Mind Touch

By Scott Ashby

Nisa never asked for this. When the Enforcers killed Kiersten for being a telepath, Nisa was the only Teep close enough to hear her cry for help. Now she must complete Kiersten’s mission, gathering and delivering the segmented message that promises to change the world – how, she’s not sure, but it can’t get any worse, can it?

Everywhere she goes, someone’s watching her, touching her mind. She struggles to shut the presence out. With the warlords hunting down telepaths, will Nisa live long enough to complete the message?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Electric Scroll
• Release date: Apr 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781940311692

Scott Ashby

Scott Ashby is a somewhat self-taught web designer who prefers to write fantasy and science fiction. He lives and works in Gilbert, Arizona in a tiny bedroom office that is only saved from being called a garret by virtue of being on the ground floor. Like most computer geeks, he doesn’t really notice the passing of hours, or days, so long as food arrives on a regular schedule. When not at the computer, Scott enjoys board games, hiking, and letterboxing.

Book preview

Scott Ashby

Copyright 2018, The Electric Scroll

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by The Electric Scroll. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the publisher. For information contact The Electric Scroll, 745 N. Gilbert Rd. Ste 124 PMB 197, Gilbert, Arizona, 85234.

The characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and entirely in the imagination of the reader.

Cover image by Stefano Pollio via Unsplash.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Prolog

Stipulation

(Don't just skip to chapter one. The prolog and

stipulation are both short, and they're important)

Chapter One

About the Author

Thanks and Dedication

Map

Books by Scott Ashby

Connect with me online

Prolog

The end came in a matter of weeks. The asteroid hit the then South Pole land mass, and the shock of the collision tipped the earth almost completely upside down. Dry places became rainy. Wet places became deserts. The global economy collapsed. Technology disappeared. What they called civilization vanished.

Cities became individual entities. Mayors became warlords, directing the defense of available resources. Eventually, stalemates arose, as warlords protected their assets by not fighting. Walls were erected, the ancient city-state returned, and with it, feudalism.

Without organized education, the language shifted. Pockets of educators and technologists went underground, to preserve the knowledge for future use.

Still, as it always does, the human race adapted. Life persisted. Over seven generations, a new normal stabilized.

Then, the Teeps arose; telepaths, empaths. People who looked Normal, but were most decidedly not. People who could invade your mind, invade your heart, and throw things about without touching them. They threatened the natural order of things. The warlords had a choice; use them, or exterminate them. They did both.

Stipulation

The story you're about to read is true. In today's world, such things may be judged falsehood, or at best, fiction; but I swear to you, on my own life's blood, that it happened in exactly this way. The events documented here were once known to all; at least, to all who, at one time, called themselves Telepaths. The rest of the world called themselves Normals, and referred to Telepaths with the derogatory term 'Teeps'.

While it is true Telepaths had certain powers, it is also true that not all were powerful, or had more than one power. Oh, they could all talk from mind to mind, which gave them a certain advantage over those who had to use mouth and ear, but not all of them could read the minds of Normals. Few could plant thoughts in the minds of Normals, and very few mastered the art of illusion.

Normals, fearing the powers they did not possess and couldn't understand, hunted the Telepaths; after all, a dead Telepath couldn't harm anyone.

These days, the truth is buried so deeply in the human psyche there are none who dare admit it. But truth it remains, even when no one will own it.

Sit; let me share with you my ridiculous and crazy tale. I'll paint the pictures with words, so you can see it happen in your own mind. Then, later, you may judge me worthy of condemnation, if you will; and if you dare.

Chater Un

The woman, Kiersten, scanned the visible areas of the square for movement of any sort, exactly the way she'd been doing every few moments for the past several hours. Lazarus was late. Of course, he was always late. It was habitual with him; but even for Lazarus, he was late. The habit was annoying, but after you'd been associating with Lazarus for a while, it became more or less a routine.

