Ride the Lightning Sherri L. King For D. Trademark Acknowledgements The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft Cartoon Network: The Cartoon Network LP, LLLP Chevy Impala: General Motors Corporation Coke: The Coca-Cola Company Glock: Glock, Inc. Godiva: Godiva Brands, Inc. Hilton: Hilton Hospitality, Inc. Powerball: Multi-State Lottery Association Prologue “Are you sure you want to do this? You haven’t explored the surface in many decades. A lot has changed in that time. More than you know,” Flare said, glancing at him with some concern. “That is precisely why I am going. It has been far too long since I truly explored the Territories,” Pulse explained patiently. “I wish to once again look upon the world and remember why we battle so hard to keep the Earth and its people safe.” Flare sighed wearily. “Does this have anything to do with the night we went to Isis’ family home?” Pulse sighed heavily. “Partly,” he admitted. “That night I saw how evil and malicious humans can be towards each other. It has, I fear, made me see humans in a different light—one that I know isn’t fair to all. I need to be reminded that not all humans are like that. That the world of the human race is truly worth saving.” “How long will you visit up there amongst the humans?” Flare asked curiously. “As long as I have to.” Pulse packed the last of his clothing in the ancient steamer trunk and closed it with a snap. “I have already informed the Council of my decision and they have agreed that my intentions are just. If there are any emergencies here, I will of course come back at once. But I know the Council can take care of itself and our people. I have no worries that my absence will cause any strife for anyone.” “I will visit often to receive your orders and—” “To check up on me,” Pulse broke in, smiling patiently. “You needn’t worry so, Flare. I am more than capable of taking care of myself.” Flare bowed his head respectfully. “I know you speak the truth, Generator, and I am sorry if I offended you.” Pulse took the handle of the trunk and swung it off the bed. “You know you have not offended me. But I can see right through you. You feel a responsibility towards me. That is as it should be. Though I am your superior, I am also your comrade in arms. We have fought together, bled together and we have a bond that will not be easily shaken. Rest assured, I know you have the best of intentions. But please believe me when I tell you that I will be safe enough on the surface. I have done this before with no trouble.” “But civilization has raced forward in the years since you spent any great amount of time in the Territories. Things are very different now than they were even ten years ago, let alone... what? Fifty, sixty years ago?” Pulse placed a hand on Flare’s shoulder. “I command you not to worry about me. I will adapt—it is what we are all good at.” Flare knew better than to argue further. “I shall look forward to your return.” “You have your orders. Patrol the Territories, look for Daemon activity. I know you well, Flare. I am confident that you will not fail in your duties. I have the utmost faith in you.” Flare nodded and clasped his hand on Pulse’s shoulder in return. “Be well, my Elder.” Pulse smiled and his stern features transformed into a handsome beauty. “I will. And you as well, my friend.” * * * * * Much had changed since last he’d been in the Territories—that was plain the moment Pulse arrived in New York City. For one, there were thousands more people than he expected. There was more pollution choking the air, more loud noises that shrieked in his ears and grated on his nerves, more unrest and antagonism amongst the humans, as if they didn’t trust one another at all. No one made eye contact with him. He needn’t have worn the brown contacts to hide his Shikar eyes after all—no one would have noticed his real eyes anyway. Upon his arrival he went to a hotel, one well lit and with the rooms on the inside. He checked into a suite, astonished at how costly it was to stay even one night. But it didn’t matter. He had endless funds and could well afford it. Still... he was no fool. Money was important in this world, and it seemed one must have much of it to experience any sort of creature comfort. He was disappointed to see how small the room was when he reached it. Pulse was used to wide-open spaces. Lots and lots of space. But this city was so heavily populated he knew he shouldn’t be surprised that they valued their space like a rich commodity. The room would do. He surmised that he probably wouldn’t be spending much time there anyway. Pulse put away his things in the small wardrobe that was provided. There was an odd box on top of the dresser that faced the bed. He studied it carefully and pressed the button labeled “power”. The box flared to life, startling him with the sheer volume of sound coming from what seemed to be deceptively tiny speakers. He found the wand on top of the box without really knowing what it was—it was covered in colorful buttons with captions that meant nothing to him. It was just a bunch of numbers and buttons labeled “channel” and “volume” and “menu”. He didn’t understand how it worked. Pulse simply pressed buttons until the pictures on the box changed and then changed again. At last, with a disgusted grunt, he put the wand down and turned the box off. The lights were bright in the room. Too bright for comfort. He wandered around the room and turned some of them off—the switches he understood from his last visit to the surface world—and the room dimmed to a more pleasant glow, one that he could more easily see in. Pulse went to his window and pushed open the heavy drapes that would protect him from the bright rays of the sun. There was a latch on the window, allowing him to open it a sliver. But only a sliver. He couldn’t understand why humans wouldn’t want to invite more fresh air into their quarters... then he heard the noises of the people and machines below. He had a good view of the city up here on the sixth floor. Lights were everywhere—in the buildings, on the streets, on enormous advertisement boards. Everywhere. Hundreds of cars traveled the black roads, their honking horns loud, even among the din of too many people in one place at the same time. The air smelled heavily of smoke and refuse. The scents were vile—nearly as bad as Europe more than a century ago. Pulse had no idea how the humans could function without suffering major mental and physical health issues because of all the madness. Entranced, he watched the ebb and flow of traffic beneath his window. Indeed, much had changed since he’d been here over half a century ago. He would have to learn the city all over again, and he knew for certain that it would not be easy to acclimate to such an alien environment. He needed to learn much if he was to survive for any length of time here in the Territories of Earth. Pulse was eager to get started. He turned away from the window and left the room without a backward glance. Chapter One Luna Boone was waiting for a tragedy to happen. In her twenty-four years of life she had seen much—and not all of it was pretty. She was used to seeing the very worst side of human nature, the bestial creatures all humans were deep down inside. More than most, she knew that beneath the sliver of our higher brains lies a reptilian brain that wants nothing more than to fight and maim. Luna accepted this, yet still she was hopeful that she could change things. Her hopefulness was naturally sometimes shaken by despair. But she refused to become weak and despondent, as her mother had been. The road to weakness led only to madness, and she just wasn’t ready to give up control of her resolve quite yet. The world was a dark and dangerous place with many hidden secrets and twisted desires. Luna had been taught that since the cradle and she truly believed it some of the time. But she wanted to believe otherwise. Desperately. She wanted to see the beauty and innocence in the world. She knew it must be there somewhere—and she would find it, if only she searched hard enough. Will I be strong enough to see this through? she wondered. Would this be the time that she finally changed things? Her brain itched with questions and none of them had answers, at least none that Luna could see. She would simply have to wait and watch and find out. She glanced at her watch for what must have been the hundredth time since arriving on the street corner in front of the Times Square Hilton. Fifteen minutes left. Luna didn’t know how she was going to prevent it from happening. She’d never before succeeded in changing the outcome of her predictions, only little pieces of them that seemed to have no real effect on the end result. Still, she had to try. She was the only one who knew it would happen and thus it was her responsibility to try and change things. It was her gift and her curse and she must do her part, whatever that was. For many years she’d done her best to prevent the premonitions from coming true, but it had been a fruitless endeavor. Fate, it seemed, was already written and Luna had no idea how to rewrite it. Yet there was still a desperate need in her to try. This, too, was part of her curse. It wouldn’t be easy, fighting to prevent the tragedy. But she would persevere and hold fast to her courage despite the odds, despite the near certainty that she would fail. She always did, even if it didn’t do anyone else any good. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a black shape exit the hotel. Why this shadow caught her attention, turning it away from her true mission, she ...
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