by Justin Sloan
Back by Sunrise
Book 1 of the Eternal Light Series
Justin M. Sloan
www.JustinMSloan.com
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Contents
Chapter 1: Deployment
Chapter 2: The Necklace
Chapter 3: Never Giving Up
Chapter 4: Bad Bird Trollay
Chapter 5: Sunrise
Chapter 6: Timmy the Mouse
Chapter 7: Lost
Chapter 8: The Great Escape
Chapter 9: Farewell Roy
Chapter 10: They Really Miss Me
Chapter 11: The Rats
Chapter 12: The River Offering
Chapter 13: Stop Trollay
Chapter 14: The Transformation
Chapter 15: This Means War
Chapter 16: Home at Last
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
First Chapter of Allie Strom and the Ring of Solomon
To my family and friends, and especially anyone who has ever lost a loved one.
Back by Sunrise
Book 1 of the Eternal Light series
by Justin Sloan
Copyright © 2014 Justin Sloan.
All rights reserved.
Cover Art by Melanie de Carvalho
This is a work of fiction. No people known to the author have actually become animals, and no offense is meant to anyone who has. Please consider leaving a review, and tell your friends about Back by Sunrise.
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And you can buy book 2, Dawn of Destiny
Chapter 1: Deployment
Brooke Morts lived in a quaint white house with green trim. On a clear day, she could look past her house and the surrounding evergreens to see Mt. Rainier high above it all, as if a guardian angel watched over her house and the whole city of Tacoma, Washington.
Birds chirped outside the window as Brooke and her dad worked on a wall mural in her bedroom. Her dad had started the project on her ninth birthday, three months ago. He had promised to have it done before their annual family camping trip. Since today was her brother Paul’s eleventh birthday and the camping trip always followed closely, she knew they would soon be finished.
They painted a cat and mice amid the trees, because Brooke loved all animals, even mice. Well, maybe not rats, but that was only natural. On this particular Saturday she found herself painting oversized red whiskers on a blue mouse. She frowned, unsatisfied with her work, then looked up to see that her dad had almost finished painting a little red bird just above her nightstand. He worked on the bird’s feathers, adding lush strokes of crimson lined with lavender.
Her dad turned his shaved head to smile down at her. She loved that smile. It said I’ll always be here for you. Even when he was off running around with the Army, she knew he would call, she knew he would bring her a new present. Her favorites were the small dolls with acorn caps, of which she now had three on her nightstand.
She assessed the bird her dad painted and said, “I like mouses more.”
“Mice, dear,” he corrected her.
He took his clean hand, the one that wasn’t speckled in paint, and adjusted the purple bow in her hair. “Birds can fly high above it all, not a care in the world. Don’t you think that’d be great?”
She thought about this a moment. “I guess.”
Her dad dipped his paintbrush in red and then blue, before dabbing it on top of the bird’s head so it became a bow, just like Brooke’s. As he turned to smile, she slapped her hands against his shirt, grinning up at him. She moved her hands to reveal blue and green paint handprints.
“Hey!” he said, then flicked his paintbrush and sent speckles of purple paint her way. But she dodged and the paint hit the bed.
The two shared an uh-oh look, and then her dad grabbed her and started tickling her. She shrieked, laughing and rolling on the floor as he kept at it. He dipped his finger in the green paint and she knew what was coming.
“No, Dad! No!”
“Why so serious?” he said as he began to finger-paint her forehead.
“Daren!” her mom’s voice came from the doorway.
The two paused, their eyes slowly rising to see Brooke’s mom, her arms crossed over her bright red sweater.
“Really? Again?” Brooke’s mom said in her scolding yet loving way.
Brooke’s dad smiled sheepishly as he helped Brooke up. This wasn’t going to go over well—her dad’s shirt was now covered with paint-handprints from Brooke’s struggles and her bed had paint speckled across it. She had a feeling that her dad had painted his go-to generic smiley face on her forehead.
“Tell you what,” her dad said. “We’ll finish this later, okay? Go wash up for your brother’s party.”
She nodded and ran past her mom with a smile, excited to get off that easy, for now. But something seemed wrong about the look in her mom’s eyes and the letter in her hand. Brooke slowed outside the door. She turned back and leaned against the wall to hear her dad sigh and say, “It’s too soon.”
“Tell them you can’t deploy,” her mom said. “We just moved. Your family needs you.”
“You know I would,” her dad said.
Her mom’s muffled sob followed.
Unsure how to process this, Brooke made her way to the backyard and found the cake. She opened the box and dipped her finger in to have a taste—yup, it was still good. She lay down on the grass and watched the wisps of clouds drift by. The last time her dad had deployed, she had almost forgotten what it was like to feel him pick her up. She had almost forgotten the joy in her mom’s eyes when he kissed her goodbye every morning. Brooke didn’t want to forget. Somehow, she hoped, he wouldn’t have to go again.
