Skypunch (The Skypunch Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  SKYPUNCH

  Book 1 of The Skypunch Chronicles

  LOGAN CASTLE

  This novel is fiction, except for the parts that aren’t.

  Copyright © 2017 by Logan Castle

  All rights reserved.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  P.S. Did you know there is a book trailer for Skypunch?

  Check it out at:

  www.logancastle.com

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First and foremost, the work contained within are for my beautiful boys, Jacob and Ryan. Hey guys, look what daddy did!

  To Haylie, to which this and so much more would not have been possible. My muse, thank you for your ears and your eyes. I love you.

  To my father for “forcing” me to pick up a book so long ago.

  To those who have inspired and supported me every step of the way, I can’t possibly thank you enough. This is what it is because of you.

  And, finally, to you, the reader. A famous Jedi once said, “Many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.” Well, I really hope you enjoy reading mine.

  Prologue

  There are those who would characterize time as a predator, stalking you all your life, waiting patiently to catch up to you. Those people, however, couldn’t be more wrong.

  Time waits for no one. It will hunt you with the tenacity of a lion, lull you into a false sense of security and invulnerability until the very moment it pounces, enveloping you into its unyielding jaws. While it’s true that the effects of time can be stymied temporarily by new medicines and technology, inevitably it will win. Time always wins.

  It’s everything prior to that moment, that one final sunset that eclipses on everyone’s life, that will have the greatest impact on time itself. It’s the cumulative actions and decisions made over the course of a single person’s life that can influence and shape time across a wide-ranging variety of spectrums.

  Time itself is a spiral. There is a “starting point” from whence all of time originates and from which every event brings it further from. Any decision or action, no matter how small it may seem, will ultimately lead to a very specific outcome within any one world or reality.

  That, however, is only the beginning; a mere scratch on the surface of something so much bigger. There is an entirely different spiral/reality that is also created, one that encompasses the results generated from a different response to the very same decision or action. Take a traffic signal as it turns to yellow. Do you stop or speed up? The results of either decision form two completely different outcomes and, thus, two entirely different realities. This concept creates what is called the Multiverse, which is essentially described as the roof under which an endless stream of possibilities manifests as an infinite number of realities.

  It is, however, the true location of that original starting point that remains a mystery. One that has been tirelessly considered and heatedly debated: one that has flustered even the most intellectual of minds and remains still one of the single most important secrets in all of creation.

  That point, as it turns out, is called the Axis of Time. It is the waystation from which all of time begins, the one place where the predator known as time is rendered essentially toothless. Since the dawn of the Multiverse itself, it has been a device by which each reality and its respective pasts and futures are monitored, cataloged and studied.

  Even more paradoxical, the very instrument used to view such infinitum turns out to be nothing more than a towering wall of video and multimedia, thousands of screens which would tirelessly recycle their images to different moments in time and space. While some of these moments are significant, others might seem fairly inconsequential but such is time, the great equalizer. There is no moment, no matter how small, that doesn’t represent an equally important strand in the fabric of what will one day become a masterpiece tapestry.

  It has been thus since the beginning of the Multiverse. The vast array of monitors, serving as windows into various realities, would never tire and the Multiverse would always be watched. And thus is how it would continue for all of eternity.

  That is, until now.

  Amidst the sea of monitors, a single solitary screen flickered. It was sudden and lasted for only the very briefest moment before devolving into a simple, yet vexatious loss of signal. It went completely unnoticed as the man responsible for viewing the monitors was fast asleep. His weathered face was plastered to the large desk facing the wall of screens; and the sounds of his snoring reverberated off the walls in the massive room that contained them.

  Another monitor flickered slightly once more. It too relegated to the same streaming black and grey snow. Still, the man peacefully slept, completely unaware of what was transpiring before him. It continued like that, every passing second noted by another briefly seizing monitor, followed by a quick and silent death.

  It wasn’t until roughly half the monitors had reverted to snow and static that the man abruptly snorted and his body finally began to stir. Still, his eyes remained steadfastly closed as he petered back and forth, caught between the harshness of the waking world and the blissful land of dreams. This break was much needed… One of the first times when he could actually sleep in what felt to him like millennia.

  Two bloodshot eyes sprang open and stared wildly around as a sudden screeching alarm pierced the silence. A sense of confusion shone in his eyes at first, but that soon changed to sheer disbelief after they settled on the multitude of blank screens. He sprang up, his legs still wobbly from a sleep that was too deep. Incredulously staring at the screens without moving, adrenaline suddenly coursed through his body, forcing his old heart to pound furiously against his chest. His breathing became short and raspy as he realized that nearly every monitor, which was formerly airing an active image, was completely blank.

  “What…what’s going on?” he cried out.

  The ground suddenly shook. It was so slight that he first thought his mind might be playing tricks on him. He received his answer when the ground shook again. This time, it was much more violent. He looked up towards the ceiling of the room and his eyes instantly widened. The spray of dust that came down from the ceiling was all the confirmation he needed. His mouth fell immediately open in horror.

