The Arora Saga: White River Calling: The Arora Saga, #1

By CR Delport

A series of devastating solar flares hit the Earth, disrupting the magnetic field and causing a worldwide drought. Soon, governments are unable to provide for their citizens, which results in chaos.
In the wake of this disaster, a man wakes up outside White River, a small town in Arkansas. He has no memory of who he is, or where he comes from.
Barely alive, he stumbles into the town, and is found by the town Sheriff, and her sister, Linda Carter. After the town turns against the stranger, she offers him a place to stay on her small farm outside town.
On the farm, he discovers water, which enables them to grow their own food, and supply the town with water. They soon realize that they have to protect the food, water, and people against murderous raiders that now roam the lawless land.
When Linda is kidnapped by a group of raiders, the stranger shows his true colors and abilities. With the help of his new friends, he has to attempt the rescue of the woman he loves.

***** THIS BOOK IS FREE BUT PLEASE BE SO KIND AND LEAVE A REVIEW *****

• Language: English
• Publisher: CR Delport
• Release date: Apr 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301177134

CR Delport

I am a South African born author. I am currently single and live in the lively town of Brakpan. Apart from my love for writing, I also play golf, love gardening and do loads and loads of fishing.

Book preview

Chapter 1

With a start, he opened his eyes. Bright sunlight flooded his vision and the searing pain forced his eyelids shut. The man lay on his side in the sand with a hand clamped over his eyes. He listened. A sweeping wind rolled over the landscape with a soft whistling sound, tugging at strands of his shoulder length, blond hair.

After a few moments he slowly opened his eyes again and moved his hand, prepared for the light. Squinting against the rays of the sun, everything was a blur. A huge black shadow hovered over him. He tried to lift his head, but the pounding pain in his temples made him gasp. Rolling on to his back, he grabbed his head between his hands.

He waited a few moments for the worst of the pain to subside, then struggled to a sitting position, his head swimming and his vision still blurred. After a few blinks, his vision slowly came into focus. The threatening shadow turned out to be a huge fallen tree with a branch that pointed upwards, hovering over him, providing welcome shade against the glaring sun.

The man grabbed the side of the tree, the bark rough under his hands, and pulled himself to his feet. His wobbly legs had difficulty in supporting his weight, so he leaned against the fallen tree for support. By shifting his weight, he moved into a position where his back rested against the tree. The rough bark scratched and poked his bare skin. He took a deep breath, and then lifted his head to observe his surroundings.

The dry and barren earth cracked in places as if something had sucked all the water from the soil. Once grass covered the sand, but a few lone roots with remnants of dry grass desperately clinging on, the only thing left. To his left, the charred remains of trees scattered across the landscape, once the victim of a severe fire. As he panned his vision, more dead trees, some escaped the carnage of the fire, spread amongst the dry dirt and rocks, as far as his eyes could see. The breeze in his face carried the smell of dusty stale sand.

Through the quiet of his surrounding, his own breathing sounded out in the stillness. If it wasn’t for the whistling sound of the wind, and his own breath, he might have thought he lost his hearing. Disturbed by the eerie silence that surrounded him, he cocked his head to the side. He tried to pick up any sounds, maybe a distant bird or the cry of an animal, but nothing, nothing but absolute silence. Opening his mouth to speak, only a croak escaped his cracked lips. He tried to clear his throat, but it felt raw and dry.

Finally a word got out, his voice husky. Where am I?

The fog lifted from his mind and his head stopped spinning, but the pain remained. He felt stronger, surer on his feet, and slowly pushed away from the tree, testing his legs, ready to grab a hold of the tree again in case his legs failed him. Although a little shaky, they held his weight. He gave two steps forward and moved into the bright sunlight. For a moment he had to shield his eyes, the bright glare hurting them, making him flinch. His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the light, and then he lowered his hand and looked around him. Nothing! Nothing but sand, dead trees and a few rocks scattered all over the place.

How the hell did I get here? he asked out loud, his voice clearer and stronger.

He shook his head, frowned, with a puzzled look on his face. And where is here?

To his left, a slight rise in the landscape caught his attention. He walked towards it, his first few steps just stumbles. By the time he reached the rise, he found his footing and felt strength in his well-muscled legs. About halfway up the slope, he slipped. His outstretched arms broke his fall and he rolled onto his back. Black blotches appeared in front of his eyes. On the verge of passing out again, he closed his eyes. The heat of the sun stung his tanned face and naked upper body.

He sat up and stared at the yellow and white sneakers on his feet, although dusty, still relatively new. Besides the sneakers with no socks, the only other clothing on his body was a pair of old, faded denim shorts with stringy ends. No shirt. He looked over to where he woke up, but saw no sign of a shirt or anything else. Once the blotches cleared, he struggled back to his feet and made it to the top of the rise. He looked around, but a heat haze shimmering in the distance, the only thing he saw.

