The Awakened (The Awakened Duology #1)

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He poked his head back in. “We’re going to camp outside. We’re going to eat some food and be prepared the best that we can be. I’d rather be outside, ready to fight, than get ambushed in the car.”

I exchanged looks with Ash as we climbed out of the car and followed him into a clearing. He was already scrounging around for wood and tossing it in the center. It wasn’t long before he had a small fire going. It was freezing, and I pulled a blanket from the back of the car and wrapped it around myself.

After a small dinner of cold Spaghetti-os from a can, I curled up into a fetal position on the ground and drifted to sleep while staring at the fire, watching the flames flicker.



The dream started out the same. The situations were the same. I was at the dance; the lights and vines were stretched across the courtyard. I was in Ash’s arms, dancing around, that uncontrollable hunger filling my entire body. Ash smiled down at me, his vacant, amazing smile and called me beautiful and terrifying.

It was darker somehow, the edges of the dream blurred into dark shadows. Every time I turned my head, I was met with a dark fog, suffocating me. I pulled away from Ash and ran away, struggling to find myself through the dark. I lost track of myself for a while, fighting my way to some light. I stumbled, fell to the ground, and all I could see were the ankles of the people passing me.

The hunger became too much to handle and my hands darted out quickly to grab the nearest leg to me. I dragged the person to the ground and sunk my teeth into the soft flesh of an arm. The person was screaming, pulling and tugging at me to get off but I was already latched on. I wasn’t letting go. My teeth were tearing through skin and muscle and I was enjoying the sweet, coppery taste of blood. I caught my rippled reflection in a window and saw the blue skin and the black eyes, and the pieces of flesh hanging from my sharpened teeth.

I looked down at the person I had tackled and found Madison staring back at me, whimpering. “Don’t kill me, Zoey. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me again!”



“Madison!”

“Zoey, Zoey, shhhh.”

My eyes flew open, and I woke up gasping. I looked around and saw both Ash and Dad bending over me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.



“Another nightmare?” Ash asked, brushing my sweaty hair out of my face.

I nodded. “Yeah.” I shifted uncomfortably and not just because I was lying on the hard ground. “Did I…did I scream?”

Ash nodded. “Yeah, you did.”

I flushed. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t scream. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, Z, it’s okay. You’re having bad dreams; it’s natural to scream,” he soothed.

“I have to agree with Zoey on this one,” Dad said, sighing. “I’m sorry you’re having nightmares, but your screams can attract people to us.”

My face burned even hotter. “I know. I’m sorry,” I repeated, embarrassed. Waking up in the middle of nowhere, screaming my lungs out in front of my dad and Ash and possibly within hearing distance of some Awakened was not something I had much pride in.

“It’s fine. Let’s just try and get some more rest before we head out again,” he said, settling back down. “Then maybe we can…” He fell silent, suddenly alert. He raised himself to his knees, slowly and quietly, staring around us.

“Dad?” I asked, confused, my eyes darting around our surroundings. I was used to the well-lit city and couldn’t quite adjust to the permeating darkness.

“Someone’s coming,” he said softly.





“WHAT?” I WHISPERED, FEAR FILLING my body. I looked up at Ash, who looked equally as scared but determined. He stood up, his shoulders set.

Dad lifted a finger to his lips and slowly raised himself into a standing position, his gun aimed in front of him. I strained my ears, listening for whatever had stopped him, but I couldn’t hear anything over the hammering of my heart. I reached for my gun, checking that it was fully loaded before clamoring out of the blanket that had tangled itself around my legs. Ash came to stand next to me, his own gun grasped in his hand. Together, the three of us stood, poised and ready.

Sara Elizabeth Santana's books