Final Awakening (Book 1): Dawn

by J. Thorn

“She is beautiful, and that will please Him.”

  “Isaac? Can you hear me, hon? It’s Chloe.”

  Isaac’s head twitched, but his facial expression remained frozen in a toothy grin.

  “Snap out of it, all right? I know you’re in there and that you can hear me.”

  But Isaac didn’t respond.

  Serafino turned to Isaac. “It is time.”

  Chloe looked at Dax and saw a single tear rolling down his cheek. She smiled at him, tilting her head to one side and brushing the hair from her face. When she mouthed, “I’ll be okay,” he responded with, “I’m so sorry.”

  Isaac squatted down, his face now an inch from Chloe’s. She could smell sweat and foul breath that reeked like a backed up sewer.

  Isaac looked up to Serafino, who nodded at him.

  “No!” Dax said.

  Isaac blinked. He screamed.

  Chloe’s entire body shook, and the darkness took hold of her.

  55

  Chloe sat on the bench with her eyes closed, her elbows resting on her knees as she drew in deep breaths. Sweat dripped from her forehead. The Louisiana heat pressed down and suffocated the stadium, even in the early spring.

  With her mind clear, Chloe opened her eyes and stood up.

  She jogged in place and looked around. Both of her parents sat in the stands, and she smiled as she waved to them. Her mother blew her kisses, and her father’s smile could have been seen from miles away.

  “The next event will be the 400-meter sprint,” the stadium announcer said. “All the racers should make their way to the starting blocks.”

  Chloe gave her parents one last smile before turning away to focus. It was one of the most important races of her life. She needed to place third or better to move to the NCAA National Championships. Louisiana State University had been on quite a winning streak and, as a freshman, she felt the pressure.

  As she walked to the starting line, she studied the other racers. The runners mostly ignored each other, their eyes on the finish line. She bowed her head, staring down at her purple and gold running shoes.

  Chloe rotated her shoulders and then grabbed her foot to stretch her quad. As she switched legs, she looked around again. The crowd was larger than normal, filled with fans of several Southeastern Conference schools. Chloe resisted the urge to glance at her parents again, wanting to stay focused.

  She jogged in place for another moment before the stadium announcer came over the PA again.

  “Ladies, please assume your start positions.”

  Chloe exhaled one last deep breath.

  This was going to be her moment.

  Her coach had embarrassed her at practice early in the season, speaking to her in front of the older and more experienced runners on the team.

  “Chloe blocks out everything,” he had said. “She can’t hear the crowd. Doesn’t see the other runners. Chloe is racing against herself, and that is what is going to make her a champion.”

  And now here she was, in the final heat to determine if she was headed to the National Championships.

  Chloe positioned her feet onto the starting blocks and lunged forward. Her hands gripped the warm brown dirt.

  She heard the mark.

  Then the gunshot.

  Her muscles contracted as she pushed off the blocks.

  She focused on her breathing. In a long sprint like the 400 meter, winning came down to managing your breath. Chloe rounded the first turn, then the second, with no one in front of her.

  The freshman runner thought of nothing. She blocked out the crowd noise and the sight of the people on their feet in the bleachers, pounding their fists in the air. Her feet barely touched the dirt, and all she saw was more brown track in front of her.

  Chloe rounded the third turn and approached the final one.

  She reached the home stretch.

  Every muscle in Chloe’s legs screamed as she approached the finish line. She didn’t need to look ahead at the girl in the lead—every other runner was behind her.

  Chloe reached down and found another gear, pushing herself even harder toward the finish line and the big win.

  Until she felt the snap in her leg.

  Chloe fell face-first into the dirt, barely able to catch herself with her hands. Her palms skidded across the track and stung with the force of a thousand bees. Her face bounced off the ground.

  As if someone had unmuted the volume in her world, all of the sounds in the stadium flooded her ears at once. A collective gasp passed through the crowd.

  Gripping the dirt, Chloe picked her head up to see all of the other runners crossing the finish line. She put her face back down on the track to hide her tears.

