Warden Fall Page 5

  Maya let his words sink in. Was it possible? Was Tommy Moore capable of such a thing? She scanned the crowd, taking in hundreds of terrified faces around her. So much hope, so much potential. How many other lives would be touched by the horrors of this day?

  Her gaze fell on Eric, whose eyes were trained on the place she once stood. Even in all this commotion, his focus was still on her. “Will Eric live?”

  Darius shook his head. “No. It’s a shame, too.”

  “He would have made the Olympic team, wouldn’t he?”

  A sigh permeated the silence around them. “No. Eric was to have a car accident soon after graduation, forcing him to give up the sport. He would have gotten married eight years from now, and his daughter would have been known as the president who nearly eradicated hunger.”

  Maya lowered her gaze. Part of her wondered if that child would have been hers, but none of that really mattered now. Her stomach churned, threatening to empty over the intense pressure building within her.

  “This is insane. Please help me do something. I can’t let all these people die because of me.”

  “I cannot.” Darius’s gaze rose to the plane. “Once a millennia, an example must be made.”

  “An example? What do you mean?”

  He drew in a deep breath and let it loose slowly. “This is called Warden Fall. It is a warning to all our kind of what will happen if they shirk their duties.”

  Her eyes widened. “But I’m not shirking anything! I’m right here. I want to help!”

  Darius shrugged. “Without your power, there’s really not much you can do.”

  “Then give me my power back.” She spun toward him. “Let me fix this!”

  The people around her moved a fraction of an inch and stopped. The plane fell a step closer to the ground as time struggled to progress around them.

  “I’ve told you. One warden cannot control another. I cannot give you your power back.”

  “Then why are you here? To taunt me? To let me know what a huge failure I am before I die?”

  Eric’s hand fell slightly, his expression changed, but the rest of his body held firm like a statue.

  “Time is resuming, Maya. No one can stop that.”

  Hundreds would die here, plus how many more from cancer? And how many more in the future from starvation? Guilt dripped through her like molten lead. “I need to do something.”

  Darius backed away as the crowd shifted about him before they stilled once again. “Search your heart, Maya. What is still a warden in you will know what can still be done.” He tipped an imaginary hat and disappeared.

  “Wait! Darius!”

  Time began to resume around her, considerably decelerated, but constant.

  People slowly moved toward the exit.

  Eric reached for her.

  The plane eased down in slow, scorching fury.

  Tommy Moore turned from the game and followed others running from the field.

  But he wouldn’t make it. None of them would.

  This couldn’t be allowed to happen. She had to do something.

  Pushing against the densely packed people, Maya made her way to the announcer’s booth and to the ladder used to maintain the equipment mounted to the roof. Eric shoved through the crowd toward her in slow motion, his expression both panicked and bewildered.

  Mustering all of her courage, Maya pulled herself onto the roof as Eric reached the ladder below her. Time sped, and the fire began to flicker around the falling plane like the choppy shutter of an old movie camera. Sound returned, and the drilling of the jet engines rattled through the sky. Slow-motion screams met her ears.

  Maya’s hands formed fists as she screamed into the sky. “What do you want me to do?” Her voice was muffled beneath the cacophony around her. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

  Eric’s head peeked up above the top of the ladder, his eyes wide, his face set in a grimace. He didn’t deserve to die. None of them did.

  “All right,” Maya screamed. “I made a mistake. I get that, now.”

  The plane stepped closer to the field.

  “I was selfish, and it was wrong. I shouldn’t have wished my power away.”

  A baby cried below, clutched in its mother’s arms as the woman moved one step closer to the exit. How much time did they have to get to safety?

  Not enough, because the one person Fate chose to protect everyone had let them down.

  Tears formed in Maya’s eyes. “Please give me another chance.” She whispered this time. “I’ll do what you want. Please don’t let all these people die because of me.”

  A flood of white light blasted from the sky. Sparkling jolts surged through her fingertips, up her arms and exploded within. She stumbled from the burn before righting herself and drawing on the heat’s power. An infinite swath of strength and understanding seeped through her, sinking into every cell, jolting her with energy so beautiful she had to choke back tears. It was love, bliss, and perfection. How hadn’t she recognized the warden power for what it really was? Not a curse, but a promise: her promise to do everything in her unimaginable power to set things right.

  Her sight blurred, and she stripped her now useless glasses from her face, throwing them into the empty stands below. The heaviness on her soul lifted, and her heart tingled within her chest as her muscles strengthened and her lungs filled with sweet, fresh air.

  Eric jumped to the rooftop. “Maya!”

  The roar of the engines encompassed the crazed fury around them, dulling all other senses as time resumed to normal. Maya threw her hands to the sky, warding off the catastrophe with the sheer strength of her will. The plane skipped across the air over the grid iron as if the field were protected by an invisible dome. The fuselage tilted up as the plane careened toward the ground. The blazing wing broke free as the rest of the aircraft skipped over the edge of the forest behind the high school.

