Lost the Sky Again Book One, page 12
part #1 of Lost the Sky Again Series
Lucy looked like she’d been slapped. Her eyes blazed with fire but she did not attack him again. “No.”
* * *
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHH!!! Pain, and pain, and pain. Try as she might, she could only focus on the pain and she began to feel a sense of urgency that caused her gorge to rise in panic. She screamed again, unsure whether she was doing so out loud in the waking world. She hoped not; if she kept waking up she would never figure out what the man was trying to tell her.
Sight. Sound. Taste. Smell. Black…. Panting above her…. Blood, she tasted blood…. Flowers. She almost squealed and seized on the smell of flowers. She breathed in and the pain began to subside. She was going to the place where she saw the man! She felt her body begin to float. Transport. She smiled as the black began to brighten just slightly. She was doing it.
Then words deafened her. “WAKE UP AND HIDE!”
* * *
Instinctually, she threw her body under the bed. She closed her eyes and listened. Stryker snored very softly, and there was another noise. She cursed under her breath. The snores were gentle but they may as well have been an elephant marching band because she couldn’t hear a damn thing. Sweating more than she ever had in her dreams, she raised her shaking body out from under the bed and pulled Stryker as hard as she could.
He started awake and grabbed her roughly. Upon seeing who it was, his shock abated and he loosened his grip, opening his mouth to speak.
“Stryker, we have to do something,” she whispered intensely. “Please trust me, he’s here. I’m sure of it.”
* * *
White hot rage had been burning in him for months. It was a calm hate, like the deceptive coating of gray ashes hiding a smoldering ember, and he knew better than anyone how productive calm hate could be. He knew without a hint of doubt that he was going to accomplish what he had come here to do. In and out, dead and dead. After that he would start over in another state. Maybe even Mexico. Nothing here he couldn’t get in Mexico, probably cheaper and with less danger.
He was blond now, with shorter hair and contacts. He wore a simple red checked flannel and blue jeans instead of his usual suit. He opened the door and smiled warmly at the guard who was at the front desk. He was a young kid, early twenties, but he seemed savvy enough. His hand went under the desk and his face registered a polite smile.
“How can I help you, sir?”
“Oh, please don’t let me be any bother to you. I’m waiting for my sister to come let me in and I knew you’d want to see my I.D. if I was standing around your lobby! Would’ve waited outside but it’s just so damn cold out there!” He held out a gloved hand with his license in it and the guard took it from him.
“Robertson? That’d make you Sally’s brother then?” The guard smiled amicably and handed him back his I.D.
He’d done his research. “No, Alice. Apartment 224. Like I said, I don’t want to bother you none, just maybe sit down until Alice comes to fetch me. She should be back from work any time now, she told me you wouldn’t be able to let me in.”
The guard nodded an invitation toward the lounge of chairs. He made small talk with the guard for a few minutes, counting in his head.
Like clockwork. “Say, son, you don’t look so hot, can I get you some water or something?”
He stood up and walked to the desk with a look of concern on his face. The young guard eyed him with a look of dawning realization but he soon had more pressing matters. As his airway closed, the man maneuvered his body around the desk and tied the boy’s hands with zip-ties before he could press any panic buttons. His feet came next, and some duct tape over his mouth as an added precaution. Better safe than sorry.
* * *
His skepticism made her doubt herself but before she could think hard on it, he spoke.
“Okay, listen. You go hide behind the front door and the first second you have a chance you run outside and you keep running, do you understand me? Do what I say, no fighting. GO!”
He took her hand and practically dragged her across the apartment and thrust her behind the door. As he did so, they heard the lock rattling. Stryker moved toward the couch, put a quick firm hand over Olivia’s mouth and dragged her off the couch. He pulled her to her feet and gestured for her to be quiet as she struggled against him. He pushed her quietly against the wall near Lucy and whispered furiously in her ear.
“As soon as it’s safe, get Lucy and yourself out. Call 911.”
