They were gone.
"What?" Mia cried. "No!!" She was furious at having been denied her chance to get at the man who had drugged and brought her here. The yellow energy burst out, knocking Tyler, Becca and Max, the only ones who could feel it in this state, backward. Max was knocked to the floor, and the others became solid again.
The soldiers, seeing them all for the first time, reacted confusedly, unsure what to do.
Mia grabbed the edge of Carl's desk and launched it across the room. It smashed into the two soldiers and knocked them against the wall.
She stalked through the ruined door, ready to unleash her fury on anyone in sight.
*****
"Dammit!" Tyler shouted. "Mia stop!" His eyes dialed open and he seized the worlds inside the two soldiers, freezing them in place. He had them, but he couldn't see the General, he was somewhere behind, and Tyler couldn't look away without releasing the two he had.
"Max," Tyler called. "Max, you okay, boy? We need you!"
*****
Max tried to lift up, tried to make them like him again, invisible and untouchable, but he couldn't. The effort of keeping them all like that for so long had exhausted him, it seemed, and being stunned by Mia's energy had compounded the problem.
He flopped to his side, and passed out.
*****
JJESUS, EVERYONE FUCKING RELAX FOR A MINUTE, I GOT THISS
Becca took control of the general and the two soldiers.
"You're good, Ty. You can let them go."
Tyler turned to her. "Thanks. What about Mia."
"Nuh uh. Sorry, she's on her own. I'm full up with that crazy nonsense."
"She's gonna get herself killed!" Tyler said. "And where's Max?"
"No clue. Can't get a sense of him at all."
"What are we gonna do?"
WWE? I'M GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF HEREE
*****
He means to leave me here. Wherever "here" is.
Carl calculated probable outcomes. There were terribly few. "Look. I did what I did because the world is in danger as long as you and the others are together. I can...my power, if you want to call it that, is to see possible futures, possible outcomes of everything I do. And the only future I could see ended in a terrible catastrophe: a crack in the universe...the whole thing collapses. You and the others are there. I think you're the catalyst!"
"Did it ever occur to you," Kevin asked, "that if these are possible outcomes for you, that maybe YOU are the problem?"
"No...that's not...that's not what I see." Carl shook his head. "It's not."
"You'd say anything," Kevin said, and closed his eyes.
"Wait!" Carl shouted. "If you leave me here, I promise you, you won't like what happens next! And it'll be on your head! I won't be able to stop it!"
"What happens next?" Kevin asked. "Tell me what you see now? What do you see in the future?"
Carl closed his eyes and focused on the paths in front of him. As before, they all ended in the same place. Unlike before, however... "I can't...It's just...it's just this place. Endless barren rock....everywhere...forever..."
"You know what I think?" asked Kevin. Carl was silent. "I think I just saved the world."
"No! Please!" Carl cried.
Kevin vanished.
"PLEASE!" Carl screamed, falling to his knees. "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME HERE! PLEEEEEASE!"
His voice echoed off the rocks, and died on the bitter wind that howled around the mountain. There was no answer.
*****
The heavy metal door to the incinerator banged open, and Zachary rolled out. He coughed, the ashes of his clothes falling away from him. He was naked, alone, and very afraid.
"Where am I?" he asked. Once again, he had no memory since the crash, since his talk with God. "God, please help me. Please."
He fumbled along the wall until he found a light switch. He was in a small room, with a door on one wall. Passing through that door, he found himself in a cavernous warehouse, lit by fluorescent bulbs from high above. At one end of the warehouse were three school buses. One of them was the one Zachary had been on when it crashed. It still bore the damage from the collision with the bridge railing, as well as from the river itself. The other two? Zachary wasn't sure, but they all were emblazoned with the same number: 313.
In front of the second and third bus were lines of tables. Cadavers lay on each table, covered with sheets. Zachary walked to the first table and lifted. The body was that of a very large man.
