Awaken: A Dystopian Science Fiction Adventure

by Troy McLaughlan

  His helmeted head turned toward me, and he deactivated it.

  “I’ve got breakfast ready.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Just a couple of meerkats, but it’s fresh meat.” He pointed to a pile of yellow and green fist sized balls. “I gathered a few marulas and monkey oranges. Just don’t eat the seeds, they’re poisonous.”

  I packed up my things. As I scaled down the tree, I realized the Targs hadn’t activated my skull star during the day. Had they given up or was it something else. I eyed John.

  He handed me a small sharp bone skewered with chunks of meat. I waited for him to take a bite of his first before nibbling on piece. It had a spicy tingle of flavor.

  “It’s wonderful.” I dragged the meat from the entire skewer off into my mouth.

  John smiled. “I used some cape herbs, and wild onions to give it some zing. Took me a bit to find them though.”

  I could imagine that. My father showed me cape herbs and how to use them, but said they were rare this far south. John must have spent hours looking for some.

  After breakfast, we refilled our water satchels and headed southwest away from the river. John said to take it easy as it would be our last chance for water for at least another day.

  After a few hours, a slight gust of wind blew toward us, and I caught that unmistakable cinnamon earthy scent again. This time it was much stronger and more pungent. I skidded to a stop and sniffed the air.

  “What’s wrong?” John asked.

  “Can’t you smell it?”

  He shrugged.

  “Targs.”

  John spun around and drew his gun. He turned in full circle, the compound eyes of his helmet moving in several directions. “I got nothing, but their armor masks life signs.”

  “Humph, you rely too much on your tech.” I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, turning to the smell. It got stronger and had different flavors. There was more than one of them. I opened my eyes, only to see that John was gone.

  Damn it! He betrayed me. I’m such a fool.

  I inhaled again. The cinnamon scent was strong. They were close. Close enough to shoot me, but they didn’t. So they wanted me alive, but why? I headed to clearing with several large boulders and husks of fallen trees. I knew I couldn’t outrun them. If I was going to fight, I wanted to do it in an area that favored my agility.

  Then I waited and cleared my mind. I no longer feared them.

  A few moments passed and three huge beasts completely sheathed in gray armor, like hulking insects, appeared out of the brush with their guns drawn. Even with helmets on I knew they were Targs. Their thick, muscular tails were a dead giveaway.

  One of them pressed the back of his helmet and it peeled away revealing his green, scaly, dragon-like face and red eyes. The others followed suit.

  “Look at what we have here, boys,” he hissed in the Targ language. “The Hu-man female Draks is looking for. He’s placed quite a bounty on your head, little one.”

  I raised my staff and the two other Targs took aim at me.

  So John, can’t do your own dirty work or are you too cowardly to face me?

  The lead Targ waved his clawed hands down. “Holster those guns gents,” he said sliding his gun away and removing a coiled metallic whip. “Draks wants this one alive, and I intend to collect on that bounty.”

  I widened my stance. My muscles compressed, ready to pounce. “You’ll find I’m not easy prey.”

  He bellowed a chain of throaty grunts. “Draks has warned us about your little tricks.”

  The other two Targs removed their whips, and the leader pressed a button on the handle of his. Blue arcs of electricity shot out and ran down the length of it. The others followed his lead and they surrounded me.

  I jumped at their leader and the sting of a whip coiled around my leg. A shock jolted through me and I fell to my knees. I struggled to stand when another whipped around my stomach. My whole body seized up. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe. My eyes closed and I fought through the sensation. A heavy hand pressed on my shoulder.

  I swung the tip of my staff around and smashed into the Targ leaders head. He staggered back, black blood dripping from a bruise under his eye.

  “Still got some fight left in you.” His lips curled up revealing a row of yellow teeth. “So much the better.” He activated his whip and flung it back.

  CHAPTER 3

  A gunshot echoed, and the Targ’s head exploded. The electricity coursing through me disappeared and released its grip. My body was still numb, but my anger burned hot.

