Dark Awakening, page 1
part #1 of The Legend of Andrew Rufus Series
Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2019
Excerpt from BONE DEEP Copyright© M.M. Crumley 2019
All rights reserved. Published by Lone Ghost Publishing LLC,
associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of
Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.
Andrew Rufus and all related characters and elements are trademarks of
Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.
The moral right of the author has been asserted (vigorously).
No part or parts of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (including via carrier pigeon), without written permission of the author and publisher.
Author: Crumley, M.M.
Title: THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: DARK AWAKENING
Series: The Legend of Andrew Rufus; 1.
Target Audience: Ages fourteen though adult
Subjects: Apprentices-fiction/ Fantasy/ Juvenile Fiction/ Action & Adventure/ Survival Stories / Legends, Myths, Fables, Lore, Hero's/ Fantasy & Magic/ General Awesomeness and All Things Epic.
Also available in this series
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: BONE DEEP (Book 2)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: BLOOD STAINED (Book 3)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: BURIAL GROUND (Book 4)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: DEATH SONG (Book 5)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: FUNERAL MARCH (Book 6)
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS: WARPATH (Book 7)
This is a work of fiction, which means it's made up. Names, characters, peoples, places, and incidents (stuff that happens in the story) either are gifts of the ether, products of the author's resplendent imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or dying, businesses or companies in operation or defunct, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS
DARK AWAKENING
BOOK 1
M.M. Crumley
For my boys... Always.
And the ether.
Thank you.
Also by M.M. Crumley
Urban Fantasy
THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY SERIES
BOOK 1: HIDDEN
BOOK 2: COUP D'ÉTAT
BOOK 3: RUTHLESS
BOOK 4: INSTINCT
BOOK 5: ROGUES
BOOK 6: EMPIRE
BOOK 7: OMENS
BOOK 8: CHASM
BOOK 9: FERAL
THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS SERIES
BOOK 1: DARK AWAKENING
BOOK 2: BONE DEEP
BOOK 3: BLOOD STAINED
BOOK 4: BURIAL GROUND
BOOK 5: DEATH SONG
BOOK 6: FUNERAL MARCH
BOOK 7: WARPATH
https://www.loneghostpublishing.com/
Prologue
There are places, hidden places, where it seems time does not exist. But this cannot be true. Time exists, in all things, in all places; it is connected, interwoven, set, and unchangeable… Except that it isn't. A nudge here, a tug there...
Time should never be meddled with. It is far too delicate, too precious, too unknown. The ripples from even the smallest change go on forever and ever and ever. That is why, when one is meddling with the fabric of time, one must do so very, very carefully.
Chapter 1
Worst summer ever, Andrew Rufus thought sullenly as he tossed his baseball towards the ceiling for the fifteen hundredth time. He was bored. So bored that he might actually consider reading one of the books his mom had brought back from the library.
He glanced at the stack of books and shuddered. He didn't give a crap about leprechauns or the secrets of Middle-earth. If only his mom would bend on the no television in his room rule. After all, it's not like he could help the fact that he had a broken leg.
He tossed the ball again, but he wasn't paying attention so it slipped from his glove and rolled onto the floor. "I guess that's that," he muttered.
He counted the neon stars on his ceiling, but he already knew there were a hundred and six of them. He'd known that since yesterday morning.
"You need anything, baby?" his mom hollered up the stairs.
"How 'bout a TV?" Andrew yelled back.
"Anything you can actually have?"
"No," he grumbled.
"Alright. My online meeting's about to start. I'll check on you when it's done."
"Whatever."
"I heard that!"
"Whatever," Andrew mouthed sulkily.
If he didn't do something soon he was going to scream, so he grabbed a book from the pile at random and read the title. American Folklore: Pecos Bill and Others. Gag me, Andrew thought, but it had to be better than a book about how to trap leprechauns. And if it wasn't, he'd hobble to the window and hurl himself to his death.
