Awaken: A Dystopian Science Fiction Adventure

by Troy McLaughlan

  “I screamed again, and my older sister jumped out from her hiding spot with a dagger. She landed on its back and stabbed at its neck. The Targ jumped off me and twisted about. She shouted at me to run, and I did. In the dark chaos of the attack, I managed to climb up the fire escape and hide in the brush. A couple of days later, I was found wandering about by a Resistance patrol.

  He swallowed hard. “Only six of four hundred of us survived. I was just eight years old. I’ve been fighting those bastards ever since.”

  A single tear rolled down his cheek.

  My God.

  “Does it ever get any easier?”

  “No.” He looked me straight in the eyes, his face scrunched up, bare naked pain exposed before me. “But you do learn to live with it.”

  After dinner, I insisted on taking the first watch so he could sleep. He refused to use my rope hammock, afraid he would fall out, and chose instead to sleep on the forest floor in his armor. He deactivated his helmet, closed his eyes for only a few moments, and he was gone.

  I smiled and envied his ability to find slumber so quickly. While sleeping his face relaxed and he looked even younger, almost innocent. He couldn’t be more than seventeen or eighteen.

  While on guard, I turned back to him several times just to watch him sleep. His lips curled slightly upward in a faint smile so peaceful it was hard to believe he had been through so much pain. It brought a warm feeling of pleasure to my heart I hadn’t felt in a long time. Still, I could have easily left him there. With the armor, I stood a much better chance of reaching the volcano, but each time I tried to leave my heart would beat faster. I had to stay, not only because it was safer traveling with him, but because I wanted to know more about him.

  Four hours later, an alarm pinged, and John woke up. He stretched out and his eyebrows briefly rose when he saw me. He smiled.

  “Good evening.”

  The sun was still high in the western sky. I deactivated my helmet and smiled back. “It’s not evening yet.”

  He pointed to my hammock swaying in the tree branches. “Your turn.”

  “I’m fine. I don’t need to—”

  He put his hands on his waist and cocked his head. “Lumenara.”

  “Alright,” I scoffed and climbed the tree. “But don’t leave camp again. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  ~~~

  I fell asleep and dreamed John and I were walking, hand in hand, through a field of flowers. We were laughing and teasing each other. He began telling me a story about his mother and father when Draks appeared behind him holding a knife. I screamed at John to run, but he turned and stood his ground in front of me. His arms spread out in an effort to protect me. Draks plunged his blade into John’s chest, and I screamed again.

  My eyes burst open.

  A throbbing pain beat like a hammer inside my head. It was happening again. I bent over, groaned, and reached for a memory with my father.

  John sat on a branch next to me. In one hand, he held a hypodermic needle.

  “No.” I swatted at his hand.

  “It’s just a dose of ketamine. It’ll knock you out for a few hours and get you past this.”

  My breathing came in short forced gasps. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No you won’t. Your skull star is burning hot, and they’re using it to track you.” He raised the needle, but I shoved it away.

  “I said I’ll be fine!”

  John pulled back, and I closed my eyes. I focused on my father. I was younger, and we were playing ‘Hide and Go Seek’. My father found me quickly behind some shrubbery. He snuck up next to me and jabbed his fingers under my arms tickling me. After we both giggled and frolicked on the forest floor, he told me the best places to hide from the Targs were in the trees.

  My breathing stilled, and my body relaxed.

  “How are you doing this?” John asked. I opened my eyes to see John seated across from me, his eyebrows pinched and his mouth open. “Most slaves would be writhing in pain by now.”

  “I told you, I’m not a slave. It’s a technique my father taught me to throw the Targs off.”

  “So you don’t feel the pain?”

  “Of course I feel pain. I’ve just learned to control it.”

  John’s face relaxed. “You’re a remarkable young woman, Lumenara.” He put the syringe back inside his armor. “I better leave you alone.” He turned and stepped onto another branch.

  “No!” I grabbed his hand. “Stay. It helps to have someone to talk to.”

  He half smiled and nodded his head. “Okay.”

  He sat next to me, and we talked more about his older sister. How she practically raised him while his parents were gone on raids. I told him about my mother. That she always brought me a flower from our garden when she visited me in the cellar.

  When the pain from my skull star stopped, I got a few more hours of sleep and awoke at dusk to a sweet fragrant smell. A metal cup filled with wildflowers was tied on the branch next to me.

  John.

  I smiled and inhaled deep. Below me, John was cooking a small fish and a handful of berries sat piled on a rock. I sighed and then a spike of anger shot through me.

  You left me again didn’t you.

  I packed up my hammock, took the cup of flowers, and climbed down.

  “Morning sleepyhead,” he said.

  “I thought I told you to stay in camp.”

  “I never left sight of you.”

  I motioned my hand to the woods. “It’s dangerous out there. You could of—”

  He put a finger to my lips. “It’s nice to know you care, but most people would just say thank you.”

  I shook my head. “What?”

  John gave me a big toothy grin. He took one of the wildflowers and placed it in my hair. “There, beautiful.”

