Star Angel: Awakening (Star Angel Book 1)

by David G. McDaniel

Which, of course, made total sense because they were real trees. It was a real sun. All of it real beyond any nightmare.

  “We have to get that device.” She steadied her voice, working on remaining as calm as possible. “I mean, what happened?” She looked at Zac. “What really happened?”

  He thought on it, standing there with the two husks in his hands.

  “When you twisted it, that activated it somehow,” he said, “and it popped us out over the city. I can’t remember the device itself but I feel like I should. I feel like I twisted it on this side and it popped me to you. It should definitely get you back.” Then, with more confidence: “It will get you back. It transits between here and there. I’m positive it was how I got to your world in the first place.

  “It will take you home.”

  Jess stared into the distance as Zac, too, drifted.

  “Somehow its image is burned into my mind,” he said. “Like it’s the focus of that battle. I know that much.” Then, quietly admonishing himself: “I can’t believe I didn’t grab it.”

  Jess thought back to the events of their “transfer”. The device, her shoes—anything not hooked on tight had been lost in the violent shift. One second they were holding the thing in the playhouse, the next …

  “You saved my life,” she said.

  The wind blew gently. She looked down at her feet. Sunk halfway into the muddy bank of the creek. Furtively she looked at his, sinking even deeper and twice as big.

  “I …” She forced herself to make eye contact. “I’m sorry about last night.”

  He acted like he wasn’t sure what she meant.

  Only, how could he not?

  “I’m sorry I broke down,” she clarified, unable to hold his gaze. “I’ll try to be stronger.”

  But he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “I’m just glad you went first. Are you kidding? I was about to cry my eyes out. And that would not have been pretty.”

  This made her smile. Zac seemed like such a nice guy.

  He indicated the clearing on the other side. “Shall we?” He gave her a moment to think about it, then stepped into the creek, warning with a wry smile: “It’s cold.” There was an offer to carry her implicit in his friendly gaze, but she decided to do this on her own.

  “Just walk beside me,” she said.

  She stepped in and grimaced in the biting cold. Zac followed as she went deeper, forging across, hiking her skirt higher as she went to keep it out of the water. After several steps across the slippery rocks her legs were numb, but she kept on, sucking up the cold until, near the other side, she was actually getting used to it. Feeling invigorated, even, and as she stepped onto the other bank she let out a short whoop.

  Zac laughed, following her onto the shore with the two cups still in hand. He, of course, was unaffected. She held up her skirt and looked at her legs. Clean now, the dirt washed away, summer tan flushed pink in the morning air.

  Zac led them away from the creek to the larger clearing, handing her the cup of fresh water as they walked. Before them was a flat mesa some hundred yards across. She sipped the clean water as they strolled, smelling the fresh air, listening to the strange songs of alien birds in the alien trees, feeling the gentle breeze on her face and, in that moment—if she let her mind go—all was at peace. No different than a stroll in the woods behind the house in Idaho on a cool, spring morning, sipping a cup of coffee.

  At the edge of the cliff they were able to look out over the valley into the far distance. At that extreme range the sprawling city was a mere sliver on the wide plain, surrounded by the tall defensive wall and built in an oval shape. It was filled with buildings of all heights—even skyscrapers near the middle, poking into the air like shimmering needles.

  “Something told me to get out of there,” Zac said, still wrestling with his decision. “The city wasn’t a safe place to be. We had to run. This was the right thing to do.”

  On the far side of the city could be seen the smoke and sporadic explosions of the clash. Forces from the city and whoever was assaulting, though from that range it looked like a limited exchange. Up close the battle had seemed all-out war. From this distance it could be seen for what it was. A skirmish. Now and again a larger blast made it across the distance, rolling like weak thunder on the wind, audible even that far away.

  Jess peered into the melee, able to see nothing of any note. Just a lot of smoke.

  “I wonder who the bad guys are?”

  Zac pondered the question. He stared at the far side of the city. “Seems like I should know,” he said. Then: “I was probably in that battle.”

  Jess looked him over. Strong profile. Jaw-line firm. Eyes bright and clear as he scrutinized the conflict so far away. Zac was definitely a warrior.

  A powerful warrior, beyond any other.

  If he was in that battle, she thought, whichever side he was on, they were no doubt missing him right now.

  CHAPTER 13: THE KISS

  High up one of the alien trees Zac foraged for food. Coconut-like fruit—the husks of which he’d made the cups from earlier—grew in the tops of many, and he and Jess had decided the heavy fruit was the best option for something to eat. She watched eagerly as he harvested their brunch.

  She was starved.

  “Last two,” he called, warning as a pair of the large brown balls came tumbling down, striking branches along the way with hollow conks!

  Earlier Zac broke open one of the fruit so they could taste test it. After waiting a while nothing happened, no physical reaction, no illness or discomfort—other than the grumble of Jessica’s stomach as she hungered for more—so they decided the coconuts were fine.

  The final two bonked from the last limb and hit the ground. She went over to corral them.