  What seemed like several minutes passed, and no one had yet come to Chloe’s aid. She remained in her lane, listening to the noise of the crowd as the sun continued to beat down on her. Tears swam with the sweat on her face and dripped down onto the track.

  When she was finally able to pick her head up, she glanced into the crowd where her parents had been—but they were gone.

  She looked around but didn’t see them. She thought that they had to be heading her way.

  It wasn’t until she looked back to the finish line that she saw them.

  Her mother and father smiled and embraced the girl who had won the race. Chloe didn’t recognize the winner, could not remember seeing her on the starting line. The pain in her broken leg swelled, and she sobbed uncontrollably. Her parents ignored her, and she watched through her tears as they walked off the track and toward the stadium exit.

  “Mom! Dad! Help me!”

  They ignored her and kept walking.

  Chloe rolled onto her back, wiped her eyes and looked down at her legs.

  She screamed.

  Only rounded nubs above the knee remained.

  She looked up at the winner who was now smiling and waving to the crowd. The girl jogged past Chloe as if she wasn’t even there.

  She scanned the crowd and realized that everyone in the stands was now looking in the same direction—past Chloe and toward the starting line.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  A wave of orange tinted the sky and approached the stadium. Chloe pushed herself up to turn all the way around to face it. The glow covered the sky slowly, like milk spilling onto a hardwood floor. Chloe looked up as it passed overhead and then had to turn herself back around to watch it spread through the rest of the sky.

  Chloe gasped as her parents appeared on the side of the track. They stood over her. Chloe smiled.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  Neither responded.

  Chloe looked beyond them. Everyone in the stadium had turned away from the sky to look at Chloe.

  “Why won’t you answer me? I don’t know what’s going on. Please...”

  A smile formed on her parents’ faces. A glimmer of hope rose in Chloe’s chest.

  Then they started laughing.

  Chloe furrowed her brow as she stared back at them. Not only were her parents laughing at her, but they now pointed to her missing legs.

  “Why are you laughing at me?”

  The girl who had won the race stood beside them. Chloe’s eyes widened when she saw her. The runner wore the same uniform as she did, and had eyes she had seen in a mirror her entire life.

  Chloe stared into her own face. This version of herself was laughing and pointing along with her parents.

  “Stop it,” she said, her face flush with exhaustion and embarrassment. “Stop making fun of me.”

  The harder she cried, the more they laughed. And soon, the entire stadium burst into a fit of laughter. Chloe cupped the sides of her head with her hands, trying to mute the madness. She closed her eyes.

  “Please, stop. Oh God, please.”

  When she opened her eyes again, the orange tint from the sky had spread into the stadium. Everyone in the crowd and the three people standing in front of her now glowed with it.

  “Welcome, Chloe.”

&
nbsp; Chloe turned around, trying to find the voice. But no one was there.

  She looked back. Her parents and the mirror image of herself had disappeared. The crowd had vanished. The empty seats remained, painted in orange.

  “Welcome to what?”

  “This.”

  The wind rose and knocked Chloe onto her back. Above her, the orange sky opened.

  She screamed, but the howling wind swallowed the sound and took Chloe away.

  56

  Dax had given up. The Screamers held him by his arms, and he had no energy left to break free. He was forced to sit there and watch Isaac hovering over Chloe. Dax wasn’t exactly sure what Serafino had told the kid to do to her, but he knew what the end result would be—Chloe’s eyes glowing orange, her humanity erased.

  “Isaac, please. You have to stop this.”

  But the boy ignored his plea and kept his gaze on Chloe. Her eyelids fluttered, and Dax took one last look at the soft, brown eyes that he had loved all those years ago. Her body shook, and she leaned to the side. Chloe’s mouth moved, but no words came out.

  And then it happened. Dax could see the tiny orange blossom in her irises, like the sparking flint of a lighter. The glow grew outward, and she blinked twice, her brown eyes morphing into embedded orange globes.