He moved toward the kitchen to find a weapon but he hadn’t made it halfway across the living room when the door opened. He froze, and without thinking he slowly lowered himself to his stomach on the floor and rolled under the coffee table. The lights from the hallway stayed on 24/7 and the psycho’s eyes would have to adjust. If they were lucky, he might go to the bedroom without looking too closely and they could all run together.
* * *
Lucy swallowed thickly and almost cried out as father closed the door softly behind himself. He was so close she could smell him and it made bile rise up in her throat. Her eyes were shut so tightly that they ached and she stifled screams over and over again. She waited a few seconds. Why wasn’t she dead already? Surely that was why he’d come here. Again, she almost gave them away but she kept her noises in and she heard his footsteps walking away from her. His steps were barely audible but she thought her ears must have super powers because she heard them. She tried once again to swallow her terror as she strained to see his form move toward the bedroom in the dark.
He had just passed Stryker’s spot under the coffee table when Olivia let out a shrill yell and thrust herself out the front door just as fast as she could get it open, going so far as to slam it shut behind herself. Lucy stood, numb, staring with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
Stryker cussed and stood up fast. “Lucy, get out now!”
Damned if she was going to bail out; she made a run for the kitchen to find a weapon but quick like lightning, father had her. He used both hands to pick her up by her arm and mumbled. “In and out fast, dear heart,” as he threw her with tremendous force into the kitchen counter.
Her whole body lit up with pain but she forced herself to stay still when she landed, until she heard tussling behind her. She tried to stand as fast as she could and was shocked by how much it hurt. Wasn’t adrenaline supposed to make her impervious to pain, at least for a little while? She stumbled to the kitchen and knocked the whole knife drawer out of its hinges as she gripped the handle of the knife she wanted and pulled it out faster than she’d intended. She stumbled, and whimpering moans of pain and terror escaped her throat. There was no room in her mind now for thought, she simply forced her body to move because it was the only option. It wasn’t important what it did; she would not be still this time.
Stryker screamed, long and loud and hard, but the sound turned into a gurgle that was much more frightening as she made her way as fast as she could into the living room. Stryker was on the floor but she couldn’t think of that now. Father was on top of him, straddling him, and had raised his body up for some reason. Adrenaline finally kicking in, she gripped the handle of the knife with both hands and used every bit of might she had in her to thrust the blade deep into Father’s chest. Her arm exploded with pain.
He had no idea what hit him and when his wild eyes turned in her direction, she plunged her body sideways and threw herself to the floor, still gripping the knife, twisting it. It hurt her hands but she didn’t let go. Father screamed as gravity and the blade did Lucy’s job for her. Her stomach lurched as she heard his flesh tear apart under her blade. As she hit the floor, he landed on top of her, crushing what was certainly a broken arm, but he didn’t move. She gasped and groaned, even though she could barely breathe, and struggled in vain to get his huge body off her.
Her vision was going black when she heard a shout that hit her like a slap in the face. “Push him, Lucy! You’re strong enough.”
With a mad burst of energy, she grabbed his shirt and did what her dream man told her to. She thrust him once as hard as she could and he rolled onto her legs. She gasped in breath and was going to take a rest for a moment when she looked to her left and saw Stryker. His eyes were glazed over and heavy-lidded. His face was sweaty and so pale it was gray. He looked like he was already dead but he was making soft choked groans. Without pause she heaved a final time and, free from the burden of Father’s body, limped quickly to Stryker, whimpering.
Her vision blurred and her head swam. The only time she’d felt like this was when Hunter had died. She felt so wobbly, her stomach especially but her whole body was weak and throbbing with unpleasant tingles. This time she named it. She was panicking. It didn’t help her weak, hurting body but it cleared her mind just enough so that she could take off her shirt. She had to apply pressure. There was a knife in him. Oh God in heaven, no one should ever have to see that for real.
