An Euperian Tale
THE DEAD PRINCE
Alejandro Betancourt
Lovem Entertainment
Copyright © 2020 Lovem Entertainment
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. For more information, address: [email protected]
ISBN: 979-8-6177-7849-8
Cover design by: Damonza
Printed in the United States of America
Thank you to everyone who made this dream
possible; especially my father, who was my
biggest critique and supporter.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 1
The warm, orange glow of the afternoon sun pours through the windows of Harper's Diner. The stainless steel-clad restaurant in Port Jervis, New York is unusually quiet for a Friday afternoon. The much-anticipated protest at City Square has siphoned off the office workers who regularly fill the booths and stools at this hour. Some are at the rally, while the timid ones, fearing repercussions, are already on their way home.
Zack Parker is sitting at his usual table, wolfing down his customary pastrami on rye, when the front door bursts open and Emma Lance rushes in, late as usual. "Oh my God!" she exclaims to Amy Harper, who's tending the counter. "I'm so sorry I'm late, but it's madness out there!" Emma hurries past her friend and heads to the back of the diner. She stuffs her purse and shoes into her locker, ties on her apron, and slips into her work shoes before darting back into the main space. "Did you check your messages?" she asks Amy. "I texted you that I was going to be late."
"Yeah, it's fine," Amy says with a half-smile. "I heard on the news that it's crazy out there. Manhattan is going nuts. I just hope nobody gets hurt. After all those people died in Boston, I'm a little freaked out."
Emma shakes her head sadly. "It'll only get worse if the UN recognizes the Ucte Empire. If that happens, you know the Ucte will start deporting Euperians, and I just don't know how people will react."
"Let's pray that doesn't happen," says Amy.
"Poor Joseph and Nathaniel. They were born on Earth. They've never even been to Azha. They must be terrified!"
"I know, it's not fair. Their parents must be going crazy too." Amy bats her hands against her hips. "Anyway! Let's just go ahead and start closing up. I want to get out of here before the mob rolls back through, 'kay?"
"Gotcha."
A moment later, as Emma carries a stack of plates back toward the kitchen, Amy gives her a devious smile and says in a low voice, "He's been staring at you since you came in, you know."
Emma laughs. "Who, Zack? Awww, he's cute enough. And that Mustang of his is fire. Maybe I'll ask him to drive me to the party tomorrow night."
Amy lifts a pale eyebrow. "I thought you were babysitting for your sister's anniversary," she says slyly.
"Argh! Crap, I totally forgot about that! Well, I guess he's all yours, then." Emma pouts prettily. Good thing Zack can't see her, or he might drool.
Amy rolls her eyes. "C'mon, now, I'm not going to lead him on. Besides, Mike would kill him, poor guy."
"Yeah, but remember when you had a cruuuush on him when we were freshman?" Emma asks, turning the screws as she clasps her hands and twirls around in a little circle, batting her eyes coquettishly — another thing Amy doesn't want Zack to see.
"I was just out of middle school!" Amy protests, turning red.
"Oh look, he's asking for the check," Emma says, eyelashes still a-flutter. "I guess you better go service him. Unless you'd prefer I do it?"
"I've got it, you brat." Amy swallows hard as she marches out of the kitchen, and her heartbeat quickens a bit as she approaches Zack. She still kinda has a crush on him, she realizes. Kinda sorta, but not really, she decides. Their eyes momentarily lock before Zack nervously looks away. Emma, meanwhile, watches the pair from the kitchen door, trying hard not to laugh.
"How was everything?" Amy asks him dryly.
"Everything's great," Zack replies. "It always is when you're around … err, the food, I mean." He quickly hides his face by taking a drink of water.
"Aww, you're so sweet! You've been in here almost every day this summer — you must really like the food, huh?"
"Best pastrami west of the Hudson," Zack replies. "Say, can I get one to go? I promised Blake I'd bring him something."
"Sure. Gimme a sec."
Amy strides back to the kitchen, where she finds Emma laughing hysterically, if quietly. "That was so hilarious!" she gasps to Amy. "You looked like a couple of robots learning how to talk to each other!" She extends her elbows and does a rigid robot dance, like something from an old music video.
Embarrassed, Amy slaps her friend's arm lightly. "Don't be silly. We're just friends. That's all we can be."
"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that."
Meanwhile, Zack glances through the large front window and spots his sister Olivia crossing the street, strolling in his direction. She smiles enthusiastically and waves as she approaches the diner. He knows what she wants — an invitation to the Back to School Senior Dance that's coming up in a few days.
"Forget it," he says automatically when she sits down a moment later. "I'm not going, and even if I were, I wouldn't be taking my sister. I'm not that desperate or nerdy."
"That isn't fair!" Olivia protests. "Stop reading my thoughts! And I'm entitled to a little fun once in a while, ya know? The way things are going, this might be my last chance to party before we get deported."
"Stop saying stuff like that," Zack says in a low, rough voice, scowling. "It's not funny, and the answer is still no, got it?"