  “Easy.” Serafino had taken a step toward Isaac, but the boy’s eyes remained locked with Chloe’s. “Do not overpower her.”

  Dax saw the other Screamers move forward to get a better look at Chloe.

  Something’s wrong. They want to see what happens.

  “Isaac. Stop. C’mon, man. Please stop.”

  Serafino turned to Dax, the grin never leaving the Screamer’s face. “The boy must learn the technique. We all have. But it takes a few attempts to... regulate the flow.”

  A single tear fell from Chloe’s eye. Dax looked, and at first, he thought the orange glow had tinted it. He blinked and saw that the tear wasn’t tinted—it was blood. A second drop fell. Then another. Then bloody tears ran from her other eye.

  “You’re killing her. Stop!” Dax turned from Isaac to Serafino. “Make him stop!”

  “Isaac must learn, and I’m confident he will be forgiven if he should be too abrasive with this one.”

  Dax winced, and anger turned his stomach like sour milk, churning and making him sweat. Whatever Neil had hypothesized about what had happened to the city didn’t matter anymore. This plague—this infestation—that had befallen New Orleans might have been chemical, but these malevolent creatures controlled it.

  Chloe toppled over, lying on her side, redness smeared across her face. Even though her eyes were closed, blood continued to seep from beneath her eyelids. Dax looked at her chest, which did not appear to be moving.

  I’m sorry, Chloe. I should have been able to save my sister. I should have been able to save you.

  The Screamers in the room stepped back. Serafino put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

  “You used too much. She has been damaged beyond repair, her body was weak. But you will learn how, as we all have.”

  Dax grimaced.

  Serafino let Isaac learn on Chloe, and he had fucking killed her. Like a goddamn lab rat in an experiment.

  Despite his grief, the wider realization hit Dax—these infected people with orange eyes tried to contaminate others, and sometimes in the process, the person died. And Serafino was in charge even though he answered to another, to Him. Dax decided at that moment, staring at Chloe’s lifeless body, that he was going to kill every fucking one of the Screamers.

  “Leave her body. Kill the others. The floodwaters are rising, and we don’t have time to transport them.”

  The Screamers nodded and left the room. Serafino turned to Isaac.

  “Take your acquaintance to the loading dock until He tells us where He wants the man delivered.”

  Dax stood, but he kept his arms at his sides. “You’re mine.”

  “Excuse me?” Serafino smiled, but Isaac stood there, his eyes still fixed on Chloe and his face blank.

  “You and Him and all of your fucking Screamers. I’m gonna kill you. Every. Last. One of you.”

  Serafino tilted his head back, his hoodie sliding to his neck. He laughed and walked over to stand right in front of Dax.

  “You have so much to learn from Him. Take this man out of here.”

  Isaac turned and grabbed Dax by the elbow, but Dax smacked it away.

  “I can walk out of here on my own feet.”

  Serafino nodded and waved to the door. “Go. Now.”

  Isaac led Dax through the door and into a maze of hallways where Screamers ran back and forth. The boy pushed open the door to a balcony on the second floor. Below, water flowed through the streets, over mailboxes and parking meters. Another open door stood at the end of the balcony. Dax looked around and thought that it led to the same hallway they had left. He turned his head sideways and looked at Isaac.

  “This ain’t where Serafino told you to take me.”

  “Go.”

  “What?” Dax took a step toward Isaac and raised his hands in the air.

  “If I keep you here, He will get you. I want to kill you myself.”

  Dax stepped back and now realized what Isaac had planned. He was going to let Dax “escape” and then kill him in the subsequent pursuit.

  “Fuck you, Isaac. You better hope you can get to me before I fucking kill you first.”

  Dax turned and ran for the other door, not bothering to look back. He knew Isaac wasn’t chasing him... yet.

  57

  Dax ran through the open hallways. He tried to remember his way, but the darkness and the stress made it difficult to concentrate. Before the Screamers had left, Serafino had told them to kill the children, which meant that if Dax could get to them and then get out before Isaac alerted the others of his “escape,” he might have a chance at saving their lives.

