Tamar and PJ One Giant Adventure

By Mark F Geatches

PJ’s weekend began like any other, but his sense of tranquility was mere illusion. Hunted down and poisoned by a wicked humanoid strain, PJ slowly loses his health and sanity as a lone giant races to save him.

After centuries of solitude Tamar’s decision to save PJ has unforeseen consequences. He unwittingly kills Krell, the vorteh Emperor’s son and heir to the throne, placing a mark on his own head. Now Tamar must perform the nearly impossible task of creating an antidote that will save PJ, while avoiding marauding vorteh death squads. With PJ’s outcome unknown Tamar makes one final decision. He confronts Emperor Dedac, sacrificing his life to save the lives of PJ and his family.
No animals, humans, vorteh, or giants were harmed during the writing of this book.
Well, maybe some vorteh were.

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Nov 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781629895833

Mark F Geatches

Mark began writing fiction in 2010. What began as an experiment quickly became a labor of love. Writing allows him an outlet for his unpredictable imagination, as well as an excuse to spend even more of his time listening to music. Mark finds music and writing the perfect mental connection; the nexus of focus and inspiration.For information about Marks published books and short stories, visit his website, markwritesfiction.com.

Book preview

Part One

Chapter One

The Adventure Begins

Did you hear that?

Brutus’s gaze followed PJ’s pointing finger. The feminine voice was barely perceptible as it floated from the woods. The shepherd’s head flew back at the sound of his master’s voice.

There it is again. It’s like someone’s whispering.

PJ squinted to see the source of the unusual sound. His voice rose in excitement as the whisper grew louder. I can’t believe you don’t hear that. I hear it plain as day now. Let’s go see who it is. PJ put his best friend on a leash and Brutus led the way toward the forest. They passed several piles of raked leaves, evidence of PJ’s unfinished weekend chore. It was a beautiful fall morning. The trees were full of color brought to life by a slight breeze. The mysterious voice grew louder as they crossed the homemade bridge over the backyard creek. When they made their way to the edge of the forest there was the distinct snapping of a branch. Brutus began to growl protectively.

Stay put now, Brutus. We’ll go back to the house if you try to run. PJ listened for a moment then said, I don’t hear her any more. Maybe you scared her away, Bruty. Let’s go back and play.

As they crossed back over the flat wooden bridge, Brutus heard something and turned to face the threat. The hair on his back bristled and he growled menacingly. PJ pulled on the leash but it was no use. He was easily dragged toward the forest by the oversized shepherd. A sudden angry burst pulled PJ to the ground making him lose his grip on the leash. He watched from his hands and knees as the angry dog jumped the stream running at full speed into the forest.

Brutus, come back. What are you doing? Come back boy, PJ’s voice pierced the serene forest with no effect on the fixated dog. Oh, no. Not again, he whispered.

PJ ran after his dog and was relieved to see his best friend maneuvering his way back toward him through the thicket. That was close, PJ thought as Brutus cleared the brush. You’re a bad boy, he said. Brutus’s tail dropped between his legs. You can’t do that to me. PJ grabbed the leash loop from the ground and quickly walked toward the house. He noticed Brutus’s ears were flat against his head. Did something scare you, boy? What could scare you? Let’s go inside now, we’ll finish the leaves and play later. That suits me fine anyway.

As they approached the back-door Brutus turned and barked furiously. PJ was barely able to wrestle the angry dog inside the house. He closed the door and stared outside. The female voice was back but it was different. Instead of a nondescript whisper it wafted through the open window as a song. It was beautiful. PJ stared absently from the kitchen window but could see nothing that would explain it. If someone was out there they didn’t want to be seen. The trees, colored by impending death, gave the scene an eerie look as the song floated toward PJ. It was mesmerizing, though he couldn’t understand a single word. Is she from another country? he asked himself. His eyes began to fog and his voice drifted from him as if someone else were speaking. It almost sounds like an angel, Bruty.

