Excerpt from The Second Project: A Teaser Section
Below I’ve decided to give you a short extract from The Second Project that is gradually being worked on. I haven’t written much lately but I keep having ideas about how the The Second Project came about – as in the ship itself and the mission. This is just a little glimpse into the history of the fictional earth that appears in the The Second Project. I hope you enjoy and I hope it sparks off more ideas from all of you to get involved 🙂
The crowd surged against him again. He couldn’t see a way through.
“Papa!” He yelled.
The fingers which he’d been holding just moments ago had gradually been pulled and twisted away. He’d lost his grip on the only connection he had left.
“Papa! Where are you?” He screamed.
He stood on his tip-toes scanning the crowd whilst dealing with each oncoming wave of limbs and bodies, pushing and pulling him in every direction but the one he wanted to go in. The people were out of control. They’d become wild and dangerous. The shouts and jibes that could be heard were getting more and more violent and vicious by the second. He heard a scream from far away to his right. He had to get through, he was small enough, if only he could squat down and work his way through the gaps in the crowd. He began to crawl, ignoring the legs kicking at him, the feet trampling his hands; nothing mattered but getting out and finding Papa. Finally the legs seemed to be fewer and Sam came to what he thought was the edge of the crowd.
The crowd here had parted, in a perfectly formed circle; whispering and muttering beneath their breath, worry was clearly etched in the faces, in the eyes of the onlookers. Feet shuffled and people began to edge away from the centre, pushing the crowd further back. Sirens sounded out all around them and the crowd panicked. For only a moment Sam saw the body lying in front of him. A moment was more than enough. In the pandemonium that ensued Sam was pushed and pulled away from the opening, away from the body. The tears streamed down his face but no amount of crying would erase the image he now held in his mind.
In the silence that followed, when all that was left was trodden muddy earth, fragments of paper scattered like seeds to the wind and the smell of blood and dirt and smog, Sam gathered his strength and began to pull. His own limbs no longer responded to his will, it was sheer determination that forced his battered and bruised body to crawl slowly inch by inch, his right arm hanging loose at his side. He had no idea how long it took him to reach it, he only knew that he was soaked through with sweat and close to collapsing when he did. Wrapping himself around the lifeless form protectively, he grasped one of the bloodied mangled limbs that once resembled a hand. He took it in his own, hooking the fingers together and sobbed as he did so.
“Papa.” He whispered into the silence.
He dropped his head to the young mans chest and closed his eyes slowly, tears escaping down his cheeks and soaking the light green vest beneath his head.
“Papa. It’s ok now. I’m here. I love you.”
It got dark quickly, the light fading. They said afterwards that if the Medics hadn’t found him when they did he would be among the dead now too.
His only thought was how much he wished he was.
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