Legend of Samantha Torres

By Jacob Ryckman

"Couldn't put it down!" ~5-star review

 

For twelve year-old Samantha Torres, her Type 1 diabetes used to just be a frustrating nuisance - one more thing for her mother to tell her she wasn't being responsible about. But when her cruise ship crashes on a mysterious jungle island and separates her from her family, managing that chronic illness becomes a struggle for her life.

 

Luckily, she receives some help from a 3,000 year-old woman named Belby, who claims that Samantha's powers indicate that she is supposed to protect the island from intruders. Specifically, she has to stop a bunch of creepy zombie-people - who most likely have kidnapped her mom - from reaching the magical tree at the center of the island. With just a single bottle of insulin, some awesome gravity-bending superpowers, and a quippy attitude, Samantha is guaranteed to succeed and prove to her mom once and for all that she can be responsible. After all, putting yourself in harm's way to fight a bunch of bad guys is super responsible…right?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacob Ryckman
• Release date: Dec 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223394907

Book preview

Legend of Samantha Torres

Jacob Ryckman

Copyright © 2023 by Jacob Ryckman

All rights reserved.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Cooper Weitz

To Ande

I love you 3000

Contents

1. CHAPTER ONE

2. CHAPTER TWO

3. CHAPTER THREE

4. CHAPTER FOUR

5. CHAPTER FIVE

6. CHAPTER SIX

7. CHAPTER SEVEN

8. CHAPTER EIGHT

9. CHAPTER NINE

10. CHAPTER TEN

11. CHAPTER ELEVEN

12. CHAPTER TWELVE

13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

19. CHAPTER NINETEEN

20. CHAPTER TWENTY

21. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

22. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

23. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

24. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

25. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

26. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

27. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

28. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER ONE

I should have known things were going to be bad when my mother used my full name.

Samantha Maria Torres!

Her voice carried over the surface of the cruise ship, audible above the rest of the crowd that sloshed and splashed in the pool. I knew right away that I was in deep, deep trouble. Parents never use your full name unless you’re really in for it.

I clambered out of the pool and hurried over before she could repeat herself. Some strange glances were already being made in her direction. If she went on for much longer, the whole ship would know my name. I didn't need that kind of recognition.

My mother stood waiting by a row of deck chairs, her hands on her hips and a frown stretched across her face. Mija, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you! She held up her phone. Have you been monitoring your numbers?

I rolled my eyes. The screen she was showing me was normally host to a chart full of numbers: my blood glucose levels. Admittedly, kind of important when you're diabetic like me. Now, however, the screen was empty. It did that when there was a technical glitch, if Bluetooth wasn't working, if the moon was full…the application failed a lot. It also looked like that when (like now, for instance) a certain someone had removed the tiny piece of medical equipment from their body that actually read their blood glucose levels. Certainly I wouldn't know anything about that.

Mija… My mother said, danger in her voice.

I took it off before I went swimming, I admitted, shrugging.

Her face turned a shade of crimson. Why would you do that!? A few suntanners looked up from their lounge chairs in alarm.

It was going to expire in like an hour anyways! I protested, trying to keep my voice low to avoid extra attention. It kept getting loose, and I didn't want it to fall off in the pool. What's the big deal!?

My mother's expression was a cross between extreme fury and…well, actually it was all just extreme fury. Despite this, her tone of voice became cool and level. We're going back to your room. Now.

Ruh-roh.

If there's one thing I've learned in twelve years of life, it is that when Elena Torres gets angrily quiet, that's how you know you're in really deep trouble. Like that one time when I broke her grandma's old vase because I started playing soccer in the house. Or when I nearly set the house on fire trying to cook one of my toys (it was a rubber chicken wing and I was four. How was I supposed to know you couldn't cook it?!). Or when I…well, you get the idea.

We wound our way through the maze that was the cruise ship. The size of it amazed me: not only were there rooms for several thousand people, but the ship also had its own movie theater, theatre-theater, four pools, an outdoor track, multiple dining rooms, and a long hallway with different restaurants attached to it in the center. It felt like a floating city, full of wonder and fun and relaxation.

