The Omega Children - The Return of the Marauders (A young adult fiction best seller): An Action Adventure Mystery
Authors: Shane Mason
The
Omega
Children
The Return of the Marauders
Book1
Shane A. Mason
Shane A. Mason
All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise without prior permission of the author.
Copyright © 2011 Shane A. Mason.
Cover illustration copyright © Marcel Norkia 2011
Cover illustration from original artwork by Marcel Norkia
Additional artwork copyright © Louisa Beatty 2011 from original artwork by Louisa Beatty
ISBN 978-0-473-19878-7
The Omega Children: The Vahn & The Bold Extraction – book 2
The Omega Children: The Agent of the Diaspora – Book 3
Print & eBook Copies of ‘The Omega Children’ series can be purchased from Amazon, Nook, Kobo & iBooks
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for more information on the books
For Tysyn – my best boy
For Grace – a fountain of laughter
For Maddi – what can I say
For Josie & Tarin – stay strong
Thank you to Jo Davey without whose tireless support and reading, these books would not have been possible. Thank you to Graeme Lay for his valuable input. Thank you to Mike MacDonald, whose teachings in Prema inspired this tale.
I wish to acknowledge a debt of gratitude to Peter Jackson and Holly Lisle, both people I have not met, but whose achievements stirred me enough to step out of the rut and write.
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The Vahn and the Bold Extraction
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The hair on the back of Melaleuca Arrnor’s neck shot up and a shiver ran through her body. She reached for her torch and flicked it on, peering around the upper storey of the half-room, half-balcony. Her cousins, Quixote, Ari and Lexington Arrnor, slumbered away - their shadowy forms strewn across one another like a jumbled litter of kittens.
She rose up and strode to the open balcony and with a sharp stare searched the darkness of their valley and beyond – all the way to the outlines of hills and mountains against a backdrop of stars. A sweet scent of mountain-beech laced the still night air, and she smelt familiar tussock and pine aromas.
She leant out over the balcony’s edge and checked above her. The branches of an over-sized Morton Bay Fig tree stretched beyond the house.
They create a gentle camouflage
, her father had said,
to stop prying eyes
, though from whose she had never been told.
Silence came from the house, and the valley - lots of silence, in fact - too much silence.
A burst of light at the end of the valley spat out into the darkness, followed by a tremendous BOOOOOOOMMMMM! It echoed around the valley and a roaring noise rushed toward Melaleuca. She ducked, and an explosion in front of the house shook the floor and spilt dust from the ceiling. Intense heat swirled past her face.
In an instant Ari’s thickset body appeared at her side. He pushed his woolly bob of hair out of his face and focused.
‘What was that?’
‘It....It was...’
I don’t know
. ‘I...’
‘It’s okay. We’ll work it out,’ Ari said and turned to the others.
She grabbed him, pulling him to face her. ‘It means danger.’
Quixote appeared and wedged his wiry body between them, trying to hog their spot at the balcony’s edge. He craned his head left and right. His bobbing disheveled head formed a silhouette against the star streaked sky.
‘What is it? Is it lightning? Volcanoes? Rockets? Maybe balls of fire from the sky? Well?’
Melaleuca stepped back, listened and tried to focus. She needed a clue, a sound, a glimpse of something, anything that would tell her what to do next. In a few seconds her cousins would turn to her for directions.
‘Ari. What do you think? Quick.’
‘Never heard anything like it.’
Quixote’s silhouetted head moved back and forth.
‘I can’t see a thing. Stinks of farts though. It’s probably just a test. Orrrr… it’s dad on the toilet again.’
Another explosion thundered in the distance, this time followed by a whistling sound that got closer and closer and closer...BOOOOMMM! The explosion knocked them off their feet and they sprawled backwards.
‘Ow,’ Lexington cried out. ‘Get off Quixote.’
Noises and fumbling as if wrestling came from where she lay. ‘Quixote give it back.’
Melaleuca shone the torch in her direction. Like a deer in headlights Quixote froze, grinning, and held a notebook and pen in his hand.
‘Give it back to her,’ Melaleuca said.
Quixote offered the notebook to Lexington, snatching it back each time she reached for it.
Through Lexington’s shamble of waist-length auburn hair Melaleuca could see a hurt look on her face.