He flipped to the beginning of the story and started reading. He rolled his eyes after a line or two and stifled a yawn. Boring, he thought as he scanned the page. Exactly how long were these cowboy dudes going to keep riding into the sunset? A car chase would definitely be more exciting.
The sun blinded him for just a minute, and he closed his eyes, rubbing them with the back of his hand. He squinted at the page, trying to see the words clearly, but they kept blurring into a mess of brown. Maybe the pain pills were finally taking affect.
He read another line but abruptly coughed as dust swept down his throat, choking him. He reached blindly for his cup of water. His fingers grazed the smooth glass, then he heard it shatter on the floor. Another cough racked his frame, and he dropped the book and struggled to his feet.
The earth suddenly shifted beneath him, and he flung his arms out to the sides, trying to grab hold of his dresser, but there was nothing there, and he started to fall. "No," he whispered fearfully. He didn't want to fall. What if he hurt his leg?
He flexed his legs in fear, gasping in relief when he didn't hit the floor. But then he lurched forward and backward and forward again. What the hell was going on? Was he having a seizure?
He blinked frantically, trying to clear the dust from his eyes so he could see again. He squinted and realized he actually could see, but all he could see was dust. It didn't make sense. Nothing was making sense.
He glanced down, wondering where the floor was. "Holy crap!" he gasped. There was no floor. There was no floor because he was sitting on a horse. A horse. Not just sitting. Riding. That's why he was lurching back and forth. He grabbed hold of the saddle thingy and held tightly, then stared at his hands in utter dismay. Those weren't his hands, but how could they not be his hands? He released the saddle with one hand and felt his face.
"Oh hell," he whispered. It wasn't his face. He knew it wasn't because it was rough and full of angles. It wasn't his nose or his hand or his body. Those weren't his legs. What the hell kind of medicine were they giving him anyway? This had to be a hallucination. It just had to be.
The horse suddenly leaped into the air, and Andrew jerked in terror, grasping the saddle tightly. The horse landed easily, but Andrew didn't. "Crap!" he hissed as he slid precariously to the side. He flung his arms around the horse's neck, hugging it for dear life and desperately hoping it would stop soon.
Then he heard it. An angry voice, gruff and gravely, yelling, yelling very loudly, INSIDE Andrew's head.
WHAT THE HELL'S GOIN' ON?!
Andrew couldn't help it. He screamed; he screamed at the top of his lungs. But the more he screamed, the more the voice inside his head yelled.
WHAT THE HELL YOU DOIN'?! STOP THAT SISSY CRYIN'! RIGHT NOW!!!
Andrew's mind raced, trying to figure out what was going on, but he simply couldn't think. The voice in his head was too loud. Why was there a voice in his head? Where was his body? Where was he? What was happening?
Who are you?! the voice snapped. You some kinda witch?
"Witch? What? No," Andrew stuttered, eyes widening when he heard his own voice. It didn't sound right at all. It was deep and menacing, like the voice inside his head. He stared at his hands again. They moved when he moved them, but they just weren't his hands. The wide, red gash from his fall wasn't there. These hands had thin, white scars across the knuckles; they were callused, sun-browned, and huge.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He must have fallen asleep reading that stupid book, and now he was dreaming. That was it. He was dreaming. All he had to do was wake up. He pinched himself. It hurt, but he didn't wake. He slapped himself. Tears welled in his eyes it stung so badly, but he still didn't wake up.
What the hell you doin'?!
"Trying to wake up," Andrew mumbled, weirded out that he was having a conversation with someone he couldn't see. Like he was talking to himself, but he wasn't. It felt like madness.
Wake up?
"I'm asleep; that's the only explanation."
Asleep? I ain't asleep. GET THE HELL OUTTA MY BODY!! NOW!
"I don't know how."
Try! the voice snapped.
"How? I don't know how I got in here." Andrew was trying to remember if he'd ever had a conversation in a dream before, but the voice just wouldn't shut up.
GET OUT!!!
"I already told you, I can't!"
Do it anyway!
"How?"
Just do!