But something felt different this afternoon as we walked down the halls. Though we passed by all sorts of cruise-goers - people in their swimsuits, little kids bouncing around with endless energy, rebellious teens wandering aimlessly - there was an odd sense of tension that made me shiver and rub my shoulders. Maybe I was just being paranoid. I was in trouble, after all.

The awkward silence was broken when the ship violently jerked to one side, and both my mother and I were knocked against the wall to our left. I immediately fell to my knees, planting my hands firmly on the ground to steady myself in anticipation of another violent swerve. My mother grabbed a nearby door handle.

After a moment, the subtle movements of the ship on the ocean continued as normal. I got to my feet, my hands shaking. What was that? I asked, looking at my mother.

Her face remained implacably calm. Come on, mija. Let's get you back to your room. She began walking back down the hall as if nothing had

happened.

Yet, as we continued along, I could not help but notice a change in her movements. Sure, the old anger was there, as obvious as an elephant in a china shop with her set jaw and hunched shoulders. But something else was there, too: fear. Every step of hers was more hurried, and at every junction her head darted from side to side as if she was keeping an eye out for some unseen threat. Between her increased awareness and the continued strange silence of the ship, I started glancing cautiously around corners, too, just out of paranoia. What was going on? And did my mother know something about it?

I was almost glad when we made it to my room, safe and sound. Almost.

Go change your sensor, my mother said. Her voice remained calm. Cold.

I didn't argue, grabbing some clothes and other things from a backpack before darting into the adjacent bathroom. The bedroom was tiny - about the size of a closet - but it was a luxury to have my own separate room nonetheless. I quickly changed out of my swimsuit and into shorts and a shirt.

The next thing to do was put on a new sensor. Like I said earlier, I'm diabetic (Type 1, thank you very much), and so my body doesn't produce insulin like the rest of you normies. Since insulin is what keeps the body's blood sugars from going crazy and killing us, I have to provide my body with insulin manually. By using a sensor - basically a small piece of plastic that sticks to my arm - to read what my blood glucose levels are, I can know how much (or how little) insulin to take.

And that leads me back to my mother. She was of the opinion that if I don't have a sensor on, and therefore don't know what my blood sugars are at all times, that I must obviously be mere seconds from death. This was a bit of a constant back-and-forth argument between us. The sensors failed or expired all the time, and it was exhausting taking the time to re-apply them, connect the new sensor with the app on my phone, and wait the obligatory two hours for the sensor to finally come online. And even when I didn't have the sensor, I could still always read my blood sugars the old fashioned way by pricking my finger and getting another piece of equipment. She just needed to chill out and trust me to know what I was doing.

Once the sensor was set in place high on my left arm, I discarded the leftover trash and left the bathroom. Judgment time.

Mom was waiting for me, sitting at the edge of the bed. I sat next to her, huffing loudly to show my displeasure at the inevitable scolding that was coming.

You need to take things more seriously, mija. I don't like it when you just ignore the things you need to be doing.

"But I'm not just ignoring things! I argued. I knew the sensor was going to fall off, and so I took it off before I got in the pool. If anything I was being more responsible because I didn't want other people to deal with that!"

A vein appeared on my mother's forehead, yet she managed to maintain her cool. But what if something happened and your levels changed rapidly? You were at the pool - I wouldn't have known if something was going on, and might not have been able to help you…

"I brought my testing kit to the pool with me! I left it…

uhhhhhh… I suddenly realized that I hadn't collected any of my things earlier. Well, it might still be on one of the chairs…"

The vein on her forehead swelled. Honestly, it was a miracle my mother's head didn't just explode right there. Mija, this is what I'm talking about! Her tone still managed to sound calm, though it had increased in volume significantly. You can't keep leaving things everywhere. This isn't our apartment! We had better go back and find it. That kit is so expensive…

I turned away from her then. I'm sorry I'm such an inconvenience for you.

No! That's not what I… She groaned, putting a hand to her face. Samantha, I'm just asking you to be more responsible. I worry about what will happen when you're older and on your own, and I'm not able to keep an eye on you.

Well, you don't need to keep an eye on me. I do just fine on my-

I was interrupted mid-conversation when the ship gave another sudden shake, sending me sprawling to the floor. The bathroom door swung open and all the garbage from the bin scattered everywhere. The television, set upon a tiny dresser, fell over with a loud crack. The tremors lasted only for a short moment, but it was no less unnerving than the last time.

