Awaken: A Dystopian Science Fiction Adventure

by Troy McLaughlan

  A W A K E N

  A Dystopian Science Fiction Adventure

  TROY MCLAUGHLAN

  Copyright © 2018 Troy McLaughlan

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0-9994019-1-2

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9994019-1-0

  BLUE ECLIPSE PRESS

  DEDICATION

  This story is dedicated to you, the reader who, with all the millions of choices out there, decided to give my novella a chance. It is my hope that you find the story of ‘Fives’ as thrilling to read as it was for me to write.

  A huge thanks also goes to my family for putting up with the many late nights, weekends, and early mornings spent making this story possible. They are my inspiration.

  Also, a special thank you goes to my writing partner, Joy, who got me involved in this crazy idea to write this sequel to a story based on a single word. Without her, and her encouragement, this story would have never seen the light of day.

  BLURB

  The sequel to Hidden: A Dystopian Science Fiction Adventure.

  “Trust no one. Awaken Gaia before it’s too late.” These were the dying words of my father.

  “I knew only three things about Gaia. First, she was our planetary guardian located under Mt. Kilimanjaro. Second, the bloodthirsty alien invaders called Targs were frantically searching for her. And third, I had to find her first.” — Fives

  ...

  ‘Fives’ was the first human slave to survive ‘The Hunt’. Trained by her father from birth as a living weapon, she watched as the Targs butchered him when he helped her to escape. Grief-stricken, she wanders the African wilderness alone, desperate to locate Gaia. Pursued relentlessly, she sinks into despair when she finds the volcano guarding the entrance is swarming with Targs.

  Then a chance encounter with a handsome, but mysterious human resistance fighter offers her hope. He leads Fives to his base promising assistance, yet something sinister there awaits.

  Can she survive and awaken Gaia in time...

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  Want More?

  Hidden: One title. Endless possibilities.

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  “My choice stirred the embers of this world and awakened the fire within.”

  Fives, former human slave.

  “This world is alive!” my father’s voice boomed behind me.

  In the amber fog, I turned around to see him lying on the jungle floor, the Targ blade protruding from his stomach. His pale blue eyes gazed back at me while blood pooled from the ragged cut.

  I gasped and shrunk back. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for you to die.”

  “Remember your purpose, my daughter. Find the Sanctum.”

  ~~~

  My eyes snapped open, and I awoke in my tree bivouac to the still-quiet of daylight. The sun was high in the western sky. It had been two days since the Targ, Draks, killed my father, and the volcano of Mt. Kilimanjaro still stood afar off in the distance. The snowcapped solitary mountain on a high plateau seemed no closer to me than when I first saw it.

  After a quick breakfast of beef jerky, water, and one of Cradlo’s apples, I laid back and waited for the cool dark of nightfall. For I continued to follow Cradlo’s advice, and traveled only at night, so the darkness would hide my movements.

  Time passed and my breathing stilled. The empty quiet closed its black arms about and choked me. I hated this part of my journey, how I had time to reflect on my loneliness.

  You would think I would be used to being alone by now, with all the time I spent locked away in the cellar. But this was different. Back then, I could always look forward to when my mother or father would come to see me. How my anticipation bubbled to the surface every time footsteps clopped by the door. I remembered the feel of my mother’s gentle touch, and the soft smile on my father’s face. How they were always just as excited to see me.

  But that will never happen again, and it was my fault.

  My eyes watered. The agony of my past building and pounding inside my head.

  It was all my fault.

  A pain like electricity jolted through my body and my stomach seized. I doubled over feeling my skull star burn.

  “Not again.”

  The Targs were trying to track me. It was the third time that day. I clenched my teeth, balled my fists, and fought through the pain and nausea. My knees gave way, and I sunk to the base of the tree.

  A familiar memory echoed, and I latched on to it. My father is taking me on a hike up a mountain overlooking our stone walled compound. The birds sang a beautiful lullaby. The scent of fragrant wildflowers filled the air. I skipped up the trail, dancing from tree to rock. He smiled and we laughed. It was one of the few times I felt free from the Targs.

  The pain throbbed, refusing to be ignored, and with a final push, I shoved it aside. It still clawed for attention at the back of my mind, but for now, I had it under control.

  I focused on the memory of my father who struggled to kneel down. Afterward, he pointed and identified the various plants. Ones I could eat, the best ones for camouflage, dry branches that produced little smoke when burned. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. His eyes met mine. They were large and puppy like. He licked his dry lips. His mouth opened, but he hesitated, his bottom lip trembling.

  I could tell he wanted to say something important to me that day. Several moments later, he turned away and held my hand as he led me up the mountain.

  At the time, I thought it was all some kind of game. Never realizing how vital these lessons would become. How much he loved me, but could never say so.

  The pain of my skull star pulsed then stopped. I could almost feel the Targs frustration as it left my body. They failed to find me again, but I would pay a high price for that memory.

  “Papa!” I cried.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks.

  “Why did you have to die?”

  I really need you right now.

  My wood flute called to me, like a satchel of wine calls to a drunkard. It promised me relief from the pain of losing my father, but I knew better. Yet, I couldn’t help myself. I reached into my backpack and dug for it under the layers of food and survival gear. My fingers wrapped around a round rod, and I pulled it up.

  Put it back, Lumenara.

  I placed the flute to my lips and played the song my father taught me. The one my mother would play to me before she died. At first, the sounds were raspy and ragged. I closed my eyes and poured my heart into my music. The notes became light and clear. A happy tune filled with their love.

  I shouldn’t do this.

  Nearby Targs might hear the sound and find me, but I didn’t care anymore. I could almost sense my parents’ presence next to me, hear my father’s strong baritone voice, and feel the soft touch of my mother.

  The song ended and my eyes opened. I fully expected to see both of them standing beside me, but I was alone, surrounded by miles of shadowed wilderness. More tears fell, and I collapsed. My head pounded, and I dug my fingers into the grass. My sobs heaved my body with the force of a person vomiting on all fours.

  After the last sliver of the sunlight disappeared on the horizon, I struggled to stand. My eyes were dry and my mind exhausted. The crickets begin their own
cacophony chorus as the waning moon rose in the eastern sky, illuminating the snowcapped peak of the volcano.

  Find the Sanctum, my father’s voice echoed. Trust no one. Awaken Gaia before it’s too late.

