by Regine Abel
ALIEN AWAKENING
Regine Abel
Copyright © 2019
Other books by Regine Abel
THE VEREDIAN CHRONICLES
Escaping Fate
Losing Amalia
Blind Fate
Raising Amalia
Twist of Fate
BRAXIANS
Anton’s Grace
Ravik’s Mercy
DARK TALES
Bluebeard’s Curse
The Mistwalker
VALOS OF SONHADRA
Unfrozen
Iced
XIAN WARRIORS
Legion
THE SHADOW REALMS
Dark Swan
COVER DESIGN BY
Regine Abel
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal and punishable by law. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This book uses mature language and explicit sexual content. It is not intended for anyone under the age of 18.
This book is a work of fiction freely inspired by the Ant and the Grasshopper fable. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To all those whose eyes are constantly turned towards the stars, wondering what lies beyond. From time to time, look inside. You may just discover that, sometimes, the answers we seek can actually be found within.
CHAPTER 1
Malaika
The tall, reinforced doors of the quarantine zone parted, allowing the refurbished, old prison bus transporting us to enter the facility. Overnight, my life, along with that of the twenty-eight other passengers, had turned into a nightmare. No chains or shackles bound us; we’d committed no crime. And yet, betrayed by our own bodies, these walls would become our new home—our jail.
I scratched the back of my shoulder, the constant itching driving me insane. My nails, scraping over the hardening texture of my skin at that spot, provided me with no relief. From looking at it through a handheld mirror at the hospital, where it first manifested, I believed some sort of scales had started growing there. They counted among one of the many symptoms that had landed me here.
Stealing furtive glances at the other passengers, none of them appeared to have any visible symptoms. Then again, my clothes hid mine. Theirs probably did as well. I rarely sat at the back of any bus, but this time, I’d gone straight for the farthest seat. Although it partially made me feel trapped, it also gave me a sense of security and safety not to have any of those strangers behind me.
Since the first cases of mutations started appearing a year ago, there had been plenty of stories of ‘infected’ people going crazy on the drivers taking them to quarantine. To prevent further incidents, the CDC had put old prison buses back in service to protect the drivers. It made sense but made my situation feel all the more hopeless.
Strangely enough, seven of us had clustered at the back, with everyone else piling at the front, except for the couple of oddballs sitting by themselves a few rows in front of us. Even during our wait at the hospital to board the vehicle, our little group had naturally gravitated towards each other. We didn’t speak, having exchanged barely more than a greeting nod and worried glances. Nevertheless, the two men and four women surrounding me felt almost… familiar.
As the vehicle slowed down, I stretched my neck towards the window to see what awaited us outside. One of the men in the front rows fired questions at the driver, again, as he’d done through most of the trip here.
“Hey! Driver! What is this place?” the man demanded. “How long we gonna be here? What’re y’all gonna do to us?”
He and three of the other front-row passengers had been complaining almost non-stop over our one-hour drive to the quarantine zone. While I shared his curiosity, what possible answers could the driver provide? That he remained silent didn’t surprise me. The poor man probably had no clue.
Scratching at my shoulder again, I hissed in pain when my nails inadvertently tore off some skin. The eyes of the man sitting in the bench across the aisle from me, zeroed in on my hand. Ashamed and self-conscious, I shoved my right hand on my lap and covered it with my left.
Understanding and sympathy lit the man’s pale-green eyes. Pulling up the sleeve of his sweatshirt, he showed me his forearm. Right below the elbow, a patch of skin had peeled off, exposing emerald-green reptilian scales. My lips parted in shock while his stretched into a sad smile. Lowering his sleeve, he looked out the window next to me. I turned my head to see what had drawn his attention.
The bus stopped in what looked like the delivery area of a big factory. A group of men and women, some in medical outfits—thankfully not hazmat suits—some guards, and four people covered in long, black, hooded-robes, awaited us outside. The hooded people intrigued me. By their size and silhouette, I assumed three were men and a woman.
The driver opened the door and exchanged a few words with someone, outside, whom I couldn’t see from my seat. After a few seconds, he turned back to look at us through the metal grid of the secured door.
“You have arrived at your destination. I’m going to let you out now. Please, keep things peaceful and orderly,” the driver said, casting a meaningful glance at a couple of people in the front rows. “When you get out, follow the white line on the ground straight to the main entrance. Those of you who have bags, do not worry about them; we will bring them inside for you. Remember that the people in this place are here to help you. They are not your enemies.” He ignored some passengers muttering at his words. “Good luck to all of you.”
He unlocked the door, slid it open, and stood next to the jump seat to make way for us. After a moment’s hesitation, someone in the front stood up and went out, setting everyone else in motion. My scaled neighbor stood up but gestured for me to go first. I smiled and nodded in thanks. Funny I should find that chivalry still existed here of all places. Tall, broad-shouldered, maybe in his late twenties, early-thirties, he was a rugged kind of handsome. Slightly tanned skin, like someone who often worked outdoors, long, curly, dark brown hair tied in a tail, he had a vaguely Italian or Latin air to him.
