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This month I venture into the land of Science Fiction with an excerpt from my STAR STEPPING anthology, a book of science fiction and fantasy tales published by Wild Child Publishing. I’m thrilled to announce that THREE of the twelve stories are mine!
Star Stepping: An Anthology of Fantasy and Sci-Fi Tales
by Various
Book Length: Novel
Price: $5.95
I hope you enjoy this excerpt from my “right-around-the-corner” tale, Wakinyan’s Valley:
Blurb:
In a post-apocalyptic world, Mark Whitehorse and his friends search for a safe haven where they can raise their families. When they stumble across a hidden valley, they believe their search is over. But the valley is already inhabited. Will the band of survivors find refuge…or something else entirely?
Excerpt:
Footsore and grimy, our little band slogged along a pot-holed, mountain road, hauling the remains of our former lives in bicycle trailers designed for Yuppie toddlers. A week’s worth of dust clung to our clothes, and we reeked of sweat and dirt and desperation. Hot showers. Laundromats. Hope for the future. Hard to imagine I’d once taken all of them for granted.
A spark of hope remained, one we nurtured diligently. We would find a place of our own—a safe haven where we could raise our kids in peace. The late spring sun beat down on my head, while a sparkling mountain stream danced parallel to the road. I paused for a short breather. Leaning the bicycle-trailer combo against a tree, I yanked my ball cap off, wiped sweat from my brow, and listened as the stream caroled a mocking song: why should I be hot when it was cool? Why did I strain to push a load uphill when it tumbled joyfully along its rocky path?
Jake and Phil trudged past, each pushing a bike-and-trailer of their own.
“You okay?” Jake asked without breaking stride.
I didn’t blame him for not stopping. The slope would make it tough to regain my momentum. Should’ve waited for a level spot.
“Yeah,” I said. “Just needed a breather.”
He nodded and kept pushing.
“See you at the top,” Phil said with a grunt.
I replaced my ball cap, grabbed the bike’s handlebars, and shoved forward.
“Kevin! Mark! Everyone! You’ve got to see what I found!” Maggie darted past Jake and Phil and skidded to a halt beside me. Pebbles skittered away from her worn hiking boots. “I wanted some watercress, so I followed this stream….”
She paused to catch her breath, and the rest of our group crowded around to hear what had her so excited.
“The stream disappears into a canyon. It’s barely visible, just a pleat in the cliff face covered in scrub oak and sage brush.” Maggie’s dark eyes danced, and her deep cocoa complexion glowed with excitement. “You’ve got to see it, Mark. It could be just what we’ve been searching for.”
Her husband, who’d been at the rear of our little band, chivvying children, joined us. “What’s up?” he asked, taking off his ball cap and swiping his sleeve across his forehead.
Maggie threw herself into his arms and said, “Oh, Kevin! I think I’ve found a hidden valley. One with running water and everything!”
Kevin and I followed Maggie back along the stream. Phil Brooks volunteered to stay behind and guard our belongings while the rest of our troop trailed along after us. The thought of a casual drifter running across our burly ex-mechanic brought a smile to my lips. No one would bother our stuff with Phil on guard.
Our small band of survivors had lucked out in the talent department. Before The Fall, Maggie Harris had been a nurse with a special affinity for herbal remedies. We’d already had cause to thank our lucky stars for her medical knowledge.
Maggie’s husband, Kevin, had been a lawyer; the Davidsons, Jake and Tina, had been teachers; Phil’s wife, Beth, had owned a bakery—and man could that woman cook. My own wife, Janet, had owned a small gift shop. Me, I’d been a ski-instructor and an Olympic-class biathlete, not exactly great skills in our present situation. Sure, I could put a bullet through a squirrel’s eye in the top of the tallest pine, but only as long as our meager supply of ammunition held out.
Maggie’s description of the canyon opening had been accurate. From a distance, the stream appeared to rise from an underground spring; the cliff face appeared solid. Scrub oak and sage brush crowded the bank on each side, so the only way to examine the opening was to wade in. Not many people would make that effort. Only Maggie’s desire for watercress had allowed her discovery.
Jake Davidson and I exchanged hiking boots for sandals and waded upstream to see what hid behind that pleated stone. The five remaining adults planted themselves on the creek’s grassy bank and watched the kids splash and play. The unexpected release from travel drudgery demanded celebration.
