Guild of the Beach Rats
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About this ebook
A storm is brewing off the Florida coast. Morgan Roth, a defamed NYC journalist, returns to her ocean-side hometown and finds it’s been overrun by a snake-eyed cult called the Fellowship of Her Lady by the Sea. Nonconformists are hunted, kidnapped, and converted. The Beach Rats, a ragtag bunch of kids, teens, surfers, and rebels refuse to heel to the demands of the hooded cultists and their ancient deity, Guabancex, the Mother of Storms, spurring Her wrath against the town. Enter Max, a dead rock musician, reanimated by the Master of the Guild to free the town and bring music back to the beaches. Max and Morgan have a history of romance, a love that ended in tragedy on a stormy night ten years ago. Together again, they must team up against the Destroyer of Everything and Her minions. A beach concert is staged as the ultimate protest against the Fellowship, but the storm is roaring in on the back of Guabancex, which is sure to spell doom for the Guild of the Beach Rats.
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Guild of the Beach Rats - Michael J.P. Whitmer
Guild of the Beach Rats
By
Michael J.P. Whitmer
Copyright by Michael J.P. Whitmer 2022
Published by TWB Press at Smashwords
All rights reserved. No part of this story (e-book) may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or book reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Edited by Terry Wright
Cover Art by Terry Wright
ISBN: 978-1-944045-93-7
Guabancex
(Gwa-bahn-she)
Centuries ago, across the Florida peninsula and around the Caribbean, the indigenous tribes believed Guabancex to be the destructive side of Mother Nature. Her volatile temper could wipe the land clean with the sweep of Her hand. She was known as the Goddess of the Wind, the Mother of Storms, and the Destroyer of Everything. Those who have seen Her wrath say She is not to be trifled with. Pity the souls in this story who did not heed that warning.
Dedication
In loving memory, to my first ever beta readers, Mom & Dad.
Chapter One - Reanimation
Max’s skeletal remains dislodged from the ocean bed. Crustaceans and barnacles clung to the bones where they had found refuge on his long-sunken corpse. He floated for a moment, still as death, while the ocean’s tide and a supernatural force, moving like a song, pulled him in opposing directions. The ocean lost to the force, and his remains rose toward the moon’s glow blanketing the surface.
His bones shed their parasitic crustaceans. Ligaments, muscles, and skin grew while veins and arteries threaded throughout. As his body reanimated, so too did his mind and senses, and musical notes in his skull lured him back to life. However, the supernatural force blocked access to his memories. His past history would be shrouded in fog and confusion.
Rise, the voice demanded in his mind. Rise.
On the crest of a wave, Max washed ashore, and the breakers rolled him in the sand until he finally stuck in the shallows. Internal flesh and organs seeded themselves and grew to appear functional, and his mottled cheeks reddened with newly restored blood flow, though his heartbeat was nonexistent. As he gasped his first breath, his eyes leaked out the last of the ocean’s salt water.
The ethereal song that woke him from his watery slumber drifted from a dark figure perched on the dune. The cloaked-one held an outstretched hand to Max.
The Master was calling.
A gang of children stood along either side of the cloaked Master. They were of various ages, one boy with a peach-fuzz mustache looked old enough to drive. He sported a buzzed-bald head, except for one dreadlock shaped like a rat’s tail in the back. The others were just past the stage of wetting the bed. Many had no shirts or shoes. Those who did were dressed in ragged tank tops, torn swimsuits, and flip flops.
Max clawed his way out of the surf.
Five children scampered down the dune and rushed to Max’s side. One girl with shaggy hair and brown eyes as bright as a new day in spring draped a blanket over his body.
Her visage tugged at a dead space in his memory.
Who is she? Why does she look so familiar?
The other children helped him stand then gently ushered him closer to the cloaked figure. Under the glow of moonlight, Max could see the man’s build was long and lean like a swimmer’s. His stringy white hair protruded wildly from under a bandana, and a gray beard hid most of his face. He wore a leather highwayman’s coat, open enough to see his bare chest and a strange necklace with a fragmented jewel, in the shape of an eye, hanging from his sinewy neck. He had tucked a sheathed knife behind a sash that held up his frayed trousers.
Max fell to his knees before his master. What’s happening?
Max uttered up to him.
Have no fear, my child.
His voice was calmer than the ocean after a storm. I have brought you back from the sea to walk amongst the living again.
Why?
My city has lost its voice. Give the people something to sing about. Set them free from their oppressors and bring live music back to the beaches.
Max bowed to his master’s command while a name echoed in his foggy mind.
Bright-Eyes.
Chapter Two - Homecoming
Morgan Roth stared out the Greyhound bus’s window at her childhood home town. Decaying and vacant buildings clung to the shore where a proud and quaint coastal cityscape once stood. A young child inhabitant with an apathetic face stood on the sidewalk and stared at a homeless citizen digging in a trash barrel. The mangy person was so layered in rags, its gender and age Morgan could not grasp.
Places of worship were boarded up, and their marquee signs and crosses were covered with black sheets. These veils were embroidered with an emblem of a coiled serpent in the eye of a hurricane. Upon further inspection, she realized the eye was a woman’s eye, and the serpent’s