Filing behind one of the other women of ‘our group,’ I made my way out of the bus. My pulse picked up as I stepped off the stairs. The greeting party outside smiled and offered words of welcome, but their eyes scrutinized and analyzed. Passing in front of the first hooded person, I tried to peer into their face, but their hood cast too much shadow to make out their features.
As I walked past the second hooded person—the female—I tried again with no luck, my eyes already seeking the third. He was busy greeting the other passengers. Less than two meters from him, his head suddenly jerked towards me. My heart skipped a beat, and my stomach fluttered. I couldn’t see his face in the shadow of the hood, but his eyes began to glow, the way a cat’s reflected light in the dark. His stare felt like a punch in the gut, diving deep inside my soul, and stripping me bare.
A hand on my waist, giving me a gentle nudge, startled me, making me realize I had stopped walking. The hooded man’s eyes lowered to the hand, the glow fading. Snapping out of the hypnotic trance his gaze had put me under, I glanced over my shoulder at Chivalrous-Latin-Guy to thank him. He no longer touched me, but stared instead at Glowing-Eyes-Guy. My skin tingled as I walked past the mysterious man. Although I could no longer see him, I could feel his eyes burning through my back.
Moments after Chivalrous and I entered the building, the greeting p
arty followed us in. A double-set of reinforced doors closed behind them. My throat tightened at the deep, clanking sound of the doors sealing shut, an ominous sense of being trapped descending over me. I followed the rest of the group ahead, casting wary glances at the five guards within the security post, which faced the large entry doors. A thick, grilled door, like that of a prison cell, stood open to allow us into the white corridor at the right of the guard station. The lingering smell of bleach and lemon hinted that the spotless, pale-blue tiled floors had recently been cleaned. After a short distance, we entered what looked like a press conference room.
A giant screen occupied most of the back wall. Slightly off to the right side, a middle-aged blonde woman, in chic-looking civilian clothes, stood by a small podium. She gestured for us to take a seat on one of about forty padded conference chairs laid out for us. An aisle in the middle separated the chairs in two sections. The right side—in front of her—sat next to a large floor to ceiling window overlooking a stunning garden, which currently appeared empty. A decorative indoor fountain with beautiful, exotic plants I couldn’t name ran the length of the left side.
The bulk of the group went to the right. Naturally drawn by the crowd movement, I almost followed them, but a most enticing scent lured me towards the fountain. Both spicy and woodsy, it immediately gave me a sense of peace and well-being, dimming the anxiety that had been knotting the muscles in my neck and back. Like me, the other six of my impromptu group settled near the fountain, each casting awed glances at the soothing plants.
Despite the large number of empty seats, Chivalrous stopped next to mine and gestured at the chair beside me.
“May I?” he asked.
I nodded, slightly surprised.
“Luca,” he said, extending a hand towards me after sitting down.
“Malaika,” I responded, taking his hand.
His handshake was brief and firm—no sweaty palms—just the way I liked them.
“I have a feeling we’re in this for the long haul,” Luca said. “Might as well start making a few friends.”
Throat tightening with resurfacing anxiety, I nodded again, relieved to have someone to talk to who would likely be going through the same thing I would. For some reason, I, too, believed we wouldn’t be among the lucky few sent back home after a quick cure; not the way my probably scales were spreading.
Luca looked over his shoulder at the brunette sitting behind us. She’d been in front of me on the bus. Having witnessed our exchange, she extended her hand to Luca.
“Sherry,” she said, with a nervous smile.
Seconds later, we’d also made the acquaintance of the remaining seven: Diana, Callum, Josie, and Alexandra.
Feeling observed, I turned towards the podium. The blonde woman was staring at us, not specifically me but our little group, with the same analytical intensity as the greeting party outside. A faint smile stretched her lips before she looked away.
“Creepy,” Sherry whispered behind us.
I agreed wholeheartedly.
The lights dimmed a little, and the giant screen lit up. The logo of the CDC appeared in the center, spinning in an artistic fashion.
“Hello, everyone,” said the blonde at the podium. “My name is Linda Tierney, and I am a representative from the CDC. I know you have a lot of questions, and I will try to answer as many as possible. I would ask you to please allow me to complete my presentation before asking those as most of them will likely have been answered by then.”
Some quickly hushed muttering greeted her words.
“You are all here because you’ve recently fallen ill; some more severely than others. Your illness has been caused by the expression of a normally dormant gene—its awakening, if you like. As a consequence, some of you have had terrible fevers, nausea, muscular pain and spasms, and in the more severe cases, you’ve seen the appearance of… anomalies on your body.”