"Be brave," Zachary said. "I have to be brave."
He pulled the sheet away, throwing it aside, and laid his hands on the body. A warm glow passed through his hands and into the man. The sheet yanked the toe tag attached to the corpse free. It fluttered to the ground. There was a name written on it, in blockish letters: KENNEY, BROCK.
The enormous body twitched.
END VOLUME ONE
NEXT:
The mystery of the missing time is over.
Now, the students of school bus 313 must deal with an even greater threat, as dangerously powerful foes from alternate realities are unleashed in their world. Even worse, they are plagued by memories of an event they don't fully understand.
They must piece together the threads of what happened: the rooftop, the cracks in the sky, and a strange otherworldly being.
Is the bus driver's prophecy coming true?
The end is closer than you think.
TIME SPENT
Enjoy a special sneak preview of "313" Volume 2: TIME SPENT!
Prologue
"You don't forget the end of the world."
Sugary sweet pop music floated down from the speaker on the ceiling above: Taylor swift breaking up with yet another boyfriend, and singing to the world about it.
Becca cringed internally.
The nail technician applying polish to her toes was droning on about something: baby daddy drama of some utterly ridiculous kind. Becca resisted the urge to reach out with her mind and silence the woman. Cindy? Candy? She had forgotten her name.
She feigned listening, but her mind was elsewhere. She risked only quick, furtive glances toward the door to the salon. Her quarry was late.
"Hang tight, Miller, we have a possible target incoming," said a voice over the earbud in her right ear. It was connected to the device on her back by a slim cord, hidden by the long blonde hair which hung down over her ear.
"Mm-hmm," she said quietly.
"I know right??" said Cindy / Candy, assuming Becca was speaking to her. "He's such a douchebag, I swear!"
"Sounds like a winner," Becca said.
The door to the salon opened.
A man walked in, his face concealed by the shadow of the gray hoodie he wore. He had dark brown skin, she could tell from his hands, medium height and build. He stopped just inside the door as the little chime sounded. The door swung slowly closed as he stepped forward and looked around.
"Is it him, Miller?"
Becca didn't reply. Again, she resisted the impulse to take over the man's body and force him to lift his hood.
"Hello," the salon manager, a slim Asian woman in her mid-forties, greeted him, "can I help you, sir?"
"Miller, is it our guy or not?"
"No, thanks," he said. His voice was familiar somehow. "I'm looking for...."
He spotted Becca at the back of the salon. He pushed past the manager and walked toward her quickly.
"Shit," Becca said, recognizing him. "What the fuck is he doing here?"
"Go! All units, go!" said the voice in her ear.
"No, wait!" Becca said, jumping to her feet, but it was too late.
Agents burst in the front and back doors, turned around from where they had been sitting at nail stations, hair stations, stood from the waiting area. All drew their weapons and surrounded the man in the hoodie.
The man calmly raised his hands. "Hello, Becca," he said. "Long time no see."
She reached across him and yanked the hood back, revealing Ke
vin's bald head, clean-shaven face and penetrating brown eyes.
"Not long enough," she said.
Kevin put his hands down. The agents tensed, but held their fire.
"These men," Kevin said, "Are you using your powers on them?"
Becca grinned. "They're with me!" She took out her badge and showed it to him. Kevin nodded.
One of the agents, who had come in the back door to the salon, approached Becca from her right. "Powers? What's going on, Miller? Who is this and what is he talking about?"
Kevin was silent, waiting for her to answer.
"Someone I really hoped I'd never have to look at again," she said, putting her badge away.
"I didn't think you would," Kevin said. "But it's important. You remember the last time I saw you?"
Becca rolled her eyes. "You're kidding, right? Um, yeah. You don't forget the end of the world."
"It's worse. Everything's worse."
"End of the what?" the agent asked.
"The world," Kevin said. "And it's closer than you think."
Becca reached into her purse. "Sorry, I'm gonna need a cig if I have to deal with this."