  The football teams scattered, and Maya’s face singed from the heat of the fire as the broken wing slammed into the visiting team’s empty end zone. Rolling with demonic fury, the wing seemed bent on crushing the fleeing crowd. But Maya stopped the forward momentum with a raise of her hand. The wing stilled, resting on the scorched grass. One engine still screaming, the body of the plane disappeared behind the trees. The impact shook the bleachers and rocked the announcer’s booth. Maya stumbled back and fell onto the rooftop.

  “Holy shit!” Eric’s voice was barely audible over the explosion. He folded his body around hers, shielding her from the fire’s pummeling heat.

  Maya clutched his shirt. She’d done it! She’d stopped the plane from crashing into the bleachers. It was too fantastic to believe!

  Another explosion billowed over the trees, rumbling the building below them. Maya buried her head in Eric’s chest until the fiery cloud dissipated and she could raise her gaze once again.

  “I can’t believe we’re still alive,” Eric said. “Did you see how that plane changed direction right before it hit? That pilot deserves a medal or something.”

  Across the field, Tommy Moore helped the injured away from the massive fallen wing burning near the broken goal posts.

  He and Eric were both still alive.

  Them, and hundreds more who would have perished.

  For what it was worth, the future was now back on track.

  Eric pulled her to her feet. “Are you okay? What were you doing up here?”

  Maya shook her head. “I don’t know. Just getting a better view of the game, I guess.”

  “I bet you didn’t expect a view like that.”

  He hugged her, and she melted into his embrace. She wished he’d never let her go.

  No! She didn’t wish that. She wished he’d continue doing whatever he wanted to do. Forever.

  His grip tightened, his arms warming her more than the raging fire. She hadn’t wished Eric on top of this building. He wanted to be here, holding her. That simple
reality made his embrace that much sweeter, and that much more real.

  Maya wanted to freeze this moment, but she wouldn’t. She wanted to soak in this wild swirl of sensations. She wanted to be here with Eric, not look at him like a still picture. Life was something to experience. To live. Not watch as others lived for you.

  Eric turned back to her. “You know, there may be survivors. Maybe we should go out there and try to help?”

  Flames shot out over the trees past the fifty-yard line. Of course they should look for survivors. This wasn’t over yet. Even though for her, in a way, it was. The old Maya was gone, left in the past. The new Maya was here, ready to take on whatever her realm required. And right now, nothing was more important than the people still alive in that plane.

  She leaned away and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. We need to help.”

  Sirens screamed in the distance, cutting through the roar of the fire as they made their way toward the trees.

  The future hung before them, opaque and as ephemeral as the smoke rising into the clouds.

  Destiny wasn’t set. Not anymore, at least. The warden strength swirled within Maya, burning and growing with enumerable power and knowledge. She accepted her task, relished it.

  She could do anything, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid.

  A Note From The Author

  Hi! I hope you enjoyed Warden Fall. As a special treat, I’m including the first five chapters of my full length novel, FIRE IN THE WOODS at the end of this ebook. Enjoy!

  Please Review

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  More from this author

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  Acknowledgements

  A big old alligator nod to the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pens, a group of authors who bounce ideas off each other, cheer each other’s successes, and stick their tongues out at failure. I’d never knock any of you off the top of the pyramid, I promise.

  And special thanks to J. Keller Ford for helping out with the edits on this (again).

  About the author

  Jennifer M. Eaton hails from the eastern shore of the North American Continent on planet Earth. Yes, regrettably, she is human, but please don’t hold that against her.

  While not traipsing through the galaxy looking for specimens for her space moth collection, she lives with her wonderfully supportive husband and three energetic offspring. (And a poodle who runs the spaceport when she’s not around.)

  During infrequent excursions to her home planet of Earth, Jennifer enjoys long hikes in the woods, bicycling, swimming, snorkeling, and snuggling up by the fire with a great book; but great adventures are always a short shuttle ride away.

  Who knows where we’ll end up next?

  Hey you!

  Don’t be a stranger. Come visit me on social media, or I may get lonely.

  Email | Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon

  By the way,

  Thanks for reading!

  I hope you enjoyed the book.

  FIRE IN THE WOODS Preview

  By

  Jennifer M. Eaton

  1

  The walls shook.

  My favorite sunset photograph crashed to the floor. Again.

  Why the Air Force felt the need to fly so low over the houses was beyond me. Whole sky up there, guys. Geeze.

  I picked up the frame and checked the glass. No cracks, thank goodness. I hung the photo back on the wall with the rest of my collection: landscapes, animals, daily living, the greatest of the great. Someday my photos would be featured in galleries across the country. But first I had to graduate high school and get my butt off Maguire Air Force Base.

