Adamonde. Benjamin Vance

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      Adamonde

      by

      Benjamin Vance

      This is a work of fiction meant for MATURE readers. Names, incidents, characters and dialog are strictly products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, specific locales, organizations or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any errors in this work are the responsibility of the author.

      Copyright 2013 Benjamin Vance,

      All rights reserved.

       www.benjaminvancebooks.com

       [email protected]

      Published in eBook format by Benjamin Vance

      Converted by http://www.eBookIt.com

      ISBN-13: 978-0-9859-1685-5

      World rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise for public use, including Internet applications, without the prior permission of the author except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper or on the Web.

      Cover design and interior layout by ebookit. www.ebookit.com

      Prologue

      Have you ever rested in cool summer grass on a clear, starlit night, interlocked your fingers behind your head and looked; really looked at the heavens. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt you’ve wondered if there are creatures like us out there. Have you also wondered if they could be as screwed up as we are? Have the myriad movies about evil aliens tilted your thinking toward, “Shoot first and ask questions later”?

      If you were fortunate or unfortunate enough to be the first greeter, what would you do? Certainly the great movies, “The Day the Earth Stood Still” and “Star Man” should give one pause about what could happen if an alien came in peace to help our world. If our government or any other government sensed a weakness, the alien would probably disappear forever. Why do you think that would happen?

      What is it about our present un-civilized state that would prompt such an unwelcoming? An article in a respected professional journal highlighted the euthanasia and testing of an otherwise healthy kitten because it simply had red teeth. The cause has been historically documented and a tooth or blood could have been taken to test and verify the cause, but the rationalization used for euthanasia was to understand if the rest of the litter was susceptible. Could the justification actually have been to support an article for that very professional journal?

      Is this the same tendency which leads us to dissect frogs to see what’s inside? If extra-terrestrials really came in peace, would they have to bring an armada or advanced technology to enforce their peaceful intent, or would they just have to hide and avoid detection until our civilization outgrows reality television and matures … or finally destroys itself? With either scenario, would the alien mission be a failure or a success?

      1.

      The gloomy, threatening low clouded, late-winter overcast was sunshine and roses compared to his current mental attitude, or perhaps his temporary insanity. He’d been preparing to jump when he saw the bluish flash and heard or sensed the tinkling wind chimes … he was sure he heard wind chimes … or was it a kitten’s lost cry … but then what was that blue flashy light? He’d been concentrating intently on the beguiling water; perhaps the flash and wind chimes were both fabrications from within his dark, jumbled mind.

      Oh, the melancholy … the melancholy swirling green river with its sympathetic foam and sensuously rounded curves, beckoned softly to his derelict heart and oxygen-rich lungs. Slightly distracted for the moment, he turned marginally and waited a few quiet heartbeats … and then once more captivated by the water, arranged one foot on the rusty-blue bottom rail of the old ferry’s rear deck railing.

      Then suddenly, inexplicably … there it was again, definitely a kitten under a bench somewhere on the old observation deck; probably the captain’s kitten or perhaps the mechanic’s. It was definitely a kitten and he should decidedly pay it no attention due to his upcoming and obligatory journey downward. He strained to ignore whatever it was and resolutely anchored his foot higher; more thoughtfully and firmly into the blue-flaked rust, and again braced his body preparing to catapult into the hypnotic, roiling wake.

      Damn it … damn … there it was again … disturbing, what the hell …wind chimes … he sensed; it was definitely wind chimes, but perhaps coming from under the wood observation benches.

      Really … so what, he was in no hurry; he could check it out before he checked out, perhaps it was a little kitten after all, maybe even a red striped one. He almost grinned in his miserable state. He liked red tabby cats for their pluck and grit ... and life. He temporarily abandoned his immediate mission and walked slowly around the benches on the deserted deck like a hunter, looking … stalking ... slowly. He heard it no more, but creeping carefully, he peered under the old benches one by one with a certain degree of gut-wrenching dread, and he couldn’t comprehend … quite why.

      Suddenly, reflexively he yelled and fell backward from his crouch onto his heels, rump and outstretched hands, “Not what a hunter would do” he thought. When he saw her, he was suddenly overwhelmed with her cold, emotion and agony, and the deep abyss of fear and confusion harbored therein. His stomach rumbled and his ears rang deep in his head. He felt like vomiting.

      She grabbed for him and he recoiled once more; suddenly there were the wind chimes, or crystal tapping in his ears yet again. She looked at him directly, intimately, with her head turned sideways from her under-the-bench crouch. Her eyes were the color of dazzling turquoise with the outward appearance of two light-refracting heat-cracked marbles; more beautiful than anything he’d ever beheld. They commanded attention and empathy and something … else. He felt it so intently his rumbling stomach became even queasier and he swallowed bile.

      Slowly, compellingly, with heart pounding he approached her on his hands and knees in his own confusion and curiosity, to get a closer look. She was nude, olive skinned and hairless; at least on all the parts he could see. One could practically see through her translucent right ear and he immediately noticed the shallow tympanic membrane. Minute shades of blue followed her veins, especially on her neck, and small breasts where they were softly mushroomed against her upper arms.

      Intrigued out of his death wish for that moment, myriad other thoughts, some seemingly not his own, were busy pushing away his private drudgery and sickening lonesomeness. He reached out, hoping to just touch her hand; she reached for his. He heard the chiming tinkle again. When he finally touched her, his mind could hardly contain the emotional tsunami. He sucked in a great gasp of cold life-giving air, groaned and cried and she cried with him in her own way.

      Then she came at him so fast he couldn’t move, or somehow didn’t want to. Her elbows were suddenly in his coat sleeves the wrong way and she was huddled inside his coat, her biceps under his arm pits; hands over his shoulders, legs around his waist, toes and feet trying to intermingle at his lower back; legs like soft, warm scissors. He reflexively enclosed her in his big СКАЧАТЬ