GENESIX: THE TRILOGY Read online

  GENESIX: THE TRILOGY

  THE FIRST THREE GENESIX NOVELS, THE BEGINNING, DYSTOPIA, AND TAPESTRY, ALL UNDER ONE COVER

  GREG LOGAN

  AUTHOR OF THE FRANKEN & STOKER SERIES

  GENESIX: THE TRILOGY

  Copyright 2013 by Bradley A. Dennison

  All Rights Reserved

  GENESIX: THE BEGINNING

  Copyright 2012 by Bradley A. Dennison

  GENESIX: DYSTOPIA

  Copyright 2013 by Bradley A. Dennison

  GENESIX: TAPESTRY

  Copyright 2013 by Bradley A. Dennison

  Excerpt from WOLF, Copyright 2013 by Bradley A. Dennison

  GeneSix: The Trilogy is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Meg Logan

  This edition was previously published under the pen name Brad Dennison

  FORWARD

  What you have before you is actually the first three novels to the GENESIX series. The first novel, titled THE BEGINNING, is a little different than most novels in that it is actually what folks in the business call a fix-up novel. By this we mean a handful of shorter pieces linked together with some additional material. As such, rather than telling a single story from beginning to end, it’s actually a few stories linked together. THE BEGINNING is also an origin story. It introduces the main characters and gets the ball rolling on some story arcs and situations that are part of the GENESIX series.

  The next two parts of this collection, DYSTOPIA and TAPESTRY, are part of what I call the Alien Invasion arc. They are not fix-up novels, but more conventionally put together.

  These characters have been part of my life for a long time. But they are a diverse group of characters and going through some hard times. As such, these stories are comical in some places, in other places action-packed, and can be somewhat dark at times.

  One problem we indie writers have is lack of access to good, effective editing. We muddle through the best we can, but writers do not make the best editors. On top of that, I am dyslexic enough that sometimes words such as “the” get typed as “teh.” As such, I ask that you be patient with any typos you might find. I hope they don’t distract from the stories, but this is the reason for the rather low price of $2.99 for a collection of three novels.

  Greg Logan

  Buford, Georgia

  March, 2014

  Contents

  GENESIX: THE TRILOGY

  Copyright

  FORWARD

  GENESIX: THE BEGINNING PART ONE CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PART TWO CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  PART THREE CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  PART FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  PART FIVE CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  PART SIX CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  EPILOGE ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  GENESIX: DYSTOPIA ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  GENESIX: TAPESTRY ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  A PREVIEW OF WOLF ONE

  TWO

  GENESIX: THE BEGINNING

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  He was human, once. But that was long ago.

  He had been a child. He had run and played. He had gone to school and climbed the monkey bars at recess and threw a ball around with the other boys. Never girls, though. Girls had cooties and you stayed away from them.

  Then he grew and began leaving his childhood years behind, and was eventually knocking on the door of adolescence. And he discovered strangely, girls no longer seemed to have cooties. It was kind of cool how their hair sort of flowed over their shoulders and some of them had hips that were getting kind of curvy. He would watch the girls walk away, seeing how their butts kind of swayed back and forth as they moved. He wondered how he had never noticed this before.

  In the eighth grade, he found there was one girl he thought about way too much. Sondra Schwartz. Something about the way her hair sort of fell into her face and she had to keep sticking her lower lip out to blow the hair back up and away. And her hips did that to-and-fro thing when she walked. He never had the nerve to talk to her, though. She was kind of tall, and he was maybe four inches shorter and had funny-looking glasses, and she never looked twice at him. So he watched from a distance.

  This was what he was doing one afternoon - watching from a distance as Sondra and a couple friends walked along a sidewalk. They were talking, their heads tilting a bit in this way or that as they did so, and an occasional hand would be lifted and flipped one way or another. He heard Sondra’s musical laugh. Man, he was smitten.

  He was standing on the sidewalk focusing intently on Sondra, and wasn’t aware of the three coming up from behind him. The bullies. Dirk Gardner had a buzz cut and wide shoulders for an eighth-grader (it was said he had stayed back at least once, and was really almost fifteen), and played on the school football team. Rance Milton was long and skinny and had a smile like a shark. He tagge
d along with Dirk wherever he went. He was given respect he never earned because he was one of Dirk’s cronies. And Mark Howard. Mark was usually a fairly decent kid, but he sometimes hung around with Dirk and Rance when he was bored just to see what kind of trouble they were going to stir up.

