Strange Skies Read online

  First published by Egmont USA, 2015

  443 Park Avenue South, Suite 806

  New York, NY 10016

  Copyright © Kristi Helvig, 2015

  All rights reserved

  www.egmontusa.com

  www.kristihelvig.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Helvig, Kristi.

  Strange skies / Kristi Helvig.

  1 online resource. — (Burn out; book 2)

  Summary: “Tora Reynolds has escaped to a new planet, but must fight against the Consulate and a rebel leader to find and destroy her father’s guns”—

  Provided by publisher.

  Description based on print version record and CIP data provided by publisher; resource not viewed.

  ISBN 978-1-60684-482-3 (ebook) — ISBN 978-1-60684-481-6 (hardcover)

  [1. Survival—Fiction. 2. Government, Resistance to—Fiction. 3. Weapons—Fiction.

  4. Mercenary troops—Fiction. 5. Orphans—Fiction. 6. Science fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.H37623

  [Fic]—dc23

  2014023242

  ISBN 978-1-60684-481-6

  eBook ISBN 978-1-60684-482-3

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

  v3.1

  For Mom

  For everything

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Acknowledgments

  When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.

  Chapter ONE

  Three Months Later

  THE BOY FACED AWAY FROM ME, LOOKING AT SOMETHING IN the distance. His profile showed off short blond hair cut in a military style, which contrasted with the stubble across his jaw. Something about him was familiar and made my heart race. I looked down to find he was holding my hand, and I felt both terrified and safe. A loud sound echoed nearby and he turned toward me. That’s when I saw the gun in his hand. Fear caused my throat to tighten as his eyes locked with mine.

  “Hurry, run. Come with me,” he said. The inflection in his voice made the words sound like a plea.

  My eyes flew open and the dream dissipated. Sweat drenched my body and my teeth chattered. I struggled to pull up the blanket but it, too, was soaked. Pain racked my head as I tried to figure out where the hell I was. Judging by the temperature, I was being held in a giant icebox.

  When I attempted to sit up, my arms refused to support my weight. My eyes fell on a small device near my right hand, and I summoned all my energy to press its red button. The pounding in my head competed with widespread chills.

  A high-pitched beeping of a nearby monitor permeated my consciousness. Goose bumps broke out on my arms as my skin registered the cold air. An extra thin blanket lay on the cot by my feet, yet I couldn’t find the strength to pull it up. My eyes had trouble focusing, and I could just make out the gigantic form coming toward me. A mix of relief and hostility swirled through my brain. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know what it meant.

  “Morning, Miss Sunshine,” the large woman grumbled. “Couldn’t even wait another hour for your dose, could you?”

  I stared back at the red button under my finger. So I’d caused the beeping sound. The woman grabbed my arm as though she expected resistance, but my limb was limp in her hand. Her dark eyes bored into me as she lifted a green med tube and pressed the tip of it to my arm. I swear she smirked as she pressed the injection trigger.

  Instant warmth flooded my veins and my body relaxed. Everything felt right with the world again. Something small nagged at the back of my mind—something I was supposed to do, or remember—but the meds quickly swept the troubled thoughts away. A familiar deep heaviness settled in and my eyelids drooped. Utter bliss and peace filled me, and I yawned as the woman retreated wordlessly from the room. I couldn’t remember my own name if my life depended on it, not that it mattered. I felt great. I could stay here forever.

  A deep voice echoed throughout the room as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I didn’t see anyone, so maybe I was hallucinating. The voice said the same things over and over again. The Consulate serves. The Consulate protects. The Consulate’s weapons help us to protect you. The Consulate is your friend.

  Every once in a while I’d stir awake and swear someone was in the room with me. I caught the scent of wildflowers a few times, yet when I opened my eyes, the room was empty. I drifted back into sleep but couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t really alone.

  I tried to clear my thoughts but whatever meds the woman gave me made my brain feel like mush. I remembered being injured and aboard a ship. A Consulate ship. The Consulate must have saved me from something and brought me here. Was this Caelia?

  The Consulate is your friend.

  I stared up at the faceless voice. The Consulate must be helping me to get better. Then why is that woman so unpleasant? And why can’t I remember anything?

  A brief scan around the windowless room provided little in the way of clues. The walls were definitely not those of a ship. The sparse furniture consisted only of the ramshackle cot I occupied and a rickety bedside table that tottered on three legs. I shifted on the bed and felt the tube between my legs. I stared in horror at the urine-filled bag that it led to. The fact that I couldn’t piss on my own meant I must be really sick.

  Push the button. My finger inched toward the device. Pushing the button would end the headache and icy cold. The large woman would help me. She’d give me medicine to make me feel better. My hand trembled as it touched the button, but I hesitated. Disjointed thoughts raced through my brain. Even scarier than not knowing where I was, was not knowing who I was.

  The deep voice started in again from above. The Consulate serves. The Consulate protects. The Consulate weapons help us to protect you. The Consulate is your friend. I stared at the ceiling and noticed a small device where the voice seemed to be coming from. It stopped suddenly as the sound of footsteps reached my door, followed by hushed voices. I allowed myself to slide back against the pillow and closed my eyes as the door opened. More footsteps came to the side of my bed.