PJ felt more drawn to the sound as it increased in intensity. Somehow he knew he was being called into the forest. He closed his eyes and shook his head trying to break the spell. When he opened them again he was no longer in his kitchen and something was wrong with his hearing. Everything sounded muffled and dull as if his head were under water. His heart seemed to pound in slow motion, each powerful pump shaking his slight frame. Lifelessly he turned in a circle looking for his house and though it never came into view he remained unfeeling. A single tear travelled to the end of his nose. It dangled for a moment vibrating to the beat of his heart before beginning its long descent. The turn of PJ’s head was almost imperceptible as he watched the drop’s slanting freefall in slow motion. He witnessed it change from nondescript blob to volcano summit as it impacted the ground. It pooled on a discarded maple leaf forming a tiny orange ocean. The voice of the angel broke his trance. His senses came back in an explosion of sound. Wind tore through the forest canopy far above, small branches struggled to survive, large limbs moaned and cracked as they stretched under nature’s torture rack. Tall spindly oak and maple trees bent and swayed as if shaken by invisible giants. PJ stood crying, gasping for breath.

His heart seemed intent on ripping through his chest. He had no memory of leaving the safety of his home or running into the woods. He didn’t remember the wind turning violent or the dense fog rolling in.

The voice, PJ yelled as he spun toward it. Still no sign of the angel but PJ could see the rise of a mountain in the distance. Now he knew the way home, at least the direction. He noticed a barely discernible red glow deep in the shadowy forest. It came and went like a ghostly beacon warning of impending doom. A sudden gust of wind sent fallen leaves careening around his small figure like a colony of bats fluttering out of a cave. Each time the glow pierced the fog it grew more distinct. He was soon able to make out two closely spaced dots of red light that glowed like eyes in a poorly exposed photograph. The angry wind created a cacophony of sound, but through all the chaos the strange, barely audible voice kept singing to PJ. As he watched the red lights he began to hear something large moving nearby. Dead leaves and twigs crunched loudly before being compressed to silence. A frightful thought came to PJ. Am I hearing what I’m seeing? Until now it hadn’t seemed real. PJ froze in place as the thing drew near. It was no angel. It was horrible.

Oh, my God! Those are eyes! PJ whined.

He wished he could dissolve into the fog and blow away with the wind. This can’t be real, he thought. The fog obscured most of its features but the monster was at least seven feet tall. PJ’s breathing became labored. Then he remembered something—something terrible. Three kids got lost in these woods last year. It was summer vacation and they were never seen again. He began to shiver. Through chattering teeth he moaned, This can’t be happening. PJ ran against a powerful wind that slowed his escape. His baggy shirt rippled like a kite flying in a strong wind. The ominous singing called to him as he tried to flee. PJ stopped and turned toward the magnetism. Trembling he screamed, What do you want? The faces of the lost kids materialized in the thick swirling fog between him and the advancing monster. Though they made no sound, their lips moved warning PJ to get out of the forest. I can’t be like them, PJ thought. What would Mom do if I never came home?

PJ ran for his life but the forest would not cooperate. A vine caught his shoe causing him to stumble roughly into the base of a large tree. Turning just before striking the trunk he hit the back of his head dazing him. The wind seemed to scream with a thousand voices taunting him, Crybaby PJ! You can’t outrun a girl. Puny PJ! Does PJ want his mommy?

PJ screamed, Shut up! and regained his feet. Almost to the point of exhaustion he looked up and saw the greatest sight of his life. The little yellow house that was his home shimmered like a lighthouse in a raging wind-swept ocean. The forest seemed to give in knowing it was beaten. The wind slowed, the fog grew fainter, and the sky grew lighter as he ran into his backyard. He sprinted the rest of the way. The back door slammed behind him cutting off the chaos and he collapsed to the floor. His chest heaved from exertion and he was soaked with sweat. As he calmed down he wondered if any of that was real. Nothing has glowing red eyes, he thought in disbelief. Even as he pondered what had taken place, the feminine voice still called to him. Does that thing sound mad? PJ asked himself.

