The Killing Code: Quests of Shadowind, #5

By L.A. Miller

A Spirit Beast is born…and it's rocking the cradle!

An unparalleled virus has attacked. The bizarre disease is killing Logan while breeding a vile monster. With more murderous fiends likely to follow, Logan must flee to save what little life he has left. An old medicine man speaks of a cure, but the special herbs lie deep within a perilous rainforest. Mindy leaps into the hunt, trading her own life for Logan's.

Eerie Silhouettes and a horde of evil henchmen lurk in the streets and in the shadows, led by a vicious, relentless beast. An old artifact could offer vital assistance but it's trapped in a tangled web of enigmas and deadly danger.

Then Mindy makes a tragic discovery…

The insane solution that can save her brother's life lies far across the cosmos—within the fringes of Nulenac space.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Millhouse Press
• Release date: Feb 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224149827

L.A. Miller

L.A. Miller has been writing for more than forty years. His backgrounds in science fiction, astronomy, technology, and classic literature inform his work, which has included novels, short stories, and music. He is the owner of Wood n Nails Music and lives in Las Cruces, New Mexico, with his wife and two dogs. Sky Shifter, The Grounding Stone, and Veil are the first three, respectively, of eight books in the Quests of Shadowind series.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

E mpty.

Logan groaned and opened his eyes. He saw nothing in the pitch blackness. A deathly silence fell upon his bed, burying him like gloom within a grave. Without thinking, he sat up and put on his shoes. Beyond his bedroom window, a waterbot lazily rolled across his lawn, casting trickles of moisture along its path. Logan arose. Why had he awakened? Insufferable fatigue weighted down his sagging shoulders, making him feel like he carried an extra hundred pounds. Sluggish and exhausted, Logan closed his eyes and stumbled across the floor. As he shuffled toward his computer, his fingers fumbled across the desk until they found the power button. The machine whirred to life. Logan dropped heavily into the padded chair and waited. A soft glow illumined his face, revealing a pale forehead beaded with sweat. Logan kept his eyes shut. Prying them open required too much effort. With a mind of their own, his fingers typed mechanically. When he had completed the necessary entries, he slouched deeply. It felt good to relax. He just wanted to sleep.

Suddenly, the Transfer Element beneath the monitor flickered to life. A bright beam lanced out, striking him in the chest.

Where am I now? he wondered. With a lethargic effort, Logan parted the massive blast doors of his eyelids. He had left the comfort of his bedroom and stood inside a shack. Broken windows allowed a soft breeze to stir his hair and cool his skin. The dark of night still swallowed him whole, but muffled noises had replaced the gloomy silence. He heard what sounded like the low thuds of distant explosions. Frantic shouts called out from some remote place. They sounded like the voices of soldiers issuing and acknowledging commands. What was all the commotion about? Logan noticed a doorway and dragged his feet across a dirty floor to reach it. The door gave way with a rusty creak.

A few scant houses stood nearby. Gunfire and bombshells had blown holes in them, leaving a litter of glass and wood scattered across the rolling prairie. Flashes of light detonated on the horizon, followed by deep rumbles. At the foot of a hill, a cluster of law enforcement vehicles barricaded a two-lane highway. Colorful turrets bathed the area in flashes of reds and blues. A gathering of deputies crouched beneath them, pointing excitedly toward the explosions. Then one of them heard a disturbance nearby and stiffened in alarm.

What was that? he exclaimed. He thrust out a hand to quiet his comrades. Straightening, he grabbed the car’s spotlight and shined it in the direction of the sound. Blindingly white light burst upon a teenaged youth. Logan lifted a forearm to shield his sleepy eyes.

You there! the deputy shouted. Where’d you come from? This place is off-limits! It’s too dangerous here!

Everyone was told to head into town, another officer bellowed. Can’t you follow orders? Don’t you know there’s a war going on?

Hey, wait a minute, a third announced. Isn’t that Logan Oakes?

Logan felt relief fall on him like a warm blanket. Maybe he could find out where he was, and what all the fighting was about.

He’s the kid wanted for that psychic’s death! the man exclaimed. What’s her name...? Madam Esme. He killed Esme Purdy!

Logan felt the blanket rip away. A cloak of fear replaced it.

My God, you’re right! the first concurred. Hey, kid! Get your hands up. You’re under arrest for murder!

A flat, emotionless voice spoke in Logan’s head. Run, it said.

But I’m too tired, he thought. I just want to sleep. I’ll run later. I promise.

