Awakening: The Elder Chronicles, Volume 1

by Scott Wieczorek

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Part Two

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Biography

  Awakening

  The Elder Chronicles

  Volume 1

  by

  Scott Wieczorek

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, and places in this book are either fictional, or used fictitiously. They are not to be construed as real. Similarities to actual persons, places, organizations, or events are purely coincidental.

  Awakening

  Copyright © 2014 Scott Wieczorek

  First Revision © 2016 Scott Wieczorek

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or distributed in any form without the author's written consent, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within reviews.

  Acknowledgements:

  I would like to extend my sincerest thanks to everyone who has supported me in this great adventure called writing. Your assistance, support, and guidance has been, and always will be, welcome and deeply appreciated. Specifically, I would like to thank my wife and kids for understanding my need to write, to spend hours in front of a computer screen after putting in long days at work, and to allow my creativity to flow. Next, I would like to thank three people who have been instrumental in morphing this rough pile of words into a coherent, cohesive story: C. Carol Halitsky, whose editorial expertise, suggestions, and keen attention to detail make me look polished and put together, Summer Ross, who provided additional editing expertise, and my wife, whose plot and character development suggestions breathed life into my words. I would also like to thank the crew at Lycaon Press who helped me bring the first version of this project to completion. Thank you all!

  Prologue

  At their feet lay the lifeless body of an average young man in his late twenties. No visible evidence of trauma could be seen, but his face froze in a contorted mask of agony. Thin crimson ribbons trailed from his eyes, ears, and nose toward a still cooling and coagulating pool of blood on the floor.

  A conversation passed between the two figures so silent a casual observer would have guessed they were not speaking at all. In fact, neither party's lips moved, and a sound never passed between them. The building's central air system rattled above them.

  Have you learned anything, yet? The woman asked with no sympathy. Despite the lack of emotional inflection, her "voice," a rudimentary projection of her mind, had always reminded the man of tinkling bells.

  No, Mistress, came the man's reluctant reply. We have not. And, as you can see, we've exhausted the last scientist from his lab. The man's deep tenor voice had an obvious nervous tremble to it. Giving her news other than what she already knew, or she expected to be in her favor was never good.

  The woman's eyebrows arched high. Platinum blonde hair, high cheekbones, and perfect proportions made most men desire her. So, what you're telling me is none of his colleagues knew what he found?

  I'm afraid so, Mistress. The man, early middle-aged, heavy-set with brown eyes, and thinning white hair, paused. But we have been unable to locate one of the scientists formerly employed in his lab. He stared at the lifeless form on the ground. His heart thrummed at the idea of having to tell her the rest of his findings. She would not like hearing this news, and he knew it. We think he may have been a plant from the Loyalists.

  As most men who feared for their lives, he really didn't like having to give her bad news. If anything could have set her off, mention of the Loyalists would do it. However, it pleased him her only reaction was a slight downturn at the corners of her mouth.

  Not good, she responded with no emotion. If they find the Source before we do, then... she let her sentence trail off.

  But he understood her meaning well enough. All of their plans, thousands of years of work and planning, and their glorious coup, would be undone. They needed to obtain the Source before the others did.

  What have we learned from the family?

  His pulse pounded in his ears, his breathing quickened. We have teams watching them, replied the man. But so far, they have not obtained any useful information.

  He suspected the scientist had divulged some useful information to at least one member of his family. Basic human nature would not have allowed him to keep something as important as the Source a secret; he would have needed to tell somebody. But their near constant observation of the family over the past few years had not yielded any positive results.

  After a pregnant pause, the woman spoke. Because we haven't gathered information doesn't mean they don't have any. I want you to bring them in. Get the girl first. I want you to squeeze the information out of her any way you can. And if she won't talk, then use her to make the mother talk. We need the code's Source! The woman paused and pointed to the body on the floor. And clean up this mess before it starts to stink.

  As she walked from the room she said, I have waited far too long for everything to come apart now.

  Part I

  Found

  Chapter One

  She slammed the driver's door shut, knocking rust from the car's undercarriage, and popped the trunk. Inside were all her essential belongings. For Elena Michaels the first day back on campus nearly mimicked what it had been the year before. Standing beside her faded blue Camry, she surveyed her surroundings, glad she'd had the forethought to get her parking sticker early. The campus police were already busy ticketing illegally parked cars. They must have needed something to do to occupy themselves after a long, uneventful summer.

  Hundreds of students packed the school's labyrinthine complex of parking lots as they moved into their dorms. Some carried boxes and trunks full of clothing, bedding, and personal effects. Others lugged computers, televisions, and audio equipment. An overkill of perfumes and colognes nearly choked the air while the dissonance of shouted greetings, squeals of glee, and honking horns assailed her ears.