Tonight, though; tonight was different. Something felt wrong. Lazarus was way too late and Kiersten was finally getting worried. She hoped whatever item or information he was carrying hadn't been compromised. Her fertile imagination very unhelpfully supplied images of Lazarus lying in an alleyway somewhere, injured; or worse. Kiersten quashed the picture. It wouldn't do to clutter her mind with imaginary images.

According to Erl, Lazarus had been extremely nervous about the safety of this particular delivery, asking for Kiersten by name. He'd probably done so because he knew her both by sight and by mind-touch. He wouldn't have told Erl that, though. Kiersten didn't know if Erl knew or suspected she was a Telepath, even after all the years she'd worked for him as a courier.

Personally, Kiersten thought Lazarus was being ridiculous and overly sneaky, another of his annoying habits. It was obvious to everyone who knew him that Lazarus was far too fond of suspense novels.

Kiersten shifted her weight again, rubbing her ankles against each other in a vain attempt to generate a little heat.

The drizzling mist in the square shifted into a new pattern and Kiersten was instantly on the alert, her weight balanced easily on the balls of both feet as she strained every sense, both physical and mental, in the effort to discover who – or what – might share the square with her.

Absurdly, she suddenly found herself wishing she'd come armed. A trickle of fear dribbled down the back of her neck, causing the short hairs there to stand on edge.

A very faint scraping sound came from the mouth of the alleyway to Kiersten's right. It was almost the scuff of a soft boot, almost the rustle of a cloak as it brushed against the metal trash bins which would be lining the walls of the alleyway.

The mist shifted yet again, and a large, scruffy, sodden dog padded out of the alley, toenails faintly clicking on the paving stones. The sodden mutt proceeded to the center of the square, and then sat down, whining just a little.

Idiot dog, Kiersten thought, hasn't got enough sense to get in out of the rain.

Well, thank you very much and I love you, too.

The almost playfully indignant words formed themselves in the public area of Kiersten's mind, along with the definite maleness and slight lemony feel which characterized the mental touch of her friend, Lazarus.

Laz?

What do you want?

Where are you?

I'm sitting in the middle of the square without enough sense to get in out of the rain.

There's nothing out there in the middle of the square but an ugly old dog.

Thank you, I think you're beautiful, too.

LAZ!

No need to yell at me Kiers…I can hear you just fine.

Kiersten's mind steadied then filled with professional curiosity.

How did you do that?

How did I do what?

Laz conveyed a definite sense of mischief and innocence.

How did you turn yourself into a dog?

The dog shivered, as if with cold, and shook some of the collected water from its fur.

I'll tell you later. Where're you at?

Kiersten projected a quick picture of the doorway in which she'd taken shelter. The ugly, shaggy dog immediately rose to all four paws and padded over to her, a small whine escaping from its throat as it reached her doorway. She moved to one side to make room for the odiferous and soaking hound then crouched down to the dog's eye level, reaching out to stroke the animal's head. To her complete and utter amazement, her fingers went right through the dog's head; there was nothing there to be touched.

Don't be an idiot. The quietly spoken words came from somewhere above her head. Startled, Kiersten jumped, straightening to her usual height.

"Don't do that to me, Laz!" she hissed between teeth clamped tight with a mixture of anger and fear.

Sorry. His low chuckle came from apparently empty air above the dog's back, but at the right height for where his head should be, if he were standing before her in the flesh. He didn't sound the least bit sorry.

Kiersten felt invisible fingers lift her arm and line up the opening in a bracelet with the bones of her wrist. The fingers rolled the ornament onto her arm, squeezing the ends of the metal closer, conforming its natural shape more closely to the curve of her wrist. When the invisible hands withdrew, the bracelet became visible. Kiersten looked down upon it and quickly sucked a breath into her chest.

Even at first glance, it was easy to see that the bracelet on her wrist was worth far more than her life.

The silver circlet was approximately three inches in width and very heavy. The large blue Sobriquet stone, veined with deep purple lightning streaks was another fortune in and of itself.

