Difference between revisions of "Atlantis Rising: Chapter 1"

Revision as of 15:02, 9 April 2009

The first chapter in my book, Phoenix Rising. To visit the homepage: Atlantis

Currently, Chapter 1 is undergoing maintenance, but I like to keep all my material on the page until it's completely finished. The stuff at

14:07 Hours, Military Clock, December 10, 2012, Paris, France

"We need you to come with us." The quiet voice reverberated through the crowded street. Despite the noise it was clearly audible.

Matt Kenderson paused in the act of examining a book, replacing it on a shelf in the vendor's stall. "Excuse me?" He asked, low and deadly.

The three soldiers simply stood, not bothering to answer.

"What, exactly, is supposed to happen if I say no?"

"Then I would be very unhappy. And you wouldn't want to see that, no you wouldn't." The leader of the three soldiers spoke up, slowly, with only a trace of a French accent in his tone.

"Okay, skipping the macho banter here, I'm gonna go ahead and say get lost. Now. I'm not sure how things go in France, but in my country people have rights, such as the right to exist on a sidewalk. So, like I said, get - lost. Compris?"

"We were told you would not cooperate. No matter. We have other means of... persuasion." The army guy responded. Although le merchand, the stall-vendor, didn't speak English, the tension building in the air couldn't have been cut with a plasma knife, and the guy picked up on it. He suddenly decided he'd rather be someplace else at that moment, and hurriedly slammed the metal curtain of the street-stall and locked it.

The other citizens and tourists along the road appeared to have similar reactions, because within moments the packed street had become mostly desolate.

Except for a bunch of mean-looking, burly guys dressed in Camouflage fatigues and black Kevlar, toting the French Foriegn Legion's FAMAS assault rifles. Eight of them moved to surround Matt, with two men on the roof of the apartment complex across from him. One shooter one spotter.

Matt cursed. This would either be really fun or really painful. Probably the latter.

Matt took another glance around. He was on the corner of a what-used-to-be crowded intersection, swarmed by cafe's and cute shopping stalls selling all kinds of trinkets. Across the now empty street was the apartment complex, behind him was the cafe, and along the road to both sides were more shops and dwellings.

Without a second's warning, the lead Frenchie soldier dove for Matt. Matt, who was sixteen, was 5 foot 11 inches and weighed in at 160 pounds. He was built stocky and strong, but the Frenchie captain had a good 4 inches on him and probably somewhere in the neighborhood of 40 pounds.

Matt fell under the soldier's heavy tackle but came out of it on top, knee pressed into the soldier's poorly armored kidney and fists mashing the Frenchie's face into a pulp. The soldier's buddies converged, but Matt rolled away suddenly as one swung his rifle. Matt jumped onto that one's back and wrestled the rifle from the soldiers grip, tossing the soldier over his hip as he did so.

Before the Frenchies had time to regroup, Matt sprinted off for the Apartment complex, weaving in and out of the passing cars as the soldiers opened fire.

Real bullets, too, Matt discovered, as they shattered windshields, blew tires, and peppered the chassis of the different cars Matt was putting in between him and the assault rifles.

Then the snipers up top started firing, just to add to the fun. Matt ducked and rolled and weaved as bullets landed all around him, still clutching his stolen rifle.

The soldiers on the ground got up and followed him. Matt's keen ears picked up the irregular whines of police sirens not far away, and the beat of a helicopter rapidly approaching. As he ran, Matt pulled his cell and started dialing Jamie's number. This wasn't good. If he was under attack, so were the others.

He had come with his three best friends, Jamie Campbell, Holly Dayne, and Scarlett Miller. Two guys and two girls on winter vacation in Grande Paree.

Jamie answered on the second ring. As I happened to know he was wearing jeans, that was quite a feat. "They're after you too, huh?" Jamie asked, sounding out of breath.