Olivia looks up and sees Amy walking toward them with a carry-out bag. "Hey, Ames! Tell Zack he should totally go to the dance tomorrow!"
Caught off guard, Amy doesn't know how to respond. A fixed smile on her face, she sets down the bag and her tablet displaying the total bill. After a moment of panicked thought, she realizes what Olivia really wants. "Oh. Oh! Yeah, Zack, you should go. And take your sister! You guys will have a blast."
"Um, sure, I guess," Zack replies, his uncertainty plain in his voice and expression. "Maybe I'll see you there?" He taps his phone on the tablet to pay.
Amy picks up the tablet and starts walking back toward the register. Then she stops and turns abruptly, having made up her mind. "Definitely! And you better save me a dance!"
Emma is doing the robot dance again when Amy returns to the back room a moment later.
❖❖❖
A tall, solidly built bald man of few words who calls himself Dr. John Buchanan adjusts his seat in the train pod to get a better view of Manhattan. Once the financial and cultural hub of the United States, the island is now much less than it was, and is administered by and under the control of the United Nations. Few of its skys
crapers remain, and many thought the city's fate lay underwater when the ice sheets of both Greenland and Antarctica slipped into the ocean and the sea levels rose by several dozen feet. Battery Park and other low-lying neighborhoods were lost, but a collective desire to conserve what remained of the past came together to save the last great metropolis still standing after the Great War. Now a high plascrete wall holds back the ravaging Atlantic.
Tonight, the city will come alive once again. All eyes will be on the diminished core of the Big Apple as individuals of all kinds and species travel from every part of the world to protest or defend tomorrow's controversial announcement. Tomorrow is the sorry day when the United Nations, a puppet government controlled by the planet's alien saviors, will recognize the Ucte government as the ruling party of Planet Azha.
The train dips underground as it enters Manhattan, and a few moments later, Buchanan exits at the City Hall train stop. The station is crowded with police officers and individuals already heading to Central Park for tonight's rally. New Yorkers know all about getting in place early and camping out for an event; he vaguely remembers reading about the days-long lines for Hamilton tickets when he would have been a young child. What gluttons for punishment humans are, he thinks.
Buchanan walks up the stairs, slaps his hand on the scanner panel at the egress, and pushes open the double door panels to exit the station as it beeps him through.
When he emerges topside, he stalks down Broadway until he reaches the entrance of the Woolworth Building, now home to New York's United Nations Special Task Force division. Two officers ask for his identification before allowing him to enter. He presents it, and is escorted into the building and taken to the 53rd floor.
Paul McKinnie, the Chief of the much-diminished New York Police Department, rises from behind his desk as he enters the man's office. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Doc," he says.
"Not a problem. Port Jervis takes less than an hour on the bullet train."
"Good," McKinnie says, shaking Buchanan's hand. "I can't have anyone die, alien or human, on my watch, so I'm counting on you." He hands the Doctor a tablet. "This lays out everything you need to know, including the people comprising your team."
"I'll do my best," Buchanan replies.
McKinnie sighs, his eyes looking ancient. "I know you will. You always do. But I need more than your best today, Doc." Without further ado, McKinnie opens the bottom drawer of his desk and takes out a bottle of Jack Daniels, which Buchanan knows is still made according to tradition in what used to be Tennessee. He fills two glasses and hands one to the doctor. Then he walks to his office window, and watches the gathering crowd chant and wave their posters in the park below.
"Why are we so divided?" he asks. "With so few of us left, we should be reclaiming what's ours. Earth belongs to us, not the aliens. It's our planet."
"I imagine the aliens would counter by saying that we wouldn't have a planet without their help," Buchanan says, sipping the whiskey thoughtfully.
"There's that," McKinnie agrees, before falling into a mood so deep and black that the Doctor can't pry him out of it. After finishing his Tennessee sippin' whiskey, Buchanan quietly departs.
Chapter 2
Although Zack isn't ordinarily into parties, he's excited about the opportunity to dance with the lovely Amy, the girl of his dreams. And the dance will be held at the newly renovated community center on the outskirts of town — the same place where his Earthling parents got married, what, 25 years ago now? Maybe that was a good omen.
He visualizes himself on the dance floor with Amy, holding her close during a slow dance as she rests her head on his chest. He wonders if he can remain calm and collected when that happens. He also wonders if Mike will remain cool and collected when that happens, instead of blowing a gasket, but he really doesn't care...
Zack's daydreaming is interrupted by his father, who launches his mug of beer against a wall. "I knew this was going to happen, DAMMIT!"
Zack focuses his attention on the TV. BREAKING NEWS crawls across the screen in uppercase red letters. Above the crawl, Head Minister Liam Bannon of the United Nations is shaking hands with Jabieko, the newly appointed ambassador and former Ucte general from Azha. The newscaster is informing his viewers that the United Nations has officially recognized Azha's new ruling party, the Ucte, and its new government, led by the recently crowned King Zheteg.