Run, the voice in his head repeated evenly. Now.

Logan’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Giving in to his inner direction, he turned and fled.

Get down on the ground! a deputy commanded. Logan heard the sound of guns being ripped out of their holsters. "Get down on the ground now!"

His legs felt like lead tree trunks. He had barely rounded the shack’s corner when a body slammed into him from behind. Crashing to the ground, Logan grunted out a full chest of air. A struggle commenced as the deputies tried to slap on a pair of handcuffs.

Stop resisting! one of them yelled.

Logan couldn’t see what happened next. The long arm of the law was grinding his face into the dirt. As the deputies pinned him on his belly, a completely alien sensation overtook him. It felt as though part of his insides began to come out of his back! Like a snake hatching from its egg, a specter blacker than the night emerged. The hideous sight caused the startled group to jump back in horror.

What the— one of the men gasped. "What is it?"

The six deputies backed away, guns at the ready.

As Logan hesitated in the dry soil, a lithe figure crawled out. When the last of its eerie form had exited, the creature straightened to its full height—over seven feet tall. In the glow of the spotlight, the terrified assembly saw the black monster’s twisted facial features. Its right eye looked normal, but the left one was larger and slanted down toward a short, wide nose. Thin lips began high on the left, then curled downward to the right. It looked as though someone had taken one side of its face and stretched it like Play-Doh. Its long, smooth body was lean yet powerful. Lengthy arms ended in elongated hands well below its knees. It stood on clawed feet that looked like they could dig through rock.

The petrified onlookers stared in disbelief. No one had seen anything like it. To make matters worse, the macabre creature’s right hand began to change. The blackness of its fingers brightened and morphed into three sharp, slender prongs. Small lightning bolts crackled and drew into the talon, until it glowed white-hot. Before any of the deputies could summon a single muscle to move, the monster struck. Its talon slashed through its first victim as effortlessly as a knife through water. The man exploded into a cloud of pixels and code. A moment later, a uniformed woman vaporized from a wicked backhand.

Pop, pop! Pop!

A crackling stream of gunfire erupted. The four remaining lawmen opened fire, emptying their weapons into the uncanny beast. One man stared incredulously at his pistol. Had he fired blanks? Dozens of rounds had passed through the black fiend. It had flinched once or twice, but nothing stopped its determined steps. Two more deputies burst into pixilated showers before the remaining two fled. Screaming in terror, they sprinted toward the safety of their cars. If only they could reach them! Then they could speed away to town and acquire backup—a lot of backup. Mortars and tanks might come in handy. Or would they? If bullets had failed to stop it, would a bomb make any difference?

Clawed feet dug into the hard ground and propelled the monster forward. Within seconds, it caught up to the first sprinter. He hadn’t run far before his coding flittered into the surrounding sagebrush. The final deputy thankfully reached his vehicle. Frantically yanking on the door, he threw it open and dived into the front seat. The cushions felt nothing more than the fluff of his disembodied pixels. The computer virus known as the Spirit Beast had easily defeated all six armed deputies. Turning, the killer spotted Logan, who still lay on his belly, atop the hill. The deadly creature had a final act to perform in the spotlight.

Logan rolled over and struggled to prop himself on his elbows. His eyes had missed all the action. His ears had heard plenty—shouts, screams, and gunfire—but weak and tired limbs had left him disabled. Even now, he wanted to drift off to sleep. If the ground had been any softer, and the brush a little less prickly, he might have curled up and dozed off. What was wrong with him? Why had all his energy left him? He brushed the dirt off his face just in time to see a black figure racing toward him. Logan tried to right himself, but his body seemed to weigh more than a skid of bricks. Not that it mattered. Had he found the wherewithal to run on his tree trunk legs, he would have taken no more than two steps. Within a matter of seconds, the ghoulish beast was upon him. It raised its white-hot talon, and just as it had so easily done to all the deputies, it lashed out. Logan could only lift his heavy arms in a pitiful defense. The razor sharp prongs sliced through his body. Going berserk, the Spirit Beast struck again and again. Logan twisted and rolled several times before realizing that the attack was failing. For some unknown reason, the fatal blows hadn’t produced so much as a scratch.

Understanding what it must do, the Spirit Beast desisted. Rising to its full height, it glowered over its intended victim. The grotesquely twisted face looked down at Logan, noticing the human’s curious stupor. Abandoning the fight, the black fiend spun wistfully and launched itself into the night. Like a jet rocketing across the sky, it was gone within minutes.