  I sprang at the other two Targs who were reaching for their guns and looking at something in the tree-line. In one swift motion, I smashed my staff at the blue patches under one of their knees, tail, and armpit. Creamy blue fluid shot out and the beast’s armor locked up. I did the same with the other one and then drew my dagger, plunging deep into their necks.

  John plodded out of the brush with his helmet off and his gun drawn. He stared directly at me with bewildered yet serious look on his face before holstering his sidearm.

  “You’re pretty handy with that staff.”

  So, you didn’t betray me, but you’re still a coward.

  “Took you long enough.”

  He eyed me warily and checked one of the Targs. He pressed several points in between the joints. “It’s completely non-responsive. What did you do this armor?”

  “I hit it in its vulnerable spots.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t think Targ armor had any vulnerable spots. Who taught you how to do this?”

  “My father trained me.”

  “Humph, well I can’t salvage this.” He took their weapons and placed them in a camo-gray backpack. “So tell me Lumenara,” he looked me straight in the eyes, “Why didn’t they just shoot you?”

  I took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He cocked his head. “Targs don’t capture humans, especially escaped slaves. Not without a damn good reason.”

  I bristled at his comment.

  Who does he think he is? He just shows up and thinks I’m going to tell him everything.

  His face became stern. “I heard them talking to you and you answered in their language. Something about a bounty?” He put a hand on his waist. “You care to tell me about that?”

  “It’s not your concern. Are we going to the hill or what?”

  His face softened. “Hey, I can’t help you unless you let me in.”

  I remained silent.

  “Well, their patrols are getting wider.” He walked over to the leader. “We need to get you into this armor.”

  “I’m not wearing that?”

  “It’s perfectly safe.”

  “It’ll never fit me.”

  He gave me a sly smile and pressed under a few joints by the waist of the headless beast. Bio-luminescent blue seams appeared and the armor unzipped and folded back on itself.

  “It’s bio-mechanical,” he said. “We think it’s based on some kind alien insect or crab.” The armor continued to compress and fold up, layer upon layer, until it was no larger than a daypack. “It’s tough and resists nearly everything, but straight shot from their own weapons.” He lifted up the armor-backpack and walked over to me. “It also triples your strength, doubles your speed, and,” he raised his eyebrows, “hides your life signs.”

  “I don’t care what it does. I’m not wearing that thing.”

  He exhaled. “Look, either you wear this or every Targ within ten miles is going to make a beeline for you. Is that what you want?”

  No, I didn’t. My father always taught me it’s better to avoid trouble than to go looking for it. I turned around and hunched my shoulders.

  He placed it on my back, and I was surprised as to how light it was. A few clicks snapped and the armor activated, coiling around my body, shaping itself to every curve. It felt cool inside at first, but gradually warmed.

  “One size fits all,” John said.

  Then the ear
thy cinnamon smell hit me and made my stomach swirl. Somehow, it didn’t feel right and it gave me the creeps. “So this armor is alive?”

  “More or less.”

  “And it’s not going to eat me?”

  “No,” he laughed and then gave me a sly grin. “But it does need to be fed.”

  When the armor finished shaping itself, I flexed my arms and legs. They sliced through the air at blazing speed, but were a little stiff. I hopped on my toes and jumped twenty feet into the air, landing hard with my hands spread out.

  John came over and extended a hand to help, but I waved him off. He had a big smirk on his face, and I could tell from his pressed lips and punched up cheeks he was trying to keep from bursting into laughter. “So, what do you think?”

  I picked myself off the ground. “It limits my agility, but it feels okay, I guess.”

  “Good, because this next part is going to feel a little weird.” He reached up behind me. “When the helmet activates, you need to keep your eyes open so it can interface with you.”

  “Interface?”

  “You’ll see what I mean.”

