This isn’t the end, however. I will start over. New recruits, better training. The Solomon Experiments succeeded. Disloyalty created our failure, not the experiments themselves. I know how to prevent such actions in the future.
I will create a new army, a new Order to serve the world stage. With global positioning and unlimited resources, I can create the future I’ve envisioned since Project Stargate. My vision will be realized, my greatest weapon returned.
MORNING COMES IN A WASH OF FUCHSIA AND GOLD SPLAYED ACROSS A CLOUD STREAKED SKY. I’ll never tire of the view here. Nestled cozily in the mountains of the west side of Maui, our tiny flat above Kahakuloa village is only accessible by foot or horseback. Perfect, as far as I’m concerned.
The typical morning rain stayed behind today, leaving only the hint of a perfect day. I roll to my side and stretch my legs and arms. David rolls as well, aware of my presence even as he sleeps. He sleeps soundly here, far better than he did on the road. His physical wounds healed over the past month. His emotional ones are another story, as are the mental ones he tries to keep hidden from me. His despair filters into each kiss, matching mine. He can’t hide himself from me.
Neither of us can hide any more.
David stirs as he senses my thoughts intertwined with his. My lips brush against his forehead and he quiets. I walk out of the main room of our two-room bungalow, unwilling for him to see too much of me today. If only I could find a way to keep him out of my head; if only I wanted to.
I take a deep breath, and will the monsters to go away. They don’t leave. Memories of Josh, Mom, Dad—they cling to my skin; a blanket of loneliness I can never remove.
“Thinking about them?” David’s voice holds no judgment.
“Always.”
“Their deaths aren’t your fault.”
So he keeps telling me.
“They were—”
“My father’s.” The words are like ash in my mouth.
“Yes.” David collapses the distance between us and wraps me in a tight embrace. “You’re not a killer,” he breathes into my hair. “You never were.”
I wish I believed him.
The day passes, sliding seamlessly into a dark night. The sky is darker than usual, illuminated by endless stars and the new moon. David sleeps soundly, his rhythmic breathing the only lullaby I need to find sleep.
Except tonight.
I try to push the darkness away, remembering how Josh used to coax me to sleep after a nightmare. Picture your favorite place in the whole wide world, he used to say as he’d stroke my forehead. Go there whenever you’re scared and I will find you.
I roll onto my side, staring out of our room to the rest of the tiny house. Images of my favorite place take root in my mind, thick trees covered in vines, the sound of water trickling in the backdrop and fragrant flowers twisting through the forest floor.
The image resembles the rainforests that cover most of this part of paradise. My eyes begin to droop as my brother filters up through my thoughts. I will never leave you, he says as I fall away. I will keep you safe. Always.
Sleep comes and I float away on his words . . .
The dreams come in rapid succession. Slices of my past and an unknown future fuse together in a surreal tapestry. Death, crime, terrorism. It never ends. There are new soldiers now, each with gifts like mine. Clairvoyance, telekinesis, telepathy. The new recruits even practice mental projection and pyrokinesis. They are unmatched, mowing down opposing forces in droves. The carnage is incomprehensible. Bile clenches my stomach as the images race faster and faster, refusing to release me from their grasp. Stop! I yell through my mind. Stop now!
The movie refuses to obey, and the pictures continue to stream across my thoughts.
“Stop!” The bed shakes beneath me. “Stopstopstopstop.”
I bolt awake and David wakes beside me. The whole house trembles, forcing the few pictures that adorn the walls askew. Glass breaks in the other room.
“Dakota!” David reaches for my hand.
I stare ahead, seeing nothing but my father’s face. Flames dance in the center of his eyes. “I’m coming, Dakota. I’m coming . . .
For you.”
Fiction
Lacrimosa, Requiem #1
Libera Me, Requiem #2
Dominus, Requiem #3
Transcend
The Void (October, 2014)
Non-Fiction
Emotional Intensity in Gifted Students
101 Success Secrets for Gifted Kids
The Girl Guide
Quiet Kids
More Than Shy (Spring 2015)
Writing is so much more of a group sport than I ever realized. Goodness knows, my books would be nothing without the help of my readers, writing partners, and family:
To Jen Hendricks and Brooke Watts DelVecchio – Your keen eyes, sharp editing skills and careful read made this story so much more. Thanks for your dedication to the craft, and insistence that I push deeper.
To Michelle Zink – Your early encouragement means more than you will ever know. THANK YOU for the initial words of wisdom and direction.
To Ali Cross – Your talent at book design is surpassed only by your exquisite writing! Thanks for your friendship, your work on this project, and all of the amazing things I KNOW we’ll do together in the future!
To Book Cover Machine – Man I love your covers and professionalism!
To the teams at Xpresso Book Tours and YA Bound Book Tours – your publicity help for cover releases, book blitzes and review queries has been invaluable. Thank you really seems inadequate.
To the ever-talented Indelibles – You have ALL supported me in ways you can’t imagine. Thanks for the Facebook party love, the tweets, and the words of wisdom when I was ready to give up.
To my readers, fans and everyone that has welcomed me into this crazy world of writing. Collide is book #9. If any of you would’ve asked me five years ago if I’d be a published author, I would have laughed. And now, because of YOUR love, I am here, fulfilling my passion.
And finally, to Dirck, Erika and Fabiana – Your constant love and support makes everything possible. Thanks for giving me the time needed to “birth” each book, listen to my endless book chat and give your opinions. We really are the best team!
Critically acclaimed YA and nonfiction author. Lover of books, lattes, and family. Passionate about humanity. When she isn’t writing a book, she can be found sipping too many skinny vanilla lattes next to a beach with a book in her hand.
For more information, visit her website
www.christinefonseca.com
Collide (The Solomon Experiments Book 1) Page 17