  ~~~

  All night I ran to the mountain on the horizon, staying close to a river. Everything was simpler while I did this. I didn’t have time to think as I dodged the low-lying branches of acacia trees, leaped over small gullies, and sidestepped thorn bushes. My purpose and hatred of the Targs drove me even as my legs burned with fatigue.

  Just before the sun rose, I stooped to refill my leather satchel with water from the river and listen to the din of the crickets. Yet no chorus sung. Only silence. I cocked my head and strained my ears.

  That was odd.

  Usually the pings of their songs were so loud I could barely think, which could only mean one thing.

  I was not alone.

  I knelt and took a long drink while searching the edge of the forest for the intruder, my hands curled around my staff and my heart pounding. Nothing. The sun rose and instead of making camp, I headed toward the volcano. A gazelle took off, and I whipped around, but no one was behind me. Whatever it was, it was cunning. It always stayed out of sight and only traveled when I moved. But the repeated snaps of twigs and flights of squawking birds gave away its presence.

  When I doubled back to confront it, it kept its distance, so I trekked downwind and caught a familiar earthy cinnamon scent.

  Targs.

  It had to be within weapons range. Why didn’t it just shoot me?

  For hours, it followed me despite my attempts to lose it in the underbrush. A thick branch of an acacia tree came into view, so I bolted to it and swung my exhausted body up and into its boughs. There I hid and waited.

  The creature that emerged under me was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It wore the gray Targ body armor, but it was much too small to be a Targ. Not much larger than me. Its head looked like an over-sized praying mantis with two large compound eyes that moved independently in every direction. The Targ gun, holstered on its right side, glistened in the bright sunlight.

  It had to be a Targ, but where was its tail?

  I dropped out of the tree behind it and swung my staff at its legs. It fell forward and spun around with its weapon drawn. I smashed it out of its hand and thrust the end of my staff at its fleshy exposed neck, driving it to the ground.

  “Wait!” it cried in English. “I’m human!”

  How did a Targ know the ancient forbidden language?

  It raised its hands up. “Please, just let me remove my helmet.” Its voice sounded mechanical, like it passed through several layers of metal mesh.

  What trickery is this?

  I kept my staff pressed against its neck ready to crush it.

  Slowly, it lifted two gray sheathed fingers behind and to the back of its head. Bio-luminescent blue seams appeared on the insect-like face. They flattened and folded back, disappearing behind the neck.

  In its place was a young man with waves of curly black hair, thick eyebrows, and vibrant green eyes that hinted of a story I wanted to hear. These were set within a rectangular face with a defined, slightly pointed chin, and a strong jaw.

  Those eyes captivated me and I raised my staff a little. I had never seen that eye color before. That was when I saw it, or rather, didn’t see it. He had no skull star. Not even a trace of one. It only made me want to hear his story even more.

  Who is this young man? Where did he come from, and why is he wearing Targ armor?

  I shook my head and I pressed the end of my staff to his neck.

  “Who are you?”

  His eyes widened. “You can speak English?”

  I nudged my staff forward.

  He flinched. “Easy, my name is John. I’m with the Human Resistance, 101st Marine Recon.”

  His voice was a deep baritone that flowed like melted butter and yet he spoke with a commanding air.

  “My father told me the Resistance had been crushed.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You have a father?”

  A burst of anger shot through me. “Yes, I have a father. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “I’m sorry. First time I’ve heard of a slave who had a father. What’s your slave ID?”