Logan blinked, trying to flush out the confusion from his bloodshot eyes. Groaning mightily, he gathered enough strength to pull himself off the ground. After a wary, albeit sleepy, scan of the starry sky, he wondered when the killer would try again. Then he shuffled toward the nearest battered house...to find a comfy bed.

Logan awoke, feeling refreshed. What a crazy dream! he thought. I wonder if it means anything? He rolled over, pulled the sheets over his shoulder, and took in a deep, relaxing breath. He smelled the musty odor of soil. Clothes, sporting goods, and sometimes a food wrapper or a beverage can littered his room, but not dirt. Voices also drifted into his ears. The intrusions had disturbed his sleep often enough, since everyone in the village used his bedroom as a clubhouse. However, these voices came from outside, and more important, they sounded mature. Was Watchman Danby on patrol? Logan didn’t recognize the watchman’s unique speech. He tended to sound almost aristocratic, and yet he had an immaturity and flightiness about him that dropped him out of that high status. Intrigued by the possibility of unexpected help, Logan tossed the sheets aside. Groaning pleasurably, he stretched and opened his eyes. The ceiling and the walls looked oddly different...

Startled, he sat bolt upright. No wonder he had smelled dirt. It plastered the walls and broken windows, and lay in piles on the shattered floor. The near wall—and much of the house—was missing. Logan knew that the villagers had celebrated his birthday the night before, but he didn’t recall them trashing the place. Looking beyond the destruction, he expected to see the sun shining over Open Waters Lake. Instead, the sparkling waves were replaced by dry prairie grasses and brush.

A horrible realization crashed down on Logan like an exploding bomb. Everything that had transpired during the night—had it really happened? He thought that a nightmare had plagued his sleep. However, the surroundings looked identical to his dream.

Logan jumped out of bed. He was fully dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and running shoes. His heart hammered. What am I doing here? he wondered. For that matter, where IS here? He carefully stepped between mounds of earth, splintered floorboards, and shattered glass. Walking onto the grassland, he recognized the dilapidated shack. If the battered shed was there, then whatever had transpired beyond its door...

Taking in another deep breath to steady his nerves, Logan moved with fearful expectations toward the scene. Looking to his left, he saw three law enforcement vehicles blocking the highway. The turrets had stopped flashing, presumably from dead batteries. With every fulfillment, more dread flooded into his chest. His steps slowed out of fear of what he might find. He hadn’t seen what had transpired, but he had heard every terrifying shout and gunshot. The Spirit Beast! It had attacked the deputies...who had accused him of...murder? It was all coming back in a rush. They had claimed that Logan had killed Madam Esme! But that was ridiculous! The last time he had seen the psychic, she had wished them well on their quest. He didn’t even know that she was dead! After a few more paces, Logan found himself staring down at colorful piles of machine code and pixels. His heart plummeted off the cliff of composure into a black sea of horror. Besides terminating the computer characters, the Spirit Beast had tried to kill him too! Where had it come from? Had the powerful fiend come from within him? Had he actually heard it speaking those flat, emotionless words in his head? How? Why?

Logan panicked. He needed to find a red exit door. Fast. Only then could he return to his bedroom in Shadowind, and to the comforting presence of his friends. Logan understood right then and there that living like a hermit wasted the gift of life. He needed friends, and they needed him. How could they help each other if he stubbornly preferred to live in seclusion or isolation?

With wild eyes, Logan shot his sights all around. If he had been treading the sea of horror, he suddenly sank into its dark depths. Coming over a hill beyond the broken house, a band of men were tossing their heads back and forth, searching the area. But for what? Survivors? Prisoners? While pausing for another look, Logan gained the answer. They wore black uniforms, with red armbands that displayed a bolt of lightning lancing across a white, circular patch. The Whirling Axis! They were an evil army of virus-infected soldiers, and they would definitely be searching for prisoners to convert.

Logan recalled that a battle had been raging in the distance. Had the malevolent troops won? With even greater urgency, Logan needed to escape. His feet drove him down the slope.

Hey! a man yelled from behind. There’s one of them now. Get him! Get him!

