A woman, blond hair, blue eyes, paced out of the forest, her long gown dragging on the path. “You are to help us, Captain Rivkah Ravenwood.”
Rivkah clinched her fists tighter, narrowing her eyes. “Don’t come near me.”
“The prophecies state you and two others will help us. One is the key. One is the bull. You are the whisperer.” She pointed to Bogle. “She is the calm to your three’s storm.”
Rivkah rotated her back foot. She was ready to kick some ass. If she had to live her life fighting every day for the freedom she desired, so be it. She wasn’t going to fight for anyone else, especially not this woman before her. She spat on the ground. No more experiments. No more confusion. No more pain.
“I am Liberty Speidel and we are not here to harm you. You will fight with us at your own free will.”
“Woman, you’re talking crazy.”
Liberty continued moving forward.
Rivkah stood fast.
“I don’t speak crazily. I speak with purpose and with truth. I speak with the Light of the Law of One. I am Liberty.” She was now a few feet from Rivkah.
Rivkah jumped, directing a perfectly placed kick on this Liberty’s chest. Liberty caught it at the moment of impact and twisted, then bent on one knee and pushed upward with Rivkah’s foot, causing Rivkah to fall hard on her back. Rivkah rolled away, recovering quickly, and threw a right hook. The woman moved out of the way, then extended her hand outward. “Enough!”
A rush overcame Rivkah and she lifted off the ground, hovering ten feet in the air, her body useless, her mind like a roller coaster tossing about in a windy tunnel.
Rivkah’s breath came hard and she energetically pushed the heaviness off her chest. Liberty’s power faltered. Rivkah landed on her side, the wind knocked out of her. She clutched her stomach, gasping for breath.
“Captain Ravenwood, are you okay?” A hand grasped Rivkah’s shoulder, then let go. “Liberty, leave Rivkah alone.”
Rivkah looked up to see Bogle standing as a human shield in between her and Liberty.
Liberty dipped her head. “That is why we need you. Your mix of humanity and Atlantean is stronger than mine. Yet you are untrained and unskilled, which makes your power useless.”
Rivkah sat up in a kneeling position, her breath coming slower, easier. “I’m not going to fight for you.”
“We wouldn’t allow it unless you trained and trained well,” replied Liberty.
“I’m not training.” She slowly stood. “I don’t know you, so why the fuck should I save you.”
“Save us?” Liberty cracked a smile. “No one here needs saving. We only hope you unlock the key. When the key is unlocked, so are you and the two others.”
“You can’t unlock a key, lady,” said Rivkah, rubbing her back, glancing around for a way of escape.
“In this context, key means two things. Key is what unlocks the door and key is the vital component to what is coming to our city, the city you stand in, Flood of Dawn. You’ll be unlocking the key, so the key can unlock the door. It is up to the three to open the door.”
“The three?” God, the woman is talking in riddles. The glass dome surrounding the city shimmered in a bluish-white haze. How the hell can I get out of here?
“You may leave when you so choose. In the forest and under its canopy of trees is a space craft.” Liberty gestured toward the forest. “Captain Katherine Bogle, you may join her.”
Rivkah shot a look at Bogle, then walked past Liberty without a second glance.
“Wait up,” said Bogle.
Rivkah rolled her eyes. Fuck me running. Was Bogle going to sit on her lap?
Bogle was on her tail, doing her best to keep up with Rivkah’s harried pace.
They walked around a downed branch near a tree a creature was crawling down. The creature moved like a caterpillar, though looking like a koala bear with a long, black and yellow ringed tail. Rivkah ignored it. Bogle watched it with wide eyes.
They came around a bend on the slated path and to a clearing where a wide transport craft sat waiting for their arrival.
But how were they going to get in?
Rivkah walked under its belly, touching the sleek body.
Pftcheeeee!
Rivkah and Bogle stepped back as a ramp descended from the middle of the craft, then shook as it touched the ground.
Rivkah shrugged, saying under her breath, “It can’t be that easy.” Nothing in life was that easy.
