Star Angel: Awakening (Star Angel Book 1)

by David G. McDaniel

  The woods are lonely, dark and deep … the line from that poem ran through her embattled mind. Frost, she thought. Appropriate. Only she kept pairing it with the nail-biting title dirge from the movie Halloween. Every flash of lightning brought with it fresh terror, each snapshot of brilliance exposing shadows that hid the face of a demon. Every horror flick she’d ever seen (which was way too many, she was starting to realize) played vividly across the movie screen of her mind, adding greater and greater dimension to her fear. Worse, there was no solace in reason. The more she tried to use logic, to brush away the things she knew were fiction, the more frightened she became by the things she knew were not.

  She was lost, alone, not even on her own world, in the midst of a nightmare come to life, soaked and dying. Dark, alien woods, torrential rain, thunder and lightning.

  No way home.

  Until then she’d simply been going downhill in what she hoped was a straight line, expecting to eventually end up at the road. Only she hadn’t, and now the ground felt level, which meant she could simply be walking in circles. With no light to see by, no way to know which direction she went, she could be curving slowly right along the road. Could have been all along. Parallel to it, walking just a hundred feet away but never reaching it. Deeper and deeper into the woods, further and further from any hope of getting out alive.

  Fresh panic gripped her, with such intensity she couldn’t take another step. Couldn’t breathe. Even the slow, deliberate steps she’d been managing were too much. As if the next movement would send her hurtling into an unseen chasm. As if continuing one more inch would send her to her doom. Could she have a heart attack at her age? It felt like she was about to.

  She’d never find her way out of there.

  Circuits, little maddening mental circuits kept flashing through her mind, snippets from movies, books, songs—everywhere. Your mind has turned against itself. The movie line repeated, over and over. Fear is the mind killer, from the sci-fi masterpiece, Dune. I must permit it to pass over me. That got dubbed into a song. Void Dweller, by Eon. It came to her, cycling again and again with all the rest. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the mind killer.

  Then; The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself! FDR. Nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes …

  Now; Nothing scares me anymore, a refrain from yet another song, over and over …

  With great effort she forced herself to stop.

  It was true that, with no light and no tilt of the land to go by, she could be walking in any direction. Should she just wait until morning? It was dark, she was wet, and she was freezing. Would she even last until morning?

  The panic set in like a beast and she rode it, unable to do anything with it in that moment.

  I’m alive, she told herself, kept telling herself, trying desperately to turn it off. Somehow I’m alive. I’m free to move.

  Slowly she swayed in place. Shaking. Ready to collapse. She hung her head, staring down at the ground. Between each strobe-shot of lightning the woods were black as pitch. In the harsh flashes between she saw the rain fell hard enough to spatter the muddy ground as high as her thighs. Her legs were freckled with it—spots that were washed away by the same rain. Appearing and disappearing, splattering up, washing away; a shifting polka-dot pattern, making it look as if her skin undulated with a life of its own. She stared at the patterns, shaking so hard. Violently. Mesmerized. Strands of hair hung in her vision, last of her ponytail soaked and heavy at the back of her head. For a long time she just stood there, thoughts numb, observing these simple things. Mud spatter; wash away; undulating skin; shaking; water rushing in rivulets down a long strand of hair, falling from the end like a tiny spout ...

  Itsy bitsy spider.

  With a gasp she surged ahead.

  She had to find cover. Something, anything but stand there in the forest getting rained on until morning.

  Then ...

  … Lights?

  She saw lights.

  Yes!

  In the distance, the way she’d been walking.

  Real lights!

  Moving. In a line. Vehicles on the road, heading away. A convoy.

  Little by little she started toward them, then faster, certain that at least she knew now where the road was. It wasn’t far. She began to run, hurtling herself through the dark woods—reining in her reckless pace only after she slammed into a tree, nearly knocking herself out. The pain of that was shoved aside quickly and she was moving again. Desperation barely held in check by the other thoughts racing through her over-taxed mind: that these were likely the lights of the enemy, that they were probably looking for her and that, by hurrying to them, she merely ensured her own capture.

  But that wasn’t enough to give her pause. On she rushed. As fast as she dared. Hands out in front, careful of the next tree in her path but continuing forward. Blue lights at the rear of each vehicle trailed into the distance as they passed, heading off down the road, flickering through the dense trunks. How many were there? The lights continued by, one after the other, each following the one in front. Soon she could make out the sound of their engines over the noise of the storm. She was nearly there …

  Then the last rumbled by, slow by vehicle standards but far too fast to catch. She wasn’t even to the road yet. Reason held her at last. Maybe this was fate. Maybe it was better not to reach them and be caught.

  Regardless, the vehicles brought salvation. They showed her the road. And with that, as long as she was free, however crazy the idea … she still had a chance to find the device.

  And she could find and rescue Zac.

  High on the insanity of that notion she waited until the last pair of lights dwindled out of sight, ensured no new ones were coming, then made her way carefully down to the road.

  CHAPTER 17: THE BEAUTIFUL KITANA

  Jess trudged along the shoulder in the easing rain, keeping a wary eye on the dense woods lining the road. Ready to dart into their concealing blackness should a car come rumbling along, ready to run from them if any denizen of her imagination materialized and came wailing out of the trees. The simultaneous threat of both possibilities was on the verge of driving her mad.