  My shoulders drooped.

  What’s the matter with you? This isn’t a game.

  “I love it when you get like this.” He tapped my nose. “Brings out the color in your cheeks.”

  I scoffed and pushed him away. “Ah! Sometimes you’re so…infuriating.”

  He laughed. “Come on and eat. You can scold me like a little boy later.”

  I shook my head and smiled. Maybe it was the way he looked at me with his big goofy grin or how thoughtful he was, but I couldn’t stay mad at him. “You’re an idiot. You know that?”

  “Maybe,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “But you still like me.”

  “Maybe.”

  CHAPTER 5

  All night we ran after breaking camp. The armor dramatically increased my speed, but the closer we got to the dormant volcano the more Targ patrols we ran into. Yet even with the Targ armor’s sensors and compound eyes, they were practically invisible until you were right on top of them. John managed to spot them by looking for moving foliage on the horizon and listening to their trampling feet.

  I wanted to take off my helmet so I could catch their scent, but John insisted I leave it on. We couldn’t take the risk my life signs might leak out. He had me hunker down while he scouted them out. When he returned, we’d cut across to one side or the other to avoid them.

  John’s earlier comment about a human collaborator turning against them bothered me and I kept thinking of Indigo. I couldn’t imagine why people would turn against their own kind.

  “Why do people become collaborators?”

  He skidded to a stop, and his sensor eyes probed over me.

  “You know, like the one who turned in your family when you were younger. What could they get by doing that?”

  He nodded. “There’s a human city they’re taken to way up north called New Paris. It’s built on the ruins of the old city right down to the last exacting detail. It has an Eiffel Tower, amusement parks, theaters, even a Louvre museum. No Targs are allowed inside, but they patrol the wall on the city boundaries to keep us out. There the collaborators can live a life of luxury. They don’t have to work or grow food, and t
he Exog slaves provide free medical care and maintain the machinery.”

  “But… It has to be a lie.”

  “Oh, it exists. I’ve seen it with my own eyes when I did a few food raids on Targ convoys. If it didn’t, word would soon get out and the line of traitors would stop.”

  So that’s what Indigo wanted.

  I never understood why she betrayed me. Now I knew. John faced north and glared out past the horizon.

  I stepped in behind him. “You hate them don’t you?”

  He waited several seconds before responding. His compound eyes locked forward. “Yea. Those bastards get three squares a day while the rest of us starve and fight for their freedom.” He turned to me. “Or die as slaves in the pits.” My stomach clenched and he took a deep breath. “Still, I can understand why they do it. After a life of fighting and hardship, who wouldn’t be tempted? It’s the perfect lure.”

  “Come on,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

  ~~~

  A few hours before dawn, we approached a hill overlooking a valley on the western side. At the top, we crawled on our hands and knees through the underbrush to the ledge. John pointed at the base of the volcano. Some artificial yellow colored patches stood out like someone took a knife and cut a chunk out of the forest. I focused on them through the helmet.

  Targs in blue colored body armor buzzed around as thick as flies on a dead horse’s carcass. Four barreled stationary guns as large as two Targs were spaced evenly along the edge of the camp with spindly towers as tall as three trees behind them.

  Inside the camp, to the southwest, the Targs were constructing a tall force-field wall and digging small pits within it, leaving the dirt piled around in heaps.

  “See what I mean,” John said. “This started a couple of days ago. We don’t know why they’re gathering here or what that wall is for.”

  I did. I recognized those arching blue electric force fields. ”It’s an internment camp to hold slaves.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. I had seen Targs use force fields to contain slaves until a permanent stone wall could be constructed.

  John inched forward. “I’ve never seen one that large before. Why would they bring slaves here?”

  I wanted to tell him. To let him know my purpose for going to the volcano, but my father’s warning thundered in my head. Trust no one. Awaken Gaia before it’s too late.

  Was I already too late?

  “I have to get going.”

  I slid back, but John grabbed my wrist. “Are you crazy? Didn’t you just see what’s down there?”

  Through his helmet, I pictured his green eyes piercing through me, full of concern. “I have to do this, John, or die trying.”

  “Why?”

  “Please, just let me go.”

  He released my wrist and slid down next to me. “Okay. Look, why don’t you come back with me to my camp. It’s only a day away and the other members of my squad will have returned from their recon missions. Maybe there’s a spot around the volcano the Targs aren’t at yet.”

  I cocked my head. As much as I wanted to stay with him, I was out of time.

  “It could take you days to find a safe route,” he said. “And the more time you spend looking the more chances they’ll have of capturing you.”

  “True, but—”

  He extended his hand. “Please, I only want to help you.”

  I sighed. It made sense. If I headed this way to the volcano, I was certain to be captured or worse and there was something about John I couldn’t resist.

  I took his hand. “Okay, but I can’t stay long.” We slid down into the brush and ran south.

  ~~~

  For the next several hours we ran. In the armor, it was almost effortless. I could see why John’s people prized them.

