DiSemblance

By Shanae Branham

2013 eLit Silver Medal Winner - Fantasy/Science Fiction
Book 1 of the Holoquest Fantasy Series

Jason Tanner lives between two worlds. Problem is, only one is real.

Inside the hologram machine 17-year-old Jason has everything his heart desires, including a digital simulation of his dead mother. While outside the machine, he’s forbidden contact with everyone. Living within the shadow of a serial killer, Jason is captivated by the beautiful girl next door, Boston Manning. Disobeying his father, he secretly cultivates a relationship with her.

For Boston life is divided into those that have and those that have not. Displaced in a new high school, she is determined to have the life she’s always wanted. But will her choices hijack her dreams and plunge her into the treacherous clutches of a serial killer?

As an action-packed romantic thriller, DiSemblance is sure to keep you guessing until the very end.

“A Marvelous, fast-paced thriller, sure to appeal to teen science-fiction aficionados and the uninitiated alike.” ~ Jill Allen, Clarion Review

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shanae Branham
• Release date: Jun 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301354863

Shanae Branham

I am a professional writer with a bachelor's degree in creative writing and a minor in grammar. I have also attended several years of classes and workshops in screenplay writing at the Los Angeles Screenplay writer's Expo.I love suspenseful, action-adventures and clean, young adult, romance stories. I was born and raised in a small town in Idaho. I am the second out of six children. When I was in my early 20's my mother was killed by a drunk driver. This one incident drastically changed my life. I have always had a passion for reading and writing fiction. Owing to a life long struggle with Dyslexia, early teachers discouraged me from pursuing a career in writing.As I have spent over twenty-five years transforming my language disabilities into professional writing skills, God has honed my insatiable passion into an incredible vision.My Christian upbringing has instilled within me the belief that "...with God nothing shall be impossible" (Luke 1:37). This has sustained me through the hard times. Because of my dyslexia, I have had to learn the structure of the English language like math, syntax building block upon syntax building block.I am grateful for this weakness because it has developed in me a skill and love for diagramming sentences, which unfortunately is becoming a lost art.

Book preview

DiSemblance

By

Shanae Branham

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 by Shanae Branham

All rights reserved.

This book is dedicated to the special people in my life

who have given me the courage to succeed with my writing:

My husband, Kirby

My copy editor, Annie Crawford

My beta readers—Denali Branham, Barret Branham,

Sierra Branham, Heather Snelders, Max Snelders,

Gretchen Snelders, Lauren Ritz, Naephe Huntington,

Jan Newman, Linda Cox, Danie Jolley, Michelle Petersen,

Niki Swan, Shelly Wilderness, Rosemary Henderson,

Luetta Robinson, Dabric Baxter, Davis and Jodi Weaver,

Cami Kerns, Tracy Dean, Amber Anderson,

Rebecca Shelley, GayLynn Bohman Richard Norgard,

Rischele Huntington, Mariah Porter, Lindsay Branham,

and Toni Miller.

Dissemblance

~ The state of being disguised

or concealed behind a false appearance ~

CHAPTER ONE

Someone’s Watching

Jason Tanner

Wednesday, October 22nd, night

Orange, gold, and red sunset hues shine through the autumn leaves as I jog along the abandoned trail through Knobs Park. I love moving unseen like a specter through these woods.

Knobs Park is a wild, eighty-acre island amid a sea of civilization. Unrestricted growth boxes the park in on all sides with three subdivisions and a trailer park. I slow, approaching the copse of trees where, three weeks ago, I rescued a mother fox from beneath a fallen tree. Kneeling down beside her den, I feel the weight of responsibility for the life of this gentle creature and her offspring. I watch the kits crawl across the mother’s belly and smile. It feels good to help something that can’t help itself. I reach into my backpack and pull out a Tupperware container of leftover chicken that I prepared for the wounded fox.

A cold touch of dread seizes me. Glancing around, I expect someone to be standing in the underbrush. But no one is there. From above, an odd light flickers like the flash of a camera, but the branches are too thick to see what’s up there.