  He passed a janitor’s closet and saw a broom handle sticking out at an odd angle. He grabbed it and tried snapping it over his knee, but it was too strong. Dax turned and smashed the handle over an iron pulley, breaking it in half. He held one-half in each hand, the sharp edges now functioning as stakes.

  Footsteps came from behind him, and Dax turned in time to see the orange glow of eyes. Two Screamers, a man, and a woman, stopped and howled at Dax. He ran at them, the pointed ends of the broken broom handle leading the way.

  The woman took a step forward and tripped over a hunk of drywall before falling to the floor. In one motion, Dax brought the stake in his left hand down and skewered her chest with it. The male Screamer caught Dax with a punch to his temple, sending him sprawling into the wall, and jumped on his back. Dax rolled over and sent the stake into the man’s head beneath his jaw. The Screamer cried out. Dax pushed him to the side, withdrew the stake and plunged it into the Screamer’s chest.

  He stood and looked at the bodies and noticed that the orange glow had left their eyes.

  Dax ran down another hallway and heard the sound of yelling. Humans. Possibly children. He sprinted past storage lockers on both sides of the hall, to a single door at the other end. It was flung open, and he stopped, both stakes raised and ready to strike.

  “Dax?”

  “Monica?”

  Monica ran toward him, and the two boys followed. He reached down to pat their heads as they embraced his legs.

  “Are you kids all right?”

  They nodded. “Where’s Chloe and Isaac?”

  “I’m sorry, Monica. They’re both... gone.”

  “Turned into them?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

  “Chloe passed away. But Isaac, yeah, he’s a Screamer now.”

  The wretched howling started again.

  They’re coming for me.

  “There’s no time. We have to get out of here.”

  “The Screamers are going to kill us, aren’t they, Dax?”

  Dax looked at the dark hallway and then back to Monica.

  “Find me mat
ches or a lighter. Hurry.”

  Dax ran five feet down the hall and looked up. The sound of pounding feet shook the ceiling.

  “Here.”

  Monica appeared next to Dax, handing him a lighter and a fistful of paper. He smiled at her before grabbing the items from her hands.

  “Take the boys and go back this way.” Dax pointed in the opposite direction of the stairwell. “It’s how I found you. Take them about fifty yards in, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Monica ushered Kevin and Darius into the dark hallway. Dax heard howling coming from the stairwell. He ran toward it. On the left side of the hallway sat a stack of cardboard boxes. He grabbed the top row and pulled them to the ground. The biggest boxes smacked the floor with a thud, spilling books everywhere.

  Dax grabbed a fistful of papers and lit the corners. He dropped the burning pages on several boxes, waiting for the flames to take hold of the cardboard and old books.

  The Screamers stepped through the stairwell door as the fire swelled. The first few men stepped back, shielding their orange eyes from the searing flames. But one shorter man pushed aside the other Screamers, and opened the door and ran through the burning boxes at Dax.

  Isaac.

  The boy lowered his head and slammed into Dax’s chest. They both went to the ground and rolled over, Isaac now on top of Dax. The teenager had an energy running through him, a power Dax could feel. But he still had the body of a teenager.

  Dax reached up with his right hand, grabbed Isaac by the shoulder and yanked him to the right. The kid’s head slammed off of the wall. Dax stood and took a step back, the flames from the fire he’d set now crawling down the hallway, consuming the walls of the old warehouse. The rest of the Screamers gathered in the stairwell, trapped between the fire and their orders to capture Dax. Only Isaac had been brave—or foolish—enough to leap through the fire.

  Isaac stood and kicked Dax in the ankle, forcing him to drop to one knee. The kick stung, but caught him high on his boot so that his ankle didn’t buckle. The boy looked at Dax, the orange flickering in his eyes like the flames filling the hallway. A black smoke gathered at the ceiling, tumbling like an angry storm cloud.

  Dax yelled at Isaac over the fire’s roar. “This is what you wanted, tough guy. C’mon. Kill me.”