"You don't say," Matt gasped as he ducked a security guard. He kept running for the elevator, dodging and weaving in between security, putting as many objects between him and those guns as he could.

"I suggest a meeting place. Call Holly and Scar." I said.

"Who the heck are you?" Matthew Kenderson demanded rudely.

The two men stood out like sore thumbs against their environment. For a man standing on a beach in Daytona, the usual outfit was a casual shirt and swimsuit, sandals, and sunglasses. These two lacked all but the dark shades that obscured half their faces respectively. Matt shot a quick glance around him. The white-sand beach stretched down as far as he could see, interrupted by the occasional pier or jetty. Behind him was a long series of never-ending condos and hotels, following the line of the beach. Toes buried in the soft, dry sand, he saw his older half-brother, Jamie, looking curiously at him from the water.

Matt guessed he did look a little odd, talking to these two adults in designer suits. Who wore suits to a beach? Apparently these guys.

"Wouldn't you like to know," the first Suit snarled. The other one, obviously the senior from his salt-and-pepper hair and tired eyes, elbowed the first Suit.

"We're with the Homeland Logistics Division. We'd like to give you something, but you'd have to come with us to get it. Just a short walk to our car." He said smoothly, like oil, pointing over at a parking lot a good hundred yards or so away.

Matt looked the Suit over, noticing a slight bulge at the edge of the man's jacket. A radio, maybe. "Um, right. The magical fairy ponies just descend and are feeling generous, so I'm the lucky guy that gets the prize. And the ocean isn't saltwater. Right."

"It's okay, see, just over to the car. Just a short little walk. I promise you won't regret it!" The second Suit said, trying to put real warmth and authority in his voice but achieving only evil-grandfather malice.

"Um, should I call a doctor?" Matt asked, fake uncertainty lacing his words. "I think you might need to be treated for sudden loss of hearing."

The Suit tried for a laugh. It sounded artificial, even to himself, so he stopped. "No, now, come along with us."

"Jamie!" Matt yelled. His brother started loping for shore as the surf crashed into him and sent sea-spray flying.

Matt only noticed the change after it happened. The two men suddenly tensed, their steel-like corded muscles hidden beneath their designer suits flexing.

"Come with us. Now."

The two men reached into their jackets, and that was when Matt knew something was wrong, very wrong. He acted instantly. Why hadn't he seen this coming? Everything about these two said, "Government Business" all over them.

Matt turned tail and ran, so fast that his chair tipped over and fell in the sand. His only desire now was to escape, but even as the two lined him up in their gun sights, he knew he wouldn't have a chance. The first shot rang out and Matt hit the dirt. The round passed directly over his head. He knew why these two wanted him.

It had happened before, first in D.C. As he was walking out of his apartment, something had felt wrong. He found out what it was, five minutes later, when a man on the street had grabbed him, shoving Jamie roughly aside and dragging him away towards a discreet gray van. Why was it always gray or white, or black? He'd only escaped because of the fountain... no. He'd promised himself he wouldn't ever do it again. Not after that.

Apparently now he wasn't needed alive.

Another car rolled to a stop next to Matt's overturned chair. Daytona Police. Oh, perfect.

The second shot burst forward as the firing pin struck the primer in the modified handgun, igniting a burst of gas and propelling a 9mm neuro-toxin dart at 900 fps at the intended target. This particular dart landed half a centimeter away from Matt's arm. He glanced at it once, briefly, then rolled to his right as a third and then fourth round kicked up sand. The fifth round was on its way and coming directly for him.

Nothing he could do. The dart might kill him at this range, it might not. Either way the built in auto-dispenser would inject 4cc's of a potent paralysis drug into his bloodstream, then into his nervous system, and take him down.

The round flew forward - and stuck into the edge of the pit Matt had just fallen into.

It was a shallow pit, but it served its purpose. The two Suits were momentarily taken aback, then ran forward. The first Suit strafed right to flank Matt and leave no grounds for escape. Jamie was closing, behind them now, but the second Suit turned and snapped off a quick shot at him, barely looking and not aiming anywhere near.

