Awakening
Valkyrie Diaries book 1
By
K.A. Young
Copyright © 2013 by K.A. Young
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
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For more information on K.A. Young's books go to https://www.kayoungbooks.com
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Acknowledgements
This book is dedicated to my Valkyrie archer Kendall, my witty vampire Matthew and my Kylie's tag a long, Alyssa. You three are my inspiration! I hope Mom did you proud.
Sincerest thanks go to Julie Bromley, Heather Hand, Stacey Nixon, Debbie Poole and Jessie de Schepper for beta-reading Awakening on such short notice and making this early release possible. You guys are the best!
Kylie’s Journal Entry
Well, we’re still here and it’s still just the two of us—my brother and me. We’ve managed to cover some serious ground the last few days. I finally found the keys to Dad’s Range Rover and my driving is improving. It’s not so hard without any other cars on the road.
We stocked up on canned goods because most of the produce that was out on the shelves has spoiled. We are going to have to find some other grocery stores soon because we’ve cleaned out our little local grocery, which is easier said than done because the GPS in the Range Rover doesn’t work. Luckily, we’ve been able to stretch out our supplies.
My appetite is still decreasing by the day. Why? I have no idea, but thankfully my energy isn’t waning. It’s totally weird, just like everything else around here.
We’re going to Google some places tomorrow. The Internet is still working, although for how long, I haven’t a clue. We’ll need to loot an office supply store for a new laser printer and print off directions to any place we can think we may need to get to, in case we lose use of computers.
Chapter 1
“Why do you keep writing in that stupid journal of yours; there’s no one here to read it?” My twelve-year-old kid brother, Mason, said as he plopped down on the bed beside me.
“We need to keep some sort of records, Mason. If there are any other people out there, we can use this information to help us start over.” I sighed. God, I hoped there were other people out there somewhere. It had been just Mason and me for the last three months, and I for one was scared to death of the idea of us being the only humans left on the planet.
I’m getting a little ahead of myself; let me catch you up.
Three months ago to the day, our lives completely changed. The night before had been like any other. We had dinner as a family; one of my mom’s rules for Friday night. It was the very first rule she implemented when they brought me home from Children’s Services when I was five. I’ll never forget how both she and my new dad looked when I came out with my one little bag, all the possessions I owned in the world since I was abandoned at a local fire station at the age of one. Sometimes I think I can remember bits and pieces of that awful day, however every shrink I’d seen assured me that I’d fabricated these artificial memories as a way of coping.
Anyway, Mom cooked her usual Friday night meal that consisted of incredibly dry roast chicken, runny mashed potatoes, flavorless canned green beans and burned dinner rolls. I laughed at that thought. Man, I missed her terrible cooking. After dinner, we all played a couple hands of cards then I went to my room to chat online with some friends while my brother played on his Nintendo DS. Mom and I had argued about me spending way too much time on the computer and how the computer screen was going to completely ruin my vision; a non possibility being I tested off the charts at every eye screening I’d ever had. It got to the point where I would fake my results not to seem like a complete freak because every Optometrist that administered the screening wanted to test me further, astounded by my ability. Not going to happen.
Mom continued to berate me even though I explained that nothing could damage my freakishly amazing vision, which resulted in me slamming my door in her face and crawling into bed with my iPhone to continue my online chatting, finally falling to sleep at three a.m.
I can’t tell you how many times I relived that moment in my mind. It had to be at least a thousand times. I wished to God I could go back, hug her and tell her how sorry I was for being a spoiled rotten, ungrateful sixteen-year-old. I wiped a tear that had trickled down my cheek. I couldn’t go back. All I could do was go forward.
The next morning I woke to screaming. I jumped up, stomping out of my bedroom to yell over the banister of the staircase what a total jerk Mason was being and to shut up before I beat the snot out of him, however one look at his white, tear-stricken face and I knew something was terribly wrong.
They were gone—Mom, Dad, grandparents, our neighbors, teachers, friends. Gone. Mom’s purse was still here and so were all of her clothes, so they didn’t leave; not of their own free-will anyway. They simply weren’t there anymore.
We spent days calling everyone we knew. Nobody answered. We ran and pounded on neighbors’ doors, and when we didn’t get any answer, we smashed through windows, finding that their houses were exactly like ours; everything was in its place, clothes in the dryer running, TV on and blaring loudly. In some homes the shower would be running and stoves remained on, smoking with burnt entrees.
Our emotions ran the gamut. At first we totally freaked out! Then we gradually went from petrified to angry to miserable then to completely depressed and finally, over the course of the next week, we settled into acceptance. What we’d been told our entire lives about how resilient we children were, well, I suppose it was true.
After the acceptance kicked in, I began planning. I’d been collecting books on gardening and horticulture so that when we found a place to settle down, we could begin growing our own food. I hoped it didn’t come to that, but I’d be ready if it did, even though I didn’t seem to need as much food for sustenance as my brother did.