As if in response to her words, my scaly patch on my back itched with a vengeance, and I carefully scratched it without finding relief.
“What caused this, you ask?” Linda said. “Global warming.”
A few of us recoiled while others flat out asked what that had to do with anything. She launched into a swift explanation before running a video from the CDC. In short, global warming was causing the permafrost to melt. Certain long dormant microbes containing prehistoric enzymes were being released into the air, soil, and groundwater. A small percentage of the population proved vulnerable to them, becoming ill. In some cases, the body won the battle and killed the infection. In other cases, the release of certain viruses caused mutations in certain DNA. This lead to the expression of previously dormant genes that created new species of humans.
Us.
“Not all of you reacted the same way,” Linda said, once the video ended. “What this means is that for the majority of you, the symptoms will go no further than what you have already experienced. Over the next few days, we will keep you under observation to confirm you have stabilized, and there is no further progression. If that is the case, we will perform whatever minor cosmetic surgery is required to allow you to resume your normal lives, and then we will send you back to your families.”
Applause welcomed her words as hope and relief descended on most of the audience.
“And what of the others?” Luca asked, when the noise quieted down.
“The others will remain here until we’ve assessed the scope of the side effects,” Linda said, cautiously.
“What kind of scope are we talking about?” Luca pressed. “You’ve been running this place for almost a year now. Many other groups came through here before us. Surely you have some insight as to what will happen.”
Linda cast a furtive glance at the back of the room. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the greeting party; among them, the four hooded people. I shifted on my chair, more certain than ever that he was observing me.
“Then the physical changes will continue until they are complete,” Linda said with a sigh. “I want to stress that the changes are not fatal. The process will sometimes be painful for those of you who go into the more advanced stages, but your life is not at risk. Should any of you fall into that category, rest assured that you will remain the same person you are right now, with all the same mental and physical abilities. The change will be mostly cosmetic. Either way, my team and I will accompany you at every step.”
Linda gestured to someone at the back of the room. We all turned around to look at a plump woman in her late forties walking down the center aisle to the front. The natural pink of her round cheeks stood out against her pale complexion. Having reached her destination, she turned around to face us and waved at us. With a shy giggle, she clasped her hands before her prominent midsection. I instantly liked her. There was something endearing and jovial about her.
“This lovely lady is Jenna Atwell. She will be your coordinator during your stay here. If you need anything, go to her without hesitation. She’s a real mother to us all,” Linda said. Jenna giggled again and tucked a lock of her shoulder-length, auburn hair behind her ear. “In a minute, she will direct you to the doctor who will perform a more thorough examination to find out which of the two categories you fall into and determine the next steps for each of you. The results could take up to forty-eight hours. After the exam, you will be shown to your private room, the common areas, and the cafeteria where meals will be served, or where you can get a snack at any time.”
Over the next few minutes, Jenna proved extremely efficient at assigning each of us to our respective physicians. Being too numerous to all go in at once, she divided us into three groups of nine. As mine would go last, Jenna offered to give us a quick tour of the facility and to show us our individual rooms. To my disappointment, Glowing-Eyes and the other hooded people had left the room by the time we set out on our tour. My gut said they were humans like us who had been severely affected by the virus. Curiosity and dread warred within me as I tried to imagine what the hoods concealed.
I wiped the sweat beading on my brow as we entered a large common area. It reminded me of a posh sports bar complete with multiple screens, tables and chairs, a pool table, and a little lounge area by a large fireplace. Thankfully, no fire burned within. The ambient temperature felt like it had been steadily rising for the past few minutes. By the time Jenna showed us the reading corner and the two small surround-sound theaters, I felt parched, my cheeks on fire, and my body feverish.
“Malaika?” Luca asked, his voice laced with concern.
“I… I don’t feel too good,” I said, glancing his way.
His face blurred before my eyes, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. I reached blindly for a wall in search of support. The itching in my back flared again, but I had no time for it as my stomach roiled, knotted, and then violently cramped. I cried out as my knees buckled. Luca’s swift reaction broke my fall. He eased me onto the floor, and I curled up into a fetal position, welcoming the coolness of the tiles against my burning cheek.
“Zayek!” Jenna’s voice said, “Malaika is in crisis. Hurry!”
Through blurred vision, I stared at her concerned face looming over me. “You’re going to be all right, sweetie. Zayek is coming. He will make it all better.”
The sound of fast approaching footsteps reached me through my groans of pain as so many knives lacerated my stomach and unbearable heat melted the skin off my bones. Moments later, strong arms slipped under my legs and back before lifting me up. My head lolled against a broad, muscular chest covered with a soft fabric I didn’t recognize. Another savage cramp tore me apart. Unable to bear the pain, I gave into the veil of darkness drawing me, entranced by the pair of glowing, yellow eyes looking at me.
CHAPTER 2
Zayek