Black-Eyed Kids: The Complete Series

by Miranda Hardy

  Strangely, the street lights grew brighter as we neared the Chinese buffet. Two or three cars joined us on the Rock Road, and after several more minutes of driving, traffic seemed to pick up a bit. Everything was back to normal.

  The Chinese woman up front had greeted us with a smile, but I could tell that she was annoyed that a bunch of us kids had come in fifteen minutes before closing. We weren't the only ones in here, though. It was quiet inside, and the silence lingered in the dining area like a bad stink.

  We had taken a seat as far away from the windows as possible. Shaun's appetite seemed the only thing unaffected by the night's events. Joe's fingers still trembled as he picked at his grilled veggies and steamed rice.

  I decided to speak up first. "So, what should we do?"

  "What did you have in mind?" Sam asked. "Go to the cops or something?"

  Joe took out his phone and found the police scanner and EMS app. He turned down the volume and placed it against his ear. We all watched him do this for a few minutes, but by the look on his face, there was nothing about the flying creature being reported there either.

  "There's some naked drunk guy walking near the school," Joe said with a half-smile.

  "Nothing on the radio, nothing on the police scanner." I took another bite of my General Tso's chicken. Even the good general's recipe wasn't making me feel any better. "Maybe when I get home, I'll start checking some of the paranormal message boards. I'll start with the UFO Network and see if people reported seeing a something in the area."

  Sam looked lost in her own thoughts. "Good idea."

  Shaun put down his fork and leaned over as if he was going to share a secret. "Sam, are you sure you saw what you think you saw? We didn't get that good of a look at it. It had wings, that's for sure."

  "I have 20/10 vision, remember?" Sam stared at her half-eaten crab rangoon.

  I took another swig of my soda and almost laughed out loud. The four of us had been friends since kindergarten, and I jokingly called us a league of superheroes. Each of us had a unique special power that made us a little different from most people.

  Shaun, other than being as tall as Godzilla, was a super math genius. He was for sure heading to Rolla to be a physicist on a full-ride scholarship. Joe had a photographic memory. Everything he saw or read was stuck in his brain forever. Sam had super-vision, and we started calling her "Eagle Eyes" in middle school. I had hyperthymesia. I could remember, with great detail, nearly every single day of my life going back to when I was nine years old.

  Coincidentally, that was when Elijah had died.

  The four of us sat there in shock and confusion, and our "super powers" were of no help to us.

  "It's our last night of summer break," Sam said. "This wasn't how I imagined it would end."

  I felt exactly the same way. This was not how I wanted to remember the best summer of my life. "What we saw could be anything, really." I looked Sam straight in the eyes. "It was so dark, even with your sharp vision, the play of the light could have played tricks on you, right?"

  Sam looked like she might argue, but she picked at her food instead. "It's possible."

  Shaun finished his third plate, and he looked over at what remained of the buffet as if he was going back for more. "All I can say is, that had to be the weirdest thing to ever happen to me. I'm just glad I had witnesses. No one would believe me."

  "Maybe I’ll talk to my dad about it," Joe said.

  Joe's father worked for the big aerospace defense contractor in town, so that made sense. But he was an engineer, a no nonsense kind of guy. He'd probably laugh at Joe's story.

  "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Sam asked, as if she was reading my mind like usual.

  Joe replied, "He's not supposed to talk about some of the top-secret aircraft they're building at Aerocorp, but I'll ask if one of their newest planes was flying around here tonight. He'd tell me if there was."

  Neither of my parents had such a fascinating job, but they were pretty easy to talk to, as far as parents went. Dad was just a financial chief at a small company, and Mom sold real estate. But if they had heard something from the neighbors talking about a flying...whatever...they'd tell me.

  "I'm pretty sure it wasn't an airplane," Sam said.

  "I've read online about super-high-tech aircraft with anti-grav engines that literally make no sound." Joe's voice climbed an octave higher, which meant he was getting worked up again. "Jonah's right, what we saw could be anything. We have to keep an open mind."