A tree branch cracks.

I jump to my feet. Who’s there?

Dead silence echoes back, unnerving me. It’s getting dark. I don’t have a flashlight. I don’t want my imagination to get the better of me, but I can’t help it. I dump the chicken on the ground and bolt through the trees, down the trail and across the parking lot to my home—a brick, split-level ranch-style house.

Standing in my yard, I catch my breath. Calm down! The sky has transitioned into night. Streetlamps shine bright yellow dots along the sidewalk. The neighbor next door backs out of his garage onto the road and glances in my direction without a gesture of recognition before driving off. I glance at the woods. The area where I exited the park is empty.

No one is following me.

Dad’s pickup truck pulls into the driveway, and he rolls down his window. Jason, get in.

I climb in. There’s a box of chocolates lying on the seat between us. They were Mom’s favorites. We’re going to see Mom? He nods. We always go at night so people won’t see us. I think about getting my younger brother, Isaac. But Dad doesn’t make him go with us. Something broke inside Isaac when Mom died, and Dad doesn’t know how to fix it.

The ride to the cemetery is quiet. Dad sets the chocolates on Mom’s grave and kneels, bowing his head in respect. It’s been two long years since cancer killed her. I glance at the tombstone. Inscribed on the left side of its gray cement face is JESSIE MAE TANNER, loving wife and mother, with the dates of her birth and death. On the right side is LLOYD FREDRICK TANNER, beloved husband, with his birth date and no death date.

The moon passes behind the clouds. A cool breeze stings my cheeks. The acrid smell of smoke from the old gun factory adjacent to the cemetery wrinkles my nose. My chest aches. I feel cold. I miss Mom. Dad stands beside me, resting his large hand on my shoulder. He’s six feet tall. His salt-and-pepper hair gives him a distinguished look, while his thick jaw adds strength to his face. After growing four inches this past year, I now stand eye to eye with him. She’d be proud of you, I say.

He nods. She’s proud of us.

He’s right. His invention, a hologram machine, will be sold soon.

When we get home, I kick off my shoes and socks, throw my jacket over a chair and step into the kitchen. The refrigerator switches on with a familiar hum. The crowded room smells lemony since I cleaned it earlier this afternoon. I stand taller and smile.

Years ago, Dad shoved our refrigerator, stove and microwave into a corner to leave space for his desk, computer and bookshelves. The kitchen walls are plastered with old designs. I’ve got a copy of every sketch Dad ever drew of the hologram machine. There’s so much love etched into every black line. I remember years of cuddling in his lap as he shared every aspect of his plans for the hologram machine.

Dad sits down at his desk and runs a finger along the frame of Mom’s picture. He was my age, only seventeen, when she got pregnant. They married and settled here.

The blare of the hologram alarm brings me back to the present. Dad installed the alarm to alert us whenever someone missed two meals. Isaac’s been inside the machine too long. Dad doesn’t even look up. Although Isaac and I are only one year apart, it’s my responsibility to care for my brother. I don’t mind being his keeper. It gives me a purpose. I rummage through the freezer, pull out two microwave dinners and nuke them.

Juggling both meals and a pitcher of milk, I walk down the long dim hallway, past the dining room, the grandfather clock, and up the staircase to the bedrooms on the second floor. The frayed, orange carpet is soft beneath my bare feet. The blaring alarm grows louder as I reach the living room. Familiar, dark-paneled walls surround only one piece of furniture—a faded old futon. The green fleece blanket Mom sewed for me as a baby still rests on its back. I skirt the futon and open the door to the programming room.

White tile covers the floor, giving the room a surgical feel. A harsh light flashes across its center, bathing what appears to be a large tanning bed, the energy stabilizer for the hologram machine, in flashing red. Next to the energy stabilizer is an old twin-size mattress. Dad sleeps there whenever he works late. A gigantic monitor covers one wall of the room, while several terminals and the door into the virtual reality room line the opposite wall. We sacrificed the guest bedroom, my parents’ master bedroom and Dad’s old den to fit the hologram machine inside the house.