Bogle crossed her arms at her stomach, holding herself tight. “Shall we go up there?”
Rivkah put a hand out. “Do you think these people would kill us? Or try to cause us harm in any way?” It was an honest question and all Rivkah wanted to see was Bogle’s reaction. It would tell her everything.
Bogle sniffed, shaking her head. “I don’t think so.”
Then why are you so scared of them? Rivkah moved up the ramp, eyeing a cockpit not much different than the Bulg transport ships she’d flown in the past. In fact, she wondered who stole who’s technology.
These cockpits were large, held several seats, and a holographic control panel that was already displaying. It was as if this Liberty woman was begging Rivkah to leave.
Bvvvvvvv! Shhcah!
Rivkah and Bogle looked over their shoulders. The ramp had closed.
Rivkah pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips. “That’s my cue to get out of town, I guess.”
Bogle came around the co-pilot chair. “Should I take a seat?”
Rivkah sat, observing the holographic display, taking in what looked familiar and what she had to learn on the fly. She fingered her collar and gave a quick glance at Bogle. “Sit. Jump. Fart. I don’t care. Do what you want. I’m no longer captain of anybody.” She swallowed. “But myself.”
The craft suddenly lifted and Bogle fell into her seat. “Why did you do that?” she asked, and before Rivkah could answer, their seat restraints automatically wrapped around them, practically suctioning them to their chair.
The craft ascended and broke through the sparse forest canopy, hovering in place, the domed city like a framed picture below. A massive lake was set in the distance, several rivers flowing to it, along with boats traversing along the lake and rivers. A white temple was set behind the lake, a landing pad next to it where several crafts sat. And tree forts everywhere?
These people are nuts.
Rivkah grasped the control stick, then pushed the holographic throttle. The craft didn’t move. She swatted the control stick and leaned back, hands behind her neck, biting on every nasty word she could come up with.
“What do –”
“Not a word.” Rivkah put a finger up, cutting Bogle off. Another race, yet the same fucking results. She had no control of anything, especially her own life. Her dad would be grinning in his grave. Cole was right. She had daddy issues. She had a hydrogen bomb full of daddy issues.
The craft buffeted and turned, a door opening on the glass-like dome. The craft shot forward, exiting the dome, where the ship dipped and hugged the barren, dry land, heading toward a mountain range.
It flew fast and ascended up the mountain cliffs, finally rising over the lip of a mountain where a group of pyramids came into view, their golden apex’s glowing, sending electric, lightening-like energy to a large obelisk.
Rivkah gripped the chair’s armrests.
“Can I talk yet?” asked Bogle, her eyes like a child asking her mother.
Rivkah shook her head no.
The transport veered off, descending low, hugging the wide expanse before them, flying over a thin creek and small shrubs, ice crystals topping the short branches.
The craft banked and bucked into a wide, horizontal arc, mere inches from a hill. Over the hill, a statue came into view.
“Princess Leia,” said Bogle. “That’s what the crew on Star Warden had called it.”
The statue’s head gear glowed a blueish-white and off in the expanse, large turrets were moving, aiming, pulling back, th
en firing ion shots to the east, one after another, never stopping, never relenting. Clouds of rock and debris puffed out into massive clouds miles away from each continuous ion bolt impact, causing a smoke screen, blocking anything from view directly behind it.
Bogle pointed. “What are they doing that for?”
Rivkah leaned forward, her curiosity overtaking her stoicism. “I have no idea.”
She touched the joystick and pulled it back, trying to take over the control to fly them higher to see exactly was going on. Again, the craft continued on its own trajectory, ignoring Rivkah’s efforts.
Rivkah, however, knew it didn’t matter. Their craft was heading right for the long, clouded vista in front of them that spread out the entirety of the horizon, the ion bolts still pounding the ground as if something beyond their reach was trying to get through.
21
Unknown
Jaxx’s eyes were closed. A drop of water landed on his forehead and between his eyebrows. The drop was warm. The next drop was cold. He batted it away. Another drop; warm. He wiped his forehead and opened his eyes, seeing another drop falling from a white, translucent ceiling.