  He pressed under my neck and the helmet wrapped around the sides of my cheeks, sealing an inch or so in front of my eyes. A prickly sensation tingled over my entire body and then an echoing whisper or more like a tangle of alien thoughts pressed into my consciousness. I hyperventilated as two bio-luminescent feelers descended filling my vision. The voices got louder.

  I fought to stay calm, to keep my eyes open, but I couldn’t handle the dual sensation of alien whispers and those damn things touching my eyes.

  My eyelids slammed shut.

  “Get it off!” I screamed.

  A touch of vertigo hit and everything spun.

  “Get it off me!”

  When I opened my eyes, John was holding me. The helmet was gone.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s fine. Everyone freaks out the first time.”

  “That thing was…whispering to me. It was inside my head. I—I don’t know if I can do this.”

  John stroked my hair, and I pressed my face into his chest. It felt so good to have him close. In many ways, he reminded me of my father. The way he talked, how gentle he was, his facial expressions.

  “It’s just machine sending you information.” He pointed at the armor on my legs. “There are tens of thousands of sensor hairs all over this armor. They collect data on altitude, temperature, pressure, even sounds.” He put a hand to my cheek. “The armor sends out hundreds of probes that pierce through your clothing to nerve endings on your skin. It’s how it communicates.”

  “Can’t I do this without the helmet?”

  “I’m sorry, if you don’t wear the helmet your life signs will still leak through.” He rubbed my cheek and my breathing calmed. “Let’s try it again. Stay still and let your mind go blank.” He smiled, yet his eyes were full of concern. “I know you can do it.”

  What’s the matter with me? I can face three Targs in hand to hand combat, but wearing this armor scares me to death.

  I nodded, holding my breath while he activated the helmet.

  Once again, the alien whispers called to me.

  “Relax,” John said. “Don’t fight it.”

  I ignored the voices and imagined myself on top of a mountain with my father. A light flashed, and John’s face came into focus, but it was distorted with splotches of red and yellow. His hair was also outlined in blue hues.

  “Good job. Can you see me?”

  His voice was strangely garbled, but still clear.

  “Yes.”

  It was odd, like I had stepped into another world. I could almost feel the flaps of a bee’s wing buzzing behind me, the pressure of the wind, soft noises on the air. But everything looked different.

  “The colors aren’t right. It’s like they’re all in yellows and reds.”

  John nodded. “It’s normal. We think the armor sees in infra-red. Try and focus on an insect on the ground.”

  On the forest floor was an ant crawling over a twig. I focused and a green rectangle formed around it. Suddenly the ant was as tall as a horse. I put my hands in front of me and staggered back.

  “It’s okay,” John said catching me. “The sensor eyes on the helmet just magnified the image.”

  It did more than that. It identified internal organs, weak spots, and a healing scar on one of its antenna.

  The top of the volcano caught my eye. A rectangle formed and instantly it zoomed to a point several miles from it.

  “It’s incredible.”

  “I know,” John said. “It’s why we try to salvage these things.” He pointed to the top of the plateau. “Come on, we need to get up that ridge.”

  CHAPTER 4

  On the way up the plateau, John told me about the Resistance. How humanity was nearly wiped out when the Targs first came, but a few survived in ruins of the cities and remote locations in Canada, Alaska, China, and Russia. Apparently, the Targs hated the cold and didn’t stay long in those areas.

  They managed to communicate using shortwave radios and gathered together where they discovered how to fight the Targs using their own technology against them. Ever since then they have been building their forces and making small raids.

  “So Lumenara, tell me about your father.”

  “His name was Merrick—”

  He grabbed my arm. “Merrick? From the twelfth slave compound?”

  “I don’t know about any compound, but his name was Merrick.”

  “Was he about my height with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a limp on his left side?”

  “Yes. Did you know him?”

  “I met him a few times, but he never mentioned he had a daughter. How’s he doing?”

  He’s dead…

  I turned my head and my eyes teared up.