Paul’s two buddies came over an hour later. He probably would’ve liked to invite more friends, but having just moved from Marysville, there hadn’t been a chance to make many friends yet.
Their dad barbequed hot dogs and chicken breasts, and some tofu dogs since Brooke was a vegetarian. After eating, everyone gathered around the piñata to watch Paul whack at it with his wooden samurai sword, a ripped-shirt-blindfold over his eyes. Brooke thought the donkey piñata was stupid. If it had been her choice, she would have gotten a cat to match their pet, Oreo. But she wanted the candy inside the piñata regardless, and thought it was about time she had a turn.
“I wanna try!” she said as she ran forward.
The wooden sword appeared as if from nowhere, coming right at her, inches away. Strong arms wrapped around her midsection and pulled her to safety. Her mom held her and was yelling, while her brother had removed the blindfold and glared.
“Why’s she even here?” Paul said, almost under his breath.
“What was that?” their mom said.
Paul shook his head and returned to the piñata, sliding his blindfold back on.
Brooke tore herself free from her mom and turned to the house, tears in her eyes. It stung, what he had said. But it wasn’t anything new. He never seemed to want her around.
Brooke’s dad appeared as if from nowhere, lifting her into the sky. “Come on sweetheart, you’re above all this, remember.” He turned her so she lay flat on his shoulder, head forward and feet back like she was flying. “Flap or you’ll fall!” he warned, then began to circle the
yard and whistle like a bird.
She laughed hard as she flapped, at that moment deciding birds were her new favorite animal. They circled her mom, while Paul and his friends returned to the piñata.
“Coming in for a landing?” her mom asked, holding out her arms. Her dad fake-crashed with her and the two lowered Brooke to her feet.
“Dad, I’m too old for that,” she said. He looked hurt, so she added. “Let’s do it again.”
“You’ll have to learn to fly on your own soon,” he said, rubbing his arms as if in pain. He pinched her nose playfully as she pouted. “Besides, I think there’s something more important that requires your attention.”
He nodded to the piñata as it burst with Paul’s swing of the sword. Candy flew everywhere and Brooke made a mad dash for it. By the time she stood and turned to see her mom and dad holding each other and watching them, her arms were full of little wrapped Starbursts and packets of Sour Patch Kids and gummy worms. She couldn’t even remember why she had been upset.
It wasn’t until the following weekend that Brooke remembered the unease she had felt in her room, when her mom had come in with that letter. They sat her down and explained that her dad was deploying that weekend, but it was only supposed to be for six months. Brooke wasn’t happy, but at least it wasn’t a whole year like last time.
That night, she joined her dad on the front porch. She watched him as he leaned back and stared up at the stars.
“Promise you’ll treat your mom well?” he said.
“Dad, come on.” She was always the perfect angel. At least, she thought so.
“She’s going to need your help around here. I won’t be gone as long as last time, but still….”
“You promised we’d finish the mural,” she said, confused and annoyed. “It doesn't make sense.”
He assessed her with his soft green eyes. “I know you don't see it now, but some things in life are worth fighting for.”
“What about being with your family?”
“Darling, that's what I mean. If there aren't people fighting for our country, for us....”
None of what he could say would make her feel better, and he must have seen that because he started caressing her shoulder and they sat in silence for a moment. Finally he said, “When I’m out there and the sand’s blowing in my face and my body’s aching, you know what gets me through the day? You.”
“Yeah?”
“And I'd do anything to make sure you're safe and happy.” He pointed to the sky, at an especially shiny star. “Whenever you’re having a hard time, just look into that star there, okay? Imagine it’s me, watching over you.”
“That’s silly.”
He pulled her in for a hug. “It’s not silly, because I’ll be watching that same star, thinking of you.”
She thought about this and leaned against him. She supposed that the star would give her some comfort, but she reserved her right to be frustrated by the whole situation.
The next day they took him to the SeaTac airport, and walked with him to the security line. Brooke wished they could go back to cake and candy, instead of this depressing moment. At the beginning of the security line, her dad turned to her mom and pulled back her red hat for a passionate kiss.
Brooke did her best to smile, and jokingly said, “Eww!”
“Yeah, get a room,” Paul said, pretending to cover Brooke’s eyes.
Their dad turned and looked at them, the way he did every time he was about to leave—proud and full of a warm sorrow. He pulled his camo-backpack around and reached in, then found a book and handed it to Paul.
“This was mine, when I was your age,” he said.
Paul looked at the cover of The Hobbit and smiled with a nod.
Their dad knelt down in front of Brooke next. “If you’re not too grown up for this little guy?” He handed her a knit doll wearing an acorn cap and a little knapsack on its back. “When you’re lonely, he’ll keep you company, okay? And don’t worry, if you’re really good, I’ll still bring you another when I return.”
Although she may have been too old, she didn’t care. She loved it and squeezed it tight. A thought hit her and she said, “But wait, the camping trip!”