  One of her favorite things about attending school in New England was the fall foliage, which made its appearance about the time classes began. The never-ending cold weather, though—not so much. She eyed her suitcase, glad she had packed many pairs of sweats and long undergarments in with the jeans and T-shirts making up most of her wardrobe.

  Elena scanned the parking lot. Not too far away she recognized one of the resident assistants. Mark, or Eric, or something. It would have been nice to have friends to call on to help her get settled. But most of her close friends had been seniors and had graduated last year. On the upside, she could focus on her studies without having to worry about being antisocial; on the downside, she now had almost no friends on campus.

  Mark-or-Eric drove one of the school golf carts used to help move people in. She flagged him down and he pulled up behind her car.

  They discussed their respective summers as they loaded her gear into the metal trunk attached to the back of the cart. She had always suspected he may have had a little crush on her, but she would never go f
or someone like him. He was a self-avowed player, and she preferred someone a little more sensitive and authentic. Something in the distance caught her eye as she turned toward the cart, her television in her hands.

  A figure stood in the distance—tall and slender. Her jet black hair blew across her face, obscuring her vision for an instant. As she swept the hair away, her attention drew to a set of eyes in a stunning shade of blue. Their beauty took her breath away. But as fast as the apparition had appeared, she blinked and it was gone.

  Shaking her head clear, she loaded the last of her belongings into the cart. When she turned back to Mark-or-Eric he made no attempt to hide his lecherous stare. She glared at him.

  Elena didn't think of herself as a pretty girl. She had her attractive times. But on average, she could be passed by in a crowd. Besides, she wasn't the type he went for—tall and fair, blonde and blue-eyed. She had an athletic but feminine build, a light olive complexion, and amber eyes. With the right make-up, she could get some numbers. But on a typical day like today, make-up was less than an afterthought.

  "What building you staying in this year?" His voice still cracked a little. Elena knew he'd asked for selfish reasons, not merely because he needed to drive there.

  "Daley Hall." Her sour voice carried over the whine of the cart's electric motor. With any luck, her tone would be enough to deter him from further conversation.

  "Nice," he replied, missing the hint. "I'm gonna be right next door. I'm staying in Warren this year."

  Her address would be committed to the "chicks I'd like to hook-up-with" file he must have kept in the back of his head. It would be a matter of time before she received a drunken visit from this guy. Outwardly, however, Elena nodded to him and said something like cool, or nice to be polite. Inwardly, she couldn't wait to get to her dorm and away from him. There were too many unwelcomed creepy glances at her chest and legs for her comfort level and at one point, his hand had "accidentally" slipped and brushed the side of her breast for a little longer than necessary.

  In her haste to escape his company, Elena neglected to let the cart stop in front of her dorm before jumping out. Her brief stint playing high school field hockey—consisting of a single practice in which she had been given a bloody nose and a mild concussion—had not convinced her she lacked coordination. Not only could her feet not keep up with her body's momentum, but she also neglected to let go of the moving cart. She tumbled hard and rolled into a patch of bushes lining the entryway, landing on all fours.

  Her hands and knees stung. Her cheeks burned. "Great," she sighed under her hanging head.

  After standing and making a quick self-inspection, she had suffered a few minor scrapes and bruises, and there were no tears in her clothing. At least she had a better start to this year than the last, when she had spilled a slushy all over herself while driving and then later had tripped on her own shoelaces, falling into a car pulling into the adjacent parking spot. The debacle had landed her in the Campus Medical Center for over half a day. Both incidents, however, paled in comparison to when she'd been shoved through a plate glass window in junior high school. It had left her in the hospital for three weeks, and she still had the scars as a reminder.

  Mark-or-Eric stayed outside the dorm with all of her belongings while she checked in, collected her keys, and began to take her stuff up to her room. She really didn't want him to have her room number and tried to dispel the notion he'd raid her luggage for souvenirs. When she finished moving her things, she could hear him snicker as he drove away to find another girl to impose himself upon. At least, with any luck, her spill would knock her off his radar for the year.

  Her roommates had not yet arrived and she executed the unwritten law of first come, first served by staking her claim on the single top bunk and stashing some of her belongings in the furniture situated beneath.

  Hoping the college bookstore was open, she made her way across campus to get her books for the semester.

  The bookstore sat in the basement of the college's student center—a popular place for all of the commuter students to either hang out or grab a quick bite to eat. Having been through this rigmarole several times before, she selected her books without soliciting help from the bookstore staff.

  At the register, she closed her eyes, handed over her credit card, and grudgingly signed her soul away on the dotted line. Picking up the bags of books from the counter, one slipped and spilled its contents on the floor, to her side. She bent down to retrieve the books.