He thought again of the three lost kids. Maybe they weren’t as lucky as me. Maybe that thing got them. Brutus slithered to his side and licked PJ’s face. I wish you were with me out there, Brutus. You could have protected me. PJ got up and looked outside. The weather was almost as bad as he remembered. He looked down at Brutus and said, Brutus, what do ya say we stay inside the rest of the day? Brutus tilted his head in agreement. Well, I better tell Mom about that thing. Come on. Let’s find her. Brutus led the way. They found her in the laundry room.

His mother turned to him as they entered. What’s all that racket, PJ? My goodness, you’re a mess.

Yeah, I—

Did you finish your chores already?

No, not yet, Mom. That’s what I wanted to tell you about. Brutus and I hear something in the forest. I want you to come listen.

What do you hear, honey? she asked, her voice a little softer.

Come listen for a minute. It sounds like a woman singing. I’ve never heard anything like it.

PJ led the way. By the time they got to the kitchen he had decided not to tell his mom he got lost in the forest. He didn’t want to scare her and more importantly he didn’t want to get in trouble. Ever since the kids got lost last summer that was the one place he was forbidden to go unless his dad was with him. PJ opened the back door and waited for his mom to go out first. He closed Brutus inside and joined her on the top step.

Can you hear it? PJ asked excitedly hearing the melody clearly in the distance. He noticed it was once again flowing and melodic.

She tilted her head to one side before answering reassuringly. It sounds like an ordinary day to me, PJ. Although it looks like we’re in for a storm.

PJ’s head spun to his mother’s. You’re pulling my leg, right?

Her mouth formed a curious closed-mouth smile before answering, I don’t hear a thing other than the wind and the stream. What do you think you hear, honey?

PJ’s eyes bulged. He said, You really don’t hear that singing?

No, I don’t hear anything like that, PJ. Her brow creased. Who do you think is singing?

PJ could tell his mom was becoming troubled. It was impossible, but she really couldn’t hear it. He began to wonder if there really was any singing or if it was all in his head. But I can hear it plain as day, he thought looking back toward the forest. He made a quick decision so his mom wouldn’t think he was going crazy. He turned to her and with a made-up laugh said, Ha, Ma, I was just pulling your leg. Pretty funny, huh?

With a broad smile she answered, Did you forget you turned fourteen a few months ago? She kissed him on the top of his head and went back inside the house. Turning back from the threshold she said, Try to keep it down, or play outside, sweetheart. And you better finish your chores before your father gets home.

PJ frowned and grabbed the kitchen door before it closed shut. I’m not staying out here alone, he thought following his mom inside. He remained standing inside the door looking out. He lost a breath when the pleasant singing was replaced by a high-pitched growl. He jumped back from the door and turned to face the kitchen. His dread grew as he watched Brutus slink out of the kitchen while his mother stood at the sink poring a cup of coffee oblivious to the threat. PJ slammed the wooden door shut and followed Brutus into the living room. I’m scared if you’re scared, big boy, he whispered to the sulking dog. Soon the sound was too much for the shepherd and he slowly slumped out of the room leaving PJ by himself. PJ said, If you think that thing sounds bad, you should see it.

