Pursued
Page 17
“Da…Da,” Axel gagged, and then felt the Doctor’s hand release its death grip. Axel gasped as a gush of lifesaving air filled his lungs.
“My god,” the Doctor muttered, his eyes wide with shock.
Axel watched Daisha plunge headfirst into the mystical effervescence. A look of fear and panic washed across her face. He heard her shout I love you as a kaleidoscopic of colors exploded over the Sun Temple.
“Daisha!” Axel cried.
Daisha surged upward, sweeping away into the vortex of solar wind.
The magnetic pull that had tried so violently to swallow Axel whole was suddenly gone. He pushed away from the Doctor and watched as the light in the center of the temple turned hellish red. The four powerful satellite dishes surrounding the perimeter exploded into a million pieces. The Doctor’s other equipment—resonance spectrometer, x-ray lasers, and battery trucks connected by long cables—burst into the flames. Plumes of thick black smoke blotted out the sun.
Axel sat up on his knees and quickly surveyed the surroundings. The temple had sustained damage, but it was still in one piece. In the distance, he saw six helicopters flying in their direction. Racing down the road leading to the temple were trucks, jeeps, and other vehicles with the crossed sword insignia of the Indian Army.
The Doctor let out a labored yet maniacal laugh. “Don’t think for a second this is over. I’m always on the winning side. Soon, one of my men is going to feed you to the crocodiles.”
Megan and Jag bounded up the steps and helped Axel up.
“The explosions have alerted the authorities,” Jag said. “Indian Special Forces will be here any minute. We have to get you to safety.”
They carried Axel toward the Sun Temple’s Gathering Hall.
Thick smoke filled Axel’s lungs. Helicopter wings buzzed in his ears like giant, prehistoric mosquitoes. His thoughts raced with questions. Where was Daisha? Did he really just witness her fly into the sky? If she was dead, why did her life have to end like this?
A battle raged inside Axel’s soul. His heart cried out for the answers to his questions, but his logical brain was too afraid of hearing the truth. Jag pressed his palm against the carving of Garuda, and the secret door slowly creaked open.
“She’s the only thing I have left in the world,” Axel whispered, tears flooding the corner of his eyes.
“What did you say?” Megan asked through the clamor of military vehicles.
Axel didn’t respond. He lowered his head, realizing with great anguish that he had fulfilled his palm leaf prophecy. Without Daisha, he was dead inside. Yet, he was still alive.
Chapter Forty-Five
DAISHA
Daisha soared at supersonic speed through the Warp. An illuminated light show exploded before her eyes in a collage of images and colors. The history of human-kind played out like an IMAX movie as she whizzed at the speed of light.
She watched primates stand erect for the first time and take tentative steps on the African savanna. A photographic journal of ancient man taming fire and using stone tools to hunt and scrape hides flashed all around her. Another glimpse showed the world’s oceans rising, cutting off England from the rest of Europe, and drowning the Bering Strait land bridge that humans had used to cross into North America.
Man’s ingenuity was in full display as the time capsule showed people pushing plows and domesticating wild sheep and cows. She saw the birth of Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, Hippocrates, Crazy Horse, and Gandhi. Michelangelo lying on his back while painting the Sistine Chapel and his first chisel marks into a hunk of marble that would eventually become David. Her body tingled with awe as she witnessed the creation of the Konanavlah Sun Temple by thousands of workers.
Then a more recent image exploded into view, making Daisha’s heart hurt and eyes well with tears. She saw Axel sprawled bloody and wounded on the temple’s stone porch. The Doctor had his grubby hands clamped tightly around her best friend’s neck. Would he live or die? The horrible question tumbled through her thoughts as she flew directly toward the sun, just as Megan had explained back in the palm leaf library.
Or was it the sun?
The bright white light gleamed gloriously in the distance. The radiance was gentle, calm, loving, serene, and not at all blistering or blinding like staring directly into the sun. The light equaled peace. She wanted to plunge into its depths and bathe in the beauty forever.
Then, like the final act of a Broadway play, a velvet curtain dropped between her and the light. Everything went black. Daisha spiraled downward through an empty void, a skydiver without a parachute. An extreme rush of hot wind blasted her face. Her eardrums popped from the intense pressure. As she reached terminal velocity, unbearable feelings of loneliness and despair clawed at her heart.
Blurry images began to take shape below Daisha’s feet. Landing was imminent. She twisted her body parallel to the ground. A cushion of air enveloped her seconds before impact, softening the landing as she fell onto the moist, sandy ground.
Her eyes snapped open. She gagged and dry heaved, her head throbbing. The beautiful light was gone, replaced by utter darkness save for a street lamp a few yards away. City sounds filled her ears—car horns, truck engines, doors slams, garbled voices in the distance.
She sat up and saw a familiar sight in the dim light—Centennial Fountain outside the Green Library at Stanford University. Tears leaked from her eyes. She and Axel had played here as small children. She remembered the whispering gallery and how they could hear each other’s every word even though they were far apart.
Daisha walked over and pressed her cheek against its stone surface. “Axel,” she said. “Are you there?”
Silence.
“Axel,” she repeated a little louder. “Are you there?”
She had just given up hope for a response when an abrupt blast burst into her ears from the other side of the fountain. The sound wasn’t Axel’s voice, but the loud bark of a dog. The dog barked again, followed by two deep sniffs.
“No way,” Daisha said. “Boris. Is it you, boy?”
The sound of sharp claws on cement and excited yips echoed around the gallery. A moment later, a big black-and-white dog with a curled tail and violet eyes leaped onto her. Daisha hugged Boris as he frantically licked her face. After their slobbery reunion, Boris nuzzled his nose into the front pocket of Daisha’s pants. He licked and chewed at the fabric until Daisha pushed him away.
“That tickles,” she said. “What do you want?”
Boris barked and then pawed more at her pants. Daisha wormed her fingers into the pocket the dog was so obsessed with and pulled out a blue handkerchief. The one she had found on the ground after Warping to India.
“Is this what’s driving you crazy?”
The dog opened his jaws and snatched the hankie out of her hand. He trotted a few yards away, dropped the prize on the ground, and gave the fabric a thorough sniff.
Daisha walked over and stroked Boris’s head. “That’s Axel’s handkerchief,” she said, a hint of sorrow in her voice.
Boris woofed, stood on his hind legs, and turned an enthusiastic pirouette. He then took off out of the science garden. His curved tail was wagging a million miles an hour, nose to the ground. That’s when Daisha realized what the dog was doing.
“Good boy!” Daisha shouted. “Let’s go get him!”
The tiniest twinkle of hope stirred in her heart. She and Boris had found each other, and now it was time for both of them to find Axel.
LOOK FOR THE NEXT BOOK IN THE
SECTETS of the X-POINT
SERIES
COMING SOON
GARY UREY is the author of the Super Schnoz series, which Kirkus Reviews called in its starred review “a winner, especially for reluctant readers.” Gary is a graduate of the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York City where he has portrayed everything from a Shakespearean messenger to a mime trapped in a box on the subway. He puts his professional theater training to good use every time he sits down
to write stories for kids.
GARY UREY is the author of the Super Schnoz series, which Kirkus Reviews called in its starred review “a winner, especially for reluctant readers.” Gary is a graduate of the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York City where he has portrayed everything from a Shakespearean messenger to a mime trapped in a box on the subway. He puts his professional theater training to good use every time he sits down to write stories for kids.