  Shaun stood up and started for the buffet. "I'm not telling anybody. No way."

  I turned to Sam, and she shrugged.

  "My mom's too busy to listen anyway," she said.

  Joe and Sam stared at me, waiting for my declaration.

  "I'll casually bring it up with my folks tomorrow morning," I finally said. "My mom is especially good at picking up the local gossip."

  Sam absentmindedly turned on her phone to check for texts. That made no sense since everyone who texted her was sitting at the table with her. "I'm all for keeping an open mind, but I know what I saw." She put her phone down and looked as if she wanted to smack Joe in the face. "What I saw looked like a man. With wings."

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  Dragonfly Warrior

  PROLOGUE

  PRINCE KANZE ZENJIRO KNEW HIS mother was going to die one day from the illness that robbed her of her usual vitality. Zen secretly begged the spirits to grant her life long enough to witness him wearing a soldier's uniform. She had deteriorated recently, and his wish seemed more impossible with each passing hour. It was childish anyway, even for a thirteen year old.

  A sharp wind swirled around him and dried his tears as he watched the procession of dark clouds pass by above him. He closed his eyes; the dark thoughts contemplating life without his mother began to overcome him.

  After only a short moment, a harsh jolt from the airship's landing shook him from his trance. When Zen opened his eyes, he was startled to see that his flight was over. He hadn't realized that they had even left the ground yet. The pilot couldn't open the gondola's wooden door fast enough.

  The aeropad near the top of the palace was soaked from the early morning Spring rain. When Zen pushed past the pilot and leaped from the docking airship, the glistening, slick cobblestones made him slip and fall onto the cold wet ground. His body was adept at ignoring pain and obeying the commands from his mind. He wiped away a long strand of black hair that came loose from his topknot and forced his body to continue.

  Zen stumbled down the narrow spiral staircase at the end of the landing area, finding himself in the long courtyard. The iron gates at the far end of the garden were already open. His feet slapped hard on the winding stone pathway that took him to the palace entrance. He nearly slipped again as he darted through the gates and careened around turn after turn through the labyrinth of the palace, until he reached his parents' main chamber.

  The two guards pushed open the tall wooden double doors to the dark room where Zen's father and a nurse stood at the bedside. The dim chamber's ceiling stretched three stories high, and the lack of furniture accentuated the room's enormity. Heavy fabric curtains were drawn over the tall windows, adding to the gloom. As he entered, Zen stopped when he saw his mother's anguished face. She looked minuscule in the expansive space surrounding her.

  Lord Hideaki turned, looking at Zen with bloodshot and watery eyes. “My son, please come quickly.”

  Zen inhaled, calming his nerves. With each slow step towards the bed his mother's bony visage became clearer. She looked so pale, so fragile. Her sickness had taken away the powerful woman that was once his mother.

  She tried to smile and motioned for him to approach. He swept past his father and the nurse, climbing onto the bed and lying next to his mo
ther.

  “You are wet,” she whispered, moisture building in the corners of her eyes.

  Zen laid his head on her pillow. “I fell down.”

  “Before I leave this life, I want to tell you some important things.” Her face contorted for a second, and Zen gently took her hand.

  She spoke so softly that Zen was certain no one else heard her. He remained still, keeping his face next to hers. Even near death, she still smelled of vibrant lotus flowers.

  “If you so desire, you may become a warrior before your eighteenth year. All I ask is that you wait eight more seasons. Just two years. Your father and I have agreed to allow you to enlist on your fifteenth birthday.”

  There was a growing darkness in his belly, and a sharp bitter panic rose from his throat. Zen fought back these sensations. He allowed his mind to record every word, every sound, and every shallow crease on his mother's anguished face.

  “You were born for greatness, Zen. Generations to come will know of Kanze Zenjiro's heroic deeds. I have seen it in my dreams. I see you as a young man...so handsome.”