The man ran a hand through his dusty blond hair that fell to his shoulders. Small pebbles and sand stuck in it. Puzzled, he tried to recall how he got there, but his mind was blank. He had no access to any of his memories. A sense of panic flooded over him. He realized he had no recollection what so ever. Not how he got there, what he did there, or …., or who he was. That scared him more than anything. He touched his head, searching for any possible sign of a wound, but found none.

I must’ve banged my head somewhere and that’s why I can’t remember. That would explain this terrible head ache, he muttered.

He tried to calm himself. This is just temporary. Everything will come back to me. Take a deep breath, and remain calm, he muttered.

Staying out there indefinitely was out of the question. In that heat, and without water, he wouldn’t last very long. He tried to ignore his throat, begging for a drink, but the mere thought of water, made it ache more. He looked in all directions, but nowhere was there any sign of life. A new wave of panic welled up inside him, and then he heard it!

The sound of a low piercing horn drifted across the arid earth. He jerked his head around. He couldn’t remember anything, but recognized the sound of a train horn. It lasted only a moment, and before he could pinpoint the exact direction of its origin, the sound disappeared. He listened intently but once more, everything was quiet.

He contemplated the possibility that his imagination played a trick on him, but then he heard it again. The sound was far away, but he was sure of the direction it came from. That gave him hope. He peered into the distance, seeking a point of reference, and found a mountain range. The left edge stuck into the air like a finger, beckoning him. Out there, walking in circles would have been a sure way to his death. He took one last look around in the spot where he woke up. He found nothing and set off in the direction of the sound, the mountain as his beacon showing him the way.

The man had no idea how far he walked, or exactly how long it took, but his legs were like rubber, his throat raw with thirst. The terrain got rockier, but still no sign of life or water. He found it strange that there was not a bird, a snake, a scorpion or even an ant in sight. He had stepped into a forgotten, abandoned world where nothing grew and nothing lived, except him. His steps became automated, only his will to live drove him forward. He tried to ignore the fire in his throat, which was just as dry as the earth he walked on. It felt like many hours after he left the tree where he woke up when he arrived at a shallow dry riverbed.

He slid down the side on the seat of his shorts, and when he reached the bottom, stared at the dry sand. At some point water flowed there in abundance, but there was no sign off recent water. He dropped to his knees and dug in the loose river sand with his bare hands with the hope there was still water buried under the surface. But all in vain, the water was long gone.

Is this my end? he wondered out loud, his voice only a croak. It hurt to speak.

This can’t be the end. I don’t even know the beginning. He thought.

The man took a deep breath, and it took considerable effort to get back to his feet. He struggled up the bank on the opposite side, and without looking back, fell forward, one step at a time. Since he left the dry river, the terrain inclined ever so slightly. Every miserable step took him higher. He reached the top of a little rise and dropped to his knees, knowing that he was at his end, his weary legs unable to take another step.

Looking down into the shallow valley below, he blinked a few times, sure the thirst and heat caused him to hallucinate. There, at the bottom of the rise, the mirage of a small town. A man loaded a box onto the back of an old beat up pickup truck. It was too far away to see the make and model, but it was pale blue. He watched him drive down the deserted street, past the scattered buildings, made a right turn, and passed an empty park, before he disappeared from sight.

In the park, an old rusty swing made a lonely picture against the sandy backdrop. A dusty path led to a bench, where a young boy played with his dog.

The end must have been near. He even imagined the dog barking with excitement. The boy threw an old ball, and the animal ran to fetch it. He didn’t want to die up there on the ridge, all alone. It would be better to die in the park, in his mirage, with the boy who played with his yellow Labrador. He summoned his last remaining strength and struggled back to his feet. He started down the hill, and his thoughts had no reason anymore. The man fell a few times, but made it back to his feet again, desperate to get to the park before he died.

The dog’s bark changed when he saw the stranger, covered in dust, staggering in their direction. The boy and his dog watched the half-naked man suspiciously. The man reached the swing, his voice a croak as he tried to laugh, delirious and happy that he made it. He looked at the shocked expression on the boy’s face.

Don’t worry little one. I won’t hurt you, he tried to say, but only a low gurgle came from his throat.

I made it, I can die now. I’m not alone. Even if it is only a dream, I’m not alone he thought and dropped to his knees. Slowly he slid to the ground and rolled onto his back, and then his world turned black.

*****

A dirty and dusty police cruiser came to a halt in front of the brick building. A black and white sign announced, POLICE. Sheriff Janine Carter stepped out of the vehicle, her short yellow-blonde hair shining in the late afternoon sun. She just returned from Andy’s Diner where she had a late lunch with her younger sister, Linda, who stepped from the passenger side, closing the car door behind her.

