Misfire

By Teresa A. Beeler

Have you ever seen a shooting star and wondered if it was more than just a star? Imagine if it was a soul searching for a new body. What if that body was yours?

Jimala, an aborigine warrior born twenty years after his tribe was cursed. He was the symbol that the tribe had finally broken the curse. That was until, in his twenty-third year, a spear to the chest devastated their hope. Upon his death, he was transported to the Sky-world, where he awaited his ride on the stars to his new body.

An American physician weary of twelve-hour shifts arrives at her Boston hospital amid an electrical storm. Rushing through the revolving doors, she was apprised of the imminent birth just as the power snaps off.

Hands reaching to catch the child, as an ear numbing boom precedes the lightening shock that zipped from the child to the hands of Dr. Jill Sharp. Twenty minutes later, a voice asked, "Where am I?"

Thinking she was losing her mind from all the long shifts, she tried to ignore the voice until a stranger appeared at her door.

Science versus the unbelievable. Can humans be reincarnated? How does a doctor reconcile her years of studies with the unproven, unscientific idea of reincarnation?

Join the adventure of Dr. Jill Sharp and her spirit guide as they try to avoid capture by the United States Government and murder from an angry warrior. Can Dr. Sharp extricate the warrior spirit in time to save his tribe? Will she survive the angry mob of warriors out to maintain their control of the tribe?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Breckenridge Crossing
• Release date: May 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9798215781753

Teresa A. Beeler

Teresa Beeler is married with two grown children, one grandchild, one chicken-of-a-dog, and a herd of cows. She lives on a rural farm in West Central Illinois. She has a degree in business and has worked in public service for thirty years. She is an avid reader accumulating thousands of books on her kindle and bookshelves. Yes, she still prefers paperbacks.

Book preview

MISFIRE

A Sci-Fi Novel

––––––––

TERESA A. BEELER

MISFIRE

A Sci-Fi Novel

Published by Breckenridge Crossing

Copyright © 2021 by Teresa A. Beeler

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published in the United States of America

First Printing, 2021

Breckenridge Crossing

255 N County Road 1200

Sutter, IL 62373

www.TeresaBeeler.com

Research and Story Development: James M. Lovell

Click below for updates on new releases:

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

About The Author

Other Books

Disclaimer

Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters and places are products of the author’s imagination.

Chapter 1

Australia

The moon hung bright and full in the sky as Mindah, the spiritual leader and healer, held the boy up towards the bright orb. The tribe members chanted for their future leader. He assured them the full moon appearing for the chief’s son’s birth was a blessing on their tribe.

The tribal chief, Toombon, spoke to his clan of hope for the future. Just as the skilled healers of the past told. My son, Jimala, will lead our tribe and we will prosper. His greatness will overpower the tribes to the east, north, and south. The forefathers will bestow many riches upon him. And you, my people, they will reward with harvests to last for years.

The tribe member’s voices rose in cacophony at their chief’s declaration. Feet stomped, warriors hollered, and women chanted. When the noise subsided, the chief continued.

Chief Toombon spoke, The Amangu prided itself on the healthy males in our tribe. For hundreds of years, we were the strongest tribe in Australia. However, the last twenty we have suffered with only female births. The old ones told of the curse. The dying spiritual leader’s husband disowned her. With this last humiliation, she cursed the entire tribe. For the next twenty years, only females would be born. The tribe would suffer at the hands of the surrounding tribes. In the twentieth hour of the twentieth year, when the moon showed its fullness, a strong warrior leader would be born. He would resurrect the tribe from near devastation and lead us back to our glory. The chief paused for the noise level to diminish before he continued.

The boy would reach a point where he would have to choose his future. When the darkness covered the sun and no longer blessed the tribe, he would make the choice. One way would keep the tribe strong and the other would cause death. The boy’s future is tied to that of the tribe. His many rebirths would change both his and his tribe’s destiny. The moon has blessed my son, Jimala, as the sun will in the coming day. Jimala will be our savior, our leader of our tribe and, as the prophecy was told, to rule Western Australia.

The men, women, and children of the Amangu tribe celebrated late into the night. Their futures were now secure, and their fortunes would soon return. As the sky lightened, the people made their way to their tents to rest for a few hours.