It landed between his eyes. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head.
He yawned, rubbing his hands on his pants, doing his best to wake himself up and get his bearings. He looked around. He was in a dome, nothing but these beds and grass beneath his feet. Another man, almost twice his size, was laying on a crystal-like bed next to him.
He stood, taking a look at his bed, wondering if he was sleeping on something similar as the guy next to him. Just as he turned, the bed vanished. He jumped back.
“Whoa!”
He glanced around. The dome was wide, the walls glowed like a full moon, the ceiling at least two stories high, the width the same.
No exit.
How the hell did he get in here? The last thing he remembered was someone telling him they were taking over the controls of his Air Wing. Then nothing. Blackness. Sleep.
He stroked the back of his neck. The Air Wing. The frequency code. The Vesica Pisces; the bridge portal – the vortex. He smiled. The escape. His smile became wider. It worked. His theory mother fucking worked and it allowed him to escape.
He jumped up, throwing a fist in the air. “Suck it. Yeah, I’m talking to you. I want every archaeologist that ever doubted me to suck.on.it. Or, to rephrase it better, everyone.” Not that this proved anything or that his theories were bullet proof, one-million percent correct. It’s just that his most recent idea came to fruition in a matter of seconds and worked about an hour or so later.
But, where was he? On Callisto? If so, people obviously lived here and built this gorgeous dome he was in.
He ran his hand down the glowing wall. “Crystal?”
The holy-shit, Callisto’s inhabitants – if that’s where he was – had the ability to create crystals and build with them. Scientists back on Earth could make crystals, but nothing on this scale or thickness.
He paced around the room, checking every nook and cranny for a button or a lever that would open a door. He had been placed in here, which meant there had to be a way in and a way out.
“Hello?” he bellowed, his voice echoing against the walls. “Anyone here? Can you help me?”
“Help me,” came a whisper.
Jaxx froze, making sure not to make a noise. Where did that voice come from?
A cough pierced the air. “He-lp m-me.”
It was the man in the other bed.
His lips moved. “He-hello?” Yet, his voice was like a ghost, soft and creepy but loud enough to hear.
Jaxx strode over to him, placing his hand on the guy’s shoulder. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
The guy’s face was streaked with blood, though he looked mighty familiar. It couldn’t be. There was no way.
The man’s eyes opened, looking directly into Jaxx’s. “Jaxx?”
“Fuck, no.” Jaxx backed away from the injured man and his bloodied cot. “How the fuck did you get here?”
“Jaxx!” the man growled, grasping Jaxx’s wrist with a strong hand, squeezing like a vice grip.
Jaxx tried to pull away, yanking as hard as he could. The guy didn’t bat an eyelid.
On the other side of the man’s bed, a striated-ebb nebula titanium exo-suit lay crumpled on the floor.
Fuck.
It was Fox.
And, for the first time in Jaxx’s life, Fox had him dead to rights.
22
Charlotte, North Carolina
Camila reached for them. Or, in truth, reached for her daughter. Her eyes escaped Drew’s, and for good reason, her daughter was the love of her life, and Drew may have just led Camila to the end of her own.
Blood soaked through the lower back of Camila’s shirt, a trail of red streaked behind her, caking the floor as she pulled herself forward. No doubt she’d been shot and probably in the stomach, but how many times?
Why would that matter?
Drew’s mom suddenly appeared, standing over Camila. “Get up, Drew. Pull her to safety.”
His mom disappeared when more sounds of shattering glass and machine guns penetrated every cell of Drew’s body, stunning him. He pulled Mya closer, the thud of bullets sinking and punching through car doors, car hoods, and trunks, and embedding in walls and column beams.
The bullets kept coming. No one cared that they were innocent bystanders, yet the focus of fire power was on them. Or, it seemed to be.
Get Camila! Snap out of it, Drew. Push forward!
He reached for her, the blare of guns, cannons, and a child’s scream nearly deafening him.