  We stopped only once near the river to let a Targ patrol pass before resuming a course due south. We made camp inside an outcropping of rocks. After scouting the area, John and I removed our helmets to have a quick meal of beef jerky and nuts.

  No fire today.

  Our water supplies were running low so John took out several clear plastic bags and showed me a survival tip. He wrapped them around a few leafy green bushes. Hours later, water droplets formed on the inside of the bags. It was like magic.

  He gave me some spare bags, and while I was repacking, my scrapbook fell out of a front pocket. It opened to one of the last pencil sketches my father made of me. It was the day before I escaped. My eyes were pinched and narrow and my lips curled into a scowl pressed to thin line.

  The text underneath read ‘I’m sorry. I don’t blame how you felt today, and one day I hope you understand.’ My stomach clenched as I remembered how angry and confused I was. My eyes watered, and I reached for the book, but John picked it up first. I let him gaze at the image.

  “Did your father draw this?”

  “Yea. I ah…I was upset the day he drew it.”

  “Why?”

  “He had just chosen me for ‘The Hunt’. It was his ruse to help me escape, but I didn’t know it at the time. I was so mad and confused at him for betraying me. I told him I was going to die, and it was all his fault. I still remember the shocked look in his eyes.” I bit my lower lip. “I broke his heart and he was just trying to save me.”

  I waited for John to condemn me for how I treated him. I deserved to be told how selfish and ignorant I was.

  “He must have loved you very much.” He closed the book and placed it in my hands.

  Why are you so good to me?

  My head trembled and a hesitant breath escaped my lips. “Want to look at some more?”

  He put his arm around me. “I’d love to.”

  We sat down on a log, and I showed him every page. Before long he had me laughing as I told him about some of the events drawn within. Then I told him how my father died and gave me this book as a testament of his love.

  John stroked a lock of my hair. “You shouldn’t carry this guilt. There was nothing you could have done to save him.”

  “I know. It’s just… It still doesn’t seem real.” The sunlight gleamed off the volcano’s snowcapped peak and caught my eye. “I keep expecting to run into him. That I’m going to find him camped out somewhere waiting for me.”

  John wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I leaned back, resting my head on his armored shoulder. That day I didn’t sleep in my hammock. Instead, I fell asleep within his embrace.

  ~~~

  Several hours later, I awoke. My helmet had been activated and a soft snoring rhythmically played from inside John’s helmet. His arms were still wrapped around me. I smiled.

  What no breakfast today? I chuckled.

  The sun was close to the western horizon, so I let him sleep for another hour before awakening him.

  After we crossed a dry creek bed, John took a silver bag out of his backpack.

  “I’m sorry, but the armors sensors need to be blindfolded the rest of the way. It’s for our protection.”

  I nodded, and he placed the metallic bag over my helmet. He used duct tape to hold it down. He apologized several times while doing it, but he didn’t have to. I understood the reason why. Targs would do anything to find them.

  He took my hands and led me the rest of the way. He was very descriptive of the path he was taking me on, so I wouldn’t stumble. Sometimes he picked me up to carry me over rough patches.

  Hours later he took the bag off, I was bent over inside a dark rusted out corrugated metal tunnel. The air reeked of decaying algae. He pressed a joint behind my back, and my helmet and armor folded up, disappearing behind me.

  John flipped on a head lamp. “It’s just a little further down,” he said. “This is the remains of an old water reclamation plant. The Targs can’t stand the smell so it makes for a good base.”

  We walked a short distance in standing water before the entrance opened up into a large crumbling concrete room. Broken ceiling panels sent shafts of dusty light i
n different directions and the sounds of water dripping echoed off the distant walls.

  After rounding a corner, we were surrounded by six beings in Targ body armor with their weapons drawn. I whipped out my staff, but John grabbed it.

  “No!” he shouted. “It’s okay. They’re just guards.”

  They took our armor backpacks and weapons before one of them approached John. He pointed his gun directly at John’s forehead, but John didn’t even flinch.

  “G’day mate,” he said in English with hard nasally accent. “You’re late.”

  “I ran into some friendly company.”

  “Huh.”

  The being held out a small black pad with a grove cut in the middle and John put a finger on it. Some lights flashed before it beeped. John then strolled over to a wall with two yellow disks and placed his hands on them. A red laser-like beam emerged from the floor and scanned his body up and down. A light on the wall turned green.

  The being moved over to me, its gun less than an inch from my temple. His helmet tilted and its large compound eyes buzzed over me.

  “What are you starring at?” I asked with a growl in my voice.

  Its shoulders rolled back, and the center of both eyes locked onto my face “She’s a cutey.” He shoved the pad in front of me.

  “Just place a finger on it,” John said. “He’s going to take a blood sample.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then I’ll blow that pretty little head of yours clean off.”

  “Lumenara, please,” John said. “It’s for our protection. The Targs have used viruses, poisons, even meta-genetic explosives to try and kill us.”

  The beings hand twitched. “Last chance, Missy.”

  I put a finger on the pad and felt a pinprick. The lights on it flickered and then a beep.