The dart buzzed past Jamie, but he sprawled in the sand anyways, covering his head in panic. Matt grabbed a fistful of powdery white and threw it at the first Suit. Luckily the wind was working against the man and the sand flew straight into his face. He stumbled, raising an arm and lowering his defenses to wipe the grit out of his eyes, when Matt struck.

He flew out of the shallow depression, heedless of the single round fired at him from the Suit's partner before Jamie tackled him. Jamie was kinda big.

Matt launched a 360 kick as he ran forward, catching the Suit's shoulder and popping it out of the socket. The Suit blanched but dropped the clip from his gun, fumbling for another.

Matt payed him no attention. He ran directly for the waterline. He'd be safe if he could get out to sea. What he really wanted right now was to sit on this very beach with a cold drink in one hand, his now discarded and forgotten book in the other, and just relax. God knew he hadn't been able to the last month.

But nnoooo. These two ding-dongs had to just waltz in and ruin everything.

Again.

The second suit struggled out of Jamie's hold and mercilessly clocked him in the jaw with the butt of the handgun. Jamie's head whipped back as a cracking sound filled the air. Jamie's jaw.

Matt ducked and weaved as another two shots followed his path, clean misses.

Just another thirty feet! The surf seemed cruelly near and yet far at the same time. Matt cried out as a round took him directly between the shoulder blades. He maybe had twenty seconds before the drug took effect, more likely thirty, due to his... condition.

The two police grabbed Jamie by the collar of his black spandex muscle shirt and attempted to heave him into the car. Apparently they hadn't been told that Jamie was pretty handy in a fight, because the first officer hit the ground hard.

The second followed closely as Jamie's fist hit the officer in his unarmored gut and Jamie's foot nailed the officer in the knee. A grisly cracking sound hit Matt's eardrums. Ouch. To make sure they didn't get up anytime soon, Jamie kicked the first in the teeth, twisted the second's arm until the officer's shoulder popped out, then broke the fingers of the first, removing both their sidearms.

Then the Suit tackled him from behind.

Stumbling forward with the force, stumbling but forward always, Matt couldn't spare his brother a glance as he was kicked again with the Suit's shoe, a plain black Loafer. With a metal toe. Jamie curled around the blow, clenching his bloody teeth.

Satisfied that Jamie wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, the second Suit spun and clicked off a shot. Another dart impacted and drove through Matt's thin T-shirt. Already he was starting to feel sluggish. The darts hurt, also, but that was distant. He could barely feel anything...

Matt sank to his knees, convulsing, and pitched forward. His head crashed into the sand. This was it. They finally had him.

The surf licked gently up and into Matt's face. The water gave him a surge of energy, but the shallow sea-foam didn't do much, or as much as Matt had hoped.

He tried to stand but couldn't, so he crawled on his hands and knees. With each pull forward, he felt more and more like himself again as he moved deeper and deeper into the water. Always water.

Meanwhile, Jamie had gotten back up and through sheer persistence, was wrestling the second Suit's gun out of it's owners hand. The Suit punched Jamie in the gut. Jamie doubled over, and when he straightened half a second later, he was grinning dementedly, his teeth welling blood, and spit into the Suit's eyes.

The mixed blood and saliva had the intended effect; the Suit lowered his gun arm to wipe his face instinctively. Jamie kicked the gun out of the Suit's hand, and they both dove for it, scrambling in the sand.

The first suit advanced at a casual pace, believing there to be nothing abnormal with his almost-subdued quarry. Matt felt another surge of strength and power as the swell crashed over him, re-vitalizing and fresh. He dragged himself into a stooped but upright position, trudging through the deeper water. The five-and-a-half foot crest came up to just below his neck, and he cursed that he was only fourteen and still too short.

Another wave crashed over, this one larger, and he brought himself fully upright.

