“Not me.”
“Right. And me neither, or Maddie, or Matt, or a lot of other people. And according to the Association, that means we get eliminated.”
“Why can’t they just do what they want, and we’ll do what we want?”
“Oh no,” Dave says. “They don’t see it that way. They’re totally unreasonable. All must conform or the grand scheme doesn’t work. I’m telling you, these guys are fanatics. They won’t stop until the entire galaxy is the same.”
“That’s insane. Someone has to stop them.”
“Right. Someone like you. Why they want you out of the way.”
“Out of the way?” A surprising choice of words. “That’s putting it mildly. Looks more like they want me dead.”
“No doubt they’d love that, but there’s one little problem—you don’t die.”
“What are you talking about? Sure I’ll die, someday.”
Madison jabs me in the chest. “No, Adam, that body will die, not you.”
“Are you both crazy?”
Dave sighs. “I’m not talking about your body. When I say you, I’m talking about you as a being, a soul, an essence, whatever you want to call it. You. You’re not a body. You remember that much, don’t you?”
Another key turns and the door swings open. Of course I remember—being, body, and mind are separate entities. I have known this all along. But I’m confused. The memory exists, I am certain, but it was out of reach, hidden in a safe and the combination thrown away. But his words unlock the answer. The simple truth cannot be denied—I am not a body. I am me. I am I.
Old habits die hard. I reach for my head in a useless attempt to rub out pain.
Matt notices. “You don’t have to do that anymore, remember? I took it out.” He holds up the tiny capsule he removed from my skull.
He’s right. I’m chasing after a pain that no longer exists.
Madison says, “They can destroy our bodies, but they can never destroy us, what we feel, or believe, our thoughts, our passions, our love of life, or our way of life. And what they can never change is that we don’t agree, and we never will, no matter what.”
This is too much. We don’t die? No, we don’t, and more odd is that I already know that, or knew it, I just forgot. No, I didn’t forget. It was taken from me. I was made to forget.
Gathered around the table, my trio of friends stare at me, their long faces dreading a bleak future. But if what they say is true . . .
“If we don’t die, what are we worried about?”
Dave says, “They invented something worse.”
“Worse? What could be worse than dead?”
“I don’t know what they call it, but we call it dead forever.”
* * *
Out the corner of one eye, I catch a glimmer of light. Past the open hatch, a scorching beam strikes the ground and explodes a fireball.
Dave and Matt scramble to the cockpit. Madison slaps the hatch shut and chases after them. The ship launches to the sky, I struggle for balance, then duck into the corridor leading to the cockpit, right on Madison’s tail. Along the passage are steel rungs like a ladder, but oddly, they run sideways. The cockpit is big, not at all what I expected. Roomy enough for a dozen crewmembers, and the ceiling is tall, covered with controls well out of reach.
As I stand gawking at the ceiling, a blast strikes and foils my footing. The craft rocks hard, tossing me into Dave and almost knocking him from his seat. He doesn’t notice. Besides strapped in nice and tight, he’s consumed with guiding our craft through a maze of fireballs lighting up the sky. To his side, Matt is buckled in facing a screen and terminal, keys clacking and fingers a blur.
“Who is it?” I ask.
Across the cockpit, Madison says, “Looks like a scout craft.”
Dave says, “Get the shields up, quick!”
“I’m working on it,” Matt says, no chance to clear the stringy hair from his brow. “They’re running circles around my calculations. This junk is obsolete.”
Dave asks Madison, “You got a shot?”
She stands facing another screen and controls below. “I might if you quit bouncing around. I keep losing it.”
“I have to!” Dave snaps. “Or we’ll lose it for sure, when we’re hit.”
“Can you outrun them?” I ask.
Dave stays focused on the view ahead. “I’m giving it all she’s got, and they’re still on our ass. It doesn’t look good.”
“But it’s only a scout craft, and we’re—”
Like mental adrenaline, the past feeds an analytical marvel that springs into action, computing our scenario and solution at a speed beyond human comprehension. I don’t know how, and can hardly believe it, but I know exactly what to do.