  There were lots in the tall trees. Most of them way up high, the leafy branches creating a thick framework that made the upper canopy difficult to see. The broad leaves also served to make the shade of the woods deep, but at least the sun was out, as hoped, and the day was indeed getting warmer. After the chill of the morning the temperature had grown downright comfortable, in fact, and that, combined with a gradual adjustment to the situation overall—along with the plans they’d been making—had Jess slowly starting to feel human again. As the day progressed she realized she had a choice. She could either think long and hard about what happened, about where she wasn’t, what she’d lost, focus on the mess she was in and get totally freaked out, or she could move ahead and find the way home.

  It was an easy decision.

  She was going home.

  Dribbling the newly fallen coconuts with the sides of her feet she herded them together with the others, bent and grabbed four in her arms while she continued to kick the two. Up above she heard the branches sway as Zac descended, agile in his movements like some great cat, leaping the last ten feet to the ground. He came and grabbed as many as he could carry, then headed for the clearing at the edge of the forest along with her, near the brook where they set up their small camp. She smiled as she watched him struggle with the unwieldy husks. He could probably carry the whole tree, she imagined, yet was hobbled by the large, awkwardly shaped fruit. Despite his vast strength he could hold no more than he could fit in his arms, probably no more than any man his size.

  At the small fire she dropped her load and sat cross-legged in the dirt beside their “feast”. Zac dumped his own, considered the pile of fruit, then, knowing how hungry she was—she’d mentioned it more than a few times—reached and gripped one of the husks, popped it in half with a twist of his hands—as easy as twisting open a bottle—and handed her one side. She took the proffered half. The fruit was whitish inside like a coconut, making it appear, by all measures, a coconut. Unlike coconut, however, it smelled of citrus. Eagerly she scooped a handful and munched, greedily, salivating from the memory of their test sample. And whether from the near-painful hunger or the flavor of the fruit itself, in that moment it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. Like a
rich, orange sherbet.

  Zac smiled at her gusto. He took a seat next to her with the other half. Suddenly self-conscious at how ravenously she was eating, she slowed her next bite and chewed more slowly. Already her hands were covered in sticky juice. So was her mouth. She licked her lips.

  “So you remember where we fell?” she asked between swallows. Such a simple question, but for her it meant everything. Unless Zac could find the portal device, her life—at least, the one she knew just a day ago—was probably over.

  He began picking at his half of the fruit.

  “I’m pretty sure I can go straight to it. From there I’ll scout until I find it.”

  And that, in a coconut shell, was their plan. Zac was setting her up there at their little spot by the creek, with food and enough wood to keep the fire going, then he was off to the city to use his super-human strength to go back to where they fell and scour the area for the device. His plan was to find the raised monorail where it entered the hills, then use it as cover and race back along it to the city. Haul ass as only he could, find the device and bring it back. The prospect was daunting, but after seeing him in action, after seeing the sorts of things the enemy was able to bring to bear against him and after seeing those same things have no effect, Jess was certain he could pull it off. Zac was too.

  Of course the idea of waiting in the woods alone, no way to know how he was doing, what progress he was making, if he was on his way back …

  That was something she was trying not to dwell on.

  Under his watchful gaze she continued eating, finding herself more than a little self-conscious as she finished the whole big coconut half before realizing she’d done so. Only as her scooping hand came up empty did she notice the fruit inside was all gone.

  “If I’m not back in a few days,” Zac worked on his own piece more slowly, “go back down the hill and find the car. Use it to drive in the other direction. Maybe there’s someone there who can help.”

  Everything depended on him.

  In fact, now that things had settled Zac wasn’t entirely convinced who the “enemy” was. In the heat of the moment mistakes might’ve been made. It mattered little now. His conviction remained strong that they did the right thing in getting out of the city. Either way, what was done was done. If anyone stood in the way of him getting the device, whether technically a good guy or a bad guy … they were the enemy.

  She reached casually for another fruit, not wanting to appear as eager as she was. Eyeing the hard husk she began looking around for a rock to crack it. She’d need to figure this out for herself if she was going to be self sufficient. Zac watched as she found a sharp stone and hit the hard shell several times until it split.

  Good, she thought, setting the rock aside. I can open coconuts.

  She thought to offer half to Zac, but he didn’t seem hungry. Certainly not starving like her. She held the newly opened piece of fruit, considered the two jagged halves, picked one and began.

  “This makes me think of an idea I had,” she chewed, making a half-hearted effort to be more lady-like. She was so hungry. “Kind of a geeky idea.”

  “Geeky?”

  The question reminded her Zac came from an entirely different world. It was easy to lapse when talking to him. To forget he was not from America, or even Earth.

  And for a moment her mind reeled. How that was possible, how there were humans somewhere other than Earth—speaking English, no less, like Zac, and the guys in the powered armor …

  Those were considerations she’d been actively staying away from.

  She didn’t want to go totally insane.

  “Like,” she thought of a way to explain Geeky, wondering why she even made the casual comment, “something only a really obsessive person would think of. Someone with way too much time on their hands.”

  “That’s geeky?”

  She shrugged.

  “And it was your idea?”

  She nodded, chewing.

  “So you’re geeky?” His eyes sparkled.

  “No,” she said with mock patience. “I mean, in a way, I guess. Obviously I thought of it. Most teenagers have way too much time on their hands, so it’s only natural.

