THIS LAND
Book 1:
That Ribbon of Highway
What if your planet were being terraformed by an outside entity, and there was nothing you could do?
Days after a new star appears in the sky, the simple folk of the sleepy fishing community of Bay Banyon are attacked by creatures unlike any they’ve seen before.
Those who survive the morning hole up in the ancient monastery that overlooks the town, only to have their safe-haven become their place of siege.
Cut off from the outside world, they can hope only for rescue, but there might not be anybody left out there to help them.
And their safe-haven may not be as safe as they thought.
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A further brief excerpt from THIS LAND
Patrick must have seen them silhouetted towards the roof. He threw his
hands up in the air and waved. He then made his monster again, exaggerated this
time so they could see it from far away. Even with the distance, Wally’s
nasally laughter was easy to hear.
The clouds whirred overhead, quicker by the coast, and near the base of the peninsula Stephen spotted the thing by its movement. Markus saw it too. “The trees,” he said, “there’s something....”
Where the road poked through the trees was just a darker line against the green. Beyond, the road turned sharply and ran parallel to the coastline towards town. By the time Markus had spoken the creature had rounded the corner and stopped, its head in the air.
Stephen’s belly filled with ice. Oh shit they have to come back. Oh shit, run. Come back. Run!
But the peninsula road passed over a slight rise and nobody on the ground saw it. Jennon was laughing with Patrick and Gemma, ambling ahead of his wife again with her waddling walk, and Brenda and Maureen keeping pace with her. Gran and Wally had their heads together, sharing a joke. The morning wind blowing toward the ocean brought their laughter back to the monastery, all of them happy to be strolling back to the soft familiarity of their lives.
If they run now, maybe they could make it. Before it sees them. They have to see it now.
Vince took off his hat, waving it at them and screaming, and Fen and Dowton joined him. Stephen said not a word. His robes fluttering about him, he felt himself fading, the cold lips of the wind having access to the open ends of his bones. The scene below him seemed a terrible stage, and he couldn’t look away.
Run, by Banyon. Stop gawking at us and run! Oh shit it’s huge.
Markus had leaned guns against the wall nearby. He grabbed one of the repeaters that Dowton had used. The safety on the side, click-click-click in his hands, in his haste he couldn’t force the mechanisms. Dowton snatched it away from him. Kerchunk, he fired a short burst into the air and the loudness of it was shocking.
On the road they danced in surprise, then all turned around to face the way they’d come. Vince and Markus and Dowton and Fen and Orwen jumped up and down and pointed and screamed and waved their arms.
Stephen was watching the thing. At the strike of gunfire it lowered its head deliberately and stalked forward. He wanted to yell out to them, to warn them, for mercy’s sake, turn around, but he had no substance left; his tongue was sunlight, his lips were the wind. The men’s voices were breaking to pieces, going hoarse with yelling. Orwen was coughing. Fen swore and Dowton was shouting, “Come back!”
Over and over again like a bad dream.
Down below, Wally shook his fist at them playfully. He cupped his hands and shouted back to them but his words were lost in the wind. Meanwhile, the creature had padded out into the low scrub and high billowy grass that lined the road all the way down the peninsula. Behind it, exactly the twin of the first, came another. Their noses, if they could be called that, were low to the ground, their backs high in a stance familiar to anyone who’d ever seen a cat stalking prey, even though their heads were unnatural and freakish amalgamations.
The girl was right, thought Stephen. There’s more. Who knows how many? What are we gonna do?
The things’ haunches rose up, and though they were the size of trucks, they had a terrible grace about them; each motion was purposeful, predatory. Stephen noted it with horror, and without thinking he joined the men in yelling, knowing it was already too late — the things covered the ground too quickly. Now it was only calculations. Their only hope lay in percentages. Run! Run, you idiots! If not everybody, somebody might make it back.
The clouds whirred overhead, quicker by the coast, and near the base of the peninsula Stephen spotted the thing by its movement. Markus saw it too. “The trees,” he said, “there’s something....”
Where the road poked through the trees was just a darker line against the green. Beyond, the road turned sharply and ran parallel to the coastline towards town. By the time Markus had spoken the creature had rounded the corner and stopped, its head in the air.
Stephen’s belly filled with ice. Oh shit they have to come back. Oh shit, run. Come back. Run!
But the peninsula road passed over a slight rise and nobody on the ground saw it. Jennon was laughing with Patrick and Gemma, ambling ahead of his wife again with her waddling walk, and Brenda and Maureen keeping pace with her. Gran and Wally had their heads together, sharing a joke. The morning wind blowing toward the ocean brought their laughter back to the monastery, all of them happy to be strolling back to the soft familiarity of their lives.
If they run now, maybe they could make it. Before it sees them. They have to see it now.
Vince took off his hat, waving it at them and screaming, and Fen and Dowton joined him. Stephen said not a word. His robes fluttering about him, he felt himself fading, the cold lips of the wind having access to the open ends of his bones. The scene below him seemed a terrible stage, and he couldn’t look away.
Run, by Banyon. Stop gawking at us and run! Oh shit it’s huge.
Markus had leaned guns against the wall nearby. He grabbed one of the repeaters that Dowton had used. The safety on the side, click-click-click in his hands, in his haste he couldn’t force the mechanisms. Dowton snatched it away from him. Kerchunk, he fired a short burst into the air and the loudness of it was shocking.
On the road they danced in surprise, then all turned around to face the way they’d come. Vince and Markus and Dowton and Fen and Orwen jumped up and down and pointed and screamed and waved their arms.
Stephen was watching the thing. At the strike of gunfire it lowered its head deliberately and stalked forward. He wanted to yell out to them, to warn them, for mercy’s sake, turn around, but he had no substance left; his tongue was sunlight, his lips were the wind. The men’s voices were breaking to pieces, going hoarse with yelling. Orwen was coughing. Fen swore and Dowton was shouting, “Come back!”
Over and over again like a bad dream.
Down below, Wally shook his fist at them playfully. He cupped his hands and shouted back to them but his words were lost in the wind. Meanwhile, the creature had padded out into the low scrub and high billowy grass that lined the road all the way down the peninsula. Behind it, exactly the twin of the first, came another. Their noses, if they could be called that, were low to the ground, their backs high in a stance familiar to anyone who’d ever seen a cat stalking prey, even though their heads were unnatural and freakish amalgamations.
The girl was right, thought Stephen. There’s more. Who knows how many? What are we gonna do?
The things’ haunches rose up, and though they were the size of trucks, they had a terrible grace about them; each motion was purposeful, predatory. Stephen noted it with horror, and without thinking he joined the men in yelling, knowing it was already too late — the things covered the ground too quickly. Now it was only calculations. Their only hope lay in percentages. Run! Run, you idiots! If not everybody, somebody might make it back.