  By then her nerves were completely shot.

  The rain had nearly stopped. Barely a drizzle now. At some point she remembered her phone, forgotten all these hours; felt it slapping against her hip in the drenched skirt pocket, took it out and turned it on—found it still worked—shocked and amazed when it did—and simply stood there staring at its glowing screen for what felt like a long, long time. Relishing the bright display, like a small slice of salvation. At length she put in the earbuds, thumbed through several songs, settled on one that fit the mood, turned up the volume and started walking again; grinding her heels defiantly against the rough gravel with each step, losing herself in the music. Sadness came and went, in waves, and she found herself, to her surprise, empowered by it. Growing righteously miserable.

  In a weird way it made her feel better.

  She was thoroughly, utterly soaked. Couldn’t have been more wet. As if she’d just climbed from a swimming pool with her clothes on. The fabric of her skirt hung heavy against her legs, pasted to her skin, long past the point of discomfort.

  Yeah, she mused. Discomfort was a long way back. She longed for simple discomfort. She was sore, cold, exhausted, starving, delirious and drenched to the bone; she could barely see what waited in front of her, the rainy night thoroughly dark; she had no idea where she was, nor exactly where she was going—though she was probably dozens of miles from anything at all, friend or foe. There were monsters in the woods, bad guys on the road. And, of course, the real doozy: she wasn’t even on her own planet.

  Yeah. Mere discomfort would’ve been a dream right then.

  Absently she considered the idea, as she had already, that she should long ago have collapsed from all this. Yet, somehow, here she was, plodding along. Coping, though she should’ve been cata
tonic.

  But what choice did she have? Lay down and die?

  She pulled the phone, swiped the screen and thumbed to a different song. Found an anthem she liked and set it on repeat.

  I’m on my way home.

  She made herself believe it. Walking on. More briskly. Steady pace. Ever forward.

  Then felt something underfoot. She stopped.

  Took a slow step back.

  Carefully she brushed a toe over the ground, right where she’d just stepped, feeling for …

  A depression. There it was. Flickering at the edges of her awareness, standing out enough to be unusual. A rut, leading through the loose gravel at the shoulder of the road, away from the edge and into the woods. It felt like …

  Could it be?

  She yanked out the earbuds and dropped to her knees, feeling with her hands. A definite irregularity. Shallow, another rut just like it a step or two away, both full of water, running in parallel into the trees.

  The car!

  Ecstatic she jumped up and ran along the grooves as fast as she could. She couldn’t believe it! Zac had wiped away the tracks, or so he said, yet enough remained for her to feel her way. Maybe the heavy rains wallowed them out? Whatever, she’d given up on the idea of finding the car long ago. She’d just been happy to find the road.

  But she deserved some good luck.

  Overjoyed she crashed up through the wet, dark woods, following the trail. Had the convoy of vehicles from earlier found the tracks too? Had they destroyed the car? Taken it? Frantic at these new considerations she slashed her way forward until …

  Whack! she ran right into it.

  Ow! It hurt. Really hurt. She hissed through her teeth. Between crashing into trees in the dark, falling through the roofs of buildings, kicking a million roots, stepping in holes and on rocks, bumps, bruises and now this … it was a wonder she was still able to walk. But she was long past caring for pain. She recovered and went around to the driver’s side.

  At the door she paused, thinking of explosive triggers, homing devices, alarms and all else they might’ve installed. But why would they do that? Maybe they hadn’t found the car. Otherwise why leave it? Why wouldn’t they be there waiting on her?

  Nervous at that idea she cast her gaze fitfully around the surrounding woods, unable to see anything in the stormy dark.

  Enough. She opened the door, got in and closed it.

  Breathing in the immediate serenity of the interior environment. Ahhh! She’d been walking in the rain so long the closed, comfortable—oh so comfortable—cabin took a moment for her over-stimulated senses to absorb. Never would she have thought the cold, empty interior of a car could feel so soothing. She tossed the phone into the passenger seat.

  It was rapture. For a long moment she just sat there, feeling her body vibrate in the absence of stimulation.

  Soon the sound of the rain managed to penetrate her reverie. Steady; thrumming softly on the roof of the car. Water trickled through the cracked windshield but not enough to be a bother. The sounds lulled her, almost sent her to sleep. The persistent cold of her wet clothes, however, kept her alert.

  Should she just take them off? Modesty seemed a thing of the past. She’d fight her way out of there naked if she had to. Suddenly the thought of that made her grin. The wild girl, soaked, scratched, bruised and in the buff, kicking ass and taking names.

  What a change from the old Jessica.

  But she wasn’t that far gone yet. Should she try the suitcases in the back? Absently she looked at the dainty watch on her wrist. Still keeping time. The rain and other activity hadn’t broken it. Watch made it. Phone made it.

  She made it.

  So far the Earth contingent was proving pretty tough.

