The Icarus Curse

By Carmen Botman

Shiloh Reed carries the burden of mankind on her shoulders – literally. Having inherited her father’s notorious legacy in this dystopian world, Shiloh realises that she holds the only blueprints in existence that could potentially save the planet from the brink of extinction. Seasons no longer exist on this planet – each day is hot and dry and food is scarce. Water is rarer than gold. Survival, here at the southern tip of Africa, is a day-to-day battle. Shiloh is a loner and has learned to depend on herself. But with the responsibility of rebuilding the Season Generator and saving the planet fixed squarely on her shoulders, she will have to learn to trust others if she wants to accomplish this mission. Should she trust her instincts? And does she have the courage to fulfil this massive undertaking?

The Icarus Curse is part of Storm Anthology Volume I published by Linzé Brandon on behalf of the Pretoria Writers' Group.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carmen Botman
• Release date: Apr 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310389290

Carmen Botman

Carmen is a South African writer, based in Pretoria, Gauteng (originally from the beautiful city of Cape Town!). She has always been a writer at heart, even though her path led me her to study and work in a field completely unrelated to writing. As the saying goes: 'Nevertheless, she persisted.' Which she did. With a husband and two sons by her side, always supporting her, she never stopped writing – even when it was only just for herself.She is the founder of Owlish Press Content Agency. She is the co-founder and writer for Seasoned Journeys, a digital lifestyle magazine. And, of course, she writes fiction.

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Copyright © 2014 Carmen Botman

Second edition published 2021

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or if real, used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For any more information, please contact the author.

Cover picture: Unsplash / Dan Meyers

Cover design: Carmen Botman

Published by OWLISH PRESS (www.owlishpress.com)

-1-

(2115 A.D.)

"A storm of apocalyptic proportions has been raging across all regions of the northern hemisphere since the early hours of this morning," the newsreader said. It was the gruelling third hour since the news had broken and her voice was quivering. Hannah, Jericho, my mother and I were all glued to the WebScreen in the sitting area. The scenes they were showing us were frightful! Homes had been completely destroyed. People were running around looking for shelter from the all-encompassing storm cloud that had settled across the skies of the northern part of the world. Rain had been coming down in torrents for the last six hours or so. Unbeknownst to the poor souls on the ground, we the viewers, could see the rapid rising of the water all around them as a result of the battering storm which appeared without forewarning. The entire area where the cameras were focussed was starting to flood with nowhere for the water to run off. This storm, which had demolished houses, counties and towns, was now destroying countries. I felt as if we were watching a horror movie coming to life. Surely this couldn’t possibly be real? This had to be some kind of elaborate hoax – right? But we were unable to tear ourselves away from the screen; our morbid fascination seemed insatiable. It looked similar to a number of scenes from very old movies our grandmother had shown us when we were little about aliens invading Earth. Only now, it wasn’t invading aliens, at least then we would have been able to fight back. This time, it was Mother Nature herself, doing all the damage. The water levels seemed to be rising at an exponential rate. And it wasn’t stagnant water that just lay there either. This water appeared to have a mind and current of its own. It was forceful and destroyed just as it wished, with no respect for human life or dignity.

The drone cameras were now tracking a girl, probably about my age. She was running with great difficulty, screaming and crying. The water was at the height of her waist and it was obvious that she was battling with all her might against the raging current and constant downpour. The satellite tracked her as she struggled to get to safety. A short way from where she was, an old man was standing on the roof of his car, shouting something to her. I suppose we should have been thankful that the sound from the live footage had cut out hours before. He was gesturing for her to run toward him. He lay down on his stomach on the car’s roof and stretched out his hand to her. We could see her small mouth moving, screaming something back at him. The water was now nearly at neck height and the sheer panic in her eyes made my heart