I hurry to Madison’s console. The screen is mostly black, with a small image of the pursuing craft. “I need to see that ship. Can you zoom in?”
“What for?” she asks.
“I have to see it, to know what to do about it.”
“Okay, how’s this?” The enemy craft enlarges to fill the screen.
Come on, fire at us. Their weapons strike, our craft shudders. Another shot misses, and confirms their weakness.
“Where are the weapons on this ship?”
Madison is puzzled. “Why? Are you going to hang out the door and shoot at them yourself?”
“No! The ship’s guns. How are we equipped?”
“Two inducers forward, one aft, and—”
“Forward the most powerful?”
“Of course,” she says. “But don’t expect much, they have shields, too. We’re better off making a run for it. We’re not riding around in a battleship, you know.”
“But could we do enough damage if we made a direct hit without their shields interfering?”
She stares at me like I’m a nutcase. “What makes you think their shields are going to stop interfering any time soon?”
My wacky plan has yet to impress her. It might if she stops being such a smart-ass.
I ask Dave, “Can you put us nose to nose with them?”
“What in blazes for?”
“Can you or not?”
“Sure I can, I can do a lot of things. Doesn’t mean I want to.”
“Fine, I’ll get back to you on that. Matt, can you match their shield frequency?”
“What are you up to?” he asks.
“Just tell me if you can.”
“Of course I can, I’m a genius.”
“All right, Mister Genius, after we turn around, figure out their frequency and match it, quick.”
“Okay, but what are you talking about? After we turn around?”
* * *
A mind is a great tool, I should have more. I don’t know where these crazy ideas come from, but the supply appears endless, particularly in times of stress. Put me in danger and this mind dispenses a solution, it seems without effort. Even stranger is the sudden recall of the craft’s capabilities, weapons, and shields. Yes, we have shields, as does our enemy, and that is the answer.
Following my command, Dave slows our craft to a hover. The pursuing enemy duplicates our lazy speed and pounds us with blasts. Matt maintains the shields, keeping us from harm, but we can’t stay this way for long. We’re far too vulnerable.
“Get on their nose,” I tell Dave. “And stick with them no matter where they go.”
He whips the craft around and aligns us nose to nose, hulls nearly touching. The blasts stop pounding us, and instead, the sizzling beams whiz past.
Our adversary is a scout craft, its armaments designed for defense, mounted to the sides. Like a prey animal with eyes set in opposing directions, for a wide view of potential threats. But the design has a flaw—a blind spot in front where their weapons cannot reach. Our vessel, on the other hand, is an attack craft. A predator. A wild cat with eyes set tight.
We have rendered our enemy harmless as long as Dave can maintain this precarious alignment. Our adversary maneuvers for an angle of attack,
shifting position and darting back, but Dave keeps us in their blind spot. Engines scream, crashing shields ignite sizzling arcs, and two craft dance across the sky, one struggling to break free, the other staring down its prey.
“Matt, you got it?”
His fingers torture the console. “I’m working on it.”
Dave struggles with controls. The engines howl.
“Matt, we don’t have time.”
“Almost, hang on.”
The enemy wiggles free and a blast grazes our hull. Dave quickly realigns.
“Come on, Matt, now’s the time.”
“Almost, almost . . . got it!”
The crashing arcs cease. Having synchronized our shields with the enemy’s, neither provides resistance, rather they blend together. With little distance between the two, the shields combine to form a single energy field surrounding both craft. We have slipped inside our enemy’s bubble of protection.
Madison awaits my order.
Whoever I’m becoming, I don’t recall him this bloodthirsty.
“Blow those fuckers out of the sky.”
She smiles. “My pleasure, boss.”
A scorching blast pounds the defenseless vessel dead ahead. A direct hit, how could it be otherwise? The enemy craft shudders. Oh shit. I failed to calculate all results of this crazy idea.
“Dave—make a distance, quick!”