In the past couple of months, quite a few people have left the town of White River due to the ongoing drought. The small town once boasted a population of over three thousand, but was down to less than a thousand, and people were still leaving. Last month the sheriff’s deputy gave in to his wife’s nagging, packed his belongings, and moved them north to her parents. The sheriff’s office was now a one woman show with Linda helping out occasionally with administrative work.

This was the topic of their conversation when they stepped out of the cruiser and aimed for the door of the police office. About halfway up the steps, they heard a sharp, long shriek from the young boy in the park, followed by anxious barking from his dog. The sisters stopped dead in their tracks and swung towards the sound.

The sheriff was the first to move and ran down the steps toward little Elliot Jennings, who came running, screaming at the top of his voice.

Sheriff, Sheriff, there’s a dead man in the park, come quick!

He ran as fast as his short little legs could carry him. Even for a boy of nine, his legs were short. The Labrador followed hot on his heels, curious, not quite understanding the situation.

The sheriff looked up at the park across the street, and there near the swing, laid a body. It was not moving, almost camouflaged, the motionless form the same color as the sand. Linda drew a quick breath and her hand flew to her mouth, but the sheriff had seen her fair share of dead bodies before, and moved into action. She ran across the street, her athletic body moving with the speed and grace of a cat. A few steps away she came to a halt, taking in the scene. Footsteps behind alerted her that Linda and Elliot caught up.

She spread her arms wide to hold them back when they came up behind her. The man’s face was covered in dust, masking his features, but she could see enough to know that he was a stranger. The sheriff knew everyone in town, and he was not from there.

She looked at Elliot and asked, Where did he come from?

The boy struggled to catch his breath, his voice was hurried. I played with Caesar when he came down the hill and fell down here. Is he dead?

She looked at the boy’s big round eyes. Let’s have a look.

She kneeled next to the body, picked up his right arm and felt for a pulse. She gasped and bent down, putting an ear to the man’s naked chest.

He’s still alive! she said, looking surprised. Linda, we need to get him to the hospital!

Without a word, Linda turned and ran back to the police station where her white Chevrolet Silverado was parked. The truck sprang to life when she turned the key, and responded eagerly when she pushed down on the pedal.

The pickup truck stopped in a huff of dust and Linda left the motor running. She jumped out and helped Janine load the unconscious man on to the back of the truck.

Elliot watched everything with big round eyes, Caesar sitting next to him patiently waiting, with the tennis ball clamped in his mouth.

The boy smiled at the dog, patted his head and said, Well done Caesar.

They watched the women drive off in the direction of the hospital, which was only two blocks away.

Chapter 2

Sheriff Carter and Linda looked up from where they sat in the waiting area of the White River hospital. It was a small hospital, plain white outside, plain white inside. The waiting area near the reception desk consisted of six chairs and a small table with a few old magazines and overlooked the entrance to the emergency ward. To the left, a hallway led to the little hospital pharmacy and Doctor Percy’s consulting room. To the right, the hallway to the theatre, radiology and the recovery wards.

A short, stocky man dressed in a white coat walked towards them. His round face and puffy cheeks made his small beady eyes appear even smaller. Apart from a patch of hair on either side of his head, just above the ears, he was completely bald. The women got up and met the doctor in front of the vending machine.

How’s he doing Doc? the sheriff inquired.

Doctor Percy nodded his head to the women. He’ll live. He’s dehydrated and sun burned to a crisp, but I have him on a drip to rehydrate his body. He’s still unconscious. Do you have any idea who he is and where he came from?

Sheriff Carter shook her head. No, he didn’t have any identification on him. How long before he wakes up?

The doctor shrugged. I have no idea, but judging from the shape he’s in, that might be a while.

A look of annoyance crossed the sheriff’s face. Please let me know the moment he stirs. While I wait, I’ll check his description in the missing person’s database. Maybe somebody reported him missing and that will tell us who he is.

The doctor nodded. The sheriff didn’t like the fact that there was a stranger in her town.

Three days later he stirred. A low groan escaped from his lips and his eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times to clear his blurred vision. Overhead, a bright florescent light surrounded by a pure white ceiling. I must be in Heaven, he thought with relief. A sound of shuffling feet, and an angel with dark red hair and bright emerald green eyes moved into his field of vision. The bright light framed her figure and cast a soft glow around her. She had a bright, friendly smile, her voice soft and pleasant.

How are you? she asked.

The man tried to say he was fine, but no sound came from his moving lips. She filled a glass with water from the jug on the cabinet next to his bed, and helped him into a sitting position. She held the glass to his blistered lips. He swallowed carefully, the cold liquid soothing the dry crater in his throat.

Thank you, he croaked, aware of the soft hand against his bare back.