‘Now Quixote!’
Ari stepped into the torch light and cuffed him around the head, and he dropped it.
The door to the room flew open, bashing against the wall.
Their mothers rushed in, candles in hand, faces bursting with redness. Beads of sweat trickled down their face, and as they panted and struggled to talk, the flickering candle danced shadows across their worry-lined foreheads. Identical sisters, they all shared the same stricken look of panic.
Melaleuca shone her torch at them.
‘Mum – ’
Lexington leapt up and shoved past her.
‘I think it is a bomb,’ Lexington said, holding up her notebook. ‘I have never seen one but the loud noise, sulphurous smell, dust and shaking ─ ’
Quixote threw himself between the girls, tripped and fell on the floor.
‘It was Dad. He blew ─ ’
‘Listen!’ Lexington's mother yelled. ‘...not a drill...It's real.’
The other mothers nodded and Melaleuca saw the chilling looks they exchanged.
‘What shall we do?’ Melaleuca asked, holding her hand up to her cousins.
Her mother flashed a weak smile at her question, and longing and hurt filled her eyes. Another far-away explosion, this time louder, shook the house and jarred her back to the urgent present.
She produced a backpack and shoved it at Melaleuca and shook a piece of clothing - a bizarre looking suit of two halves and pushed it onto Melaleuca’s body. Zipping up the sides, she enveloped her in a green camouflage suit. Melaleuca faced her cousins and they too had been zipped into similar suits, though their pockets bulged with objects.
As her cousins started to fidget and explore the contents, Ari's mother shouted at them.
‘Explore them later. Follow us. Now!’
She darted out the door and descended the stairs. Melaleuca dashed after her, following her weak candle light, her cousins and their mothers in tow.
Another explosion rocked the house and Melaleuca watched as their mothers blew the candles out, plunging them into pitch blackness. Drifts of acrid smoke wafted inside and the voices of many men converging on their house could be heard.
‘I can't see,’ Lexington said.
‘Shhh,’ said one of the mothers.
‘Neither can I,’ Ari said in a low voice.
Melaleuca felt for her mother though her mother grabbed her first.
‘Everyone, hold on and keep up,’ Melaleuca’s mother said, and launched them through the darkness.
Through the labyrinth of corridors, twisting and turning with uncanny accuracy, they ran, somehow missing objects in the dark. Melaleuca fought the urge to duck and shield her eyes. Each time she slowed down her mother yanked her forward. Soon the many voices, the shouting, and the smell of smoke no longer penetrated deep into the house and they halted.
The noise of Lexington’s pencil scribbled in the dark.
‘Can someone explain ─ ’
‘Wait!’
Melaleuca felt for the front of her mother.
‘What is going on? I want ─ ’
‘I said wait.’
A creaking sound clawed into the silence and the sound of a body throwing itself against the wall accosted Melaleuca’s ears, and then a large “flump” burst forth followed by a rush of cool night air. As their eyes adjusted, the black and gray shapes of distant hills and nearby trees came into focus. The mothers tugged them through the secret escape door one by one.
In the moon-less night, the four mothers stood there checking their children.
‘Where’s Quixote,’ his mother said and turned back to the opening. ‘Quixote. Get out here.’
No reply came.
‘Quixote!’
The other mothers pulled the remaining cousins back, away from the house, and beheld a sight above it. Orange light danced and moved rapidly around, lightly licking the trees and the hillside, casting raw moving shadows - the sort created by a raging fire. Tendrils of smoke plumed into the air and particles like that of burnt wood and paper drifted up amongst tiny incandescent cinders.
Quixote’s mother peered into the black opening.
‘I can't see him I ─ ’
‘How can you see anything? It's dark,’ Lexington said.
Quixote's mother leapt back inside.
‘Go! I will find him and meet you.’
The darkness swallowed her.
***
Excited by the explosions and curious about the smell of gun smoke Quixote snuck back through the house. He tiptoed into the large hall at the front and his eyes widened. The front half of the building sat crumpled on the ground. Clumps of broken wood and stone lay strewn everywhere and fire crept towards him. The flames danced and tantilised him, and compelled to watch, he did not see the fighting outside through the smoke and heat haze.
