Evolution: The Next Evolution, #3

By Vered Ehsani and Avery Blake

To survive, they must evolve.

 

The Walker crew has survived despite an alien invasion and the chaos it created. Even better, they've managed to keep the device that might protect them from what happens next.

 

But a terrible calamity is coming.

 

Only a few will survive.

 

And the device has room for only two people.

 

Worse, their alien pursuers won't give up that easily — they're willing to use all the resources of their armada to stop the humans from foiling their plan.

If they're going to survive, they'll need to evolve. But evolution isn't for everyone.

 

Evolution is the third and final book in the Avery Blake and Vered Ehsani series, The Next Evolution. Discover your new favorite SciFi series today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sterling & Stone
• Release date: Oct 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201469610

Vered Ehsani

I've been a storyteller and content creator since I could hold pen to paper, which is a lot longer than I care to admit. I live in Kenya with my family and other amusing animals. The monkeys in my backyard inspire me to create fun, upbeat, inspiring adventures with a supernatural twist. Visit me and my Realm at https://www.realmseekerstudio.com/enter-the-realm and get a free copy of AFRICAN DRAGONS & OTHER BEASTIES.

Book preview

Chapter One

The blood bags look like human-shaped fires in the night. He can see the pulse of their hearts pushing out sweet, warm heat.

Delicious.

But Spot knows better. These ones are not for him. They belong to Celine. And so he holds back his hunger, his blood thirst, and continues stalking around the farm. Little more than a living shadow lurking at the edges of a nightmare.

He peers into the building as she moves from room to room. The funny man with the rope hair and smoky smell follows her. As if she could ever belong to the clown.

The alien hunter snarls.

She belongs only to him, and him to her. Connected in a way the others are not. Not her parent, the warrior or even the clown.

He lets the anger pass through him. Because Celine doesn’t want anyone in this house to die. Certainly not by his claws and teeth.

Hinges squeak, and Spot jerks around, preparing to slash and devour any danger that approaches. But it’s just a door opening. A small puddle of light spills out. A man stands in the opening and stares through the darkness at him.

His pet. The one with an off-white patch discoloring half of his face. Spot struggles to remember the name. His other form knows who it is. He’ll remember everything if he shifts back.

He snaps at the air and the memory of that other form. His current form is the one Celine knows. The other one is alien, even to him.

Gashoki.

That’s the name of the Moon Face man. The two of them have history. Thousands of years of it. Trapped together as the world was destroyed and made anew.

Gashoki retreats into the house. The door snicks shut. The foul-smelling lights wink out one by one until the darkness inside mirrors the night.

Spot’s eyes glow. The darkness doesn’t blind him. He sees through it as clearly as he sees through daylight. He picks up the sight and scent of blood with a deep inhale. Like the night before. When they were all up the mountain. When he attacked Celine’s enemies. The ones who took her parent away and hurt the warrior.

He chatters as he remembers the sweet taste of their blood and screams.

Strange lights flicker overhead, their sources hidden by clouds. He remembers them even in this form. They’re looking for him, searching the land. He can hear their call if he focuses strongly enough. But he doesn’t want to. He likes being separated from the Others. Just him and his girl.

And yet …

He arches his back and stares at the path that leads up the mountain to his throne. Where once he sat as a god.

He hears the summons of history call him back.

You are Ngai, the god of the mountain, creator of all that was and all that is. Return.

He hisses, his yellow eyes pulsing to blue. A warning, but to whom?

The humans once worshiped him. Worshiped and feared. They still fear him, but no longer do they pray to their gods. To him.

It’s okay. I’m here. I will protect you.

He stops hissing and listens to her gentle voice caress his agitated mind.

I’m hiding all of us from the Others.

He purrs, and his eyes return to yellow. They won’t find him as long as Celine is here.

You know what I gave up for you.

He does. Her new form is a constant reminder of what she endured to shield him from the Others. He sees into her memories. Their race to escape. The small spaceship chasing them. He carried her past the large animals with two horns on their heads, through the smashed gates and across a wide open grassland.