  “Anyway, you just remind me of my idea.”

  She tried to relax, to not feel awkward.

  “It’s kind of stupid, actually.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s … never mind.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The way you do an everyday thing,” she pointed, “like open one of these coconut things without even trying. I have to bang it with a rock, you just twist it in half like it’s nothing.”

  She couldn’t stop feeling self-conscious as he kept staring at her with that easy gaze, all handsome and amazing. Like she was some sort of curiosity. Poor, helpless, geeky Jessica.

  And she realized how complicated this little ha-ha story was actually going to be. Zac had no point of reference.

  But it was too late to turn back now.

  She took a bite and pressed on. “My idea has to do with this imaginary character on Earth,” she swallowed her nerves. “Called Superman. He has super powers, super strength. Not real. A guy in stories. But in the stories he hides among the people as a regular guy named Clark Kent. When there’s trouble he turns into Superman and goes off to save the world. The rest of the time he’s still got his super powers, only he pretends to be Clark Kent.”

  Zac was suddenly, intently, curious. “Why does he pretend?”

  “So he can keep Superman a secret.”

  Zac nodded. He seemed to get it.

  “It’s a little dumber even than it sounds,” she went on. “He turns into Superman by taking off his glasses and putting on a cape.”

  Zac tried to follow. “Doesn’t sound like much of a disguise.”

  “It’s not. And that’s my point. It’s ridiculous. His friends are always suspicious. They suspect he might be Superman, but they can never catch him changing.

  “My geeky idea is, since they can’t seem to just see that he’s Superman, and yet they suspect him, why not find out by gluing his coffee cup to the desk or something? Lock a door he thinks is open? If you really suspect it’s Clark Kent, make a test.” She looked at him emphatically. “Superman is strong, like you, and the way you just cracked these things,” she held up her fruit, “without even trying makes me think Superman wouldn’t notice if a door was locked or his cup was glued to the desk. Not if he wasn’t paying attention.

  “I mean, to him that’s nothing. How would he?” She shrugged, the question rhetorical—though Zac gave it thought. How would he notice? he seemed to be wondering.

  Jess continued. “So, you glue Clark Kent’s coffee cup to his desk and watch. You start talking to him, distract him, then he goes to pick it up and … bang, rips off the handle, or picks up the desk or something before he even realizes what happened. Or he twists the knob off a locked door. Oops. A-ha! So you are Superman.”

  She gave that a moment. Then: “I just always thought they were stupid for not thinking of a test like that. They kept waiting to see him change clothes.”

  Zac pondered this, perhaps more than she intended, seeming to fall into a deeper introspection. It appeared as if she’d lost him and she realized there was really no point to the story. She really wished she’d never brought it up.

  “Who was he really?” Zac’s voice was quiet, trying to understand the whole Superman concept. “Was Clark Kent just his secret identity?”

  “I think his real name was Kal El, or something like that. No one ever used that. His girlfriend always called him Clark.” Jess looked away, fascinated that saying “girlfriend” made her blush.

  Zac zeroed in on it. “He had a girlfriend?”

  She swallowed; worked to appear casual. “Her name was Lois. Eventually she found out who Superman was. But she still called him Clark. That’s who he was to her. Not Kal El, not Superman. Plain old Clark Kent.”

  “Was Lois super too
?”

  Jess looked down. “No.”

  When she looked up Zac’s gaze had grown distant.

  “At least Superman knew his real identity,” he spoke almost to himself. “Even if no one else did.”

  And she realized the mistake she’d made.

  Stupid! Why’d she even start talking about secret identities? Knowing Zac had completely forgotten his own? He looked sad all of a sudden, reminded by this little bit of fictional nonsense that he knew nothing about himself, about who he was, and mentally she kicked herself for not thinking that through. Not only was her little story dumb, it served to bring his pain into focus.

  On impulse she reached and touched his leg, with her least-sticky hand. Though he was, by every measure, strong and confident and in control, he still had feelings. And she could see, in that moment, his greatest sadness was in not knowing who he was.

  No, she thought, searching his eyes. That wasn’t entirely correct. It seemed shadows of his past were flickering at the edges of his awareness. And she could swear he didn’t like what he saw. His greatest sadness, then, might be discovering for certain what was in his past. Who he’d been. What he’d done. Maybe he was way different than he was now. Could he be a villain? A super bad guy? She swallowed, harder than intended.

  “You’ll remember who you are,” she tried to assure him. “Besides, who you are doesn’t have to be who you’ve been. People change all the time. Start fresh. Consider this an opportunity. You can be who you want to be.”

  The expression on his face made her feel more stupid, not less. This was not going well.

  “That’s dumb,” she looked down. “Sorry. I know you want to remember who you are. I would too.”

  “It’s not dumb,” he said. Then: “You’re a sweet girl, Jessica.” And he glanced aside, for the first time unable to look directly into her eyes. “I wish the circumstances of our meeting were different.”

  This raised her from her awkward effort. Hastily she searched his face. What did he mean? You wish the circumstances of our meeting were different? Did he wish he’d met her where they could actually get to know each other?