The first Suit paused at the edge of the water, only just sensing something wrong.

Matt felt the poison leech out of his body, slowly but surely. The Suit fired another shot, taking the time to aim. The dart buzzed straight for Matt, but was intercepted by a wave that rose opposite the riptide. An evidently random wall of water, rising up from the backwash and against the tide, catching the round and dragging it down to the murky bottom. Matt felt the rhythmic tug of the Atlantic Ocean peeling away the toxin and augmenting his rising strength.

The Suit fired the last of his clip, then threw his gun aside and sloshed into the water after Matt.

Strike one.

The second Suit kneed Jamie between the legs, and he collapsed again, feebly grabbing at the Suit's leg. Another kick in the face served to knock him out and down, unconscious. The Suit picked up the gun and fired a round into Jamie, then launched the rest at Matt.

Strike two.

The second Suit raced towards the waterline, discarding his dart-gun and reaching for another weapon holstered to his thigh. When he brought it around, Matt knew it wouldn't fire a dart.

Strike three.

Matt grinned malevolently, feeling power surge through him. A burning, tingling sensation spread through his body, the kind he got when his legs fell asleep. Starting with his chest, funneling to his legs and head, then filling his arms. Power radiated from his hands, blue liquid-like orbs glowing from his palms.

Matt shuddered slightly as he leeched the energy and life out of the water around him, channeling it through his body, and a pale blue-gray mist settled over the two Suits; his targets.

The sky turned dark, instantly, with no warning. Rain pounded the beach-front, causing any heroic life guard that hadn't scattered when the two Suits brought out guns dive for shelter. One moment sunny and perfect, the next black and twisted.

Sirens wailed in the distance, and something told the few remaining people on the beach to hit the road, some forgotten animal instinct telling them to flee. One life guard grabbed Jamie and dragged him off the sand. The two Suits looked at each-other warily.

Matt tried to contain the power, but it surged through him, bursting from his hands. The sea grew choppy and treacherous.

The storm whipped the beach into a frenzy, causing a sandstorm to impact the two Suits. They were instantly soaked by the water falling from the sky and scoured continuously on any exposed skin by the flying sand.

Sapphire blue, water. The glowing watery energy burst forth, unable to be contained, and whipped the sea around. Matt raised his arms, not himself any longer, not able to contain or control...

With his ascending hands, a wave rose as well. Not just a wave, but a huge tidal wave, a solid wall of water, slowly gaining and rising. The tingling had turned to a burning, undefinable energy that coursed through his body, focused out his hands and down into the water.

More slick black cars rolled to a stop, right next to the two Suits on the beach. Out of the cars poured more Suits, each carrying a gun of some sort, and one a rifle. He took aim and opened fire, a three-round burst of 7.62mm ammunition that could tear a normal person apart. Matt dragged his left hand through the air, and another wave rose up, again going against the frenzied tide, and swept the bullets away. With his other hand, Matt poured more and more power into the water, the enormous tidal wave, now twenty feet high and stretching only a hundred feet wide. The water sloped down to a bare three feet at the ends.

The wall rose up and up, twenty feet, then thirty, advancing all the time to the beach. More vans pulled up on the edge of the condo-front, all marked FBI or SWAT or Daytona Police. Men in helmets and body armor slipped from the vehicles, more guns, and settled into combat positions. Until they saw the water.

Always water. The tidal wave rose up and through, passing Matt by as the source of energy, a small hole in the water opening for him and him alone. The Atlantic was left bare where the wave passed, the incredible power and sheer mass came crashing down on the beach, where thirty government Suits stood waiting for their deaths beneath the tortured, pulsing dark sky.

The wave lost momentum as it headed towards shore, the bottom portion of the almost-solid water jerking to a halt and rising. Seemingly, an invisible floodgate broke, and the tidal wave crashed forward.

Impact.

Phoenix Rising: Chapter 2