****

Twenty-Three Years Later

Chief Toombon ordered his warriors to attack the encroaching tribe from the east. He stood upon the rise and observed the fighting below. The wind blew the red sand, obscuring part of his view. What his eyes and ears picked up was warrior against warrior, the clang of spear against spear, and warriors’ grunts echoing through the valley. Injured warrior’s cries floated to the chief’s ears.

His warriors were being pushed backward by the invading tribe. Something had to give. Chief Toombon couldn’t allow his opponents to devastate his tribe. His mind raced as he watched warrior after warrior fall. He raised his eyes upward as the ancient words drifted through the chief’s head. "In the twenty-third year, the prophesied one will fall only to be reborn. He will return to his tribe as a great healer. Then and only then will the tribe break the curse."

His heart broke as he realized what the ultimate outcome of this battle would be. Chief Toombon’s head swiveled, searching for his son. His hand shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare. The third sweep across the field below, his eyes alighted on the sun-glistened hair of Jimala. Chaos reigned around him. Toombon counted the enemy. One, two, three... six enemy warriors surrounded his son. The chief signaled to a group of Amangu’s making their way to help Jimala. Toombon turned back to check the progress of his son, only to witness a spear pierce his chest.

As the chief watched, Jimala’s eyes widened. He turned to face his father, nodded once and collapsed. The chief’s head shook as he roared, NOOOOO!

The roar echoed over the battle field stalling the fighting. Every speck of sand settled during the pause in fighting, as did the sounds of the battlefield. Every warrior, friend and foe, turned to face the direction of the anguished sound. Their eyes followed the chief’s to where Jimala lay. Blood coated the ground under him as his eyes closed on his last breath.

The Amangu warriors realized what happened and regrouped before their enemy. They formed groups of four and with renewed strength attacked the eastern warriors. Each determined to avenge their brother, leader, and future hope. Sweat flew off warriors as they jostled for position to take down their opponent. Blood ran freely across the dry ground, disappearing into the desolate landscape. Two hours later, covered in blood and sweat, the Amangu had pushed their enemy back across the river.

The warriors returned to the battlefield to retrieve their fallen. They left their enemy to lie on the battlefield, fodder for the animals’ evening feeding. The last to leave the field was their most prized. A group of eight lifted their fallen son and carried him back to his father. 

Chief Toombom’s hand settled atop his son’s forehead as his eyes closed. My son. May your trip to the Land of the Dead be swift. Our paths will cross again on your rebirth.

The warriors’ haunting chant echoed across the sand, barren land as they carried their charge back to their camp. Upon returning to their campsite, they handed him over to their women to prepare Jimala’s body for burial.

The women washed their fallen leader’s body and wrapped him in new linens originally made for marriage gowns. Come. One woman called to the warriors. He is ready. Take him to the sacred ground.

The group lifted their brother and carried him to their sacred burial ground. As they exited the tent, they passed between the line of tribe members. The ancient death song reverberated through the air. Dust lifted from the tapping feet. Ceremonial smoke engulfed the carriers and the body as they marched down the half-mile track.

Mindah, the spiritual leader, stood opposite the group. He raised his arms in the air and repeated the ancient words that would safeguard Jimala’s body and ensure his soul a safe trip to the Land of the Dead. At the end of the ceremony, the warriors lowered Jimala’s body into the hole and covered it with the pile of sand and dirt. 

Chief Toombon completed the last step in the burial ceremony. He leaned down, scooped up sand and covered the mound. Next, he took the gathered bark and bushes and placed it over the sand covered grave. The chief raised his fist and placed it over his heart in their ancient form of respect. Go in peace, my son. Toombon spoke before he straightened his shoulders, turned, and walked away.

The sun cried for the loss of the future leader. The sun cried tears for fourteen straight days. Crops flooded in the field, newborn animals drowned, and the water rushing from the higher grounds consumed everything in its path. The clansmen’s pride along with the world saw darkness for the last twenty-four hours.

The evening of the fifteenth day, the depressed tribesmen didn’t bother to raise their eyes upwards. For as promised, a shooting star containing a soul shot across the sky towards the promised rebirth and completion of the prophecy.

