In The Between: A Mozaxian Tale, #1

By Bobscott Nine

Rachael hates her life. Maybe it's her dead daddy. Maybe it's her drunk mother.  Maybe it's her abusive stepfather. Maybe it's no particular part of it at all; just all of it. One thing that she's completely sure of is that she's tired of the pain of living. 

A bottle of pills during a live performance from her favorite goth metal band is her plan to close out  her miserable existence. But before she has a chance to carry out her picture-perfect exit, a plane crash decides her fate for her. Rachael then discovers that death does not provide the relief she'd imagined.

Stuck in a limbo between between the  living and the dead and evading mysterious black soul collectors, Rachael meets Matthew, a fellow prisoner between dimensions with a lust for life that will forever change her  destiny. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bobscott
• Release date: Mar 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386601661

Book preview

PROLOGUE

ONCE UPON A MANY MOONS ago...

Clear skies allowed the world below to imbibe the sun. The only thing that could be seen up above was an airline jet, soaring through the sky like a winged bullet, as it drew nearer to its destination in the neighboring airport. The weather was a bit hot but otherwise perfect for the birth of a Texas summer.

The band would be going on in under an hour; the real band, that was, not this shitty opening band. Anucide is what they called themselves. They were nothing more than a cookie cutter death metal band from Fort Worth, Texas. How anyone ever thought they were worthy of sharing a billboard with the embodiment of the Goth/Metal persona, Abner Reigns, Thomas couldn't figure out.

They finally announced their last song of the set, and how they were honored to be here in Robertsville, that they were native Texans, yadda, yadda, yadda. Then about fifteen seconds into the song the sky lit up followed by an explosion that sounded, somehow, worse than the crappy band on stage. Screams filled the air and chaos was born.

Thomas looked up to see the overhead jet plunging toward the crowd in two pieces, like flaming boogers ejected from the nostrils of an angry sky god. People tried to run for cover, but most only succeeded in trampling each other.

From high above, the pavilion lawn resembled a shallow frying pan full of chunky soup sloshing around. The crowd moved like ocean waves as they struggled to get out of the way of the falling debris. Those who opposed the current were stomped by a dense forest of combat boot-clad feet.

A wall of people rolled toward Thomas and engulfed him. He squeezed his eyes shut as if it would protect him from the human tidal wave. He saw hues of pink, gray, then everything went black.

Thomas woke up on the top of the hill overlooking an almost empty bowl-shaped lawn. Not far from the stage lay the tail end of the jet. People stumbled around it in confusion. Strangely enough, from where he stood, there were no casualties or injuries to be seen.

The silence that followed the ear-splitting concert sent a chill up his spine. He expected to hear sirens and screams of terror fit to fill an arena but heard only that of a small crowd.

A cloudy gray pall of smoke engulfed the world all around, creating the sense of a pocket-sized dimension trapped inside of a giant smoke ring. The sky looked an artificial kind of gray seen only in post-apocalyptic movies. Everything seemed black and white, yet splashed with sparse brilliant colors strategically tucked away. Then things got really weird.

People in black outfits, head to toe, stepped out of the smoke walls and started closing in on the crowd. Now, as if answering Thomas's thoughts, the screaming began.

Closer inspection showed the men in black may not be exactly of this earth. They looked identical, as if manufactured from molds on an assembly line. Their bones, elongated arms, and legs begged the mind to abandon the human theory.

They closed in slowly, but numerous. Reaching out with their bony arms they began snatching the audience members. Then the creatures sped away into the smoke with their prizes, like birds escaping with prey.

More of the monsters broke through the smoke and continued picking off the remaining audience members.  Thomas saw a man with a tall green mohawk throw a punch that merely bounced off of one creature’s head. The abomination then sucked Mohawk Man into its arms like metal to a magnet before disappearing into the smoke. Then four of them tore away from the herd and headed up the hill toward Thomas. He turned to run and fell right into the arms of another cluster of creatures that approached from behind.

Thomas was dragged into the smoke at roller coaster speeds. As the speed increased, Thomas expected to see his stomach fall out of his mouth and his intestines unravelling with it.  Soon, he was overcome with a euphoric feeling.  The world around him grew gradually brighter. Thomas feared they must be taking him to a spacecraft, mothership, or something equally dreadful as everything became impossibly brighter. Finally, just when he thought he could bear no more the lights went out.

1

RACHAEL WOKE UP GROANING and disappointed. Disappointed that she'd woken up to face another day. A day that would undoubtedly bring more pain and hopeless frustration. Her jaded brain, broken heart, exhausted body, and hollow soul felt as if it were resting in a pile of drying mud and hamburger grease.

She imagined as she moved, that the filth was seeping into every crack and crevice of her body threatening invitations from infections and unwanted growths. In her mind, she thought of herself as that growth. Her mind and body in contrast with her soul, struggling to eradicate each other because that's how she envisioned her soul; an infection. A red, swollen, festering, open wound, feeling everything with heightened sensitivity.