  What now? Stomping along the road just moments ago her bull-headed determination had been to skirt the woods and follow them around to where they met that elevated monorail. The one leading to the city. Kind of like Zac had planned. It would provide cover if she moved from column to column. Then, at the city wall, she could find a way in, steal another car and race to where they took Zac—wherever that was—free him so they could find the device, then escape safely back to Boise.

  Only now did the futility of that plan strike her.

  She rode the hopelessness a moment, then made herself think rationally.

  What do I do?

  Keep going? Now that she had the car should she go back the way she and Zac were headed? Away from the city? That was the original plan, if he didn’t return. What other options did she have? Try and go find help? But what if help was too far away? What if, at the road’s end, lay just another city belonging to the bad guys? That seemed most likely. In which case she’d be captured and even further from Zac.

  I’ve got to go get him.

  Only Zac could help her find the device. Only Zac, so far, was a known ally. The device was in the city. Zac was in the city.

  Besides, only Zac could help her survive the fall on the other end. The reality of that hedged in, mostly ignored until now. Once she found the thing … using it would just pop her out in the skies over her house. Whatever that shiny little device was it functioned like a back-and-forth sort of gateway, popping out in the sky at each end. A confusing, but, she was sure, explainable phenomenon. Why anything would’ve been made like that she had no idea, neither did Zac, but the reality was she would die when she used it if she didn’t have something to save her on the other side from the fall. Or someone.

  Zac.

  And so finding the device wasn’t the end of it. The only option was to race back to the city and start a riot. One girl against an army. One girl determined to find one man.

  And the one thing that could get her home.

  * *

  Commander Satori rode her battle tank from the command cupola, bending and flexing with the bumps as it raced across crisscrossing ruts, tearing new gouges of its own. Rooster-tails of mud spewed from its tracks, her driver pressing them as quickly as he dared. Up ahead, lights shining in the night, was the large command tent, HQ for this operation—far to the rear of the battle—and for her to be there at all, so far from the fight, drove her with an impatience beyond consoling.

  Numerous military vehicles stood parked around the giant tent. No other tanks, though, and when hers came grinding to a stop, tracks locked and digging in, the massive war machine outsized everything around it by an order of magnitude.

  She was out at once, bounding down to the upper deck, across it in two big strides and over the edge to the ground. The heavy rains had only recently passed and the battlefield was once again a quagmire of boot-sucking muck, yet it barely slowed her pace as she strode with agitated purpose to the tent. Inside were dozens of strategists, their highest leaders for this operation, along with many field commanders such as herself.

  She found the man she sought and went straight for him.

  “Sir,” she called, still several paces away. He turned. Lindin Frajim, senior intelligence officer and, by virtue of several unexpected occurrences, the top man in the Venatres chain of command for this operation. He stood conversing with a dozen of their senior leaders but broke off his exchange as Satori came marching over.

  “Is now really the time for this?” she kept talking as she came the rest of the way up and stopped, challenge in her stance. “We’re deep in it out there. Barely holding our own.” She looked around pointedly at the other field commanders in attendance. “We’re not doing any good here.”

  “Satori, please.” Lindin was ex-military, though he was in the habit of addressing his military counterparts informally. A brilliant man, no doubt, but once he’d moved into the world of intelligence he seemed to have lost his need for protocol. “Is now really the time for this? Our closest ally is two thousand miles away across an ocean. We’re it, and things haven’t exactly been going according to plan.”

  “I’m trying to pull our asses out of the fire,” Satori pointed back toward the front. “I’m trying to
turn this fiasco around.” Of course that hit close to home. Lindin was one of the masterminds behind the plot to get the Icon—the reason they were all there in the first place. As such he was, in a sense, the father of the fiasco. Deep under cover he himself had recruited their key operative, the beautiful Kitana, wife of Horus, setting in motion the difficult mission. Which ultimately failed. Which triggered the poorly formed backup plan, the current battle for Osaka. Start to finish this was his doing. Not that Satori blamed him, but at the moment her understanding of field tactics and the current scene exceeded his intelligence-minded subterfuge. They were in the thick of it, too late for anything else, any other ideas, and now was the time to press the attack, to take the city and force their hand. Not call in your key commanders for a conference.

  But Lindin chose not to take the bait. “Believe me,” he said, “I heard all your objections over the radio. I need my top commanders here. Now.” And that was that. He turned from her, effectively ending the conversation.

  “None of this was supposed to go as it has,” he addressed the broader assembly, moving past the interruption. Deciding to begin the proceedings now that Satori had arrived. “As we know Horus was to help Kitana and, following their escape, fall back to us with the Icon. Getting this size of a force this far into enemy territory was a huge gamble. Our only job was to cover the retreat. The Dominion defenses are too thorough for other options.

  “Pride, perhaps, is all that’s saving us. The Dominion leaders are too proud to bring forces from other regions to aid Osaka’s defense. To proud to admit they might be in danger. Now we have to, as the astute Satori put it,” he took a moment to look in her direction, “turn this fiasco around. Before it gets worse.

  “Reports are that the Guardian Council has Horus. We don’t know how effective the serum Kitana gave him will be, with his physiology, over an extended period of time. We have to assume they’ll break him. They have Kitana as well, and she may be used in some fashion.