time in my dreams, he gets shot down by a machine gun in a plane flying overhead. And each time, I can never save him.”
Roderick’s frown seemed to be plastered onto his face. “That’s a bit spooky, if you’re dreaming about it often.”
Jag nodded. “When I wake up, I usually have the urge to throw up. Seeing that old man being shot, seeing the blood, and having it be that vivid . . . every emotion, just . . . ” As he spoke, he felt bile rising in his throat.
Roderick reached into his bag and pulled out a water bottle which he passed to Jag. Jag took it gratefully and took a few sips before capping the bottle.
Roderick rubbed his face. “Well . . . That’s definitely not a pleasant dream to have, even once.”
“No kidding. And then there’s this voice at the end of the dream. I can’t really place the accent, but it’s a man speaking and he’s telling me about a gathering storm and that I need to wake up.”
“Hmm . . . This may be a bit silly, but have you talked to anyone else about this? Parents?”
Jag let out a sharp laugh. “Hah! No, definitely not. It’s bad enough that one of their sons is a clinical amnesiac who disappeared without a trace for months. I don’t need them thinking I’m a nut, too.”
“They’re your parents! They know you’re a nut anyway.” Roderick smiled good-humoredly.
Jag, despite himself, smiled back. “Ha-ha.”
“But in all seriousness, maybe it’s just a psychological reaction to all that you’ve gone through.”
“If you’re implying that I should see a psychiatrist, the answer is no.”
“Just trying to look out for you. You tried taking some sleeping medications?”
“I did, but I stopped. They didn’t help and I didn’t want to get hooked on them.” Jag poked at the water bottle that was sitting on the table. “Thanks for listening, Roddy.”
“Anytime, man, anytime. There may be jerks roaming this place, but you’ve got friends who have your back.”
Table of Contents
Quick Links
Praise for Aegis Rising
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Publication Information
Dedication
PROLOGUE
PART ONE
1
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
PART TWO
24
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
PART THREE
32
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
EPILOGUE
List of Characters
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Bonus Material: Excerpt from “Aegis Incursion”
PART ONE
1