He still doesn’t know who the Others were chasing. Him for abandoning his duty, for forgetting his true people? Or her for her powers, her ability to screen him from their sight, to awaken connections in other people’s minds, to create her own hive? Or both?

He won’t let them take her.

He prowls through a field overgrown with tall grass, his serpentine tail slashing at the vegetation. Night creatures flee before his wrath as he hisses and growls at the unseen dangers.

We save each other, she reminds him.

Yes. And he will tear apart any danger that threatens her. Except …

He snarls. There is no exception. Danger is coming for them, and he’s ready to devour it in whatever form. He’ll—

Come home, Spot.

He claws at the soft earth and looks around. He’s run halfway up the mountain, halfway to his throne, to his court. Why is he here?

You are Ngai.

It’s another voice. His own from an older time when he wore another shape. Tall, hairless, glowing white like the moon.

Come home, Spot. Celine reaches across the distance, her words a balm to the burning in his core.

But which home? The one with the human girl who is now a woman? Who gave up her childhood so she can hide him from the Others and lead them all to safety?

Or the home on the mountain under the lights of the white giants and their spaceships? Is he Ngai, the god of the mountain, or Spot, beloved companion to a human girl?

Lights flash above him, reminding him of his original home. Beyond the stars visible from this planet. On ships that move so fast, they defy explanation.

He spins around and stares down the mountain. He can’t see the farm anymore but feels the sleepy pulse of Celine’s dreams even from this distance. Fear and hope thread through her visions in equal measure. And he is in the center of all of them.

His thoughts are angry snarls and murderous howls. But a question forms. One that places the decision with him and not with the Others or even with Celine.

Who am I?

Spot sits and waits for the response to his question. It will tell him where he belongs and with whom. But he knows even as he waits that there is no simple answer.

Chapter Two

Eh, me, I’m happy in my ignorance. All that stuff? It’s need-to-know, and I don’t need to know. So just keep all your crazy visions to yourself, Celine.

Aren’t you a little bit curious?

You know what they say about the cat and curiosity? Somethin’ about losing its tail. Or is that the blind mice? Caleb peered over the fire at the young woman who was really a child. Either way. Blind mice. Curious cats. Same thing. They all die or lose tails or something equally important. Point is, it’s all more than I wanna deal with.

So no?

Nope. ‘Cause that feels like a cup-half-empty thing.

How is this a cup thing?

Just is. Those visions? They’re all gloom and doom. I don’t want all that in my cup. Things are great just like they are. Me, I’m focusin’ on the good stuff.

What good stuff?

We’re all still breathing. Limbs and heads attached. Little stuff like that. Cup half full. Am I right?

Maybe.

Feels like a Monday morning with all this heaviness and thinking going on.

Celine nodded. A sheet of pale blonde hair slid forward to cover half her face. She studied the flames separating them and remained quiet. Not that she was ever noisy. But now she retreated both inwardly and outwardly, leaving behind a trail of silence. After almost three weeks of mind chatter, the lack of it felt unnatural.

Yeah, ‘cause talking with our minds is so natural.

Caleb tried to engage Celine, but she remained cloistered away behind her wall. His mind started to prowl restlessly around yesterday’s memories. Not of Celine diving into the glacial-cold lake to retrieve the safe-place device and almost dying in the process. He never wanted to remember that. Nor how Spot had gone after her, despite the Reptar’s aversion to water.

Nope. Not thinkin’ about none of that.

Not James and his army guys kidnapping Mama Noah and Trisha, or the march down the mountain. Not even the confrontation between Spot, Zahir and Gashoki as they met for the first time in thousands of years.

Oh, no. Those were safe memories, and who wanted any of those? His treacherous little brain focused on the memory of Celine’s kiss. It wasn’t the sweet, chaste kiss of a six-year-old, that was for sure. But maybe she never really was a little kid. Maybe she’d always been a woman waiting to burst out of the confines of a small body.

