Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller Brandon Ellis (ebook reader for comics txt) 📖

The soldier and Slade convened for a moment. Jaxx couldn’t hear them, but he knew instantly that Rivkah had broken out of her cell. He extended a chord of light from his center to hers and wrapped her in his protection. If it worked, he had no idea. Somehow, for some odd reason, his body and mind acted on its own accord and just 'did' at that instance. In his mind’s eye, she tried to shake him off, but he wasn’t going to leave her unprotected while these jackals hunted her down.

Slade took quick steps into the corridor, the door sliding shut behind him.

Jaxx looked at Shaughnessy. “Do you have a way to access the Admiral’s Quarters now?”

“I do, but I don’t.”

Jaxx knew what he meant. “Show me.”

5 Charlotte, North Carolina - Earth

Jaxx’s nephew, and world-class journalist, Drew Avera watched the news, his unused bong in his hand. He’d been ready to take his first toke for several hours, but somehow never made it to that first, blissful hit. His bong just didn’t sing to him like it had before he’d been to Portland, Oregon; before he’d witnessed his mom’s murder.

The world was split in two; there was 'before' and there was 'after'.

And 'after' sucked ass.

It had been several days since the funeral. A funeral only a few Tanner Spring Assisted Living Facility employees cared to attend. Drew was the only family member in attendance. No surprises there. His mother had cut herself off from her friends and whatever family they had left when she pulled her whole, “I am demented and don’t know my own ass from my elbow” routine.

Drew tried to pin the murder on the actual murderers—the G-men who hovered around his mom since the whole 'government evacuating to Callisto' debacle kicked off—but without a working government, and the country in panic-mode and soon to be chaos, he knew nothing would come of it. He’d have to wallow in his anger, exact justice on his own. He’d cracked the so-called 'evacuation' story and he knew damned well he could crack the mystery surrounding his mother’s murder.

Who wanted her dead was simple, his no-good, shit-for brains father; Colonel Slade Roberson. But why? The woman had spent the better part of thirty years faking her own dementia, to stay off Slade’s radar. She’d only stepped up as a good mother to help Drew out of a jam. He hung his head. No matter how he spun it, her death was on his hands. He reached for his lighter, packed the Mellow Kiss-kush into the bowl and settled in for a bong night.

He leaned back against his sofa, papers strewn on the floor and coffee table. He wasn’t relaxed though, half-watching a replay of a rocket carrying the last of the government personnel off Earth soil and to the stars. And with the same story; “They’ll be back for us.”

They wouldn’t. That much he knew.

Why is the military just standing idly by? Shoot those bastards out of the sky.

In truth, what could they do? Could NASA stop them? Maybe NASA was part of the entire United States government evacuation in the first place?

This was all too far-fetched, but somehow real. The world couldn’t believe it if it didn’t happen right under their noses. He took another hit. He needed to get his brain to stop spinning and his nerves firing in all directions.

World News Network's Connor Eves spoke on the tube. His white teeth shone, though his eyelids crinkled in worry and swollen with little sleep. “That was rocket fifty-eight on our count. It left Earth’s atmosphere four days ago, being the last in our ongoing story of Event Hightail.” He looked down and squeezed the ridge of his nose. “In the words of so many famous journalists and reporters, may God help us now.”

It went to commercial.

That was a little dramatic, thought Drew. Why aren’t I being more dramatic?

He took a long, leisurely bong hit, easing up the ball of anger growing in his heart.

He perspired, not from the shock of the day, of the week, or a month of nearly being killed on several occasions, or watching the news, or his mother dying. It was another record heat day. Maybe there was something to this global warming thing.

Yes, it was getting hotter. No, it couldn’t only be because of humans’ atrocities with the environment and fossil fuel addiction. Or, could it? It’s not as if the United States government stuck around to find out. They left. No warning. No public announcement other than letters. And no help for the rest left behind.

Nothing new. Government as usual.

“Drew?” Laura, Drew’s mom, walked in from the kitchen, arms folded across her chest, lips pursed. He’d been having these hallucinations since she died. He didn’t know if it was because of the amount of weed he’d been sucking into his lungs or if it was because his brain, his mind, his body was trying to cope with her death.

“Care to put that bong down?” She stepped over a pile of clothes and grabbed a hold of the bong, setting it down on the only bare spot on the coffee table. “It’s time to go.”

He stared at her, open eyed, mouth agape.

He decided to talk to her this time, though he knew this was a figment of his own imagination. Maybe his brain would answer for her, would give him the explanation he needed. “You think you could have told me? Maybe gave me a warning? A hint that you didn’t have Alzheimer's this entire time? I could have gotten to know you.”

Laura put her hands on her hips. “We can talk about this on our way.”

“On our way? Way to where?” He shook his head. His mind wasn’t cooperating. Drew sat up, his nostrils flaring. “No, we talk about this now.”

Her tone softened. “Who knows what would have happened to you or to me had Slade known I didn’t have Alzheimer’s?”

She would be dead long ago, like she was now.

She