"What the heck was that?" I gasped, bringing myself back to my feet. My mother had been lucky, as despite the violent shaking, she had been able to stay upright. She darted forward and gave me a once-over.

Are you okay? she asked.

I'm fine. A little bruised, I think, but it's no big deal. I brushed strands of black hair from in front of my face. What happened?

My mother stepped back, determining that I was okay. I don't know. Yet her tone seemed to suggest that she did know, but wasn’t telling.

Screams filled the halls outside, followed by the thumping of running footsteps. My mother and I glanced at each other.

Stay here, she told me.

She walked to the door, and I could feel the nervous energy emanating off of her. She opened the door and glanced outside, looking both ways down the hall. Then she turned back to me and shrugged. I don't see anything. She paused, thinking. I'm going to go and try to find your father, she said. When I last saw him, he was so… She stopped and glanced at me. It's a good idea for me to find him. Make sure he's okay.

Want help?

Thank you, but I'll be okay. Stay here. Don’t go wandering off.

I huffed. But if something's going on, I want to help!

No. Stay here, where it is safe. Her eyebrows raised in warning. Do not leave this room until I return. Understood?

My shoulders sank. Once again, she wasn’t trusting me to take care of myself. Fine.

She gave me a nervous smile. You just stay here and stay safe. We can finish talking when I get back.

You promise?

Of course. Please stay here. I love you. She kissed her hand and blew on it as if sending her love in my direction.

Dang it. It was hard to stay mad at her. I pretended to grab the blown kiss and clench it in my fist, which then I held just in front of my heart. I love you, too.

She closed the door, and I was left all to my lonesome. Her leaving only made me more nervous. What if something happened to her? I didn't want to be left on a cruise ship with just my dad…

Nervously, I began to pace the room. My mother knew something. That much was certain. She was too calm. This was a woman who got upset any time my blood sugars did anything even remotely weird. With the cruise ship making sudden movements like this, she should have been freaking out. Things weren't adding up.

I glanced at the door. She had told me not to leave the room. But then again, wouldn’t the responsible thing to do be to stick with her, an adult? After all, a child such as me surely shouldn’t be left alone during troubling times such as these…

Before I had a chance to act out my rebellion, the ship made another jerking motion, this one more violent than either of the ones which preceded it. I was sent flying through the air. My head made harsh contact with the wall, and my vision snapped into darkness as I was knocked unconscious.

CHAPTER TWO

When I finally came to, nothing was as I remembered it.

For starters, everything was sideways. The bed lay crooked on its foot, almost crushing the dresser beneath it. The television had been ruined, screen cracked and bits of glass and plastic scattered around it. A small painting that hung on the wall was nowhere to be found.

And I was lying in the middle of it all.

My room was set at an angle. The bed was now on top of me, though thankfully the current positioning prevented it from truly crushing me. I was stuck between it and the wall, though, my feet now gracing the top of the splintered dresser.

My head hurt. A lot. I had a vague memory of being tossed like a ragdoll through the air and slamming against the wall. That must have been what did it. I probably had…what was the word for it…a percussion? That didn’t sound right, but I was in too much pain to think more about it. Percussion it was.

I had to get out. Had to find out what happened. More than that, I needed to gather my supplies. I struggled against the bed, trying to push it over so that I could get to the door. No such luck. I would have to squeeze myself through the tiny gap between the bed and the dresser.

All the while, that smell of something on fire filled my nostrils.

Whatever this was, it had to be connected to the weird swerving that had been happening earlier. Maybe the ship was having mechanical issues. Maybe it got beached. It didn’t matter. I had to get out.

I got my foot free and used my pump to check my blood sugars. They were running high. Percussion or not, that wasn’t helping my headache.

Just to clarify, when I say running high, I'm not talking about high on drugs or anything like that. I mean my blood sugar levels are running higher than what they should. Knowing I was running high, I tapped the screen of my insulin pump and gave myself some extra units. That should last me a few hours, at least, but I still grimaced. Given the circumstances, I needed to ration as much insulin as I could. If I ran out...I didn’t want to think about that.

The next problem was acquiring my extra insulin and pump supplies - I didn't want to run