Andrew rolled his eyes and glanced around. This was surely the most vivid dream he'd ever had. It was so vivid he could feel the heat and taste the dirt. Maybe he should back off the paink
"It's just a dream, you know," Andrew said. "I'm sure I'll wake up soon, and then you'll have your body back." What a dorky thing to say. When he woke up, the dream would be gone.
He relaxed his stranglehold on the horse and sat up straighter in the saddle. He wasn't so scared now that he realized he was in a dream. He was certain he could ride a horse in a dream, and if he fell, he'd just wake up. Besides, the horse wasn't actually moving anymore. Surely he could sit on a horse without falling.
When I get my hands on you, I'm gonna tie you in a knot.
"A knot?" Andrew laughed. "Is that really the best you've got?"
You laughin' at me?
"A little. Be pretty hard to tie someone into a knot. Beat me up, sure. Tie into a knot? I don't know."
Who the hell are you?!
This was bizarre, but his mom hated it when he was rude, so Andrew sighed and said, "Andrew Rufus; and you?"
Pecos Bill.
Andrew burst out laughing. Now he knew it was a dream. He felt stupid for not realizing it right away; everything had just felt so real. The sun was burning down on his back. He could feel sweat beading on his skin; he could feel the roughness of the horse's hair beneath his hands; he could feel the grainy dust in his eyes. He'd never had such an intense dream before. It was so real, so vibrant. It had to be the drugs.
What's so funny? Pecos snapped.
"Nothing, it's just… I really am dreaming."
What the hell you talkin' 'bout?! Ain't no dream! What'd you say your name was? Andrew, Andrew Rufus, Andrew thought, wondering if he needed to speak out loud for Pecos to hear him. Ain't never heard of you, Pecos growled back. Course not. You're not real. I'm real. I'm dreaming, so I've heard of you 'cause you're in that dumb book I was reading before I fell asleep. What?!
Andrew sighed. Dreams weren't usually so complicated. When he woke up, he was tossing the pills in the trash. Listen, I'm not really here. You're not really here. This is all just a dream. Ain't no damn dream! Pecos sputtered. Get out of my body right this minute…
Pecos went on and on, but Andrew wasn't listening because he'd just noticed three other riders heading towards him. They were already fairly close, and Andrew could just make out their faces. He was suddenly very glad he was dreaming because he didn't know how to make the horse move again, and if this were real life, he'd be riding the other way. He'd never seen such scary-looking dudes.
They had serious expressions on their faces and guns on their hips. Lots and lots of guns. And knives. They were riding into the sun, so their faces were shining, and a shudder ran down Andrew's spine when his eyes locked onto one of the men.
"Somethin' wrong, Pecos?" the man demanded as they stopped their horses beside Andrew's.
Andrew gulped. "Um… I…" He didn't go on, just stared at the man in horror.
He had a stone-hard face, brilliant, blue eyes, and a scar running from his nose to his ear. His tight blond goatee was broken in the middle by another scar which made him look rather sinister. In addition to his frightening face, he had a ridiculous amount of guns strapped all over him, maybe six or eight, and Andrew was certain he wouldn't have any problem using them.
Andrew tore his eyes away and looked at one of the other men. He instantly regretted it. These dudes were so creepy Andrew wished he could wake up right now. He'd never be mean to his mom again. He'd tell her he loved her, because he did. He'd promise to never climb a tree, ever again. He'd keep both feet on the ground, and he'd swear off painkillers for the rest of his life.
The second man wasn't wearing a hat, and his skin was as dark as the surrounding dirt, maybe darker. His hair was loose, flowing down his back in a shimmery, black wave, and Andrew guessed he was Native American, but he wasn't sure. His dark eyes were unfathomable, unreadable, but the worst part was that, in addition to a bow and a few guns, he was wearing so many knives Andrew didn't even try to count them.
