On the run, Tabitha's switching schools to attend Granite High incognito. Her family are not safe from the press, her friends, or the town. And life has a way of tripping a kid up. It makes sense to lay low, but among secret gangs and warnings of ea...
The earth seems to pause. I scramble up. Voices inside the entrance hall scream and protest. I can't see Donny!
A kid falls from the edge, looking from where the building front carved itself off.
"We have to help him!" I cry. "He fell in the trench." I know there's a trench for staff moving animal feed and supplies to the pens and enclosures. The boy's out of sight.
"Come on!" Jonathan yells, headed for him, but sees no way across the rubble without it falling in on top of the kid.
"Quick!" Jonathan runs looking back to make sure that I follow.
We race round the main building outside, jumping cracks. The earth trembles. We grab onto the basement doorway we've only just reached and try to cling to the angled cement.
This time 'everyone' above us is screaming loud. Their shock has gone to a whole other level.
Inside, I see dark. But I wear a light fob round my neck all the time. JJ pulls a pencil light from his work shorts. Our lights are enough. What if all this comes down with the next shudder?
I shine my light up. Dust filters through from the ceiling above. Oh, dear God!
The stone and cement walls lead along. JJ . . . seems he can't find the way. "I know these hallways connect. Which way is the trench? Did you ever see that?"
I shake my head.
He looks at me for a moment. "Well, you came prepared." It's a wry comment.
My shoulder pads. Right!
He pulls a broken open solid steel door. It leads to a lab or a kitchen type room.
"What is this part?" I ask. There are empty animal crates and coolers and counters . . . recycling bins. The inner doors have reinforced windows.
"Can't be in here. Government rents it. Nobody sees." He sniffs at dead air and glances around, no interest at all.
Everything trembles. Somebody screams alone up above. Then it stops once again.
Now I speak up. "You go see. I'll look in here. Maybe first aid—?" We decide our next course in agreement with only a nod.
JJ is gone. Recycling tins and cartons resettle. The rattle and spill from the container. I freeze, but it's not yet another tremor—just some contents that fall.
Jonathan's footsteps and clicking boots fade.
I shine my beam. Doors to the right. Doors straight ahead. Other doors—I can see through those as well. Maybe the way to the trench is down there?
I move to go past but recycling shifts and I jump. I expect to calm down, glancing at it . . . but there . . . that is a hand!
I swing my light. The hand's fingers are white. They clamp to the edge of the bin. Nothing else moves.
I do not breathe. I'm petrified. I hear my own heart. It bangs through my head.
I train my beam over the white fingers—moving or no? No other sign. The fingers are narrow and long. What do I do?
The moments are long as the fingers.
My heart only pounds.
The earth rattles and this time shakes hard.
I hear a whimper of fear from inside the junk. Recycling drops.
I hear JJ clop-clicking towards me. "A woman is hurt!" He enters the room. "Any first aid?"
And then I do something I do not expect.
I point to the cabinet with my beam. "The first aid's on the wall!" I do not say "there." I just point.
JJ grabs the whole kit, intent, and just runs. I'm left alone.
I hear my Uncle Jet's voice in replay, "Project with your thoughts." He means, propel yourself forward, but this time it means something else, different.
I hear my voice speaking softly. "It's okay to come out. It's safe for you now."
I crouch down and lay my light to the side, a beam in between us so I might be visible to who's in the room.
I jerk a bit, but I try to stand still. Recycling cascades all over the floor . . . and the figure slowly unfurls in the bin.
I see the face and the eyes, brown saucers, no whites. I see a pale body, hunched over. No clothes on the—animal. The face. Is this a person or not?
My voice is still soft. "You're okay." I keep my eyes locked onto to hers. I know it's a her. I project in my thoughts, "Can you stand up? Can you get out? Can you come here to me?"
What am I doing?
The face emanates alarm. But slowly the stowaway rises.
No fur. This is good, but so tall. It's standing up pretty much straight. It's whole body is white. Smaller and thinner than human, but not.
And though she looks humanoid, there is something definitely nonhuman about her.
≈≈≈/✍️
Thank you SO much for reading!
On a health recovery break atm, but meantime, what did you think?
Did this quick preview surprise you? Good ways or bad? Did it seem to fit in? Cause intrigue? Any speculation? Reactions? What questions most come to mind?
Due to the above break in the action we may be slightly delayed with the posting of chapter one for the Wattpad edition of Otherborn: In the Wastelands Alone. Meantime, you're welcome to read the 'Preview' episodes for Earth's Crust Survival that are under that cover, if you haven't already, which actually precedes the journey we take In the Wastelands, Alone (but Wastelands will stand alone).
And if you find you want to finish Earth's Crust first, please send me a note and I'll forward an online beta copy for you to read, with computer sound or just text on a phone, and no room for commenting—just a pleasure read-through. We'd be delighted if you wish to reflect in more general terms in Wattpad comments at the bottom of the Preview, however you like, with writerly insights or about what struck you as a reader or maybe stood out.
These books are ongoing sweeping adventures—many to come yet.
We're so grateful you're along for the ride!
See you perhaps in another two or three weeks...
Ching, Ching! Over and out! ❤️⚔️✨✍️ Wez-KOD
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