Unlike before, Logan’s legs pumped like the pistons of a roaring engine. He heard the sound of one too, as a helicopter approached. He flew down the hill and outdistanced his pursuers. They hurled angry shouts at him as others joined the chase. Some fired warning shots in the air to frighten him, but the sporadic crackles only fueled Logan’s motor. Kicking into a higher gear, his feet gobbled up huge chunks of the prairie with every long stride. Suddenly, his feet left the ground. His stomach lurched upward and pressed against his pounding heart. He had unknowingly run off a precipice and become airborne. He had completely missed the edge, because it had blended in with the monotonous scenery. His cry, prompted by a gushing overflow of adrenaline, split the air. A second or two later, Logan hit the dirt. Tucking his head in, he tumbled forward several times to break his fall. However, he felt a streak of searing pain shoot up from his ankle. His landing gear had twisted on the makeshift runway, causing him to yelp in agony. Picking himself up between clusters of sage, he dragged his wounded body back toward the rock face. A shallow fissure concealed by brush would provide temporary shelter. Logan squeezed inside and hugged his knees tightly to his chest. As his breath came in ragged gulps and his right ankle throbbed in pain, he hoped upon hope that the crevice would hide him from probing eyes. In the next moment, he heard the noise of rushing feet. They skidded to a halt.

Where’d he go? a man shouted from above.

He must have gone over the cliff, a breathless woman responded.

It looks like ten or twelve feet, another man calculated. He must have made it okay, but where is he?

Should we go look for him? the woman asked.

A pause followed. Logan thought for sure that his rapid breathing and jackhammer heart would give him away. The group stood directly above him. Then a helicopter noisily cut through the air, making a quick surveillance sweep.

No, came a man’s firm reply. Forget about him. He’s just a kid. We need to regroup and meet up with our regiment. We’ll be moving south soon. He went west. A burst of static erupted when he keyed the mike of his walkie-talkie. Recon chopper one-niner-five. Abort. Repeat, abort. Return to base. Over.

This is recon chopper one-niner-five, a woman’s voice crackled. Roger wilco. Returning to base. Over and out.

The roaring engine and slapping blades faded into the distance.

Everybody fall in! the commander barked. We’re movin’ out!

Logan listened to the racket of marching feet, waiting until they died away completely. As he tried to rub away the ache from his ankle, he wondered what would become of him. He was in big trouble. Not only was the Whirling Axis alerted to his presence, but law enforcement was also looking for him. Not to mention the deadly and unrelenting Spirit Beast.

The latter notion frightened him the most. Why had the virus-induced creature appeared, and why had he survived its attack? Logan thought he had defeated it weeks earlier. Perhaps someone had generated another entity by typing in new codes. Either way, Logan wondered if the Spirit Beast would repeat its earlier course and occupy a computer character. If that happened, the next assault would come as a complete surprise from any stranger he met. Subsequently, the inevitable clash could very well end in his death.

Logan must find an exit! He needed to walk to a nearby town and somehow find a red, specially labeled exit door. But he would have to sneak around like a fugitive. Despair began to settle in. Then he lifted his head. A thought had buoyed it. Perhaps, even now, his friends were watching from his bedroom computer. Maybe they knew his location, and someone was already rushing to his aid.

Feeling a bit better about his prospects, he arose and tested his ankle. It hurt but not too badly—maybe a sprain, nothing more. Emerging from hiding, he took an inventory of his surroundings. Miles of repeating soil and brush disheartened him. No way could anyone figure out his position in such a desolate place. He would need to find the nearest town.

He followed the base of the cliff toward the south for several hundred yards, limping as he went. By the time he reached the lonely highway, his stride had improved. Looking to his left, he saw the squad cars silently guarding the road. Logan had just turned sixteen, and he didn’t have a temporary driver’s license. But he thought he could reach a town much quicker if he borrowed a car. It wasn’t really stealing, was it? He was inside a computer, so the vehicle wasn’t even real. The deputy who had driven it was nothing but a pile of pixels. He certainly wouldn’t miss it. Besides, not a single car or truck had traveled across that stretch of the road. Even if Logan turned out to be a bad driver—which he doubted—he wouldn’t crash into anything. He would drive slowly...at first. Until he got the hang of it.

Picking up the pace, Logan jogged to the cars. He slid into the front seat of the first one and turned the key. Nothing—not even a click. He tried the second and third cruisers (carefully avoiding the pile of pixels), with the same results. As he feared, the batteries had died during the night. Grumbling in frustration, Logan stepped away to gaze forlornly at the highway. The black strip lazily snaked from one hill to the next. Since the soldiers had revealed their plans, Logan chose to head west. With his stomach growling for breakfast, he resolutely put one foot in front of the other.

He knew that sheriffs, deputies, soldiers, and the Spirit Beast were dogging his every step.

CHAPTER 2

Y ou know he’s always hungry, Mindy said, opening the oven door. Especially for something like this. He’ll love it!