Chapter 2

Boston, MA

United States of America

Dr. Jill Sharp pulled into her parking space at Hillcrest Memorial Hospital, praying for the storm to let up. The thunder’s rumble reverberated through her chest as lightening lit up the early morning sky.

Jill jumped at the noise, causing her elbow to land on the car horn. The car blasted out a ‘honk’ just as two of her co-workers ran past her car. Dr. Sharp’s hand covered her red face, hoping they couldn’t tell who was in the car.

Seconds later, Jill sucked in a deep breath and released it. Her left hand raised to lift her raincoat hood up and over her long blonde hair. Her right hand grabbed her bag and umbrella; not that the latter was helping any of the poor souls running toward the hospital. Shrugging her shoulders, Jill pushed open her door and made a run for the emergency room doors. She had just crossed the threshold when the hospital lights went out. Great. She grumbled.

Hey, Dr. Sharp. An orderly greeted her with a flashlight in hand. Did you hear about the meteor shower happening tonight?

Nope. I don’t know how you are going to see any meteors in this weather. She exclaimed, pointing her thumb behind her. Jill shook off the rain the best she could while closing up her umbrella, and she spoke. Tell me what we have on the schedule.

We had a two-car pileup earlier. All stable. There are three in bays 1-3 needing stitched from a bar fight. And we had a highly pregnant woman come in ten minutes ago. The nurses are prepping her for delivery.

Dr. Sharp raised her eyes. Are you sure that’s it? she asked sarcastically.

The orderly laughed as he responded. Well, I am sure there will be more excitement later in the evening.

Can’t wait. She threw over her shoulder as she rushed to the locker room to stash her coat and bag. Once Jill closed the locker door, she stood in front of the mirror and wound her hair up into an acceptable bun. I guess I am as ready as I will ever be. She spun and reentered the fray, otherwise known as the E.R.

Jill took a deep breath and put on her doctor face before her hand held the curtain open to the delivery bay. How are we doing in here tonight? she asked the patient.

I am ready to get this baby out of me.

Let’s look and see how far along you are. Dr. Sharp pulled the stool over and stuck her head under the sheet and turned on the flashlight. Two minutes later, she reemerged. Well, it looks like you are seven centimeters. Being this is your first child; it might take a while. Let’s hope the lights come back on by then. Jill laughed. I’ll be back later to check on you.

Jill shucked the rubber gloves and tossed them in the medical waste bin. I might as well get those three sewed up. She decided heading back to the emergency room. Dr. Jill stood next to the nurse’s station and asked, Emily, can you get me the files on those three that need sewed up?

Sure, Dr. Jill. Oh, by the way, they are really H-O-T. Emily winked as she handed over the charts.

Jill rolled her eyes as she retorted, Great, just what I need. Flipping through each chart, scanning for any issues, finding none, she spun to enter the first bay. Good evening, I am Dr. Sharp. I understand you need some stitches.

Well, aren’t you beautiful?

Jill’s stomach rolled at the smooth as whiskey voice. Her eyes shot up and locked on her patient’s. Thank you. Now, let me see that arm. She ignored that little roll of excitement. Lord, I hope the other two aren’t as gorgeous as this one.

The thought must have shown on Jill’s face as her eyes met her nurse’s. Emily’s smirk told Jill all she needed to know. Ugh. Nurse Emily, can you move the light a little to the right? Jill asked in a stern voice.

Thirty minutes later, Dr. Jill turned the hot young man over to her nurse for discharge instructions and moved to the next room. Just before stepping through the curtain she heard the man ask, Is she dating or married? She didn’t linger for the answer, as she knew Emily wouldn’t divulge anything personal.

Jill’s hand dropped the curtain to bay 2 as her eyes scanned the bed. Hm. Just as cute. And you must be fighter number two. Cut on the abdomen.

Yes, ma’am. He purred. It is just a tiny thing. Not sure it even needs stitched.

Lay down and let me determine that. She waved her hand at the bed. Her gloved right hand reached out and lifted his t-shirt to assess the wound. Well, it looks like you may need one or two. She said as her fingers prodded his skin. Jill couldn’t help but prod an extra time or two just to see him tense that six-pack. My nurse should be here shortly to hold this light so I can stitch.

I can hold it for you, Doctor.

Jill’s eyes snapped up to see the smirk on his face. Damn, he knew what I was up to. She handed over the light,