I set the food down at the nearest computer terminal, turn off the alarm and flashing light and switch on the wall monitor. The screen is connected to the virtual reality room like a window. When turned on, an instantaneous visual and auditory feed flows between the rooms, so Dad can interact with us from the programming room while we’re inside.

Isaac is chatting at a bar with a digital copy friend while a crowd dances behind him. He’s in Dad’s nightclub program. The one Dad designed for Mom’s last Valentine’s Day surprise. He’s not supposed to use Dad’s personal programs, but he does it anyway. I eat my dinner, watching Isaac and his DC buddy. They’re scoping out three beautiful DC women seated at a table near them.

I finish my meal and stand up. There are two ways to enter the virtual reality room: either physically, through a door from the programming room to the virtual reality room; or mentally, by lying prone in the energy stabilizer. I sigh, thinking about which way I should enter. If I go inside the virtual reality room physically, what happens to me affects my body. If I get cut, I bleed. But if I access the machine mentally, my body remains safely tucked away inside the energy stabilizer, while a digital copy of me enters the virtual reality room. My DC can’t be hurt, looks and feels real to the other subjects inside the machine and appears real to the people watching from outside the virtual reality room through the wall monitor.

I enter the virtual reality room through the door. It’s easier to come and go quickly this way. Lights reflect off a large ball attached to the ceiling in the center of the dark room, falling across people swaying to the music beneath it. I push my way through the crowd until I’m close to Isaac. You missed the alarm, again.

I’m busy, he growls.

You’ve got to come eat.

Isaac turns to his friend and softens his voice. "My brother’s pressuring me to leave. You’ve got to ask her to dance now. I’ll ask her friend. Just follow me." Then Isaac speaks to one of the women they’ve been watching. She smiles and takes his hand. He leads her to the dance floor.

I hate it when he ignores me. But I can’t force-feed him. I’ll have to make him leave the program before he’ll consider eating. I push my way back through the crowd and return to the programming room. Seated once more at the computer terminal, my fingers fly across the keyboard. Once I’ve reprogrammed the virtual reality room to my Pompeii surf program, I climb into the energy stabilizer and close the lid. The latch clicks into place and a dull hum signals the system’s activation. When I spend long periods of time inside the machine, I prefer to come into the virtual reality room mentally instead of physically. This way my mind links to the computer, and I can program the virtual reality room from the inside. Otherwise, the programming has to be manipulated manually from one of the terminals.

The only disadvantage to a mental entrance is the extraordinary amount of personal energy it takes to shift programs. That’s why Isaac avoids it entirely. My feet sink into hot sand and my arms are around my favorite Rip Curl surfboard. The wave rolls up the shore, and cool water laps at my ankles. The sky is a brilliant blue. White sand, dotted with patches of coral and rock, stretches for miles. Farther up the shore, Isaac stands alone in the surf. His jeans hang heavy on his square hips as the water rises past his crotch. A surfboard floats beside him. His brown, wavy shoulder-length hair falls away from his cheeks as his blue eyes glare at me. Although we’re the same height, he’s lean and bony while I’m thick and muscular.

I warned you, I shout with as much authority as possible. You know the rules. You’ve been in here all day. I left your dinner outside.

You shouldn’t have changed the program! Jasper just got up the courage to ask that hot chick out.

I hate the fact that Isaac can’t tell digital copies from real people anymore. Jasper’s not real.

Isaac charges. Ramming me in the legs, he knocks the wind out of me as I hit the sand. My mood darkens—lightning flashes and thunder booms. Isaac gets up and kicks my ribs. Hard. I grunt and focus, calling a wave into being to protect myself.

Water rises above us. Isaac looks up in horror. I take a deep breath. The wave crashes over us and breaks against the shore. As it rolls back, Isaac’s sprawled out in the sand beside me. Sitting up, I exhale while he coughs and spits. Screw you!

Screw you, too!