"You smoke now?" Kevin asked.
She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's the part of all this that bothers you?"
Kevin sighed, glancing around at the armed agents who surrounded them. She had a point.
"Do you think you could get them to lower their guns?" he asked.
"Cigarette first," Becca said, holding it between her lips and raising her lighter to it.
"There's kind of a time factor here," he said.
"Isn't there always?" she asked in a nasal voice as she held back, then released a billow of smoke. Once she was satisfied, she nodded to one of the men. They lowered their guns, but stared warily at Kevin.
"Okay, now why the fuck are you here? After what happened," her thoughts turned to the rooftop, the crack in the sky, but she quickly pushed aside the image, "you said it was dangerous for us to be together."
"It is," he said. "But I didn't have a choice. I need your help."
Becca rolled her eyes. "What else is new?"
"I can feel you in there, you know," Kevin said, "scrabbling around in my head. You know that doesn't work. Nothing works on me."
Becca gave him an odd look. "You what? I'm not doing anything."
Kevin's eyes widened. "Oh no."
"What oh no? Oh no what?"
Kevin raised a hand to his throat, and made a choking sound. He looked around the salon, at Becca, the agents who surrounded them, then behind them through the plate glass window.
"What the fuck?" Becca asked.
Kevin turned back to her, a terrified look on his face. "She's here."
"She?"
Kevin convulsed, a terrible dry heave emerging from his mouth. He heaved again, and again, and then collapsed backward.
"Jesus!" Becca said, her cigarette slipping from her mouth.
Two of the agents stepped forward, kneeling over Kevin as his body continued to convulse on the floor. Suddenly, Kevin's mouth yawned wide, and first one, then another tiny form emerged:
Bees.
Candy screamed.
More and more poured forth, emerging in a dark funnel. The sound of their buzzing began to fill the salon, and men and women swatted at them, backing away from Kevin. Some ran out the front, some out the back. Some cowered in fear at their hair and nail stations.
Becca backed up as the bees spread out. Soon they filled the room, they were getting in her nose and ears. She moved back into a small room with chairs whose backs leaned into wall-mounted sinks. There was a door with a glass window separating the two rooms.
"Miller," the agent who had spoken before, Michaels, called. She looked back to see he was swarmed with bees, they were clogging his mouth and covering his eyes. Becca reached out to grab his hand but he fell to his knees, then flopped onto his face. His back was a writhing, buzzing mountain.
She slammed the door and watched as the last of the agents ran from the salon, swatting at the massive swarm that clogged the air.
Becca sat on one of the shampoo station chairs, and casually pulled another cigarette from her back. She held the cigarette between her lips and lit it, as the glass door grew opaque with the writhing forms of the bees.
"Beautiful," she said, "fucking beautiful."
Don't miss "313" Volume 2:
TIME SPENT, coming soon!
As a special bonus, please enjoy a free preview of the first chapter of my upcoming epic fantasy series KEEPER OF DAYS.
This is the story of Daniel, a monk who is part of a special order that keeps the count of the days and ages of the world, as handed down by their worlds' gods. Every thousand years, a celestial event occurs which tells them which god will hold dominion over their world for the next thousand years. Daniel must undertake a pilgrimage to witness this event. Unfortunately, when he emerges from the Keepers' mountain cloister, he discovers a world in chaos, as a new warlord has arisen who seeks to erase all vestiges of ancient lore and set his son up as a God Emperor.
Enjoy the free preview, and make sure to pick up KEEPER OF DAYS Volume 1 when it comes out, hopefully by the end of 2014!
KEEPER OF D AYS
I: The Book of Day and Night
ONE
PORTENTS AT MORNING PRAYER
On the morning of my ascension, the first light of dawn crept in through the window to fall upon my left eye. I opened it, blearily, to find that the shutter had blown open during the night. Throwing aside my coverlet, I slid my feet out into the chill air that had invaded my chamber. Our chamber, I should write, as my bunkmate, Brother Orly, snored in his bed just a few feet from me. My bare toes objected strongly to the cold stone floor of the chamber, and it took some will to place them firmly there.