He veers our craft away, but it’s too late. The explosion showers us with fragments of our enemy, and threatens to destroy our craft as well. However, our favorite techno-weenie saves the day. Matt has restored the shields and kept us from harm. His quick response is helpful, but not enough to escape our next crisis. A tremendous shock wave slams us across the sky, hurling our craft out of control. Panels moan and buckle, consoles spit sparks, and smoke flows into the cockpit. The craft rocks hard and sends me stumbling. I trip over the hatchway into the rear compartment, soaring headfirst through smoky chaos, and smash into a panel. I feel out my skull, expecting to find a bloody mess, but my fingers are dry. Still hurts like hell. I spring up only to tumble over and smack the floor, or was it the ceiling? They’re trading places, flipping end over end, throwing junk into a frenzy and me into panels while a fire rages—like the dream. But this is no dream, this is real. Have my dreams foretold the future? Except the female is missing. Where is the woman who haunts my nightmares?
The craft settles somewhat, at least the ceiling and floor stop trading places, but we’re still spinning round in a flat trajectory. Matt dashes in from the cockpit with a fire extinguisher and attacks the flames. Small motors whir, I’m guessing the landing gear, but our lateral motion remains great. This is going to be one rough landing.
Back in the corridor and heading for the cockpit, I realize a use for the silly sideways ladder—something to hang on to in all this chaos. I reach the cockpit to find Dave and Madison wrestling with controls. The engines scream as Dave fights to correct the ship’s attitude. Treetops slap the hull and branches snap, beyond the forward view is a forest whipping past, and we’re on top of it. Not the best landing site, but there’s not much choice. We’re soaring into the woods and all of Dave’s efforts to avert disaster appear useless.
The forest engulfs our craft. A cacophony rises as the ship slices through smaller branches slapping and cracking, then deeper thuds as heavier trunks pound the hull. Combined with the howling engines, the orchestra of noise progresses toward a crescendo, which I fear, concludes in one harsh bang when we smack to ground.
Madison races around the cockpit while Dave stays focused on bringing us in as best he can. The landing pads hit the ground, sending a concussion throughout the ship. Tortured metal screams, trees snap and splinter, shrieking landing pads scrape and rumble. The craft is coming undone—one sharp snap then twisting metal, the floor drops from beneath us. The sagging hull burrows into soil and a tidal wave of loose dirt washes over the viewports. The sudden deceleration sends me and Madison soaring across the cockpit, and the craft comes to an abrupt halt. After a thunderous finale, the torturous symphony ebbs into an eerie quiet.
A funny thing, each time we’re knocked over, Madison finds me as a place to land. Again she is lying on my chest, her lips just above mine.
Dave remains strapped in nice and tight, facing forward and shaking his head, his only view a wall of dirt past the cockpit windows. He turns to notice us flat on the floor, and glares.
“I told you I didn’t want to.”
* * *
Matt rushes into the cockpit. “Everybody okay?” His concern shifts to disgust. “For crying out loud, Maddie, do you always find a way to lay on Adam?”
Her dreamy gaze stays with me. “My favorite position, on top of things.” She winks.
“You make me sick,” Matt says. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” He storms out of the cockpit.
Madison rises and offers a hand to pull me up. She is quite strong, yet her touch is soft. The fantasies begin, imagining all that is firm, wrapped in silky skin.
Dave unbuckles. “Be careful, Adam. You don’t want to be messing around with her.”
Madison glares at him. “Let Adam decide what he wants to mess with, that’s his business.”
Moving into the hatchway, Dave pauses. His brow tightens. “It’s not right, Maddie.”
She tracks his exit, and once he is gone, her deadly glare thaws. She returns to me, back to smiling, and slinks closer with passion in her eyes, her lips full, swelling with desire. We are alone, together. I could kiss her this instant, there is nothing to stop me, certainly not her.
Stop that. We just crashed. Why can’t I get her off my mind? It’s her fault, she’s that beautiful. She is beyond gorgeous, lips so sweet, that adoring gaze. She wants me.
No! Stop it. Not okay.