Curious, Kiersten reached out with her other hand. Though the air seemed empty, her fingers located Lazarus' chest, wrapped, as no doubt the rest of him was, in a warm cloak. A cloak of indeterminate color, she added with a mental giggle in her private thoughts.

There's a microchip under the stone. See you around. His light voice was already moving into the mist, along with the plodding dog.

Yeah, right, she answered in her mind. I didn't see you this time.

But I saw you, he retorted, the lemony feel more intense, as it usually was when he was relaxed and amused. And I did enjoy the sight.

Humph! Kiersten grunted softly to herself, but didn't send an answer after him as she glided noiselessly from the doorway and headed off down the street in a different direction than the one the untouchable dog and his invisible master had taken.

Kiersten relaxed fractionally as she put more distance between herself and the square where she'd met the flea-ridden furry version of Lazarus. How under the stars had he managed to become both invisible and a dog? Personally, she'd settle for just the invisible part of the trick.

The soft hiss of a short blade sliding from its leather sheath was her only warning. She turned to meet the attack as the grey-clad body came flying out of the alley and slammed into her. The pair of combatants fell to the ground together, Kiersten's opponent deliberately tangling their legs as they landed. Kiersten held his knife hand above their heads, gripping his wrist firmly in both hands. Her double grasp made it nearly impossible for him to break free, but at the same time, it left her without a free hand to fight back with.

Kiersten managed to untwist one of her legs, driving her knee towards her assailant's groin. Anticipating her attack, he managed to twist enough that her knee landed against his solidly muscled thigh instead. Although he grunted with the pain of her blow, it was not the incapacitating strike she'd hoped for, in addition to doing some small amount of damage to her knee. If she survived this night, it would be severely bruised.

A very loud barking sound filled the street, and the bedraggled dog Kiersten had seen earlier leapt from the shadows to join the fray. Kiersten's attacker rolled their tangled bodies to one side in an attempt to put her between himself and the beast's flashing fangs.

Knowing how substantial Laz's dog was, Kiersten didn't flinch as the dog's teeth closed upon her neck. The fact that the horrific inch-long fangs rendered no damage to her flesh severely discombobulated the man and he froze; just for a moment, but it was enough. The next thrust of Kiersten's knee landed in his midsection, winding him.

The long and vicious-looking knife was wrenched from Kiersten's assailant's hand, vanishing as soon as it left his possession. A scant moment later, Kiersten's attacker arched backwards in pain as the knife's handle reappeared, protruding from its owner's back.

A gush of blood came from his mouth as his eyes glazed over; mute proof that Laz's thrust had been true.

Kiersten regained her feet, surreptitiously checking the bracelet hadn't been dislodged from its place during the struggle. Both bracelet and stone remained secure.

Thank you, Laz. Kiersten's breathing was ragged.

Are you all right? Laz's mental voice was more than just a little bit shaky.

Yes, but only because of your very timely intervention.

Nice doggy. She said the words aloud. You sure saved me from that bad man. She was aware of the inhabitants of the area peeking from their windows, checking the source of the dog's agitation. Kiersten made a deliberate show of checking for a collar, being careful to keep her fingers on the outside of Laz's illusion.

Oh, you poor thing, you're a stray. You'd better come home with me.

Can I really come home with you? Laz's voice breathed quietly in her ear.

Shut up. Her reply was silent. And come along little doggie.

Woof.

Kiersten rolled her eyes and strode off up the center of the street, the dog trotting at her side, closely enough that her elbow occasionally felt the flutter of Lazarus' cloak.

Contrary to what she'd said to the illusionary mutt, Kiersten didn't go home. Instead, she found a quiet alley where an overhanging doorway would give her a little bit of shelter from the rain that never seemed to completely stop at this time of the year.

All right, Lazarus, it's time for a few answers. Who's the dead man and how much trouble is going to come looking for us because of his death?

The dog vanished,