He slams his fist into the ground, slicing his knuckle on a jagged rock. Crying out, he shakes his hand sprinkling drops of blood into the water. Then he pushes to his feet, legs shaking, spies the metal doorknob visible in the air above the water and exits the virtual reality room, slamming the door behind him.

My mission accomplished, I hop on my surfboard, paddle out and ride a fifty-foot wave across the ocean. The adrenaline rush is awesome. I hit several more waves before I focus, calling for a calm sea.

Drifting along, I rise and fall with the gentle swells, soaking in the warm sunlight. The water feels cool and soothing, like it was when I was five and our parents took us on vacation to Maui. I remember Dad sitting with his arm around Mom, watching me take surfing lessons, while Isaac built sandcastles because he was scared of the water.

Change is painful.

Here I control my feelings because I control my relationships. I focus, calling for more action and the water obeys. I paddle toward a large wave, loving the challenge, the feel of the ocean reeling beneath me and the salty taste of the spray.

A buzzer sounds, and a window from the programming room appears above the water. Isaac sits at a terminal. One minute I’m preparing to take a wave. The next I’m standing in a pit of snakes.

My skin crawls. The dry sound of scales rubbing against scales makes my teeth ache. Isaac, stop! I focus and the pit morphs. The snakes vanish, and I’m standing on shore. A cool breeze blows against my bare chest. I glare at Isaac through the window. He avoids my gaze and hunches back down over the keyboard.

I slump as fatigue from the mental exertion weighs on me. It’s not more than a few seconds before the environment shifts again. I concentrate on the shoreline, trying to keep the program from changing, but my efforts aren’t strong enough to keep it stable. I get dizzy as the beach and the snake pit flip back and forth until Isaac relents. I fall to my knees in the sand, shaking uncontrollably. Give up, bro, I shout at the window. My mind’s stronger.

But is your endurance? He shuts the window to the programming room as the beach transforms into sand in all directions. The heat beats down on me, more scorching than an oven. Sweat forms on my skin. I try to get enough strength to leave the desert program—one minute passes, possibly two, but I only seem to get weaker. I give up and switch tactics.

Somewhere, buried near the center of the hologram room, Dad installed a safety protocol device. I pat the sand until I touch a hard, round edge, and follow its circumference to the middle.

I hit it. The virtual reality room shakes as the program’s image flips, blurs and vanishes. Once everything stabilizes, my DC is sitting inside a large room, its walls lined with sheets of riveted aluminum.

The drawing room is part of the safety protocol device Dad built into the hologram machine as an emergency back-up system. It’s what the virtual reality room is like without a running program. Once the safety protocol button is pushed, my brother has to reset the computer before my consciousness can be safely released back into the energy stabilizer.

The window appears and I look out at him. He’s smiling wickedly. What? A glitch in your perfect world?

I would rather sit in an empty room doing nothing all day than beg him for my freedom. A yellow light is flashing, and I can hear the annoying sound of a foghorn. Dad storms into the programming room and sees me inside the drawing room and Isaac at the computer terminal. Boys, stop the horseplay, now!

The metal room goes black as Isaac shuts off the computer and then switches it on again. The strain on me is enormous. I feel as though I’m being pulled apart. When the lights burst on again, I’m standing in the desert. The alarm has stopped.

Do I need to babysit you two?

No, sir, both of us say.

Good. Dad exits the room in a huff.

I have enough energy now to transfer my consciousness to the energy stabilizer. I open my eyes. The hatch is down. I’m lying on my back, exhausted. I take a few calming breaths to slow my racing heart. Then I throw open the hatch, roll out onto the mattress, and fall asleep.

When I wake up the next morning, I feel stronger and more alert, ready to take on more waves. I glance at the wall monitor to see what program my brother is running and frown. Dad is walking hand in hand on the beach with Mom’s DC.

I sit up, torn between revulsion and envy. I miss Mom so much. I want to join Dad inside the virtual reality room, but something inside me screams it’s wrong. The woman Dad is with right now is not Mom. She’s not even a real person, but a collection of photographs and memories Dad gathered to create a computer character. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Dad with Mom’s DC. I know he visits her DC, but I’m never here when he does.