Small pinhole sized rays of sunlight, breaching the black painted windows, assaulted and battered her throbbing hungover eyes. Heavy dust swirled in the beams of sun.  She shouted obscenities as she opened them and tried to hold her eyelids open with the effort of a toddler opening a rusted garage door.

Background dialogues in her head were already muttering in the feculent pits of her mind. It seemed as if they had woken up before her and were already planning Rachael's day. Highlighting her fears, her insecurities, her imperfections, her interactions with people, or obstacles as she had come to think of them. For what was life, she asked herself, but a marathon of trudging through intolerable humans determined to make my life a living hell?

Faceless voices awoke from the shadows of the room. Several variations of shut the hell up chorused around her. She retaliated with a much more colorful version of a phrase suggesting self-fornication.

She sat up and put her spike covered leather trench coat on. She had been using it as a pillow on the scuffed wood floor of Drake's dilapidated home.

Sound carried far through the dank air of Drake's place since there were very few doors. The doors that did remain were busted, splintered or repurposed to cover holes on outer walls or shattered windows. One had even been repurposed as a table. What remained to separate rooms were nothing more than dirty, ratty, old sheets nailed to the upper corners of the door frames.

People lay strewn across the floor throughout the house. On any given day there were at least ten people passed out or hanging around his place. Sometimes, up to thirty people could be found frequenting the premises. In all honesty, Rachael wasn't sure Drake even existed. Drake's place wasn't exactly a friendly sociable kind of place where everyone went around shaking hands and saying, pleased to meet you! Introductions were informal, at best, so you could only speculate who was who.

Rachael had an idea of who Drake was, but she wasn't one hundred percent sure. She honestly didn't care just as long as she wasn't at home.

The only qualification for stopping in seemed to be anyone carrying a bottle or any other mind-altering chemicals, so long as they were willing to share with a certain few. The most prominent of these few were, Rachael presumed, a tall skinny man that looked to be nearing his thirties. He had full black irises, undoubtedly customized contact lenses, and teeth that were filed to points. He Loomed tall and powerful among most crowds, his jet black hair cascading around his stern pale face.  Shrouded in legendary tales of admirable insanity. A celebrity in the eyes of these local lost souls. A somebody to the nobodies and a nobody was what Rachael felt like.

Rachael could never define her purpose for being there other than to escape from her home life. Hell, Rachael couldn't even find her purpose for being on this planet, or even ever being born for that matter. There wasn't a second that went by Rachael didn't wish she had been born through abortion methods, brought into this world via coat hangers she had voiced out loud on more than one occasion.

Her life up to this point had been nothing but one unbearable minute after another. Always praying for one day to end and the next to never begin. If she could survive today, she knew it was just to make it to the next miserable day, and what the hell kind of motivation was that to go on.

Rachael reached over and shook the fire engine red-haired girl next to her. Hey! Get up. The show starts in four hours. Time to go, Rachael commanded.

Ugh! the girl groaned and rolled over onto her back, her shoulder length hair sticking to one side of her face.  She opened her eyes, and squinted at Rachael. Four hours is plenty of time. Go back to sleep.

The chorus of shushes and shut the hell ups sang out again, overshadowed by one bassy voice that said, Yeah! Go back to sleep, like she said.

Rachael glared into the faceless darkness, then looked back at the girl on the floor beside her. With pleading eyes, she begged, But I need to go by my house first. I need to get something.

The red-headed girl rose up onto one elbow and looked at her with questioning surprise. Really? You want to go by your house? What if Russell tries to stop you and keep you there? We could miss the show.

A brief panic washed over Rachael's face as if she'd somehow forgotten about the walking, talking, five-foot-nine, pile of feces in human form presently infesting her home. During her two-week sabbatical from her prison, otherwise known as home, she made a plan. A plan she vowed to stick to, but she needed her good luck charm.

There were very few things in this world that mattered to her anymore, Abner Reigns’ angelic voice was one. The sweet voice that kept her safe and sane for so long, while she hung on by threads. She swore, that under any circumstances, she would not miss out on the opportunity to close out this pitiful story of hers without the perfect soundtrack.

She was going to end the pain once and for all, and she was going to do it while the god of sexual darkness wrapped her in a blanket of the most sensual voice that ever fell upon the ears of mankind. Then she would sail into nothingness. No thoughts. No obstacles. No pain. Just darkness and unknowing.

Please, Wendy! Rachael batted her eyes and made the face of a sad puppy, It'll be alright. I promise. Nothing is standing in the way of us and Abs, Rachael finished with a confident grin on her face.

Wendy smiled a smile that she hoped covered her feelings of pity and doubt.

They gathered their few belongings and together they left Drake's.

Rachael and Wendy drove along in her small, red,