  A flicker in his peripheral vision drew his eyes back to a single monitor as it revolved slowly round and round. It might have just been one screen among many, but it had become the last monitor to contain any kind of image. The sight on that single, little screen drained the blood quickly from his cheeks.

  It was a face, positioned so closely to the receiving end of the monitor that nothing else could be seen except a wide, almost Cheshire Cat-like grin and a sparkling set of upper white teeth. The grin quickly disappeared as the mouth opened to form words.

  “Ah Time Keeper; is that you?” The old man just stood there, dumbfounded and temporarily unable to find his tongue. The face stared and continued. “Of course it is! There’s no one else here but you,” the voice mused. “Well, you’ve certainly tried very hard to keep this place a secret from everyone; I’ll give you that. While I’ve long suspected such a place as this existed, my every attempt to discover it has been met with failure. Now, finally, I’ve discovered it. I know now what I’m capable of, Timekeeper, and soon, you will too.”

  The old man, unable to move, could only watch as the teeth abruptly pulled away from the monitor to
reveal the entire face of a man. It was a pair of crazed, brown eyes that held the Time Keeper’s rapt attention though. They were wild and full of malice…and they stared unblinkingly back at him.

  “Don’t get in my way, Time Keeper. Remain in this prison and I will allow you to live. This will be your only warning.”

  Hands that might as well have been claws suddenly reached forward and the last working screen went completely blank.

  The old man’s weary legs abruptly gave out and he fell violently to the floor. His heartbeat sounded like an enormous clock, ticking in an infinitesimal echo. As he gasped for air, his vision began to blur and he felt himself start to lose consciousness. Just before his head landed, he had one last thought just before his consciousness vanished. It was the only one that managed to break through his tortured mind.

  The Axis is breaking!

  Chapter 1

  “3…2…1… Happy New Year!!”

  The cheerful words and thunderous booming of fireworks were all but drowned out by the subsequent roar of thousands of people. Rolling images flashed on the TV screen of people embracing, their hands and lips locked together while confetti and balloons rained down from the brightly lit night sky. At that moment, it seemed as if no one had a care in the world. As though the simple ticking of the clock and welcoming of the new year provided everyone with that oh-so-clichéd fresh start they had talked about for the past year. I sighed, feeling exasperated. The scene at Times Square in New York was nothing less than dramatic. And when its signature Frank Sinatra song ‘New York, New York’ began to play, my sigh turned into a groan. So unbelievably predictable!

  Not like LA is much better! I thought to myself. Here it’s, “I Love LA!”

  Annoyed, I diverted my gaze from the small TV perched atop the bar and returned my concentration to my immediate surroundings. On this particularly chilly evening, I found myself sitting smack dab in the middle of one of the most classless and scummy bars I could ever be so unlucky to find. I had purposefully searched for a place that most people would try to steer clear of. No, the “Hog’s Nose” wasn’t exactly bustling tonight, not anything like Times Square over there in New York. Nonetheless, it was still overflowing with people – way too many people. All appeared grievously drunk and clearly overjoyed at the commencement of a new year. As I scanned the joint, I tried to find one face without a smile on it. There was only one, mine.

  Something cold suddenly doused my right forearm. I glanced down to find the couple beside me locked in a very exclusive embrace. One of the lip-locked participants was holding a glass, the contents of which were now drenched all over my arm. I looked up into the face of a woman who clearly had no idea she just showered a complete stranger with what smelled like bad whiskey. Once she saw my disapproving glare, her demeanor quickly changed.

  “I’m sorry…” The slurred words tumbled from her mouth.

  I managed to give her a much-exaggerated smile before turning my head back to the bar. The echo of clinking glasses and cheering toasts could be heard throughout the bar, and it soon began drilling into my ears. Nevertheless, I sat there and listened to the happy sounds of everyone celebrating a new year and a fresh start.

  Dumbasses. All of them. There are no fresh starts!

  I reached for a paper napkin on the table in front of me and wiped my arm dry. As I did so, my eyes locked onto my most recent tattoo which was wrapped around the inside of my forearm. The image which had been carved into my flesh spanned from my wrist to just below my elbow crease. I couldn’t help but admire the attention to detail every time I glanced at it. It was harder still not to grimace when I remembered just how many sessions it had taken to complete.

  For the artist himself, the art before me was a showcase of immense talent and an unwavering dedication to his craft. For me, it was a whole lot more. The tattoo represented a since childhood obsession of mine with the concept of time and, more specifically, the future. Prior to being stamped into my skin, the very concept of the tattoo itself had been an elusive one to say the least. How did one go about coming up with a design that accurately portrayed the future?

  After filling up several trashcans with crumpled up ideas, the image of what was now embedded onto my flesh had all but forced its way into my head, taking control of my hands to essentially draw itself. I remember losing myself in some sort of trance, as I drew furiously for what felt like an eternity. When I finally snapped myself out of it and looked down at the paper, my eyes nearly bulged from their sockets in disbelief. I realized what was staring back at me from the paper was exactly what I’d wanted, exactly how I’d envisioned it.

