Wastebasket: Novella 1: Habitual Humanity, #1

By J. M. Tompkins

America's fall is a slow descent. 

 

The year is 2069. America has suffered a split between two groups, the Citizens and the Outsiders. To make a transition as a Citizen, one has to join the military and serve as a six-year enlistment.

 

Not even a year into August Paxton's service and he's counting down the days until it's over. But then everything takes a turn when a military drone crashes into the Wastebasket and August is assigned to the team charged to uncover it. The Wastebasket, the world's largest trash dump, is home to natives that are rumored to be mentally and physically impaired, though no one is sure as to the extent of their condition. August is apprehensive about their mission's location but learns that the real source of trepidation originates from within his own crew.

 

Wastebasket is the first installment of the Habitual Humanity series by J. M. Tompkins. The Habitual Humanity series will follow America's fall into an apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. M. Tompkins
• Release date: Aug 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393493174

Book preview

WASTEBASKET

Novella 1

Habitual Humanity Series

Year 2069

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J. M. Tompkins

Copyright ©2019 by Creativity Untamed, LLC

Cover Illustration by RebecaCovers

Typography & formatting by Typographer Creativity Untamed, LLC

Editing services provided by Creativity Untamed, LLC

All 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, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

DEDICATION

This story is dedicated to my husband and my son. They are my everything and the reason I get up in the morning (other than coffee).

Contents

WASTEBASKET

DEDICATION

WASTEBASKET

AVAILABLE NOW: WHITE DATA

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

WASTEBASKET

Briefing at 0900 hours! Sammy Gomez yelled to everyone sleeping in the racks on the SSN-912 Minko. There were twenty-four racks, twelve stacks of two, with white linens and thin curtains for privacy. With only a four-hour rotation to get to sleep, the men groaned at the interruption.

August Paxton sat up rubbing his face. He was a lanky teenager who'd never seemed to fit in - before now. Now, his ability to hustle ass and never complain scored his acceptance among the crew. 

What for? he asked.

You'll find out at 0900 hours. Sammy drummed his knuckles on the wall and walked away. He didn't look like he belonged on a submarine. Sammy looked like he belonged on a beach with his tousled dark hair and naturally brown skin.

What the hell? Tim said. Tim was the bubblegumer of the crew, the only other new guy besides August. Since Tim was naive and gullible, he'd gotten assignments to locate things such as the Bosun's Punch or an Ash Receiver.

"Don't be a bent shitcan," August said.

"What's a bent shitcan?" Tim asked.

An asshole with a bad attitude. You'll get a rep for that. August dropped out of the top rack and landed with a thud. He opened his locker, pulled out a pair of camouflage pants, and slid them on. Five minutes, he said as he walked out.

The crew gathered in control central, which was the largest room on the Minko. Dozens of glass panel screens, which were manned around the clock, displayed data and controls in a multitude of colors. Now, the room was packed tight with Navy men and buzzed with speculations about the change in plans. Until Captain Warren Herbert entered, then all talk stopped.

The Captain was a big man. Add in his three-week-old beard and menacing eyes, and he looked downright formidable. The crew would scramble to get out of his way unless he was pouring out shots of whiskey.

Is everyone here? the Captain boomed.

Aye, Captain, the crew replied in unison.

I've told you to cut that shit. He stepped into the center of the room where everyone could see and hear him clearly. "We’ve lost signal on a drone programmed to collect information on China. We are the closest vessel to the last known GPS signal. It's our duty to find this drone, recover its