Still, that kiss.

Caleb kept the memory firmly out of the communal mind space they all shared, the one created by Celine. ‘Cause if Celine’s mother Trisha ever caught a glimpse of that memory? Well, she’d carve him up and serve him to their pet Reptar.

Not saying it wouldn’t be worth it. Is Celine thinking the same thing?

He had no way of knowing unless he asked her, and no way was he voicing those thoughts. Bad enough if someone overheard him. Worse if she’d kissed him on a whim, an experiment not to be repeated. That would totally suck.

Celine maintained her silence, not meeting his gaze. She stroked the metallic sphere in her lap. It was the size of a basketball but was so much more than that.

You sure you still wanna tell them?

Celine inclined her head.

I was kinda hoping you changed your mind. They won’t wanna leave now. Not after everything it took to get here. Am I right?

Silence.

Caleb squatted and pushed the stick into the charcoal forming under the firewood. He prodded the embers. Flames danced higher, brightening the small, windowless room that served as Mama Noah’s cooking hut.

Eh, you giving me the silent treatment? You know that’s absolute torture for me.

Celine smiled and peeked at him through a sheet of hair. The pale blue eyes hadn’t changed. But the rest of her? She wasn’t the six-year-old girl drawing weird pictures anymore. Now she was a young woman who was as equally strange, if not more so. A cute freak.

I heard that.

Good. I meant you to.

Liar.

Caleb grinned. What else is new? How we gonna get to Cape Town from here? You thinking of hitching a ride with another herd of elephants? ‘Cause that was fun. Itchy on the ass, though. I ain’t gonna lie. That thick elephant hair, poking up my—

No. The elephants won’t leave the mountain.

Didn’t think so. So, what? We gonna walk all the way there? You sure about this whole apocalypse thing? Maybe this time it’ll be different. You know. No end of civilization as we know it.

Celine held up the safe-place device. Touch it.

Caleb fell onto his backside in his haste to crab-walk away from the alien sphere. Me, I’m good. I don’t touch other people’s balls.

Even that didn’t make her laugh. Not even a twitch of a smile. Tough audience.

Cat’s curiosity wins. What do you see?

Celine shuddered and curled over the ball. Memories of past invasions. What they did at the end of each.

The fire spluttered between them.

I think I’m part cat.

I can see how you might say that. Those dreadlocks look like tails.

No, they don’t. I meant the curiosity part.

Of course. Me, too.

So what did the aliens do?

You’ll see the truth if you touch the device.

I’m good.

A piece of wood popped in the fire’s heat.

Fine. Since you insist. Was it like Noah and the flood? That kinda deal?

Exactly that kind of deal.

Eh! Who knew the Bible was telling it as it was?

It’s worse.

Caleb pushed an image of a cat losing its tail into their mind space. "See? That’s why I ditched school. Too much information. Curiosity is not a good thing."

You sound like Ngai.

Who?

Nobody.

But Caleb picked up a flash of an image before Celine shut herself off from him: a powdery-white, hairless giant standing before his worshipers. Curiosity is a dangerous thing in the wrong hands, the god-like creature says right before it contorts and shifts into the black-scaled, four-legged Reptar currently known as Spot.

There was something else in the memory.

What does Gashoki have to do with it?

Celine stood up so abruptly that the safe-place device almost rolled off her lap and into the fire. She clutched it to her chest and slipped out of the cooking hut, leaving Caleb wondering what he’d done wrong this time.

A rattling inhale warned him the morning was about to go from freaky to scary in two seconds flat.

Eh, Spot. My favorite limb-tearing, flesh-shredding alien monster. You just missed her.

Spot slunk into view, the glow from his yellow eyes lighting up the small hut. Black scales rippled across unyielding muscles. Limbs moved in rapid bursts, shifting and folding in ways totally unnatural.

Caleb watched Spot for any sign of anger or even mild irritation. The Reptar was usually well-behaved for a scary-as-all-hell predator. He should be safe from dismemberment or decapitation. Hopefully.

