The White Wave.

From Ch. 7, The Wretched:

He stepped onto the street, his mouth open to voice a reply, when a rumbling in the earth ripped through the area.  There was a moment in which Quinn had no idea what was happening.  There was a pain in his back and bottom, and he realized he was thrown off his feet by the tremor.  When things settled and his clarity returned, he heard the girl shrieking for him to get up, get up right now and move his ass.  Among the droning and the trembling, he made out three, distinct words: “Don’t look back.”

It was his motor skills that betrayed her warning, acting instinctively to do the very thing she wished him not to.  Quinn climbed to his feet, looked back, and stood in awe.  What he saw made him think of the sea.

He’d seen the ocean as recently that previous Spring, when he, Wendy and some friends spent the week at the shore.  There they’d enjoyed days on the beach, in the sun, wading out into the lukewarm waters.  There were waves, then, but not the sort upon which a person could surf.  Waves like that were far more exotic, experienced only by those living in those far-off locales.  He, like the rest in less tropical places, saw waves of staggering height vicariously through television and movies.

The wave he saw before him did not move quickly, and it did not move without purpose.  It rose to a crest along the street from whence he came, crashing down in a methodic free-fall at the corner, and then paused in mid-height when it saw him standing there dumbfounded and frozen.  It was the single, largest thing Quinn had ever seen.  Had it not been the fear that rooted him in place, the sheer magnitude of it would have done the very same.

It hovered there, watching him with thousands of tiny, white eyes that blinked in together.  Then it began to writhe in upon itself, building up one layer atop the next, slowly climbing to its zenith.  Quinn’s mind filled in the rest.  He saw it crashing down upon him, a hundred-thousand Cretins and Yawning chomping and scratching and consuming him, one bloody bite at a time until there was nothing left.

The wave continued to build, and it was the girl’s disembodied voice that spurred him to move.

Are you fucking crazy?

His feet found the will, and they tore the rest of him free from the street.  He ran.

Exciting things on the way.  More soon.


One thought on “The White Wave.

  1. I gotta say that is interesting; a nice little tease to wet the appetite of everyone who has been waiting. Cannot wait to read the book.

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