  A plethora of golden gears and intricate line work were thrown together to take the form of a large steampunk clock, a perfect blend of technology meshed with Victorian-era aesthetics. The circular gears were made up of all sizes. While they were uniquely positioned in just about every conceivable angle, every one of them was just another cog in the grand design, and created with the upmost care and attention to detail. It was a complex-looking device; a true representation of what I imagined a clock of the future – the clock of tomorrow – would look like. Even its color, gold, was intentionally chosen to emphasize that philosophy. Smack dab in the center of my forearm, and deliberately shaded as to make it appear as though it was positioned at the forefront of its many gears, was the actual clock’s circular face, two long golden hands sitting proudly atop an ascending series of numbers. The hands were set to 12 o’clock sharp, but whether that meant AM or PM was entirely up to the beholder. In the background of this clock was a collage of reds, oranges and blues – the colors you’d see on the horizon at sunset or even sunrise.

  It was perfect. And so, I went about finding a highly recommended tattoo artist and immortalizing it onto my skin. After several long and mildly painful sessions, here it stood, proudly emboldening my right forearm.

  If only it actually worked…!

  I reached out for the full shot glass in front of me, swallowing it in one gulp. I intended to drink enough alcohol so that I would simply stop feeling everything and anything. Based on prior experience, I knew vodka would do the trick quite nicely. I raised my empty shot glass overhead to signal the bartender for another. After a few awkward moments of holding the glass straight up into the air, she acknowledged me. On a packed night such as this, I expected shitty service. That was why I made sure to get there early enough to find a seat in the center of the bar. Even with all the people surrounding and practically on top of me, I had prime real estate, the best seat there. Meanwhile, I could get a good laugh watching the rest of the idiots waiting twenty minutes in line for a single drink.

  Speaking of drinks, I couldn’t remember what number I was actually on. Maybe five, possibly seven…but who was counting? I wasn’t going for numbers tonight or even bragging rights. I came here only to drown myself. To forget. To get so fucked up that it wouldn’t matter that I was alone on New Year’s Eve.

  That’s what happens when you fuck your girlfriend’s best friend…and she finds out…from someone other than you. The thought was laced with self-recrimination and loathing.

  Like a raging tsunami, the ugly memories returned and threatened to undo all the effects of the alcohol. An image of her appeared in my head and I clenched my eyes shut, trying to rub it out. But it was no use. I could still see Plum’s lips spreading into a coy smile as her sparkling, blue, cat-like eyes shone with mischief.

  Plum. My girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. As of tonight, actually.

  I’d been dating Plum for nearly two years. From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I knew she had to be mine. I could remember the first time we met like it was only yesterday; she was dressed in a salmon-pink dress that showed off her curvy, athletic figure. With her cornflower blue eyes, shoulder-length blond hair, and coquettish smile, she was just my type…and then some.

  She smiled at me as soon as I approached her and I instantly knew she was trouble. But not the kind of
trouble you shy away from. She was the type of trouble you willingly threw yourself into, and at full throttle. She was the kind of trouble you eagerly anticipated, hoping all the while that you wouldn’t lose your head, but manage to come out on the other side unscathed. And even if you didn’t, it was well worth the ride.

  She was beautiful, the most stunningly gorgeous creature I’d ever seen. There was a vivacity about her that other women I’d encountered lacked. It was almost as if she were some undiscovered species of animal, feral and unpredictable but so alluring and magnetic all the same. And once she opened her mouth and released some of that acerbic wit and confident humor, I was utterly captivated.

  As the night went on, I recalled wondering why she chose to stay there with me. I couldn’t for the life of me think of anything I had that could’ve interested her. She was the type of woman who could have blossomed and flourished anywhere and with anyone. Just like a chameleon, she could effortlessly blend into any topic of discussion just as easily as if she were donning a new costume to play a new role. Even though I’d only just met her, I could already tell she was well-traveled and worldly. She was educated, certainly, but not just from books. She’d seen other countries and experienced cultures quite dissimilar to her own. The bold way she spoke, and the wisdom in her eyes along with the commitment of her delivery were all clear signs. When I learned that she was an artist, it didn’t surprise me in the least. I could only imagine what it was like to be witnessing the world through her eyes. Probably a much more magical place than the world I saw.

  Memory after memory filled my mind, overlapping one another as the maelstrom within my brain continued to rage. I recalled trips to far-off destinations, holidays spent overindulging in presents and food, and late nights in glamorous clubs. However, neither the expensive hotels, the posh restaurants, nor the unique adventures left the deepest impressions in my thoughts. I mostly recall the times when she was poking and tickling me at Home Depot; or the way she’d often turn around and smile at me in the middle of a hike. The tinkling of her laughter and how she made me feel are what I remember most. She knew me, the real me, in ways that no one ever had. And best of all, she accepted me, even in my darkest moments. I have to say that she made me a better person.