He turned on the TV adjusting the volume high enough to mask out the noise. Soon boredom and hunger set in. He made a sandwich and grabbed some chips and a drink from the kitchen. He found a rerun of Malcolm in the Middle, increased the volume even higher, and ate his lunch. He spent the entire meal in disturbed thought wondering if he really was going crazy. He reminded himself that Brutus knew something was out there even if his mom didn’t. When he finished eating he went to the kitchen to throw away his garbage and put away the chips. As he turned to go back to the living room a realization came over him. The noise had stopped. Oh, thank God, he said out loud. He timidly looked out the kitchen window. The coast looked clear. His eyes were drawn to his backyard. Oh, crap! he said. I didn’t finish raking. He felt a sharp tightening of his chest and his shoulders slumped. He hesitated before the desire for his allowance and the fear of his dad gave him the courage to finish his chore. He went outside and stood on the top step with his hand on the doorknob prepared to dash inside if he heard or saw anything. He was alone. His spirits immediately rose but he noticed the wind was destroying his leaf piles. He glanced up to the sky at the sound of a soft rumble of thunder. Black and gray clouds were moving quickly from west to east toward the gloomy mountains. His mom was right. They were in for a storm—a bad one.

PJ wasted no time. He ran to the shed to get a tarp and then to where he left his rake. His heart pounded as he rushed to complete his chore. It quickly became evident he was wasting his time. He watched in frustration as his hard work from the morning was callously undone. Hundreds of newly fallen leaves littered the ground around him and the neat piles of leaves shrank before his eyes. When the tarp left the ground and flew toward the forest, he knew it was no use fighting it. He chased down the tarp and threw it into the shed. Then he grabbed the rake and was nearly back to the shed when it happened. The monster was back. PJ came to a quick stop and stared into the hazy forest. His breathing became shallow as if his shirt were suddenly several sizes too small. All sound evaporated from his senses except the intimate whispering melody. The tone was sweeter than ever and he found himself gliding toward the woods. It became ultimately personal when PJ heard the alluring refrain, PJ. Come to me. PJ. Come. The voice sounded as if it were generated inside a large cave as it echoed through his mind.

PJ’s eyes glazed over and he became dizzy. What’s happening to me? he whispered in a barely audible voice. The frowning faces of the three lost kids emerged once again from the fog. PJ screamed, What do you want? Leave me alone! toward the forest.

The mysterious singing grew louder in response. That stopped PJ in his tracks. The demon continued calling him by name, the voice gradually getting more shrill and higher in pitch. When the noise became painful PJ bolted toward the backdoor. He jumped over a small flower bed and seemed to hover in midair. He had no control over his body as his hearing once again became distorted and muddled. He looked down and saw a bee fighting against the wind to stay near a red petunia. PJ could see each flap of its tiny transparent wings. Soon the bee was all PJ could see as his vision blurred and coalesced around the single image. His own blank stare came back to him reflecting off its shiny black face. Then there was nothing.

Chapter Two

Problem Child

Krell is a rebel in a society of outcasts. He is the first son and heir to the Throne of Vordom. Impatient to rule in his father’s stead and filled with contempt toward all authority, he continually makes trouble for himself and his race. The first Rule of Vor Conduct states: We are Vor. No vor shall make contact with the norms. That rule and many others were made to be broken in the eyes of Krell. He is the most miserable and vicious in a society of miscreants. Ages of isolation have made them so. Most vor feel deprived and dispossessed, and Krell has always done his best to promote these feelings. Even their victory over the geber in the Great War of Conquest did little to assuage their bitterness. Krell often proclaims, As long as we must hide from the norms, we are not free vor. Krell despises the standing of Vordom as outcasts. He believes his race is superior and deserves to dominate and rule the world. He believes ordinary humanity is weak-willed and ripe for the picking, just as the geber were before the Great War of Conquest.

Because of these beliefs he enjoys a great following among the more militant of his kind. Those in authority, however, including his father, Emperor Dedac, feel Krell is a dangerous agitator. If you push the norms they will push back with great and devastating force, is one of his oft admonitions to his son. Undoubtedly good advice, but seldom heeded by the impatient heir. Krell has many adversaries among the more levelheaded members of vor society including most of the Ruling Council. But his position as the heir to the throne has made it all but impossible to eliminate him. He has survived many challenges and attempts on his life. Those who made the attempts were not so lucky. The conspirators, as well as their nearest of kin, were quickly and publicly destroyed.