It’ll be a while before you can surf, Isaac says nonchalantly. Dad just got in there.

I look at my brother. He’s seated at the computer terminal working on a DC of his own. The keyboard is spotted with blood from the cut he got inside the machine last night. I get disinfectant and a wipe. He sits back in his chair while I doctor his hand and clean up his mess.

The center monitor in front of us is split into six sections. The DC’s head and torso hang in the two center sections, while her legs and arms rotate separately off to the sides. He’s copying the girl across the street, Boston Manning. I like Boston. She and her mother moved in three months ago. She’s tall, slender and intimidating with her don’t-mess-with-me attitude. She has perfect curves, big green eyes, blonde hair and a smile that stops my heart. I would have asked her out if Dad had not forbidden us to date.

You’re sick, dude.

Dad said I could use his digital-cloning software. Isaac turns the wall monitor off giving Dad his privacy and switches on the monitor to the right of my head. On the screen, a cat crosses the street. I attached my identity detector to the security camera and repositioned it so I could get more visual feed of Boston. An alarm goes off if she’s detected.

I move to my brother’s side. You’re invading her privacy.

Come on, bro, I’m just having some fun. He looks at me. It’s not like I’m peeking in her bedroom window. He types in more commands and then points at the monitor to my left. On the screen, an image of Boston appears, standing in an empty white room. The lower half of her body is fading in and out. I made her better.

Isaac picks up a photo of her and hands it to me. He’s enlarged her face and is pointing at the scar near her left eyebrow. See that? Now look at her DC. Her face fills the screen as he zooms in on it.

The scar’s missing.

He smiles. I can change anything I want about her.

I frown. Don’t mess with her.

Why not?

I like her the way she is. I realize that I’m revealing my feelings so I change the subject. What about her lower half? Why won’t it solidify?

I need more visual data to complete her. An alarm beeps and he grins. Gotcha. He looks from the monitor with Boston’s DC to the screen with the feed from the security camera. On the monitor, the real Boston darts across the street to her yard. She’s wearing dark jeans that hug her curves, a black top and a baseball cap. A camera case is slung over her shoulder. She pauses to look over at our house. We both hold our breath as if she can see us until she turns away from the camera and goes inside.

Where’d she come from? I wonder out loud.

The park, like you.

I place my hands on my hips. What do you mean, like me?

Last night she went into the park before you did and came back right after you came back. This morning she went into the park right before you usually take your morning run. But you didn’t run this morning.

Why didn’t you tell me?

He shrugs. Not my business.

The mention of Knobs Park reminds me of the mother fox. I need to feed her. I turn to leave as Dad exits the virtual reality room. Jason, do you have a minute?

Sure. I follow him into the living room and wait while he collects his thoughts. His arms are shaking and he’s fidgeting with his hands. What’s wrong, Dad?

When he looks at me, his face is ashen. Life’s about to change.

I know— I desperately want to give him hope.

No, you don’t! His outburst scares

Reviews for DiSemblance

[amysbookworld · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Wow. This is a book that gets your brain a working. It's who done it cat and mouse story that takes you from reality into an alternate world. The author did a great job with this story. It is unique and keeps the reader engrossed from beginning to end. The story is well written and quite a page turner.Reading this story you wonder what is real for the characters and what is not. It isn't confusing at all with that. Written like a mystery you follow detective Bruce Durante and Jason Tanner on the search for the true Comfort Killer. You get to see the story from both if their perspectives. One sees the real world while the other is seeing an alternate one at times. The two worlds collide and the truth comes out. When I found out which world was real I was in shock. The biggest shock of all comes at the end when you find out why the killer is killing their victims.DiSemblance reads more like a Sci-Fi story than a Techno/Thriller. Holodecks like out of Star Trek and digital copies of people interacting as if it really is them. It's all good because it was pretty interesting. With the talk of computers and such the dialog of the book was not dragged down with a lot tech terms. I am one who doesn't like to read a book that requires a glossary of terms. That's not the case in this book. But it's not all about the techie stuff, there is also a mystery within the book too involving the Comfort Killer. Solving this becomes interesting as the reader since you have two worlds going on at the same time.I like Jason's character. He is established as the hero from the beginning when he saves Boston from some gang thugs. He seems hesitant to be a hero. That is what happens when you save someone, you are a hero. Jason keeps his distance most of the time with people, he tries to protect his father's work with the holodeck. Things for Jason change when he makes a gutsy move and him and his brother make a run for it. Now he has to be around people more and he embraces the hero label by trying to save his father and others. Detective Bruce was a good guy also, even though he tends to let his work come before his own life. I guess that is the life of a cop, right?Overall thoughts of this book were that I was amazed at how much I enjoyed reading it. DiSemblance was very intricate and the author did a great job. I recommend this book to readers age 15+I received this book courtesy of the author in exchange for an honest review.