A child’s scream? He looked down, everything was in slow motion, Mya was in his lap, arms out, tears falling down her cheeks, wanting her mama. A bullet whizzed by, sucking into the wall. Camila was gasping for breath.
He hugged up against the steel column, then placed Mya on the floor. “Stay here, I’m getting your mom. Stay. Here.”
There was no way Mya heard anything over this commotion, but he had to get her mom. He had to.
He crawled forward, bullets ricocheting off the concrete floor. He glanced between the car and the steel column. Foreign soldiers were rushing around, thin-looking jeeps with a gunner on top were blasting everything in view. In front of him was shattered glass and it was everywhere. US Marines were inside his dealership – no, his friend’s dealership – returning fire, using anything and everything they could for cover.
Something brushed Drew’s finger. A bullet. His stomach fell and he looked at his hand, sure to see blood and a missing finger or two.
He exhaled deeply. No blood and all five digits were on his hand. He was fine. What had touched him?
Out of the corner of his eye he saw what it was, or rather, who it was. It was Mya.
She had rushed to her mother’s side, more courageous then Drew could ever be. She didn’t care about guns. She cared about Camila, her mom – everything she loved.
Mya bent down, crying and shaking Camila, screaming something Camila couldn’t hear because she was gone, the glossiness in her eyes had turned to stone.
Camila was dead.
“Momma, momma.” Mya’s voice rang out
The gun fire shifted, moved to another building.
The Marines had checked out, moving like dust in the wind. They were here for a moment and when the winds picked up, they were carried away far enough for Drew to hear a young girl’s sorrow punch him in his gut.
He had brought this young girl to see her mother’s last breath.
Drew stepped over a dead Marine, ignored the gnarly mess that had once been a face, and crossed to Mya.
War. Fighting. Killing. Why? Why any of it? To Drew, it was so fucking stupid. Over what? You ask children to be like adults and talk it out, share, and be kind, while adults act like children. No worse. Adults act like adults, killing what they want, who they want, when they want.
He slid next to Mya who was holding her mother, c
rying. “Come on, mommy. Please. Mommy. Get up.”
Drew couldn’t explain. There were no words. At least Mya hadn’t gone looking for her brother. That would have finished them both. He hadn’t heard the baby cry since the roof had fallen in. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what had happened to him. He picked Mya up and held her tightly. She kicked and punched, yelling for her mother, never taking her eyes off her as Drew rounded the hybrid car, key in hand.
“Shit.” The tires were flat, the doors were littered with holes, and the engine probably had a dozen bullets lodged inside.
Mya kicked him again and again. “Let me go.”
Drew dropped the key and repositioned the six-year in his arms and ran to the black box. He opened it and surveyed the showroom floor. The SUV and the Jeep were shot to hell. The pickup was somehow on its side. The two-door sedan was a hot mess. Yet, the one in the corner, the one hidden from windows and parked back toward the deeper offices, was a four-door sedan and not shot to shit.
He foraged through the keys. A small hand slapped him hard, then squeezed and scratched his nose.
He wanted to tell Mya to stop, to go to her room, time-out, no snack before dinner. Instead, he raced across the showroom, blocking more little girl slaps, and pressed the unlock key. He plopped her down in the passenger seat, strapping the seat belt around her, avoiding a quick kick to the face.
“Where is mommy? Don’t...touch. Help me, mommy.” Mya reached out for her, tears streaking her face, her lips quivering. “Mommy. Mommy.”
Drew slammed the door shut and ran around to the other side, pulling himself onto the driver’s seat. “I’m so sorry, Mya. Your mom will be back with us soon.” He started the car. “She just wants me to take you to your daddy, right now.” He lied and it didn’t work. Mya wouldn’t calm down.
Whapooh!
A cannon fired and the building shook. More of the ceiling collapsed in front of them, white drywall and plaster tumbled onto the car’s hood, wood joints plummeted to the ground in front of them, bouncing off the floor. His escape was now blocked.
He looked over his shoulder. More glass doors. Perfect.
Destination Atlantis (Ascendant Chronicles Book 2) Page 11