Spot sniffed where Celine had been sitting.

It’s just me here, buddy. You can catch her if you hurry. Caleb snorted a laugh. Spot could catch anyone without breaking a sweat.

Spot loomed above Caleb. The stench of rotten meat coated the beast’s exhale.

Wah! Serious. You need toothpaste. Don’t you guys have that on your planet? Not that I’m a fan myself. But a bit of dental hygiene never killed anyone. Am I right?

Spot pummeled images into Caleb’s brain.

Two versions of the moon-faced Gashoki. One locked in a shimmering bubble. The other battling him and failing.

Zahir with Gashoki. Together in all ways, then separated by a betrayal.

Spot running down the mountain after Gashoki. Catching him. Destroying him and everyone in the village. His worshipers punished. The blood. The horror.

The guilt.

Caleb’s head snapped back with the force of the visions. It wasn’t just the visuals that caused Caleb to dry heave. It was the emotional undertone. The raw edge of rage, bloodlust, despair.

Spot chattered before gliding out of the smoky hut.

Caleb lay in a fetal position on the ground, waiting for his stomach to settle and his brain to stop hurting. I hate Monday mornings.

Chapter Three

It starts with blood.

Pools and rivers of blood.

A copper-scented redness which coats the waters, stains the earth.

It rains blood.

Celine lifts up her hands as if praising a deaf god. Tilts back her face to stare into reddish clouds. Hot, sticky drops ping against her skin. Rivulets stream down her shoulders.

There’s no escape from the water that is now blood. She’s in the shower. Her bright blonde hair is coated in red. Long strands cling to her back as if she’s a murder victim who won’t die.

Lakes of blood.

People flee from the water that is no more.

Celine knows it’s an illusion. But intellectual knowing isn’t enough. Not when her skin, bones and nerves disagree. She fights with them, telling them her mind is right.

Most people don’t resist. Illusion becomes reality for the weak mind. And most minds are feeble, limited, unable to access the truth she knows, sees, feels.

Knowing that the water is still water hidden by alien magic doesn’t make it easier. She too is repulsed by what flows out of the taps, filling the sink like a sacrifice, an unholy baptism.

Bibles are pulled out of dusty corners, locked drawers and tall cupboards. People become believers overnight.

God’s punishment against the sins of our forefathers, they preach.

There is some truth in their words, but ignorance too. Humanity has embraced the greatest sin of all. They haven’t evolved. They remain cavemen and cavewomen at an essential level. Trapped in a primitive, animalistic level of physical survival.

The stained skies and blood-drenched rivers are a reminder for those who understand. The true sin is forgetfulness of humanity’s ultimate destiny. A unity like no other.

Humanity has collectively turned their back on that destiny and chosen instead to fight for scraps in the dust heap of a world that is dying from its own stupidity.

The blood clears, and the water returns. There’s a collective exhale of relief. Short-lived relief because the end has only begun.

How long before everyone turns on each other? She sees that, too. The memories of the past hold the visions of the world’s future. Gangs of flesh eaters mark out their territory, their hunting grounds. City states build walls against other city states and rogue armies.

Some people create small collectives like her new extended family. They flee danger and search for safety. Just like them. Clinging to each other. Surviving as best they can.

But safety is the greatest illusion of all.

The ships appear. Built from wood and nails. They look Biblical, replicas of Noah’s Ark in multiple locations. Guarded by white giants, God’s angels of mercy and wrath.

A second wave of panic engulfs humankind as they hear the tick tock, an unrelenting countdown to their own demise. Nine great ships, nine arks of salvation for the lucky few.

And then the true devastation begins.

She witnesses it all as if she floats among the clouds, an observer to the final judgment.

Icecaps melt overnight. Great walls of water speed across the globe, inundating coastal cities in one colossal wave after another.

The devastation doesn’t stop there.

There is no mountain high enough to save those who survive the first wave of destruction. The unnatural tsunamis continue to