  Spots of bright white light exploded across her vision. Her head swam and throbbed with fury. Had she shifted her gaze before bending over, she would have noticed a display had been placed in front of the counter, the one her head had crashed into.

  Dropping to one knee with her head in her hands, she tried to collect her thoughts for a few seconds. It somehow did not surprise her nobody came over to help her out. In fact, a rather heavy-set girl behind her in line tried to shove her aside and squeeze her massive bulk in front of the register. Exasperated, Elena wanted to go back to her room, put sheets on her bed, and take a nap. Noon, and she had already had one hell of a day. Unfortunately, there was to be no rest for the weary.

  Back at her dorm room, she found herself having to make her best effort to appear sociable. Her new roommates, Skye and Brittney, had arrived. They were what, for all intents and purposes, could have been a set of skinny, pretty, bright-blonde-haired and blue-eyed twins. It seemed impossible such identical girls could have been born of genetically unrelated parents.

  After exchanging awkward greetings and being minimally social, the three girls spent about an hour moving Skye's six large suitcases, desktop computer, and two traveling trunks up to the dorm.

  "You certainly come with a lot of baggage," Elena mentioned while they were schlepping Skye's belongings. But neither of her new roommates understood the joke.

  "Anybody hungry?" Elena asked after they stowed the luggage up in the room. "It's almost two o'clock, and I know I could go for something."

  "Sure," both girls replied in unison.

  Great. Stereo. Elena smiled and led the way out of the dorm and over to the dining hall, staying close enough to seem social, but far enough to avoid being dragged into any shallow conversation.

  The dining hall sat to the east of Forestall Hall—a mansion named for the wealthy oil and railroad magnate who had owned it in the early twentieth century. The mansion occupied the crest of a small hill, and the 1950s-era concrete-block dining hall sat below it along a shallow slope. Inside, Elena headed straight for her old standbys, and loaded a tray with a cheeseburger, cheese fries, and a slice of pizza. Making her way down the line, she added a large soda, and headed into the dining room to find her new roomies. It didn't take her long to find them since they were seated front and center, surrounded by several tables full of the school's average hot guys.

  As she approached the table, Skye and Brittney, both of whom had chosen to graze on miniscule salads, gawked at the food on Elena's tray.

  "You're not seriously going to eat that?" Brittney asked.

  Elena smiled, choosing to ignore the snotty look and the judgmental tone in her roommate's question. She needed to make the best of her new living arrangements. After all, she had no other choice.

  "Yeah. Comfort food," Elena replied with a painted-on smile. Placing her tray on the table, she sat down.

  "Do you always eat like this?" Skye started in on her this time.

  Skye had impeccable and deliberate timing. She had asked her question after Elena took a big bite. Elena choked down the pizza, and chased it with some soda. "Pretty much," she replied. "I have a really fast metabolism. I can eat practically anything and not gain an ounce. I could never really live life like a rabbit—grazing on bland salads all the time." Well done! She congratulated herself. After a second she added, "I don't even go to the gym." This was true to a degree, but she did try to go for morning jogs before her classes, which would be way before either of these prin
cesses managed to rise from their beauty sleep.

  "You're lucky. I gain weight even if I smell a hamburger. It sucks!" At least Skye attempted to be cordial.

  "Yeah, it does suck," Elena said as she savored another large bite of her pizza.

  Elena zoned out while Brittney and Skye continued with idle banter about guys they had hooked up with over the summer, about their summer jobs, and about half a dozen other mindless topics. Elena listened with less than half an ear. The girls held her interest as much as watching a lawn grow, which in itself could be riveting, if you're into it.

  Sinking her teeth into her burger, Elena scanned the dining hall. The room's decor could best be described as some stiff, corporate designer's idea of hip. Vacant blue-topped tables and numerous empty chrome chairs nailed home the obvious, many of the students still hadn't returned to campus. Most students would wait until either the night before classes began, or the first day of class to actually move back to the dorms. There were a couple of tables situated here and there where an early bookworm or two had started to get the jump on the semester's reading.

  As her eyes came back toward her own table, movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. In the back corner, a book titled The Book of Enoch had lowered enough for a pair of eyes to glance over its top. Her heart stopped in her chest. A lump formed in her throat. Her palms were sweating. It seemed impossible eyes such a deep, rich, dark sapphire blue could exist. They were beautiful. They sought her out, not looking at her, but into her—into her heart—into her soul. Those same eyes belonged to this morning's apparition.

  After the third mention of her name and a crouton bouncing off her forehead, her two new roommates grabbed her attention. Elena shook her head, and turned back toward the girls; her ears burning with embarrassment. What the hell was that about? She chided herself. A quick scan of the room failed to find those eyes again. They were gone. Whipping her head toward the exit, she caught a glimpse of the back heel of someone hurrying out of the dining hall.