  One more year—that’s all that separated me from the real world. The clock wasn’t ticking fast enough. Not for me, at least.

  Settling back down at my desk, I flipped through the pages of August’s National Geographic. Dang, those pictures were good. NG photographers had it down. Emotion, lighting, energy …

  I contemplated the best of my own shots hanging around my room. Would they ever compare?

  Another jet screamed overhead.

  Stinking pilots! I lunged off the chair to save another photo from falling. The entire house vibrated. This was getting ridiculous.

  Dad came in and leaned his bulky frame against my door. “Redecorating?”

  “Not by choice.” I blew a stray hair out of my eyes. “Are they ever going to respect the no-fly zone?”

  “Unlikely.”

  “Then next time you have my permission to shoot them down.”

  “You want me to shoot down a multi-million-dollar jet because a picture fell off the wall?”

  “Why not? Isn’t that what the Army does? Protect the peace and all?” I tried to hold back my grin. Didn’t work.

  He grimaced while rubbing the peach fuzz he called a haircut.

  So much for sarcasm. “It was a joke, Dad.”

  A smile almost crossed his lips.

  Come on, Dad. You can do it. Inch those lips up just a smidge.

  His nose flared.

  Nope. No smile today. Must be Monday—or any other day of the week ending in y.

  The walls shuddered as the engines of another aircraft throttled overhead, followed by an echoing rattle.

  Dad’s gaze shot to the ceiling. His jaw tightened. So did mine. Those planes were flying way too low.

  My stomach turned. “What—”

  “Shhh.” His hand shot out, silencing me. “That sounds like …” His eyes widened. “Jessica, get down!”

  A deafening boom rolled through the neighborhood. The rest of my pictures tumbled off the walls.

  Dad pulled me to the floor. His body became a human shield as a wave of heat blasted through the open window. A soda can shimmied off my desk and crashed to the floor. Cola fizzled across the carpet.

  My heart pummeled my ribcage as Dad’s eyes turned to ice. The man protecting me was no longer my father, but someone darker: trained and dangerous.

  I placed my hand on his chest. “Dad, what…”

  He rolled off me and stood. “Stay down.”

  Like I was going anywhere.

  As he moved toward the window, he picked up a picture of Mom from the floor and set it back on my dresser. His gaze never left the curtains. How did he stay so calm? Was this what it was like when he was overseas? Was this just another day at the office for him?

  The light on my desk dimmed, pulsed, and flickered out. The numbers on the digital alarm clock faded to black. That couldn’t be good.

  Were we being attacked? Why had we lost power?

  The National Geographic slid off my desk, landing opened to a beautiful photograph of a lake. The caption read: Repairing the Ozone Layer. I would have held the photo to the light, inspected the angle to see how the photographer achieved the shine across the lake—if the world hadn’t been coming to an end outside my window.

  I shoved the magazine away from the soda spill. My heartbeat thumped in cadence with my father’s heavy breathing. “Dad?”

  Without turning toward me, he shot out his hand again. My lips bolted shut as he drew aside the drapes. From my vantage point, all I could see were fluffy white clouds over a blue sky. Nothing scary. Just regular old daytime. Nothing to worry about, right?

  “Sweet Mother of Jesus,” Dad muttered, backing from the window. His gaze shot toward me. “Stay here, and stay on the floor. Keep the bed between you and the window.” His hands formed tight fists before he dashed from the room.

  A
nother plane soared over the roof, way too close to the ground. My ceiling fan swayed from the tremor, squeaking in its hanger.

  I trembled. Just sitting there—waiting—it was too much. I clutched the gold pendant Mom gave me for my birthday. If she was still with us, she’d be beside me, holding my hand while Dad did his thing—whatever that was.

  But she was gone, and if all I could do was cower in my room while Dad ran off to save the world again, I might as well forget about photojournalism right now.

  Wasn’t. Gonna. Happen.

  Taking a deep breath, I crawled across the floor and inched up toward the windowsill. Sweat spotted my brow as my mind came to terms with what I saw.

  Flames spouted over the trees deep within the adjacent forest, lighting up the afternoon sky. The fire raged, engulfing the larger trees in the center of the woods. I reached for my dresser to grab my camera and realized I’d left it downstairs. Figures.

  I gasped as the flames erupted into another explosion.

  The photojournalist hiding inside me sucker-punched the frightened teenager who wanted to dash under the bed. This was news. Not snapping pictures was out of the question. I flew down the stairs. The ring of the emergency land-line filled the living room as I landed on the hardwood floor.

  Dad grabbed the phone off the wall. “Major Tomás Martinez speaking.”

  The phone cord trailed behind him as he paced. His fingers tapped the receiver rhythmically—a typical scenario on the days he received bad news from the Army. I stood rapt watching him, hoping he’d slip up and mention a military secret. Hey, there’s a first time for everything. I’d have to get lucky sooner or later.