  “She’s an hour past her dose but hasn’t pushed the button. What do you think, doctor?” It was the large woman who had given me the injection of amazing medicine.

  Just open your eyes and she’ll give it to you. Your pain will disappear. I tried to ignore the voice in my head.

  “She’s still out cold and I don’t want an accidental overdose. She’s no good to us dead.” An image of spectacles and a shiny coat popped into my head, but disappeared again. He must be one of the doctors treating my illness, whatever it was. But what did he mean by overdose?

  He felt my pulse and scanned me with something that caused a warm buzzing over my body. I wanted them to leave. The doctor’s hand rested on my arm and a chill went down my spine. He cleared his throat. “Are you awake?”<
br />
  I pretended to stir. “Mmmm.”

  “It’s Dr. Sorokin. How are you feeling?”

  It took so much effort to form words. “I’m not sure. What’s wrong with me? Where am I?”

  Dr. Sorokin glanced at the woman before answering me with a question of his own. “What do you remember?”

  I focused my thoughts but it was all a hazy blur. “All I remember is a Consulate ship but I don’t remember why I was there. I think I was hurt. Why can’t I remember anything?”

  Dr. Sorokin smiled at the woman. The look on his face was smug, almost triumphant. I didn’t like it. “Yes, you were injured. Sometimes trauma can cause memory loss, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it. You are safe now—you’re in a Consulate center on Caelia, the new Earth.” He studied my face, as though waiting for a reaction. “How do you feel about the Consulate?”

  I knew the word Consulate meant something to me, but all I could recall was what I’d heard from the ceiling. I struggled to speak again. “Are they the ones who gave me these meds?”

  Dr. Sorokin’s hand was icy on my arm. I wanted to pull away but didn’t have the strength. “Yes, the Consulate is giving you medicine to help you get better.”

  I started to drift off again but fought it. “Then I think they’re fabulous. I love the Consulate.” My eyes fluttered shut, and I hoped they’d think I had fallen back asleep. All I wanted was this man to take his cold hand off my body.

  He shook my arm but I played dead. Dr. Sorokin sighed and spoke to the woman. “Give her two more hours, max, then wake her. Allan thinks we can safely begin Phase Two. We started too early last time. These drugs should have erased a lot of her memories by now, and she’s so dependent on them that she’ll do whatever we want to get more. We have her just where we want her.”

  The woman chuckled. “Heard her mother was an addict too. Guess we don’t need to worry about this one running away again.”

  They left the room. My brain tried—and failed—to compute what I’d just heard. I had run away from these people? That meant I was a prisoner. I could barely manage to push a button, yet somehow I had attempted to escape this place. And they’d said I was dependent on drugs. That explained why I craved the meds so badly. But the woman’s comment stuck with me. She’d said my mother was an addict too. Mother? Where was my mother?

  I fought off sleep as another wave of exhaustion crashed into me. Whatever Dr. Sorokin had in store for me wasn’t good—I knew that much. The haze started to confuse my brain again, but I pushed through the fog to search for memories. Fractured images swirled, then slowly merged in my mind. Images of a fiery red sun, an army of guns, a boy with blond stubble and a sandpaper voice, a father bent over a notebook, and last, a little girl in a pale flowered shirt. My eyes widened in shock as the pictures crystallized. It took all of my strength to lift my hand and wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead. I opened my mouth and my voice was still weak and scratchy, but I heard myself clearly.

  “I am Tora Reynolds.”

  Though I had no clue how long I’d been held captive, all that mattered was the two short hours I had left before Dr. Sorokin and Nurse Nasty came back for me. It was still hard to comprehend that after refusing meds my entire life, I’d become an even worse addict than my mother. Against my will but an addict nonetheless.

  A fresh batch of sweat poured from my skin, and the throbbing in my head resumed. Was it more sad or funny that though I wanted to escape, I couldn’t help but feel that a “tiny dose” of meds would help the process go more smoothly?

  I surveyed my attire and sighed. The only thing on me was a thermoplastic gown, presumably for easier access to the catheter tubing. That would have to go first. I took a deep breath and pulled out the long, thin tube. I winced as it slid out, mentally filed the task under “Things I Never Want to Do Again.”

  Then I leaned over and checked the drawer in the bedside table, but it was empty. I had a vague recollection of my satchel but it was nowhere in sight. Guess I’d have to make do with the gown. Not that I had much chance of blending in, anyway, with my shaking hands and sweat-drenched hair. The door seemed incredibly far away as I swung my legs to the floor.

  I took an unsteady step and had to lean on the table for support. I tried again and made it two whole steps before my knees buckled and I fell. It was like I was learning to walk all over again. My fingers brushed the cold tile and I inhaled deeply. You can do this, I told myself. Yeah, but wouldn’t it be easier with a little help of the chemical variety? I gritted my teeth. At this rate it would take the whole two hours just to make it to the door. I pushed up from the floor. After what felt like a million shaky steps, I reached it and leaned my head against the cold surface.