We must’ve waded a good quarter-mile up that canyon. The rock on either side rose to dizzying heights, and most places we could’ve touched both sides by stretching out our arms. I slogged along, and thoughts of our kids chased through my brain. I really wanted this canyon to lead to a safe haven. Somewhere our kids could grow in peace.
They were resilient little buggers. Their splashing laughter echoed behind me, making me smile. Amazing how little crap they gave us about the hardships of this new life, how easily they found joy in their surroundings. Like now; give them a break from hiking, a mountain stream, and they made instant merriment.
Hell, I bitched and moaned inwardly about ninety-percent of the time, but our kids? They held up like troopers. Kevin and Maggie’s twin girls, Evelyn and Elaine, were the oldest at nine. They helped a lot with the little ones. Next came the boys, Jason Brooks, a feisty seven-year-old, and Tim Davidson, the most active six-year-old I’d ever seen. Four-year-old Amy Brooks was our youngest member. She beat my own daughter, Ellie, out of that honor by an entire year. Hard to believe that Tim, Ellie, and little Amy would never set foot in a school. Public education had gone the way of the dinosaur in the new world order.
“I’m gonna be glad to get out of this water,” Jake said. The narrow rock canyon opened before us, only to be replaced with scrub oak and sage brush again. “My feet are frozen.”
Grunting my agreement, I followed him past the undergrowth. He stopped so suddenly, I planted my face squarely in the middle of his backpack.
“What do you think you’re dong?” I snapped. “Don’t just stand there, move it!”
“Mark,” he whispered, his voice tight with awe, “you’re not going to believe this. It’s perfect.”
“I sure as hell won’t believe it if you don’t move your fat ass out of my way.”
That got his attention.
“Oh, yeah, right,” he said and stepped forward through the bushes and out of the stream.
Jake cleared my line of sight, and my jaw dropped. The mountain valley described a perfect bowl—meadow in the center surrounded by a wide fringe of aspen and tall pine. Beyond the forest, the mountains soared to the sky. The stream we’d followed in ran around to the right and then disappeared. My gaze followed its estimated course and, at the back of the valley, a long ribbon of white cascaded from a sheer cliff. A waterfall! Phil would have a heyday with that. Visions of hydroelectric power danced through my brain.
“Man! When you’re right, you’re right.” I clapped Jake on the shoulder and stepped out of the water. “This is perfect. Running water, trees for lumber and fuel, open ground for fields, and….” I stopped and looked straight into Jake’s grinning face.
He nodded and finished for me. “It’s hidden. Thugs would have to be beating the bushes to find that opening.”
Excitement sizzled through my veins. This secluded valley promised security for our families. “Let’s get the others. We’ll explore tomorrow.”
It took all our strength to get the bikes, trailers full of gear, and kids through that waterlogged canyon. But when the rest of the group saw the valley, they agreed it had been worth the effort. Too tired to move further, we set up camp just inside the opening. Morning would be soon enough to scout out a permanent campsite.
With everyone settled in for the night, I reclined against a tree with Janet in my arms.
“I hope this isn’t a dream,” my wife said and leaned back, shoulders sagging as she snuggled against my side. “It’s too perfect; someone must live here.”
I kissed her forehead and closed my eyes. “We’ll take turns on guard, like always. If anyone’s here, we’ll find out.”
Janet and I gazed across the valley, at peace for the first time since we’d fled Willow Springs, the Rocky Mountain ski community that had been our home.
Home. Man, that sounded good. I bowed my head and prayed this valley would be a new home for our small tribe. We’d been through a lot together already. The night the virus took out the computers, our four families had been having a party at Kevin and Maggie Harris’s house. The adults had talked and laughed around the kitchen table while the kids played in the great room. Evelyn and Elaine had been unwitting harbingers of doom with their complaint that the
TV had gone on the fritz.
Once we understood what had happened, we banded together—a “safety in numbers with people you can trust” decision. Our group held fast through the devastation of an east coast nuclear attack, grateful to be living in the Colorado Rockies. Willow Springs sheltered us while the world’s great nations collapsed, but after the final communication links blanked out, mob violence raged. We made the decision to flee the remnants of “civilization” after that first riot.
God! We needed this valley, needed a safe haven and a defensible island of sanity where our kids could grow to adulthood.
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Title: Star Stepping
Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy
Book Length: Novel
Price: $5.95
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I stumbled onto your blog and read a few post. I like your style of writing.
Oooh! I so love the worlds you create. I’m intrigued and want to read more! PS Congrats!