Ambassador Jabieko stands behind the podium and begins to address the reporters in a stern, no-nonsense voice. Halfway through his speech, he announces King Zheteg's first proclamation to the Earthlings:
"All Azhalians on Earth, including the unregistered, must report to an Azhalian embassy or consulate within the next thirty days for a mandatory review of your visa status."
The ambassador pauses and looks around at the cameras and reporters before continuing.
"Any Azhalian who does not appear for this review of their visa status within thirty days will be considered a criminal. Those individuals will be summarily tracked down and immediately deported."
Zack turns toward his mother, Isabella, who looks nervous. His father, Jim, is staring straight at him. Jim stands suddenly, and walks out of the house without saying a word.
"Don't mind your father," Isabella says. "He's just worried about you and your sister. But everything is going to be fine. Just have fun at the party tonight, and keep an eye on Olivia."
"Well, I'm not worried. We all knew this would eventually happen when the old king died," Zack says. "I really doubt that the orphans of a couple of lowly Euperian servants will suddenly become a priority of the UN. They have more important things to worry about, like EIRF."
"Yes, but you know your dad. Just give him space. Have fun tonight, and make sure you're back before curfew."
"Sure, of course."
Olivia walks down the stairs, looking radiant. She's been in her room for hours, prepping for the big dance, making sure she looks drop-dead gorgeous for the senior boys. She does, as far as her brother can tell. She's dressed in a fashionable blue tunic with black leggings, and her long, dark-brown hair is slightly curled. She's not wearing makeup, because their mother won't allow it, but she did put on her favorite lip-gloss.
"For someone who really wanted to go to this party, you sure took your time," Zack grumbles.
"What's the rush?" Olivia asks. "You worried Amy's going to forget about you?"
He flushes a bit. "Real funny. Let's go."
Zack can barely contain his excitement on the drive to the community center. His heart is beating fast, and he tries to release some of his tension by thumping his hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the music pulsing through the car speakers. He glances at his sister and is surprised to see her frowning at him. "What's wrong? If you're worried about Dad, he's gonna be fine."
"Seriously, stop reading my mind, it's annoying," Olivia snaps. "You never read Mom's, Dad's, or anyone else's, so why pick on me?"
Zack shrugs, and eases to the back of the line of cars waiting to get clearance to exit the city at the police checkpoint. "Sis, your pass-card."
Olivia hands him her card. "I mean it, Zack. You need to stop."
"You're right. But I'm just trying to look after my little sister."
"Well, knock it off."
"Pass-cards," an officer demands, pointing a flashlight inside their car.
"Here you go, officer," Zack says. "We're just headed to the community center for a school dance."
The officer grabs both cards without saying a word, and slaps each against the card reader concealed in the rubber sleeve on his arm. He waits for the sound that signals that everything is okay, and hands the cards back to Zack. "Have a safe night and be back before curfew," the officer says curtly.
"Yessir, we will," Zack says and drives off, not put off by the brusqueness of the cop. This time.
❖❖❖
"Holy crap!" Zack shouts, aghast.
The community center is in flames. Horrified teen
s are pouring out of the building and running in their direction. Some have bloodied faces and torn clothes. Zack tells Olivia to stay in the car, and jumps out and runs toward the building. He has to find Amy.
As he struggles through the stream of his panicked classmates, Zack spots Mike, Amy's on-again, off-again boyfriend, trying to break free of his friend Brady's grip.
"Amy's in there!" Mike shouts. "LET GO OF ME!"
"It's not safe, man," Brady says. "We gotta wait for the fire department."
Mike stops resisting and starts sobbing as Zack runs into the inferno with only one thing on his mind: to save Amy. He sprints up the rapidly disintegrating staircase, the stench of burning wood and melting metal searing his lungs as he moves deeper into the building. Most of the third-floor roof has completely caved in, and the tables and chairs are all engulfed in flames. He stops and looks around the space.
Zack, are you okay? an ethereal voice echoes in his head. You're putting us in jeopardy. Did you find her yet?
Zack can't help feeling impressed. His kid sister's telepathic powers have definitely gotten stronger.
Back in the car, Olivia concentrates on maintaining communication with her brother amid the screams of her classmates and the ambulance sirens. Small drones buzz past her and start circling the building. Her brother needs to get out before they're discovered.
Inside the building, Zack can barely breathe in the blinding smoke. He desperately replies to his sister: Help me find her! The smoke is too thick, and I can't pick up any thoughts from her.
Olivia disengages from her body and uses their telepathic connection as a bridge to him.
Zack, the authorities are here. We need to hurry.
Her brother is on his knees, gasping for air. Olivia scans the surrounding area.
She's five steps to your left, under those steel beams.
Zack takes a deep breath, summoning his power. He stands up and pushes his hands to the left. The smoke follows his gesture. He pauses when he sees Amy unconscious on the floor, covered in blood. A steel beam lies on top of her; a second beam has punctured her left shoulder. Zack focuses on the first beam, opens his hand, and summons a silvery wave of electricity from the building's wiring. Clean air swirls into his body. He holds it inside of him for a few seconds, and then exhales a powerful burst at the beam on top of Amy, hurling it across the room.
The Dead Prince Page 1