  No footsteps sounded outside so I reached for the door handle with bated breath. There was no energetic lock that I could see. It was open. Guess being in a vegetative state for so long had lulled these people into a false sense of security. Good thing, because if it had been locked, I think I would have laid down right there and taken a nap.

  The door opened easily, but it still took a crazy amount of effort on my part. How in the hell was I going to escape if opening a door was problematic? The hallway was clear, but I had no idea which way to go. It wasn’t like they had the flashing exit signs that had lined the halls of Dad’s Consulate building job. Dad’s Consulate job. A whole new host of memories flooded back, and I pushed them away for the time being. I needed to get out of this place first.

  My room was around the center point of the hallway, and it stretched about thirty feet on either side. There were no windows. One direction looked to be a few feet shorter than the other, so I headed that way. It was just as cold in the hall as in my room. Only a few dim lights hung from makeshift holders on the wall.

  The entire building looked primitive in construction, consisting of a dark brown material I’d never seen before. Still, it was an actual building, which meant I’d probably been here awhile. It had to have been several months since I’d been picked up by the Consulate ship. Several months since I’d tried to keep my dad’s bioenergetic weapons out of enemy hands and failed miserably. Guns that only I—and apparently James—could fire. Several months since Kale had landed on that crazy-ass shifting planet, watched James shoot me, and then took off with the guns when the Consulate descended. I saw the lasers from the soldiers’ guns tear into James right before I’d detonated T.O., the most powerful bomb ever made.

  James. The name sent shivers down my spine. When the shivers increased to the point of shaking, I realized that withdrawal, rather than conflicted feelings, was the culprit. My limbs twitched uncontrollably, and I broke out in a sweat yet again. The urge to vomit was overwhelming.

  It was impossible that my skin felt so hot, but I was so cold, like an icy fire ran through my veins instead of blood. Ticktock. I’d killed at least thirty minutes already and was getting nowhere fast. My long-term plan of finding Kale and the guns was toast if my short-term goal of walking didn’t go so well. I pushed myself to take several more steps. There were no other doors in this hallway. I made it to the corner and turned. This corridor was shorter, only about twenty feet long and ended at a door.

  About fifteen feet away from me on the right was another door, but it was the end of the hallway that made my heart skip. Faint light shone from behind it. It had to be an exit. I hobbled along as quickly as possible. The cold feeling had entirely disappeared. In fact, it felt downright toasty. Maybe this was a lull in the withdrawal symptoms. I hoped so because I’d sweated out most of the liquid in my body and would kill for some Caelia Pure.

  I’d gotten about halfway down the hall when I heard a noise from somewhere behind me. I turned around but saw nothing there. As I took another step, other sounds became clearer—footsteps and voices. It was the large woman and someone else. Not the doctor, but the person sounded vaguely familiar.

  They had to be heading toward my room. The sound of a door opening followed by the woman’s loud, p
anicked voice confirmed it. No way had it been two hours, had it? Crap. I attempted to run to the exit, but it ended up being more like a drunken shuffle. I’d never make it.

  The door on my right-hand side was only a foot away. It didn’t have a lock either and was my only shot. They would turn the corner in a second and see me. I lurched for the door. Inside, I shut it and pressed my back against it to keep them out. My legs were rubbery and I knew I couldn’t hold on for much longer. I was out of juice.

  I leaned my head back and looked around the room. It was identical to mine, down to the bed and table. Down to a figure lying comatose in the center of the bed, though the person, at least, had managed to pull the covers up around him. Curious about my fellow prisoner, I stepped toward the bed. It wasn’t like I had the strength to keep anyone out of the room anyway.

  The blanket covered most of his face but his forehead was covered in sweat. At least I assumed it was a “he” due to the short gray hair. It must be close to his next dose time too. The building’s cooling system must have been out of whack—unless they were using a bizarre method of torture by climate control. I reached out and tugged the cover down. Holy mother of god.

  I couldn’t even comprehend what I was seeing. Maybe it was a hallucination from the drugs. His eyes widened in shock and confusion that must have mirrored my own.

  “Tora? Is that you?” his voice croaked.

  I touched his face to make sure it was real.

  “Yes. Yes, Dad. It’s me.”

  Chapter TWO

  DAD REACHED FOR MY WRIST AND ATTEMPTED TO SIT UP. His hand was frail and bony. I helped pull him to a seated position and placed a pillow behind him so he could lean back. He struggled to speak. “They told me you were dead. All this time, I thought you were dead.”

  I squeezed his hand. “They told me the same thing about you.” The fact that he sat here in front of me still wasn’t totally registering. I think it was a combination of shock and the drugs.

  His sunken eyes were so different from the calm, confident gaze I remembered. He’d glance up from his notebooks to wave me into his study, and I’d curl up to read on the bench in his room while he worked, always feeling safe when he was near. Now, he didn’t look like he could protect himself, let alone anyone else. “What have they done to you, Dad? Have they had you all this time?”