There were a few other strange things going on with me as well. Over the last month, my body had become harder, leaner and I was becoming abnormally strong. Yesterday, while we were at a store in town, I’d needed to get into the pharmaceutical supply room to get Mason some prescription strength cortisone cream to treat a rash he’d gotten from falling into some poison ivy that wasn’t responding to the over the counter stuff—again, thank God for search engines—the room had been locked tight, and I’d knocked the door completely out of the doorframe by simply nudging it with my shoulder. Mason thought it rocked, cheering loudly. It was kinda cool, but I wasn’t going to tell you that this new development in my physiology wasn’t scaring the ever-loving crap out of me, ‘cause it was.
I was afraid that what happened to everyone around here had something to do with government testing; you read about junk like that all the tim
e on the Internet. If my suspicions were correct, I was probably turning into some kind of freakin’ mutant.
“I’m going to go and open the last can of raviolis, you want any?” Mason broke into my thoughts while hopping off my bed.
“No, I’m good,” I said, closing my journal.
“You never eat anymore; are you getting sick or somethin’?” My brother tried not to act too concerned as he shifted from one foot to the other while turning his favorite weathered, red ball cap around backwards on his head.
Getting up off the bed to join him, I said, “I’m fine. Never felt better.” I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. “You don’t have to worry about me, little bro. I’m not leaving you. Ever.” I kissed his cheek.
“Ouch, gah, yuk, get off of me already!” he grumbled, wiping his hand across his cheek.
Laughing, I lessened my grip on him. Didn’t want to bruise the kid. “You love me!”
“Whatever, now come downstairs with me and eat some nasty canned ravioli, dork face.” He shoved against me as I was releasing him.
“Ha ha, I’ll let you get away with that one, you little dweeb, because you LOVE me sooo much.” He grinned up at me. It’s crazy how our name calling made us both feel more normal.
Digging into my pocket, I pulled out a ponytail holder while swooping up my lack luster, dishwater blonde hair, securing it with the band, and then followed my kid brother down to force myself to eat some nasty canned ravioli.
“Is it just me or does canned pasta suck butt?” Mason groaned as he dumped the contents of the can onto a paper plate. We didn’t do dishes anymore. We only used paper products which a few months ago we thought was terrific, but now that the trash was piling up and we no longer had a trash service, it was beginning to draw out all kinds of animals in search of food.
I kept my bow with me at all times when we left the house. I never thought that all those years in an archery club would come in handy one day. Oh, and by the way, I was totally into archery before The Hunger Games ever hit paperback or the big screen. I wasn’t one of those chicks that decided to play at it because it was now the cool thing. No, I was a serious competitor and my aim has always been superb, if I did say so myself.
If we ever had to hunt, the kill wouldn’t be the problem; the cleaning and processing would be. Thankfully, hunting was part of our daily lives living in the country; Dad and Grandpa were avid hunters and had exposed us to it at an early age. I didn't have the aversion to shooting Bambi like some girls my age might, yet they’d always handled the cleaning and stuff.
Mason would need more protein in his diet to grow properly. Surely he and I would figure it out soon enough.
“Hey, I was thinking.” Mason began after finishing his meal. He sat on the sofa with a pile of blankets on top of him as he played a video game. “What happens when the gas stations around here run out of fuel? I mean, think about it, eventually all the stations will run out of fuel at some point and then where will we be? I mean, sure we can move around from place to place for a while, but one day we’re going to have to have some kind of plan.”
Thunder sounded overhead, causing my pulse to quicken as I leaned against the back of the sofa. “We’ll have a plan,” I commented absently as the lighting flashing outside drew my attention, causing me to walk directly toward the large bay window in our living room. It was as if it was calling to me, and ironically, it didn’t feel weird, it felt good. Lately, the crack of thunder or a flash of lightning gave me the desire to ride out into the storm, which I knew was crazy, but I couldn't fight the weird compulsion. Tonight was worse than the other times.
“What kind of plan?” I vaguely heard Mason ask over the loud crack of thunder. I couldn’t focus on his words; all I could focus on was my draw to the lightening. I could no longer fight the urge; I had to get out there in it.
Hurrying to the front door, I swung it open, knowing the energy in the sky was what I needed more than anything else on the planet. Running out into the rain to settle myself in the center of the front yard, I lifted my arms into the air, summoning the lightning. Yes, I said summoning. How I knew to do this? I haven't a clue.
I panted as I anticipated the rush of energy flowing inside my body, fueling me in ways I’d yet to experience. Then it happened; lightning struck and my body violently shook with the force of electricity, and in an instant, all the breath left my body. I tried to hold on to the current, but it proved to be much more difficult than I had anticipated. I couldn't contain it any longer. The ecstasy lasted only for a few moments then my body spasmed with aftershocks.
Blinking a few times, I focused on my brother staring at me from the front porch. “Dang, what the heck was that?”