* * *
In the rear compartment, cabinets are flung open to let the contents scatter. Toolboxes are bolted down, but drawers are slid out and emptied. Crap is thrown everywhere. The flipping and turning of our descent tossed the cargo of this ship like a giant salad. Salad? That’s a thought, and my empty stomach hears it, perking up to gurgle and groan, reminding me of the last time we dined, in more ways than one.
“Hey, you guys got anything to eat around here?”
Matt glares incredulously.
Dave says, “Man, you think of food at the strangest times.” He chuckles and gets back to cleaning up the mess.
Dave and Matt are more interested in their chores, but Madison is quick to provide. She bends over to reach between mounds of junk littering the floor. “Here,” she says, clutching a small foil packet. “Have some of this. It’s not much, or very exciting, but it’ll ease your hunger.”
She tosses the packet to me. The label reads Tasty Food Product. A flavor might be nice. Doesn’t matter, I’m too hungry to be fussy. But how does this work? It’s all slippery.
Madison plucks it from my clumsy fingers. “Let me help you, silly. Just tear the corner and squeeze it out into your mouth.”
Squishing goo out of a slimy packet isn’t exactly my idea of a meal, but hunger calls to anything edible. She hands it over and I fill my mouth with nearly half the contents in one load. Rolling the slop across my tongue, I hope to catch a flavor before it makes the short journey to my stomach. Bacon? Maybe. And turkey. Cheese, and lots of mayonnaise, I like that. Not bad. On the backside, the label reads Club Sandwich. Not much of a sandwich, more like soupy gel from a blender. Clubbed might be a better description.
“Thank you, my dear. Not too exciting, true, but still delicious.”
“My pleasure, Adam.”
“Are you two done?” Matt stands glaring at us. “You know, we could use some help. Come on, you’re fed, now get your ass over here and help clean up. You too, Maddie. Get your mind out of his pants.”
Smart-ass. But he’s right. Together we straighten out the mess and get everything back to where it belongs, at least, where I think it belongs. Good enough anyway. We’re done cleaning up
, but Dave seems to be looking for something.
“First things first,” he says, and picks up a hammer. “Where is it? Where did it go?” Sifting through toolboxes, he looks ready to bust some heads.
Matt starts toward Dave. “Leave that stuff alone.”
“Where is it?” Dave plunges a hand into Matt’s pocket.
“Back off!” Matt tries squirming free.
Dave pulls out a small plastic case. “Bet you put it in here.” He pops the case open and shakes it empty over a workbench. “There it is.” He raises the hammer.
“No!” Matt screams.
Parts bounce, some tumble off the edge. Dave pounds the countertop again.
Matt is devastated. “Why? I wanted to take it apart and see how the rest works.”
“You have enough gadgets to fool with. Sorry, Matt, I don’t feel like having the Association sneak up on us again.”
The tiny capsule I once carried in my skull is now a splatter of miniature parts.
“It had a tracking device?” I ask.
“Among other things,” Dave says. “How do you think we found you?”
“Thanks to Matt,” Madison says, and pats him on the back. “Nice job hacking the signal.”
“Right,” Dave says, and glares at Matt. “Except Mister Genius forgot to turn it off.”
Matt doesn’t look so proud now, staring at the smashed device, mangled beyond repair. All ties are severed, captivity a nest from which I have flown. The lifeline is broken, I am on my own. However, it is now clear—the enemy knows of my escape. Though one step closer, I am not yet free.
* * *
Dave opens the hatch and the small steps fold out, now cockeyed with the injured craft tilted at an angle. Morning sun sneaks over the horizon, bringing light to the surrounding forest. Down the steps, we turn around to view the craft, scarred by scrapes and dents across the battered hull, which is supported on hefty struts lacking any wheels, just flat metal pads in contact with the ground, sure to tear up any runway. But one of the struts is missing, leaving a corner to sag, and bulldoze a mound of loose soil where the craft burrowed on impact.
Awakening: Dead Forever Book 1 Page 8