Krell began, quite some time ago, playing dangerous games with the norms. Word would spread that a human child was missing in the forest. Every vor immediately knew who was responsible. Krell alone had the audacity to break the most crucial of the Rules of Conduct. Vledmaia City, the capitol city of Vordom, would be locked down in preparation for the inevitable human search that would scour the forest. The Ruling Council knew no trace of the missing child would ever be found, but that wasn’t what worried them. What if they were discovered after all these years? The outcome of such an encounter was horrifying. The sterilization of their entire race was a distinct possibility. At the very least their way of life would change in unforeseen ways, and not for the better. The sentiments of the Ruling Council were unanimous. Krell mustn’t be allowed to endanger us this way! If he won’t obey our rules, he should be banished from the kingdom!

Even so, Krell consistently ignored their demands to control himself knowing he was protected. Even the well-meaning emperor’s hands were tied. The laws regarding succession are specific requiring the eldest living heir, if he be whole, to take possession of the throne regardless of temperament. Needless to say, serious punishment was never doled out for Krell’s insensible actions. On those occasions when severe steps were taken, they only produced a new level of hatred and animosity in Krell. One thing the Ruling Council knew for sure was that Krell’s provocative actions against the norms were occurring far too often.

Two years ago, Dedac secretly inquired of his law counselor and friend Mopp if it were possible to bypass Krell and give the throne to his second son Kraq. Kraq was levelheaded, mature, and sober in temperament—the polar opposite of his elder brother. He was widely considered ideal for leadership in the eyes of the council and the citizenry at large. It took Mopp several days to research the emperor’s request. The result was positive. He came up with an approach from ancient legal documents. Instead of notifying the emperor by hear-comms or see-comms, which were prone to bugging, he went to the palace residence chamber to make his report in person. He found language in the ancient text that allowed for such an action. Evidently, during the reign of Emperor Slagg III, a contemporary of King David of Israel, a similar situation occurred. His firstborn and heir was also too evil to be entrusted with the all-powerful throne. He was removed from succession by a unanimous council vote which claimed destruction of the empire would result if Right of Succession were allowed to take place.

The precedent had been established and they could employ the same complaint to remove Krell as heir. Emperor Dedac was saddened and relieved at the same time. He told Mopp to prepare the necessary documents and called for an assembly of the Ruling Council to convene in three days. Mopp diligently prepared for the proceedings making sure his work was impeccable. He notified the emperor the night before the historic demotion that all was in order. Emperor Dedac went to sleep with a heavy heart but knew his actions were necessary and just.

The next morning, the emperor entered the council chamber, his grayish flesh covered with beads of sweat. He glanced at Krell who nodded indignantly with a sickening, knowing smile. Dedac was filled with foreboding. Did his son know what he had planned? He searched the chamber for his friend Mopp. Dedac knew then that the impossible was likely. Mopp was not in the chamber. Immediately the emperor contacted Mopp’s office and living quarters by see-comm. There was no answer. He stared at his evil son knowing what he was capable of, hoping his fears were unwarranted. Without removing his gaze from Krell, he ordered his Primary Kasak to find Mopp. The chamber remained in stunned silence. Each member of the council realized his life was in jeopardy from the lunatic heir. The Primary Kasak reported back within minutes to inform the emperor that Mopp was found dead in his office. The office was strewn with debris, practically destroyed, as was the body of his long-time friend. Subsequent investigations revealed nothing of value, and the documents that would allow Kraq to replace his elder brother as heir were never found. Conveniently, and not surprisingly, Krell’s unimpeachable alibi was in Darway City, some four hundred miles away, during the presumed time of Mopp’s assassination.

The young heir’s guilt was palpable, yet no proof was ever found to connect him to the vile crime. To make matters worse, two months later, Kraq came down with a terrible illness. Schmandrake was a common disease among the youth of their species, and not life-threatening in such cases. It is, however, debilitating and deadly to those adults infected. Kraq would never be normal again, his