I stood, clutching my nightclothes more tightly about me, and stepped to the window. There I held the open shutter and gazed out at the sun as it edged over the horizon, sending streaks of red and orange to trace across the sky. My first inclination had been to close the shutter, though the damage had been done: my breath emerged as mist even while in my bed. But as I looked out at the sun, I found I could not close out this gift from the Lord of Day. And so I knelt there, at the windowsill, touching my fingertips to my forehead, and said a silent prayer to the morning light the god had sent, that it might bless our Order on this new day, and bring me the wisdom to lead them into a prosperous new Age. The sun rose, and warmed the backs of my hands as I prayed. Finally, I lowered them into the supplicating position, and allowed my face to be warmed by the sun, keeping my eyes closed, as I was taught long ago by the old Masters, when praying to the Lord of Day. For he is, more than anything else, the bringer of truth, and truth, like sunlight, may blind the imprudent.
From the belfry above, I heard the morning bell sound, and though our bell is not of great size, the natural properties of the stone apertures carved in the tower allow the sound to echo off the canyon walls, bringing the sound in clear, cool tones to all those within our cloister. Once it rang, and I again silently thanked the Lord of Day for bringing me his blessing on this, the day of my ascension to the rank of Master. The youngest to be so elevated in the history of our order, some have said, though they cannot know this, as our order has existed for thousands of years and the most ancient records have now fallen unto dust in our library. I do not believe it so, cannot believe it. Twice, the bell rang, and I stood, and at last opened my eyes, though not to look directly into the sunlight, of course, but to gaze down at the mountain path which emerges from the front of the monastery gate to crawl around the canyon wall and slowly make its way down to the foot of the Amitines, the range from which our mountain home was carved so very long ago.
Soon I must take that road, I thought, for the very first time.
Thrice the bell sounded, and I closed the shutter. It was time to prepare for Morning Prayer, which I was to lead. I had nearly forgotten.
I reached down
to shake the shoulder of Brother Orly, still snoring away in his bunk. "Morning, Brother," I said softly.
He made some guttural sound and turned to his other side. Orly was some ten years my senior, still a Lay Brother in name, though I kept pushing him to seek elevation. Our Order, I have found, keeps a very loose (some might say disorganized) structure, as compared to other monastic orders. There is no set period to study and ascend to the next rank; one may seek elevation at any time, and if she passes the trials, she is granted it. Thus, one can be a Journeyman, a Monk, such as I was, at only twenty-five summers, or, one could be Novice or Apprentice until far more advanced age. Or indeed, like Orly, an initiate could choose to remain a Lay Brother or Sister, carrying out menial tasks for the monastery for her full time in our Order, rather than move on to become an Apprentice and learn the teachings of the gods. Orly was fond of the messenger pigeons kept in our aerie, having been assigned to assist the Brother in charge of it some years past. He had elected to remain there when the elder Brother had passed, and was now the Lay Brother in charge of that function, tending to the pigeons and the maintenance of their lofts. There is nobility in the simplest of functions, so Master Timeon taught me, and I believe it so. Brother Orly was a simple man, who wanted nothing more than to tend to his birds, eat when the dinner bell rang, and serve the will of the gods. I cannot fault him for that.
However, he was indeed a challenge to wake up of a morning. Further, he had an unfortunate disposition to being untidy, leaving a mess of his robes, papers, even bits of hay and feathers, about our chambers. I had to repeatedly abjure him to keep the room clean, and it would revert to its prior state quickly were I to be lax in reminding him. I once spoke to Matron Sebelle about him, and asked if perhaps I could be assigned a new bunkmate.
"Your fellows seem to think quite highly of you, Daniel," she said.
Missing Time (313) Page 16