* * *
Pain again. Pain, and pain and pain. She felt like she’d been trying to fight it forever. She knew she was asleep but she was tired in a way that transcended her dreams this time. She floated around in a haze of pain for what seemed like a long time. Longer than usual. A thought occurred to her. She whipped her head quickly to the right and screamed at the top of her lungs when she saw what was in the mirror.
Why didn’t she wake up? She couldn’t bear to look but she didn’t wake up, either. It wasn’t like Crayon had said, she could see her face, but it wasn’t her own, it was Hunter’s. It was screaming, in pain and fear and it was bloody because he’d been hit. And the man she’d thought was killing her, or him, or whoever she was, wasn’t killing him. She screamed in rage. This pain she had thought was murder, her brother had felt this every time he’d protected her. She screamed again, she wanted to kill this man, whoever he was. But she just kept feeling pain; physical torture and mental anguish. She cried and screamed and the man laughed.
As she let out her next impotent scream, she felt a pull. Not a physical pull; more like the pull of a thought when it was right on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t quite remember. She wanted to keep feeling rage. Rage felt so pure and it fulfilled her. But the pull brought her mind down enough to know that if she didn’t get herself under control, the rage would keep her trapped and for whatever reason, this time she wasn’t waking up. She had to get out of this before the pain and fury drove her insane.
She screamed one more time, long and loud, until she was sure she would wake up hoarse. I WILL SMELL ROSES, she screamed at herself. I WILL FEEL GRASS. I WILL SEE THE MAN, AND I WILL HEAR HIM TELL ME WHAT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR. She felt a thrum from somewhere and the pain began to feel blurry. GRASS, GRASS, GRASS, GRASS, GRASS, GRASS, GRASS, she screamed like a mantra.
She laughed with more joy than she could ever remember feeling as the smell of roses assailed her nose and her hands clenched on the grass. She was in the fetal position with her eyes closed and a voice spoke above her.
“AHHHHH YOU’RE A LEGEND! Go, you good thing!” When she stood, he picked her up around the armpits and swung her around in circles. He spoke (yelled) English but his voice sounded different from hers. She hadn’t ever heard anything like it. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. The words sounded different when he said them.
She stood up and looked around. She was in a garden. The young man in front of her was dark skinned, but not like Marcy. Her skin was a dark, rich mahogany, and Lucy wasn’t sure it was appropriate but she liked nothing more than to hold Marcy’s hand in her own pale one and study the beautiful divergence. This man was significantly lighter than Marcy, his tawny skin reminded her of the dried-up pine needles that Hunter had sometimes brought her from outside, perhaps not only in color but also in the feeling that it gave her. Somehow, he filled her heart with that same thing she felt when Hunter had brought her all sorts of nature things from the outside, not just the pine needles, and she was breathing in the pure scent of Outside that she knew she would never experience in the wild. His eyes were a shade of such deep brown that they almost blended into his pupils and gave him a warm, brooding gaze. He looked similar to someone she’d seen on television once, with wavy black hair and an easy grin. But he didn’t sound like the television guy. He was skinny. Lucy didn’t know this but it was the kind of skinny young men sometimes get when they have just gone through a growth spurt and can’t seem to eat enough food to keep up with their overactive metabolism. Lucy just thought he looked like he was a teenager.
She stared at him. For too long. “You saved our lives. If not for you, father would have killed us and we would’ve woken up dead.... Or I am dead? I can’t wake up....”
“Ah, no worries mate, you’re not dead. You’re sedated, though. You passed out as soon as you saw help come in through the door. They fixed you up fine, but they gave you some sedatives along with the medicine for the pain because your lady cop friend told them you haven’t been sleeping. I don’t think it’s going to be happy when you wake up, I’m afraid, but you’ll recover.”
“Stryker! Is he okay?”
A grim look clouded his face. He spoke slowly, somberly. “Sorry, I don’t know. I know he was still alive when you passed out but he wasn’t looking good. And my, call it a connection, is with you. I kind of get pieces of a puzzle, of what you’re aware of. I don’t have much control over it. Can’t see him at all, unless I get bits from you.