  HU-645-555.

  I hated my slave ID and ‘Fives’, my father’s nickname for me. He only used it because he had to hide my being his daughter. It was a reminder of what I once was and everything I’d lost.

  “I’m not a slave, not anymore. My name is Lumenara.”

  He gazed at me. “Lumenara.” He smiled. “Beautiful.”

  I felt my cheeks heat. Nobody had ever called me that before. His face flushed and he looked away. “I mean...your name. Your name is beautiful.”

  Whoever he was, he didn’t seem like a threat.

  “I have no time for this.” I raised my staff and jogged away.

  “Wait a minute. Where are you going?” He ran up behind me.

  “I have to get to the volcano.” …to awaken Gaia.

  He got in front of my path and forced me to a stop. “Are you insane? That’s suicide.”

  I tried to step around him, but he kept moving in front of me. I raised my staff to knock his legs out from under him.

  “Hey, me and my squad were sent to recon the area around the volcano. There’s been a lot of Targ activity there the last couple of days.”

  “That doesn’t concern me.”

  “You don’t understand. There are hundreds of Targs down there. They have heavy weapon emplacements, and tower scanners. There’s no way you’ll get to that mountain without being spotted.”

  I shoved him aside and strutted past him. “I have to try.”

  He grabbed my arm. “Why? What’s so damned important about that volcano?”

  I jerked my arm away and turned to glare at him. He raised his hands. A boyish innocence formed in his expression, but I remembered my father’s warning. I couldn’t trust anyone, and I couldn’t fail.

  He extended a hand to me. “Look, how about I show you? There’s a hill about two days from here. You can see it for yourself and then decide.”

  I wasn’t sure what to do. The burden of my mission pressed against me, but part of me also ached to stay with him. Traveling for a little while, even with a stranger, was very tempting after my journey of solitude. It was on the way. Could it really hurt to take a look with him?

  I searched his eyes. He smiled with his teeth slightly exposed like my father.

  “Okay.”

  He activated his helmet and took my hand. I was going to pull away, but it sent a shiver of pleasure up my spine. I smiled and together we raced off to the hill.

  CHAPTER 2

  He ran right alongside me. His movements were graceful, like a gazelle’s, and he made it seem so effortless. I tried to picture what the rest of him looked like under all that armor. Was his body long and lean or stout and muscular?

  “Why were you following me?”

  “I was returning from scouting out my area when I detected a slave...” His helmet twitched. “I mean a human female about ten clicks away. I’d never seen one that far away from the camps, so I decided to check it out.”

  “Why didn’t you just come to me?”

  “The Targs have tried to trick us with traps before. I had to make certain this wasn’t one of them.”

  I stumbled on a patch of loose rocks and skidded to a stop, grabbing at my knees to keep my balance.

  “Are you alright?” His helmet was deactivated and he extended a hand to me, but I didn’t take it.

  “I’m fine,” I said between breaths. “I’ve just been running all night and into the day.”

  “Then you should sleep. I’ll keep an eye out for Targs.”

  I looked into his green eyes and arched an eyebrow.

  He took a step back. “Except…you don’t trust me.”

  “I don’t know you, so how can I trust you?” I winced.
I didn’t mean to be that blunt, but I was exhausted.

  “Fair enough. Surely you must realize, if I wanted to take advantage of you I could.”

  I put a hand on my hip. “Take advantage! Like an overseer does with his concubines?”

  His face flushed, and he raised his palms. “Bad choice of words.” He sighed. “How about I just take off and give you some space? I’ll come back later after sunset.”

  I searched his emerald eyes, but saw only innocence and embarrassment in his boyish face. The truth was, I was stuck with him and somehow, that didn’t seem so bad.

  I reached behind me and retrieved my rope hammock from my backpack. After curling it under one arm, I scaled the nearest tree.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting my bed ready.”

  “You sleep in the trees?”

  I turned an irritated gaze down to him.

  “Sorry.” He put his hands up. “Just making an observation. I’ll…go scout around.”

  He activated his helmet and disappeared into the underbrush. I followed his movements for a few minutes. His helmeted head popped up looking straight back at me. He waved, then fell backward into a bush sending a flock of squawking birds into the sky. I laughed and shook my head.

  Some scout.

  I thought about his youthful face: his emerald green eyes, soft cheeks, and strong jawline. Beautiful seemed the best way to describe him, and yet there was a sadness to his eyes like my fathers. It showed when they moved. Slow, deliberate, overly large. He hid it well, but it was still there.

  After readying my hammock, I dropped my guard and fell asleep almost immediately. After days on the run, I was so exhausted that I had no choice but to trust him.

  ~~~

  I awoke to the smell of something roasting below me. The sun was starting to set, and John had made fire. I was about to scold him, when I noticed very little smoke rising from it. He built it just like my father taught me. Maybe he wasn’t so worthless after all.