  Zen's grip on her hand tightened, and she smiled again as if she found comfort in his strength. Her eyes fluttered, and she fought off the deep sleep that craved to take her away.

  “Be brave.” Her breathing became labored, shallow. “Take care of your father. He will need you now more than ever.”

  He heard his father moving behind him. He caught the swishing of his royal robes. Zen thought he was whispering a prayer.

  “Remember and think of me always,” his mother said, a single tear escaping and sliding down her face.

  Zen kissed her hand. “I will, Mother.”

  Her eyes rolled backwards, her weak breaths coming at longer intervals. The nurse at his right side covered her face to muffle her sobs, and Zen heard the faint agony of his father's breathy cries.

  “Zen...” Her voice was barely audible over the sound of wind rattling the closed windows. “You must...”

  Her lips barely moved. She gasped and her body tightened, her lungs too weak to expand. She went limp again, and she struggled to speak.

  “I must what, Mother?” Zen asked, his eyes blind with tears.

  It was only an instant, a moment without pain or agony. Her eyes opened and her face intensified. Her voice, less than a whisper, strengthened to convey her final message.

  “You must save the Machine Boy.”

  Still clutching her hand, Zen watched her eyes empty. She breathed out softly before her spirit left the confines of the material world.

  Into the unknown realm.

  CHAPTER 1

  ZEN FLICKED HIS SWORD, CLEANING the blood-soaked blade. He stood in a circle of bodies in blue lacquered leather armor. The air was cool, but drops of perspiration ran down the sides of his face. Morning fog enveloped the battlegrounds, and he heard the frantic scurrying of his enemy who had fled into the dense forest in front of him.

  He closed his eyes and prayed to the spirits of the four men he had defeated. They had fought bravely, and Zen finished his prayer with a slow bow.

  It had been seven years since his mother's death, and Zen wished she was here in the flesh to witness this great victory and celebrate their country's unification. He whispered a prayer to her, asking for strength.

  The swaying yellow and orange trees provided cover for the retreating Kaga soldiers. It would be a challenge to flush them out. Several of his own comrades in their traditional, red uniforms ran past him and gave chase, but one of them stopped at Zen's side. It was his commanding officer, General Takeo Yoneda.

  Takeo wore faded, red-lacquered leather nerigawa with the dragonfly emblem on his chest to signify his blood ties to the Kanze Clan. Zen's own suit was similar in design, but the red hue blazed like fire. The golden dragonfly on his breast plate was of luster, a stark contrast compared to the weathered pitting of Takeo's nerigawa.

  Above them, Zen spotted a lone Kanze Clan airship. It was a small craft with a singular spherical balloon and carried only a crew of two pilots. It was most likely on its way to spy on the enemy. Distant rolls of violent thunder filled the sky around them, and the dirigible remained decidedly out of range of the Kagas' artillery.

  Takeo slid his helmet off. “With our cannons softening the Kagas' front, General Ishimoto's forces are relying on us to do our job. We do not have time to go chasing after the enemy in those woods. But we have no choice. We must clear the path.”

  Zen took a moment to slide his sword back into its scabbard and reload his two revolvers. “It is only a matter of time. Today will be a glorious day for the Kanze. With this victory, we take the final step to uniting our country. My mother's dream of a unified Nihon is about to become a reality.”

  Takeo nodded. “Let us hope so. Our victory must be absolute. The Kaga forces must be completely crushed, their will to fight broken. Only then will they be willing to surrender and pledge their allegiance to your father. The Kaga is a proud clan.”

  The ground shook with the deafening blast beyond the tree line. Takeo put his helmet back on before checking his weapons. Zen inspected both of his revolvers and slid one back into its holster. After a deep breath, Zen felt his anxiety and excitement subside as a determined calm quickly filled his body. More gunfire echoed from the darkness. They exchanged encouraging glances before stepping into the wild wood.

  Above them, the thick canopy of trees blocked most of the infant blushes of early sunlight, giving the forest an otherworldly feeling. Takeo kept his rifle level as he led the way deeper into the woods.