He smiled and pulled her into a hug, which her mom joined a moment later. Paul tried to avoid it, but he was pulled in too. Their dad rubbed Paul’s hair like he was still a child, and then winked at Brooke before entering the security line.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said and waved one last time.
As they drove home from the airport, Brooke turned around in her seat and watched a plane’s red lights disappear into the dark night sky. How many times had she watched him fly off to another weekend exercise or another deployment?
“Can we go visit him, Mom?” Brooke asked.
“Sorry, dear, not where he’s going,” her mom replied.
Chapter 2: The Necklace
The days of waiting seemed to drag on. Brooke hated going to school knowing her dad wouldn’t be there when she got home. To make it worse, the other kids talked about what they did with their dads over the weekends. After school she would sit at dinner, hopeful, but every day she saw that same look in her mom and her brother’s eyes that seemed to say, “Please don’t ask about him again, not today.” More than once she pushed her meal aside without taking a bite.
The Skype nights always came, at least once a week. She would sit in front of the computer with her mom, sometimes Paul, and laugh and tell her dad about how Oreo had jumped on the table and eaten the dinner when her mom was trying to get everyone together, or how someone at school had brought in his dog for show and tell, only to have it pee on the teacher’s desk.
When Brooke’s dad had been gone for about five months, and Christmas was only a little more than a month away, he said, “I’ll send you something nice for Christmas, I promise.”
This surprised Brooke, who thought for sure he would be back by then.
“Send me you,” she replied.
He kissed his fingers, and then touched the camera. “I’ll try honey, I really will. And then I promise we’ll finish painting your room.”
Her mom hugged Brooke. “Can I talk to my husband now?”
“Okay, I guess,” Brooke said. They laughed as her mom moved to the door with the laptop.
Her dad spoke up to Brooke again. “I love you, Princess!
“I love you more,” she said, and they whistled like birds while flapping their arms.
Paul joined their mom just outside the door, waving at the computer screen as their mom carried the laptop to the other room and closed the door. Brooke grabbed her newest doll and held it tight as she climbed into bed.
Life continued like this for another week. Then came the worst day of Brooke’s life.
A black car pulled up to Brooke’s house, the only house on the block already decorated with Christmas lights. Brooke had wanted to be ready in case her dad returned. She peeked from her bedroom window to see two soldiers walk toward the front door. They carried a folded American flag. A knock came, a creak of the door, and then an agonized cry from her mom.
Brooke didn’t understand. But, as she stood before her crying mom and Paul, who seemed to be trying to hold back tears, she knew something horrible had happened. Paul broke off and ran to his room. Their mom reached out and pulled Brooke in tight, rubbing Brooke’s hair and looking down the hallway after Paul. What had her mom said? Something about Dad not coming back…. Ever?
Her mom sobbed and covered her mouth. “We’re going to make it through this.”
“Through what?” she didn’t want to know, but had to hear it.
Her mom stared at her. She opened her mouth to answer, but couldn’t.
“Dad said he was going to…. H—he said,” Brooke tried to speak, but something in her throat was catching. “We were going to finish the painting.”
Her mom pulled her closer, tighter. “Remember when we said goodbye to Grandma?”
“He
said he’d come back.”
“Dad’s up there with her, in Heaven.”
“Then I wanna go too!”
“Don’t ever say that, you hear me?” Her mom knelt down and held Brooke in front of her. “Right now I need you here, with me.”
“It’s not fair!”
Brooke screamed and broke from her mother’s grip, then ran to her room. She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, sobbing, trying to fight the tears and the doubts, but they both kept coming. He had to come back!
After several minutes she opened her eyes and looked at the bird her dad had painted. She approached the painting and traced the little red bird with her finger.
“I miss you...” she said, hoping her dad could somehow hear her.
The setting sun sent a flash of lavender light against her wall and the painted bird seemed to move. She withdrew her hand in shock.
She leaned in close to make sure nothing had moved, but then was startled as a tapping came from her window. On the other side of the glass sat a small bird—a swallow, she guessed. A white stripe ran between its eyes. It cocked its head, chirped, and then flew off. Brooke threw open the window and stared after it in amazement. A gust of wind blew in and she shivered, pulling back. She closed the window and turned back to the room.
Brooke glanced at the painting, wiping her nose on her sleeve. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but was the painted bird gone?
Another sparkle of light caught her eyes, this time from her nightstand and her small doll with the acorn-cap hat. She approached the doll and saw its knapsack hanging open, the sparkle coming from within. She opened the knapsack the rest of the way and pulled out a glimmering necklace. A small note caught on the necklace chain and drifted to the nightstand.
The necklace shone bright before her eyes and emitted a soft, unnatural glow of lavender. Its silver-encased blue stone matched Brooke’s eyes. A silver bird decorated the stone. As she watched the stone twirl at the end of the chain, Brooke noticed something else odd in the pale glow. Looking past the necklace and at the wall, she saw that where her dad had painted a bird, only its outline remained on the painted sky. She placed her hand where the bird had been—a perfect fit.
