Jean Genie
Copyright© 2026 by Rachael Jane
Chapter 125: The Invasion
Malaya, December 1941
The bracelet pulses in alarm long before danger arrives. Muriel feels it first ... a sudden tightening in the air, a pressure that makes her pause mid‑step as she crosses the veranda. She grips the railing, her breath catching.
“Jeannia ... something’s wrong.”
“Yes. Japanese soldiers have landed at Kota Bharu. More have landed in Siam.”
The sky is too still. The forest too quiet. Even the cicadas have stopped.
Muriel looks toward the hills, her eyes narrowing. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say. “The British and Malay soldiers may delay them for a short while. Enough time for you to escape south. But you must leave as soon as it is daylight.”
The first explosions can be heard shortly after dawn ... distant, muffled, like thunder rolling across the hills. Muriel is already dressed and packing, her pulse racing. Arthur bursts into the room moments later, his face pale.
“They’ve crossed the border,” he says. “Japanese forces. They’re moving fast.”
Muriel throws what she can into her case, her hands trembling but controlled. “How close?”
“Too close.”
He grabs his satchel, stuffing in papers, maps, a few personal items.
“We need to leave. Now.”
Muriel looks at me. “Jeannia?”
“Yes,” I say. “You must go.”
She fastens the bracelet around her wrist, the silver warm against her skin. The Solar fragment pulses faintly, stabilizing the Directional fragment in her satchel.
Muriel steps onto the veranda. Smoke rises from the hills. The workers gather in frightened clusters, speaking in hushed voices. Children cling to their mothers. The foremen shout instructions, trying to impose order on chaos.
Arthur runs toward the tapping shed. “We need the truck!”
Muriel follows, her breath tight. “Where will we go?”
“To the railway at Machang,” Arthur says. “A train to Kuala Lumpur, then maybe on to Singapore.”
Muriel nods, but her eyes drift toward the hills again. “They’re coming.”
Arthur freezes. “How do you know?”
Muriel lifts her wrist. “I can feel it.”
He hesitates ... torn between disbelief and fear ... then nods. “Then we move now.”
The truck sputters to life, coughing black smoke. Arthur climbs into the driver’s seat. Muriel climbs beside him, clutching her satchel. I manifest faintly beside her ... a shimmer only she can see.
The workers scatter as the truck lurches forward. Muriel looks back at the bungalow ... the veranda where she first felt me, the desk where she sketched the tetrad’s symbols, the forest where insurgents once emerged.
“I don’t think we’ll ever see this place again.”
“No,” I say softly. “You won’t.”
She swallows hard. “Then let’s go.”
Arthur drives fast, the truck bouncing over uneven road. The plantation disappears behind them. The forest closes in. They must travel east towards danger before they can turn south to Machang.
Muriel grips the dashboard. “Jeannia ... guide us.”
“Yes.”
I drift ahead of the truck, sensing the winds, sensing danger. The Directional fragment pulses ... faint, rhythmic, like a compass awakening.
Muriel feels it too. “Get off the road. Into that clearing,” she says suddenly.
Arthur glances at her. “What?”
“Left,” she repeats. “Now.”
He turns sharply. Moments later, soldiers emerge from the trees onto the road they were on moments ago. They are possibly Malay soldiers, but it isn’t worth the risk of finding out. They soon disappear into the trees. Muriel’s breath trembles. “Thank you.”
Arthur stares at her. “How did you...”
“Later,” Muriel says. “Just drive.”
They eventually reach the turning for the road to Machang. Abandoned and burned out vehicles litter the road, making the journey slow. Hours pass. The forest grows denser. The air thickens with smoke.
They reach a small village ... abandoned. Doors hang open. Pots lie overturned. Chickens wander aimlessly. Muriel’s pulse tightens. “They fled.”
“Yes,” I say. “They fear the Japanese soldiers. They’ve heard the stories from China.”
Arthur slows the truck. “We need fuel.”
Muriel points to a small shed near the edge of the village. “There.”
Arthur jumps out, searching for petrol. Muriel stays in the truck, her eyes scanning the trees.
He returns with a small canister. “Not much, but it should be enough for us to reach Machang.”
Muriel nods. “Then let’s go.”
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