  “Now it’s time, puke-head,” Dirk said to the boy with glasses. “I said I was gonna break those glasses in two, and now I’m gonna do it. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  The boy tried to stand tough. After all, Sondra was still within listening distance. He couldn’t let her see him cower down. Not this time.

  He had been pushed around by Dirk and Rance for years, and cowering down had been how he stayed alive. They had done things like plant him upside down in a trash can. They pushed him fully dressed into the shower in the boy’s locker room once, so he had to go through the day dripping wet. But by cowering down and not getting Dirk and his friends too mad at him, they had never actually beaten him up to the point of breaking bones.

  But he was no longer a little kid. He was almost a young man, and Sondra was within listening distance.

  Dirk said, glancing with a smile toward Rance, “And you know what else I’m gonna do? I’m gonna twist this loser’s arm around his back until he cries like a little girl. That’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna make him cry like a little girl.”

  Rance was smiling like a shark. “Yeah. Do it.”

  Oh no, the boy with the glasses thought. There was nothing he could do. And Sondra was within listening distance.

  Wait, there was one thing he could do. Her back was to him, so she wouldn’t see what he did.

  He turned and ran like hell. Ran as fast as his feet could move. He had been carrying a couple text books, but he just let them fly. He gave all he had into achieving the best speed he could. He had to get enough of a head start on Dirk and Rance and Mark that they might not bother to chase him down.

  He was so afraid and trying to move so quickly that he didn’t hear the screeching tires until it was too late. He didn’t even feel the impact. He had a brief feeling of flying, and then he was crashing to the pavement.

  Dirk and Rance and Mark just stood, their mouths hanging open. The three girls walking turned to look over their shoulders, and one of them said, “Oh, my God.” And they stood, staring.

  Dirk turned and charged away. After all, if he wasn’t there when the cops arrived, then maybe no one could claim it was his fault. Rance was not quite as quick a thinker as Dirk, so he stood a moment longer and then turned and ran after Dirk.

  Mark stood alone on the sidewalk, staring at the boy lying on the pavement. The boy’s eyes were shut and his head was resting in a puddle of blood.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The boy awoke in a hospital bed. His head was wrapped in a white bandage all the way to his cheekbones.

  “Mother?” he said, in a small, weak voice. He had intended to cry out, but a whimpering squeak was about all he could manage.

  He heard the warm voice of the woman who was for him the center of his life. “It’s all right, my son. I’m here.”

  He realized his neck was in a brace, and he could feel nothing below his shoulders. He was breathing on his own and could speak a little, but that was about all. He could somehow sense she was touching his hand though he couldn’t feel it.

  “Mother..,” he said, in a small voice.

  “You were in an accident,” she said.

  “Am I dead?”

  He could hear the smile in her voice. “No, no. You’re here with me.”

  “Everything is so foggy. So hazy.”

  “It’s the drugs. You’re full of painkillers.”

  “Mother? It’s so dark.”

  “I know. You had a terrible injury. They say you were bleeding inside your head, and they had to operate. Your head is bandaged.” She had always told him she would tell him the truth and she did so now. The warmth of her voice somehow had a soothing effect and made the truth easier to take.

  He said, “I can’t feel anything.”

  “The doctors said that might be a possibility.”

  “Will I ever get better?”

  “They don’t know. But we hope so.”

  And yet, he could somehow feel things. He knew the sheets were covering him to his chest. He knew there was another bed in the room but it was empty. And he knew the lights were on. He could feel them above, in the ceiling, radiating down on him. Their luminescence felt hot on his face. In fact, almost uncomfortably hot.

  And he could feel the darkness. Swirling about, at first around him and then within him. But he was not afraid. Somehow, the swirling darkness felt comforting.

  “It’s dark,” he said. “But it’s okay.”

  He could hear tears in his mother’s voice. “What’s happening to you is similar to what happened to me. It just affected me differently. It affects every one of us differently.”

  She reached for his hand, but hers passed through his like it wasn’t even there. He felt like his hand was somehow fading. Like he was somehow fading. He now no longer felt like he was even in the bed, but instead somehow above it, beside it, and even beneath it. He was all around.