Samantha watched as Mindy pulled out a sheet of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. The entire house had filled with the sweet aroma. From an earlier batch, the girls had giggled and snitched several samples. But the rest they left for Logan as his birthday present. One day earlier, he had turned sixteen. Just because they were stranded on Shadowind didn’t mean that he wasn’t entitled to some happiness. Besides, Mindy hoped that the cookies would add fuel to her brother’s creative spark. After spending a great deal of time in Computerworld, she hoped that they could actually begin to look for their parents.

Thanks for letting me help, Samantha said with a smile.

It was fun, Mindy replied, setting the tray on a countertop to cool. Besides, I know how much you like Lo. Just don’t let Kyle find out. I think he’s jealous. She tossed in the last line as a fishing lure, hoping to catch more information on their relationship.

Kyle’s jealous? Samantha asked.

The question caught Mindy off guard. She suspected that Kyle liked Samantha, but Mindy harbored her affections for him and did her best to downplay the hurt.

Samantha’s thoughts returned to Logan as her blue eyes sparkled with hope. "Hey! Maybe I should bring him the cookies. He’ll notice me for sure then!"

Mindy folded her arms. Are you kidding? If you walk in there with a plateful of cookies, what do you think he’ll look at?

Samantha sighed and leaned against the counter for support. Obviously the cookies, she answered in defeat.

Obviously, Mindy echoed with a nod.

Samantha folded her arms in a huff. "He never looks at me!"

Mindy transferred the cooling cookies to a sheet of wax paper. "He likes somebody, she said, thinking out loud. If we can figure out who it is, you can use it to your advantage."

Samantha gave her blond hair a toss. A, how can we get him to tell us? And B, how could I use it to my advantage?

When you know who it is, Mindy explained excitedly, then you’ll know how to be better than her. I already know that you are, but Logan can be kinda dense. He’s not the most observant guy around, you know.

Don’t I know it!

Say...maybe you should switch from being a cheerleader to being a participant!

Samantha crinkled her nose. What do you mean?

I mean, like, get really involved. If the other girl hits a single, you hit a double. If she sinks a free throw, you hit a three-pointer. That would get his attention. But you don’t play much baseball or basketball, do you?

A little. Like you said, I’ve always been a cheerleader.

Right, Mindy concurred. So, next chance we get, we hit the practice field. That is if you’re serious about this... Honestly, I don’t know what you see in him.

Don’t you see it? He’s cute. And he’s sweet—

So are these cookies, Mindy said, taking a bite. Maybe you better stick with them. Better a stomachache from loving cookies, than a heartache from loving Logan.

He’s worth it, Samantha responded dreamily. Come on! Let’s take him his birthday cookies.

Mindy smiled at her persistence. Okay. You go in first and say ‘Happy Birthday,’ Mindy instructed. I’ll follow with the cookies. That way, you’ll have half a chance that he’ll see you.

Samantha nodded with excitement. She glanced up at the clock while Mindy grabbed a plate from the cupboard. It’s only ten o’clock, Samantha remarked. Do you think he’s awake?

Not a chance, Mindy said. After his day yesterday, he’ll sleep till noon easy.

Maybe we should let him sleep, Samantha suggested. After all, it is his birthday. It would be a nice present, don’t you think?

Aw, you’re so sweet, Sami Jo, Mindy replied. That other girl—if there really is one—has got nothing on you. You made his bed for him again yesterday, didn’t you?

Samantha hesitated and then nodded. It’s the least I could do. You guys saved the village! I just hang out and babysit.

Hey, with this bunch, that’s saying a lot!

A short knock fell on the front door, followed by its opening. A moment later, a man dressed in a plaid suit stepped into the living room. Top of the morning to you! Watchman Danby announced. I’m not too early, am I? The other kids are outside playing, so I thought I should check up on the Oakeses and see how they’re faring. He alertly spotted the plate of cookies in Mindy’s hands and eyed them hungrily. I say! What’s this? Did you bake those yourself? What’s the occasion?

Mindy nodded. It’s Logan’s birthday. Captain Aimery sent a message last night reminding us. We kinda lost track of time.

Danby nodded. Shadowind has a habit of doing that, I’m afraid.

A dry grin stretched Mindy’s lips. No kidding. So anyways, Sami Jo and I baked him a present.

They look positively delightful...

There’s more in the kitchen, Mindy said, reading his mind. "We were just taking these in for Logan. But we were debating if we should wait. It’s awfully quiet in there. I’m