SYNOPSIS:
Shiloh Reed carries the burden of mankind on her shoulders – literally. Having inherited her father’s notorious legacy in this dystopian world, Shiloh realises that she holds the only blueprints in existence that could potentially save the planet from the brink of extinction. Seasons no longer exist on this planet – each day is hot and dry and food is scarce. Water is rarer than gold. Survival, here at the southern tip of Africa, is a day-to-day battle. Shiloh is a loner and has learned to depend on herself. But with the responsibility of rebuilding the Season Generator and saving the planet fixed squarely on her shoulders, she will have to learn to trust others if she wants to accomplish this mission. Should she trust her instincts? And does she have the courage to fulfil this massive undertaking?
Continue with Shiloh on her journey in this second instalment.
Continue with Shiloh on her journey in this second instalment.
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EXCERPT
“I suppose we’d better get on with it, then,” she added and stood up.
Draven and I exchanged glances again and stood up, following her lead.
“I’m sure you’d like to see the progress downstairs?” she said.
“Downstairs?” Draven asked, finding his tongue again.
“Where the magic happens,” she smiled. “Where we try to make magic happen, at least.”
“Mireya, I don’t think we’re quite on the same page just yet,” I said. “What do you mean downstairs where the magic happens?”
“I thought Fritz told you all about it?”
“About what?”
The old woman took a step towards the broom cupboard and placed her hand on the door. She looked at us suspiciously. “Who are you two, really? And give me a straight answer.”
“I’m Shiloh Nox and this is Dr. Draven Young.”
“Everyone knows the name of Shiloh Nox around here. How do I know that it’s really you?”
“How would I be here and know about Fritz Moeller if I wasn’t?” I retorted, feeling bold.
“Everyone knows the name of Fritz Moeller as well. These things are common knowledge.” She removed the shotgun again and held it in her hands menacingly. This old woman was really feisty. Avila’s ears turned towards Mireya and her short hairs stood on edge.
“My mother was Evah. I had a brother and a sister named Jericho and Hannah. This is our family dog, Avila,” I explained, attempting to convince her.
“Too easy.” She cocked the weapon. “I think perhaps it was a mistake letting you in so blindly.”
“No! Wait! Fritz’s entire family has died. Fritz has black hair and blue eyes!”
“You think that at one point in time I wouldn’t have read the WebNews as well?”
She stepped forward, shoving the weapon in our faces. Avila growled. I held onto her collar, preventing an attack. I was certain it was all a horrible misunderstanding. Fritz wouldn’t have sent us here on a wild goose chase. We were slowly moving back towards the entrance. “I swear that you will be hunted down if you breathe a word of any of this,” Mireya said and placed the muzzle against my sternum.
About the Author
Carmen Botman is a writer of short stories and novels for all ages in a mash-up of genres. She lives in South Africa with her husband and Labrador named Daisy. Her professional title and day job is Occupational Therapist, but in her spare time she continues on her daily journey of creating the stories which float around in her imagination.
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