Mehdi leaned back to see the top of the sheer cliff rising before him made of the same yellow sand he stood upon. He couldn’t believe it. He was here.
“Never seen a cliff before, kid?” Jasper chuckled behind him.
Correction, they were here.
Jasper shook his head. “Considering that village you come from,
What’s a spy’s greatest enemy? Ask any red-blubbered agent in Her Majesty’s Sea Critter Service and they’ll give you the same answer.
Stairs.
I sighed and looked down my glasses at the long flight of marble steps awaiting me. Bubbly Christmas music played in the background. The ballroom was alive with sea creatures mingling.
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“Come.”
The voice rumbles through my dreams, calling me to the waking world. Cool, wet wind swirls over me, flowing through the open shutters of my arched window. When I went to sleep, those shutters were locked and bolted. A smile creeps up from my soul. They should know that locked windows never stop
Mercedes held her breath as the airship landed, its solar sails radiating energy. A gangway lowered toward a long line of eager passengers with tickets in hand.
First: board the airship.
She exhaled a slow breath. It had to be this airship, heading for the district housing the prestigious Leric Institute.
A bitter breeze rakes over my cheeks as I step from the Jackson Hole Aerial Tram, but it’s not the cold that sends shivers skittering through my gloved hands and up my arms. It’s excitement.
Up ahead, my best friend, Brandon, faces me, a wide smile plastered on his face. He signs the words,
Donny Chandler would never tell me what I needed to know. Which was why I needed to get the hiccups.
Great.
I slunk into Tornado Taco on the corner of Main Street and Bell Avenue. The last time I was here, I made a complete fool of myself. Not my fault, but still…
“Earth to Echo.”
Electricity courses through Echo as Darbo’s deep voice prods her consciousness. She stirs, blinking out at the spaceship’s main chamber.
My jail cell.
Darbo stands by the main control panel, pressing the button that shoots shock waves across Echo’s incorporeal form. Nearby, his daughter Delilah crunches on star-puffs
“I assure you, Mrs. Marcel, this drought is going to break.” Al Bee Bee Watcher smiled at his landlady. The apartment lobby’s 1920’s décor surrounded him, clashing spectacularly with the modern computer on her desk.
“And I’m telling you, there’s no chance.” Mrs. Marcel shook her head. “Put away your raincoat, Mr. Watcher;
Carrie removed the clutter from her husband’s dresser, dropping each piece onto the bed. A package of new shoelaces. An old watch, the hands on its face forever proclaiming three-thirteen. A comb. His lab glasses. Safety pins. A tie clip.
At this rate, it would take the baby’s entire nap time to get
Tank had a sixth sense about space junk. He could intuit the difference between a salvageable satellite and orbital debris, a useful skill ever since the collapse of the Sagan-Hawking interstellar gateway had induced collisions and made debris removal a prime concern for space travel. If only his spacey superpower could differentiate
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Six months into the sleep-zombie catastrophe, the survivors knew one thing: they were grateful for the winged, magic sloths.
One such survivor, Leesia, leaped over a crumbling stone wall marking an old boundary between fields. Gasping for breath, she dropped to her knees. Her brother-in-law Rayth joined her a moment later.
Esther held Raphael in her lap and rocked him as he cried. Even at the age of eight, these trying times drove him to cling to his mother. She opened her heart, and his every fear and sadness poured into her.
She smoothed his hair with a trembling hand as the tension in his
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