“To be honest, I have no clue how I sensed that guy who broke in. I think some part of you must have sensed him. It had to’ve been that. I shouldn’t have been able to sense him. I’ve been trying to meet you for ages, but when I figured out you were in danger, I got super panicked and I guess that must have amped up my power, like when a mum lifts a car off her kid, or something.”
“It’s been nice meeting you, you know, but I want to wake up now. I do want to come back and see you but I need to see about Stryker. Crayon said I could make myself wake up.”
“I don’t think those tricks will work with the sedative. If it makes you feel any better, time is wonky in dreams. You could wake up any minute.”
“Or it might be a while?”
The man shrugged. “Might could.”
She fought her frustration off as best she could. She didn’t want him to think she was frustrated at him. She wanted to be with Stryker now but holy shit, this was the most interesting thing that had ever happened to her. She thought it might be the most interesting thing that ever happened to anyone. She didn’t want to offend him. “Okay then, tell me who you are. Are you an angel? A demon? Why am I seeing you? How am I seeing you? Why would you show me the things that happened to my brother? Was it a punishment? Because he protected me?”
“Erm, that’s quite a queue you have going, and I’m guessing it’s only the tip so how’s about I just start from the beginning, right?”
Lucy nodded.
“First off, you’re taking things a bit too seriously. I’m certainly not angelic or demonic, or even very special in most ways. My name’s Lachlan. I was as surprised as you were when I started tuning in to you. I wasn’t much older than you when my guide first came to me, so I haven’t even been doing this for long myself. I’m not actually sure why I would be the one to connect with you, it’s usually someone older, wiser. I’m just some dumb kid. I live in Australia. I’m not in control of anything you see, it‘s more like eavesdropping, but in the beginning, I have no choice. You’re showing me. No one I know is sure how or when it started; there’s a lot we don’t know about it, to be honest. Not everyone who gets a guide becomes one....
“Well, anyway, the last thing on my mind is punishing you. Quite the opposite. I didn’t show you those nightmares that you had, and real pisswah’s they were, too, by the way. I wasn’t trapped in them like you but I got a fucking eyeful, just the same. Anyway, you must have been seeing them for another reason, or else they really were just nightmares and not real. Sometimes it’s hard to tell when you’re just starting out. But it was definitely not me.
“Erm, what else was it you wanted to know?”
“Why,” Lucy said. “How?”
“Right. Well, look, the thing is that there’s a lot we don’t know about this whole deal. None of us intentionally reaches out to anyone else. It’s possible, of course, but the few people I know who’ve tried ended up regretting it. Not in any catastrophic kind of way, it just never felt right. My guide came to me during a brilliantly bad period in my life and she helped me figure my powers out. I don’t really know if the beginning of the process is linked to a difficult time, but my own inkling would be that it’s a strong possibility. But it’s better if you just kind of let it happen. You end up linking up with the right people at the right time that way. We all do it that way, as far as I know."
“You say ‘we.’”
“Yeah, it’s kind of hard to explain. The little bit I do know.... Ahm, we estimate that there’s a few hundred of us in the world, but that’s probably a crap estimate because we all kind of keep to ourselves. We’re all givers like you who start sending off signals to be picked up. Sometimes, like me, people also turn into receivers, who pick up signals and help a person who's just discovering their abilities. Typically, the two enter into a bit of a sojourn together, learning from each other, discovering what you can do, if anything, aside from just whatever mental communication we do.
“Everyone has a choice, though. You’re a bit younger than I was when I started but until now, I was by far the youngest one who ever became connected, at least according to my limited sources. To be honest, knowing what I know, about the process and about you in particular, I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable starting you down this path.”
“Sexist.”
A fleeting look of alarm crossed his face. “Not intentionally anyway, but it’s one thing to mentor a human with a fully formed prefrontal cortex in the finer arts of mind melding. Bit of another when it’s a child. I feel like you’re not fully capable of making an informed decision, you know?”