  “The lights are getting dimmer,” she said. “Are you doing that?”

  “I don’t know,” the boy said, his voice now strong. “Mother, what’s happening to me?”

  “It’ll be all right. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.”

  He knew she always would be. She loved him more than she loved anything else. That was one thing he had in this world, one thing he realized many other kids did not. Maybe that was why Dirk and Rance hated him so much.

  He remembered he had been running from them when a car struck him. But they no longer mattered to him. What now mattered was he was somehow flying about the room, somehow filling the room with his presence.

  It was dark outside. Must be night, he thought. One window was open a crack and he slipped through it and was suddenly outside. Moving. Flying. One moment he could swirl about almost like some sort of living fog, and the next he could zip across the city, moving almost as fast as the speed of thought itself.

  Dirk was sitting on the back porch of his house, with Rance. Dirk had a cigarette going.

  Rance was saying, “Do you think that little puke is gonna live?”

  Dirk shrugged.

  Rance said, “What if he dies? What if they blame it on us?”

  Dirk pulled the cigarette from his mouth. “The only ones mighta seen us would be them girls.”

  “What if they talk?”

  “They won’t talk.”

  “How do you know?”

  Dirk shrugged. “Maybe I should see to it. Besides, that tall one, she’s kind’a cute.”

  “Sondra?”

  “Yeah. Maybe I should just pay her a visit. Let her know it would be real smart for her not to have seen us.”

  “What’re you gonna do?” Rance was giving his shark grin. “Smack her around?”

  Dirk shrugged. “I’m gonna let her know I mean business. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

  The boy who had been in the hospital room only seconds before was now sort of hovering in front of them. They couldn’t see him, as he was now part of the darkness just beyond the circle of light from the outdoor lamp mounted above the back door. He couldn’t come any closer because the light was a little too bright. It’s radiance actually seemed to hurt. And then he realized he could do something about that.

  He expanded himself out to the light and began blocking it off. First a little at a time, then more.

  “Hey,” Rance said. “Is it getting darker out here?”

  “Naw, man. You’re nuts.”

  The boy continued to block off the light.

  “Hey,” Dirk said. “It is getting darker out here. The wirin’ in this old place is shot. My old man’s always saying it is. Fuses blow all the time.”

  Now it was much darker in the back yard, and the boy realized he could pull himself
together to almost stand on the ground in front of them.

  He wondered if he could speak. He thought he would try. He said, “Don’t touch Sondra.”

  His voice didn’t sound like his own. Like it used to. It now sounded somehow alien. It was deep and it had resonance, almost like it filled the night. And Dirk and Rance surely heard him.

  Dirk looked up suddenly. Rance was on his feet. Rance said, “Who said that?”

  The boy said, “The problem with you, Dirk, is you’ll never stop. You’re the kind who will never stop hurting others until finally someone stops you.”

  “All right,” Dirk said. “Who is this? Where are you? Come on out or I’ll pound you in the face.”

  The boy said, his newfound baritone seeming to come from all around them, “I’m someone who is going to stop you.”

  “I don’t know who you are, dickwad, but you can’t stop me unless you stop hiding and come out.”

  The boy was standing right in front of them but they couldn’t see him. How cool, he thought.

  The boy reached out to Dirk. He reached inside of Dirk. He didn’t know how he knew he could do this, but he did it. He reached into Dirk’s mind. And he brought darkness down onto Dirk.

  Dirk’s eyes suddenly opened wide and the breath caught in his chest. His cigarette fell to the ground.

  “Dirk,” Rance said. “What’s wrong?”

  The boy simply increased the darkness. Turning it up a notch. Darker, and then even more dark. There was no limit. Well, yes, there probably was. Some sort of absolute darkness. He didn’t know if he could reach that far, but he found he didn’t have to.

  Dirk screamed, but only in his mind. Only the boy could hear it. Rance sat, staring at his friend.

  “Dirk, are you all right? Dirk?”

  Dirk’s eyes were wide open and he was staring but not seeing. A little strand of spittle leaked from his mouth. He began to fall sideways and then rolled onto the ground. He was breathing and his heart was beating, but that was about all. His mind had gone completely empty.