[lennajennie · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Jason Tanner is the kind of protagonist who is kind, is obedient, and is always looking to do the right thing. Unfortunately for him, in DiSemblance, most is not what it seems, and Jason Tanner finds himself involved in something bigger than he ever would have imagined. His dad has a coveted Hologram machine that needs to be protected and when things start to go awry and Jason's dad is presumed to be dead, the question of whether or not the machine has already fallen into the wrong hands comes to light. This then puts into motion a big adventure for Jason, his younger brother Isaac, and love interest from across the street, Boston.The novel starts with two seemingly disconnected plot stories which the author then tied together thoroughly and nicely but it left a lot to cover in the last sections of the book. Author Shanae Branham does a good job in building suspense and timing the release of specific information into the story. However, since it is an intricate plot, there is a lot to keep track of. For the reader this means really having to pay attention to what is going on in any given time frame. For example there are a lot of characters and character relationships to keep track of. Between wives, girlfriends, bosses, co-workers, family members, and family friends, the reader has to pay attention to who is doing what because the plot relies a fair amount on the interconnectedness of characters. Branham handled it well, but it did result in the novel becoming what I would describe as "bottom-heavy." I really enjoyed the buildup and the development of the story line in the first sections of the book but then all of a sudden, toward the end, the novel was packed with plot and action and tying up loose ends so that at certain points, it felt a bit muddled and rushed. As a frame of reference, it was reminiscent of Mockingjay of the Hunger Games series, for anybody who has read it: that is, a very action-heavy last third of the novel where so much is going on at such a fast pace that it elicited a "what just happened?"/"what did I just read?" response at certain sections.But it did have an exciting plot and was fun to read. It was suspenseful, the "techno-thriller" element was definitely there, and Branham painted a clear picture in my mind, and I appreciate it when I can see what is happening as I'm reading. There were a couple characters that I felt were superfluous but overall each character fit their roles well. It did take me a little while to be convinced by the relationship between Jason and Boston, though, because the development of that relationship was quick in nature. Jason having feelings for Boston was a predetermined circumstance and I had a little bit of trouble buying into it at the beginning, but by the end of the novel I understood their relationship a lot better, which was a good thing. I also think that the way Branham distinguished between outside life and life inside the holodeck machine was helpful and it was a good idea to use two different fonts. The story does get complicated and there were points where I felt a bit confused and had to re-read so a clear distinction between reality and hologram helped with the flow of the writing. This isn't a book where one can read with preconceived notions and expectations. Because chances are the story will not progress or unfold in the way that one expects it to. Either the predictions will be wrong, or they will come true in an unexpected way. It is a book where you have to be patient and have to pay attention. Personally, I was so focused on the hologram machine and what it's role was in the story and I kept waiting to see how Branham utilized it, but in the end her use of it blindsided me. This novel has more depth than the typical cat and mouse chase and there is more to the story than just the typical murder mystery.DiSemblance has elements of surprise and Branham displays a knack for a detailed plot and a very interconnected story. This will be an enjoyable read for those who are patient enough to wait for answers and keep an open mind. DiSemblance does in fact "challenge the imagination"