Andrew shuddered, wondering what Pecos must look like if these were the type of guys he hung out with, and glanced at the third man. He actually looked normal enough except he had the widest and curliest mustache Andrew had ever seen. His eyes were a laughing brown, and his lips were curved in a slight grin. He even seemed to be wearing a normal amount of weapons, but Andrew couldn't be sure. He'd never been around anyone who carried a gun or a knife before, let alone eight of them. He wasn't sure how he'd imagined these guys because he was positive the book hadn't been all that descriptive.
"Pecos?" the blond man asked again, a thread of annoyance in his tone.
Listen you coward, you body thief, you slimy snake! Pecos yelled. Get the hell outta my body right this damn minute or I'm gonna truss you up and leave you for the coyotes! How's that better than a knot? I mean, how're you gonna do it?
Pecos growled, and Andrew glanced between the three men, feeling trapped, like the time Chuck had pulled a prank, but Andrew had been caught holding the spray can.
He opened his mouth to reply to the blond man, but Pecos started yelling again, so loud that Andrew flinched. Shut up so I can think! Andrew snapped. Shut up?! Shut up?! This is my body! You shut up, damn it! Right now it's my body! So you shut up! You ain't no man; you're just a coward!
I'm not a coward or a man, so there! Andrew thought angrily. His head was starting to ache. There was just too much going on. Could your head even ache in a dream? I'm only thirteen, Andrew added. And I didn't steal your stupid body; why would I even want to? I just kinda ended up here. And it doesn't matter, 'cause THIS IS A DREAM!!!
This was getting weirder and weirder by the second. He'd pay good money for his mom to wake him and tussle his hair. She could call him "baby" and sit by his bed all day asking him how he was, and he wouldn't even mind.
Pecos was still yelling, but Andrew tried to ignore him because the mustached man was talking.
"You alright, Pecos?"
"Um… yeah, just thinking," Andrew replied awkwardly.
"Thinkin' 'bout what?" the blond man snapped.
Andrew cringed. The blond guy freaked him out. He looked like the kind of guy who shot first and didn't bother to ask questions, ever. "I don't know… Just thinking."
The knife man had been watching Andrew or Pecos, whoever he was, intently, but now he spoke. "You wantin' to change your plan?"
Andrew grabbed at that. "Plan? What plan exactly?"
The blond man frowned deeply, but the knife man smiled slightly and replied, "The one you just made."
Andrew sighed; that had really cleared things up. "Let me think about it," he stalled. Help me out here, Pecos? Ain't helpin' you, boy! You need to disappear. I really wish I could, but I can't. I've never tried to wake up in a dream before; I don't know how to do it. I done told you boy, ain't no dream, Pecos said in a weary tone. Of course it is, but I still don't wanna get shot to death by your gun-happy friends. They'd like an answer, and I don't have any idea what they're talking about.
Ain't gonna shoot me. No, but they might shoot me, and see, I'm in your body in the middle of… of… Andrew looked around. There was nothing as far as he could see except dirt, rocks, little scrubby plants, and what he assumed were cactus clumps. He wasn't sure because he'd never seen actual cactuses before.
Why are we in a desert? Ain't a desert, boy. Just a bit of dry land is all. We ridin' to stop the snake. Andrew accidentally laughed. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Just thought of something funny. Still thinking," he added when the blond man opened his mouth to speak.
Four guys to stop one measly snake? You're kidding me right?! You're supposed to be a western legend! You fight things like tornados and rustlers and blue cows or something, right? Watch it, boy… Or what?
Andrew was beginning to enjoy himself. He hadn't had any fun in days; not since that stupid, wild, grey cat had knocked him out of the tree. Sure the cowboy dudes were scary looking; but it was a dream; and as such, nothing really bad could happen. And if it did, he'd just wake up. Like that one dream he'd had where he'd shown up to school naked. He'd woken just as the bell rang and right before everyone could file out into the hallway and laugh at him.
This ain't a dream or a pleasure trip or a damn party! If you don't get outta my body right now folks're gonna die! Andrew rolled his eyes. What did it matter if people died in a dream? It's not like they were real. THIS IS REAL!!! Can't you feel it?!
