Humal Sequence 1: A Breath of Hope

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Humal Sequence 1: A Breath of Hope Page 29

by Robert Taylor


  Overhead, flashes of lightning temporarily lit the Stygian clouds and concussive blasts of thunder caused the very ground beneath him to shake. A veritable deluge of rain descended then, as if trying to wash him back into the sea. The drops were monstrous and hurt like hell when they hit. But he was too weary to move. Too tired to seek the dubious shelter of the trees.

  He knew he should be up and running. Walsh had promised to rain annihilation down on him after he was done with his invasion plans. That time had to have passed by now. Hamilton had fought with the raging seas for what seemed like hours before he managed to get to shore.

  But he was so very tired.

  He draped his arms over his head and grimly resolved to remain right where he was, come what may.

  Despite the storm it was quite warm. Pleasantly warm, in fact. Even the rain, for all its stinging fury, was quite warm. The sand beneath him also seemed warm.

  Yes, he’d just rest here for a while, until his strength had returned somewhat. Then he’d move away from this area. He’d just rest a while.

  Around him the storm raged impotently.

  When he awoke it seemed that the world had changed whilst he slept. Indeed, it was as if God had looked down, saw that all was not good, swept the fury of the storm away and replaced it with a pleasant, almost tropical paradise.

  Paradise, Hamilton thought grimly, bring on the snake.

  As if on cue, Hamilton heard a clicking noise to his left. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head in that direction.

  A few feet away stood one of the shore’s denizens. It looked like nothing more than an oddly shaped crab. In fact, it so reminded Hamilton of a crab that his stomach grumbled faintly in appreciation. The crustacean was not overly large, about a foot across its carapace. Its triangular shaped shell was matched by three legs, one on each side and a claw set at each point. From his low vantage point, Hamilton could clearly see the creature’s mouth set underneath its body. He wondered briefly where its anus was, then decided it wasn’t a prime consideration at the moment.

  The crab’s eyes, one on each side, swivelled to focus on Hamilton and its claws opened menacingly.

  At least, it looked menacing to Hamilton, who was still flat on his back. In fact, there were vague pains in his back, as if he’d been lying on stones all night.

  With a grunt he sat up.

  And all Hell broke loose.

  From beneath him, where they had obviously spent the night all cosy and warm, dozens of smaller crustaceans scurried forth in panic. They looked liked over large woodlice but moved a damn sight quicker. They headed out in all directions.

  Almost at once, the crab-thing scuttled in pursuit of the fleeing squatters, snatching up one in a claw. It then changed direction without changing facing. It simply chose another side to be its front for the moment. It scuttled past Hamilton, oblivious to any danger he might represent and snatched up another late riser.

  Before Hamilton could even think of grabbing for it, it was off again, showing surprising acceleration for such an awkward looking creature. It scuttled away down the beach in pursuit of a third morsel.

  Hamilton stood up cautiously. Several more of the things had taken shelter under his legs. They scurried away also.

  Hamilton glared at them, massaging his sore back. “Damn bugs!” He cursed.

  Looking around, he saw that he stood upon a very wide, almost flat, sandy beach that stretched in both directions unmarked save for the greedy crab and its fleeing breakfast. At the head of the beach an unbroken wall of greenery rustled gently in the cool breeze. Behind him, the sea spread out calm and unruffled, a sharp contrast to the night before. Above him the sun beat down strongly, though not as fiercely as he might have expected.

  For a time he just stood there, locked into urbanite thinking, not knowing what to do in the unfamiliar surroundings.

  Suddenly, from behind the tree-line there came the tremendous roaring of an engine. For an instant, Hamilton imagined it was Walsh’s threatened destruction, descending on him from orbit. There was a moment, just a tiny moment, when he actually felt relief about the impending nuclear obliteration.

  The roaring became deafening as a launch hove into view. It was one of the Hope’s Breath’s craft. For a few seconds, it hovered above him, but off to one side. Then it spun so that the entry hatch faced him.

  The hatch opened and a familiar, beat-up face looked out, grinning ear-to-ear. The baleful glow from Klane’s artificial eye was as welcome a sight as a campfire to a lost traveller.

  “Hey!” She yelled, somehow audible over the scream of the engines. “Have you seen a friend of ours? He’s about your height, but prone to displays of truly stunning dumb-assery?”

  Despite everything that had happened, Hamilton began to laugh.

  THE END

 

 

 


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