He looked around him, and became aware of the drip in his right arm. Confusion crossed his face. Why would I need a drip in Heaven?

It took him a few moments to realize he was not in the afterlife.

Where am I? he asked, his voice clearer.

She looked into his brilliant blue eyes that sparkled like two small swimming pools, their appearance almost unnatural. You’re in a hospital. Let me call the doctor, I’m sure he’ll be glad to see that you’re awake, she said, and disappeared out of the room.

The stranger tried to remember how he got there, but nothing. His memories were a complete blank. The only thing he remembered was a dream he had. He woke up under a fallen tree and walked for hours before seeing the little boy and his dog. Then he died in the dry park. Other than that, his mind was just a dark void. He closed his eyes trying to make sense of everything, but he couldn’t fit the pieces of the puzzle. He didn’t even have the pieces to fit.

Quick footsteps approached, and a moment later Doc Percy walked into the room.

Glad to see you are awake. How do you feel? he asked in a friendly voice, his doctor’s voice.

The stranger looked at him puzzled. I’m confused. Why am I here?

The doctor explained how he collapsed in the park and how he got to the hospital. The man frowned in realization that his dream wasn’t a dream at all. It really happened. Before he could ask anything else, the sheriff walked into the room, followed by the red headed angel with the friendly smile.

The sheriff wasted no time. Good morning, I’m Sheriff Carter. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?

He frowned at her abrupt tone and wondered if he was in some kind of trouble, but shrugged. Sure.

Who are you and where did you come from? the sheriff asked.

For a moment he had a bewildered look on his face. Her direct approach unsettled him. Sheriff, I have no idea.

She frowned. What do you mean, who you are or where you come from?

Both, he said, and saw the fire in her light blue eyes.

The sheriff shook her head, but before she could ask another question the doctor interrupted.

Do you mean to tell me you can’t remember anything? he asked.

The stranger shuffled uncomfortably on the bed under the inquest. Until you explained how I ended up here, I thought the boy and his dog in the park was part of a dream, but now it seems that was all real.

He told them how he woke up next to the fallen tree. How he heard the train whistle and followed the sound, and how he stumbled into the park.

I thought I hallucinated when I saw the town and the boy with his dog. I thought I was about to die, he added.

Doc Percy patted the man’s bare leg. You were not far from it.

The sheriff stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if the man told the truth. In her line of work, she got pretty good at reading people, and he was either a good actor, or he really didn’t remember anything.

She sighed. Do you mind if I take you fingerprints?

He frowned, because it sounded more like a demand than a request, but she just did her job. Not at all.

She nodded. It was clear to him that it wasn’t in her nature to trust strangers.

She gave him one last stare. I’ll be right back.

She turned and left the room.

The doctor was intrigued by his patient.

If you suffer from amnesia, I’d like to do a thorough examination on you to find the cause, he said.

The stranger shrugged. It was obvious he wasn’t trusted and if it helped him, he was all for it. The doctor left to make the arrangements, which left Linda alone in the room. She stood with her hands behind her back, leaning against the wall just inside the doorway.

Now that he knew she wasn’t an angel, he took a better look at her. Her dark red hair had no sign of a curl and flowed over the top of her yellow and green flowered t-shirt. She wore brown work boots with her faded jeans. Unlike her sister, Linda’s clothes hugged her womanly curves. Her athletic build said she was an active person, and her long legs made her taller than the average woman.

I’m Linda, she said and her smile ignited her eyes. They were such a brilliant shade of emerald they looked fake.

I have no idea who I am, he answered with a skew smile on his cracked lips.

Mmm, we need to do something about that, she said.

She pulled the chair from the corner and took a seat next to his bed.

What do you have in mind? he asked.

She stared at him a few moments, thinking off possible names.

How about Sam? she asked.

He chuckled, thinking she was joking, but then saw that she was serious.

He shrugged. I suppose that’s as good a name as any if you don’t have one.

The doctor and the sheriff walked in to the room a while later, and found Sam busy telling Linda all about his hike to town. That being the only memory he had, he could recall each step in great detail. The sheriff frowned at her sister, not happy with her being so friendly with a total stranger. He cut his story in mid-sentence when he saw them. The sheriff carried a mobile fingerprint kit and a digital camera.

Sam was telling me how he found our town. It’s quite a remarkable story, like the town called him here, Linda said in a chatty voice, oblivious to the look on her sister’s face.

Sam? Doc asked, his face a question mark.

Yes, Linda said, looking innocent.

He looks a lot like one of the characters on my favorite TV show, and he doesn’t mind, she added and gave Sam a wink.

The sheriff growled and shook her head at her forward sister. She knew which show Linda talked about, and had to admit, the stranger does resemble the character.

I do prefer to call someone by name, Doc said.

He turned to Sam. "When the sheriff is done with you, I’ll take you for