  “I’m sorry,” John said. “When did he die?”

  “A few days ago.” A tear formed. I tried to hold it back, but it fell anyway. “He helped me to escape and they killed him.”

  John’s hand reached out and rubbed my shoulder. More tears fell. I wiped them, but more came. John’s arm slowly wrapped around me and pulled me into his chest. I felt myself latch on, holding him tightly, not wanting to let go. I had nobody left…

  I didn’t want to do it in front of him, but I couldn’t help myself. Ever since my father died, my emotions for him always bubbled just below the surface. Everything felt surreal, like I was walking through a living nightmare. It was all I could do to hold back my sorrow, and keep from falling into the abyss.

  “Your father was a brave man,” John said. “Many times he sent us food, medical supplies, and relayed intelligence about Targ movements.”

  “I miss him.” My head pounded like a drum as I tried to hold back my grief. “I try to be strong and do what he asked, but—” I stopped.

  What am I doing? I barely know John.

  Seconds passed in silence.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything.” I buried my head into John’s chest and tears flowed. He wrapped his arms around me. “Sometimes,” he said, “war takes the best of us. It’s okay to cry. Trust me, you’ll feel better after.”

  My legs wobbled and for the first time since his passing, I let out all my grief, pain, and anger. John just held me and stroked my hair. He didn’t say a word and it was just what I needed. His eyes radiated concern, but I also saw hints of pain, and suffering within his taunt face. It was as if he knew exactly how I felt.

  Afterward I shrank back. I was embarrassed by how I acted. John, however, didn’t ask why. Instead he extended a hand and we ran the rest of the night without talking.

  ~~~

  At dawn, we made camp near a small lake and refilled our water satchels. John left to scout the area for Targ patrols while I made us some dinner. When he came back, he removed his armor to take a quick bath while I stood guard. I examined him from head to toe while he undressed. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t some kind
of Targ Human hybrid, and I was also curious to know what the rest of him looked like. To see if his body fit his boyish face.

  As he stripped down to his shorts, I caught a quick glance of his bare chest which was not overly muscled, but more chiseled and toned like the pictures of the ancient Greek heroes I’d read about. I couldn’t help but smile.

  When John left the water to dry himself in the rising sun, purple scars emerged on his left shoulder, lower abdomen, and right chest. His shoulder scar was still swollen and looked fresh. Just below it however, was another blemish. It was thin and faint, running from the top of his left shoulder down to his right thigh. As my eyes focused, it screamed out like a line made by a piece of gray chalk drawn on a marble statue. My fingers moved forward with uncontrollable urge to touch it.

  “What happened to you?”

  John took a deep breath and allowed me to touch him. “A long time ago my parents were part of the Resistance. Their brigade had setup a base inside an underground parking garage when just before dawn the Targs attacked. They took us completely by surprise. We think another human turned us in.”

  He shook his head. “It happened so fast my father didn’t even have a chance to get his gun. When a Targ broke down our makeshift door, my father leapt at the beast to try and fight it off, but the Targ swatted him aside like a rag doll and smashed his body against the concrete wall. Then it attacked my mother, plunging its serrated knife deep and cutting her open. Only after did it stab my father to finish him off. Humph, they always go for the women first.”

  His face turned pale and he stumbled down to sit on a stump.

  I touched him on his shoulder, and he flinched. “You don’t have to tell me the rest,” I said.

  He took my hand. “It’s alright, I don’t mind. It’s usually what people want to know after they see my scar.” He sighed. “I was hiding under the bench we used for a bed when I felt the Targ clamping its clawed hands on one of my legs. I screamed and it dragged me out turning me over to face it. I was so petrified I didn’t move as its eyes raked over me, like a lion looking over lamb before it devours it. I still remember how its voice slithered. It told me not to worry. That I showed spirit so it wasn’t going to kill me, but first he needed to leave a mark. It drew its blood soaked blade and cut me, but not deep, just below the surface of the skin.”