A loud scream, like that of a man intent on murder, shattered its way through the fiery spectacle. Oblivious to the danger Quixote rushed forward leaping through the flames and landed, singed but unhurt. He squatted behind a pile of splintered wood, awe-struck.
Out of the dark and into the orange fire-lit light, bearded men in furs and leathers barged forward hacking at his father and his uncles with swords and sticks. Shots rang out behind them and in the faint light Quixote saw the outline of a large protruding cannon.
He caught a glimpse of his father speeding past, and then his father stopped and five men dived on him from behind and another five men ran at him from the front. His father spun around and roared through his rear attackers like a charging bull. He slammed two of them to the ground and the remaining three smashed into those attacking from the front and thudded into the dirt. Screaming guttural battle cries, they stumbled and lurched to their feet readying for another attack.
Quixote's father reached down to the unconscious body of one of them and grabbed a sword. Brandishing it, he bellowed back at them, and with blur-like speed, launched himself at them. Five of his attackers fell to the ground, bleeding and groaning, and his father carried on forward, hacking and cutting his way like a mad man into the growing crowd of attackers.
More and more men poured out from behind the cannon barrel and started to swamp his father and his uncles.
Quixote's mother dived on him from behind and latched on to his hand with a vice-like grip and stood. He felt himself launch off the ground and again with uncanny accuracy she tugged him through the darkness, speeding away from the battle. He flapped behind her like a piece of paper on a string, his skinny legs and feet barely touching the ground. He imagined water-skiing felt like this, and an ear to ear grin creased his face.
They dodged and weaved amongst the massive roots of the Morton Bay Fig trees and soon the entire length of their sprawling house had flashed by. The noise and light fell behind him and he felt his mother tug him uphill and head into the forest at a punishing pace. Bushes swished past Quixote's face, swiping at him and wiping muck on him, and undergrowth plants tugged at his legs while small twigs and bendy branches poked at him.
Excitement raced through him.
All these years he and his cousins had been trained to learn through playing - perhaps all this time they had possessed hidden powers as well. He let his mind drift imagining that he was on a safari in the deepest darkest Congo, a place he had never been, fleeing from native attackers faster than a…….
‘Where are you?’ his mother said, snapping Quixote back to the present.
‘Here,’ he said perplexed.
He listened, expecting an answer.
‘Okay, we shall be there soon. Get them ready,’ she said, sounding as if someone had replied to her question.
‘Who were you talking to mum?’
‘Your Aunties.’
‘Didn’t hear them answer.’
‘One day, soon, you will.’
Her voice sounded tired, though she picked up speed a little. As questions of mystery and intrigue filled Quixote's mind, his legs tired and he struggled to keep up. Many questions about their fathers raced around his mind.
‘Nearly there my little one.’
He gave in to the tiredness and let his legs thrash like crazy beneath him, somehow managing to keep going. His thoughts turned to his father and his uncles, and the men they fought. A faraway explosion sounded down in the valley.
‘They're here,’ Lexington said excited into Melaleuca’s ear. Melaleuca turned and saw Quixote and his mother emerge from the bush and enter the small clearing where she and the others had stopped to wait. Quixote approached her. None the worse for his escapade Melaleuca spied his sheepish grin and could tell he was bursting to boast of something. He pawed at the buttons on his pockets and opened his mouth to speak, though his mother dropped to her knees and let out a noise that sounded like a muffled cry. The other mothers rushed to her, causing a look of concern Melaleuca had never seen before to cross Quixote’s face. Unsure how to react he half smiled and half grimaced.
Lexington's mother knelt and whispered to Quixote's mother. Whatever the words were, they propelled her back to her feet, and another explosion, this time bigger, boomed from way below, followed by a victorious cry.
‘I saw it all!’ Quixote flapped his arms large and wide. ‘They were like supermen and ─ ’
His mother’s hand fell over his mouth and she shushed him into silence, and again Melaleuca saw him gaze puzzled at his mother’s grave face.
Ari's mother wheeled about, faced down the valley and said, ‘Okay, we are on our way.’ She paused and in a faltering voice added, ‘I love you.’
The mothers murmured amongst themselves.
Melaleuca stepped up to her mother and her aunties.