  The sounds of battle grew louder until an explosion threw dirt in their faces. A Kanze soldier stood up from his hiding place, exposing what remained of his miserable body. Ragged flesh hung in pieces; his blood and shredded armor were indistinguishable from one another. Zen gave his fellow soldier one last short prayer until gunfire whizzed above his head.

  Takeo dove behind a tree while Zen crouched low beside him. He took cover behind an outcropping of stone. Zen could only see a few feet through the heavy gloom, but he spotted two dead clansmen near him. Another pair of Kanze soldiers approached Takeo, and they belly-crawled their way to their commanding officer.

  “General,” one of them whispered, “ten Kaga warriors are positioned north of us. Four of our clansmen are making their way to flank them.”

  Takeo squinted. “Keep your eyes open for any more of those grenades. Do we have any of our own left?”

  “No, General,” replied the solider. “We are all out.”

  Takeo shot Zen a crooked grin. “Should I even bother asking?”

  Zen shook his head. “I do not carry them. Ever since I watched Captain Saito's bomb blow up in his hand before throwing it, I have decided not to trust the mechanics of those things. Besides, I have terrible aim.”

  “You are too young to be so pessimistic, Zenjiro,” Takeo said.

  More gunshots rang out. After waiting several moments, they heard someone running towards them from the rear. Zen flipped on his back and raised his pistol. The approaching runner was in red armor, and it looked like he might have been unarmed. Zen noticed that more sunlight penetrated the forest. Morning gave way to the rising sun.

  “It is Taku.” Takeo reached over and pushed Zen's gun away.

  Taku threw himself onto the ground next to them. “We tried to surprise them on both sides, but they overwhelmed us. We got two or three of them, but I am the only one of our group to make it out of there. The remaining Kagas have taken refuge at the bottom of a small hill, maybe only forty paces north of our current position.”

  Takeo tossed the weary soldier a pistol. “Take a deep breath. We will get them.”

  A deep voice rumbled through the trees. “You Kanze dogs, we will never surrender to you!” The taunt was followed by the roar of Kaga soldiers. The same man yelled, “Come and get us, and we will send you straight to Hell!”

  More bullets zipped over Zen's head as the Kagas hollered and cheered again. Hot impatience
rose from Zen's chest. A full Kanze regiment was only minutes behind them, and they expected the path to be cleared for a flanking attack on the Kagas' main columns. The timing had to be perfect.

  His anger melted into calm, his breaths became deeper and slower.

  “What are you doing, Zen?” Takeo asked.

  Zen ignored him.

  “I promised your mother that I would protect you on the battlefield. Somehow, I have managed to do so the last five years, despite your recklessness. I made the same vow to your father this morning.”

  Zen felt Takeo grab his arm, but he didn't fight the general's grip.

  A familiar hum filled Zen's head, and his mind reached out through the dark woods. He heard everything, even the enemy's movements in the brush from forty paces away. His eyes sharped, which improved his vision in the dim forest. His muscles twitched, coiling like steel cables ready to burst. His body was in the state of full Ishen now.

  Zen's mind and body languished in reptilian coldness. Inside and out, he was prepared to strike. His desire to kill poured into his icy veins. In the calm before the inner-storm, Zen leaped to his feet, breaking free of Takeo's hand. His powerful legs brought him closer towards the Kagas' position, but he first had to clear the hill. Zen pounced into the air with his pistol in his right hand.

  As he hurled his outstretched body over the steep hill, he saw the Kaga soldiers scramble in all directions. His heart pounded against his ribcage, and time stretched and pulled as he took one final deep breath. The enemy appeared in shock when they fumbled with their guns. To him, they moved in slow motion. Zen's movements felt out of sync with real time, as if he existed outside of it.

  Zen fanned the hammer of his revolver with his left hand while still in midair; his bullets found their marks as he hit the ground and rolled onto his stomach. Two Kaga men fell dead, but another pair of soldiers fired their unsteady weapons.