The Unearthing (Book I of the Tebel Chronicles)

Chapter 1

Pain. Heat. Thirst. With a groan Cyan opened her eyes. Blinded by the dazzling glare, she sat up slowly, wincing at the next rush of pain. She whimpered, shaking her aching head and showering sand all around herself. She squinted in the brightness. Intense, yellow-white dunes were in every direction she looked. She rubbed her forehead slowly.

What the hell?

Other words came to mind in quick succession and she could just imagine Joanna's eye-roll. Cyan looked around slowly, staring at the dipping and rising sandy hills across her vision. It was definitely a desert. More choice words erupted in her mind, words that would make a gangster blush. She would know.

Cyan pushed herself to her feet. Shielding her face, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the light. Dunes and more dunes as far as her eyes could see. Heat. Thirst. Cyan shrugged herself out of her hoodie, wincing as her sore body screamed out.

What the hell?

The fog in her head cleared vaguely with glimpses of memories flashing through her head. She had been running.

From who?

Joel.

Always Joel.

Not just Joel.

Police? Government?

Why?

Cyan shook her head sending more pain cascading through her body. Some more glimpses. Buildings toppling around her. A dark storm crashing overhead. People, falling, screaming. Frightened faces staring from cars as they were flung from the bridge.

How? Why? Terrorists?

Cyan couldn't remember any more than that and her head hurt too much to try. She ran through a quick inventory of the people she knew in New York. It didn't take long. Had they all died? Her mother? Was she even sad if her mother was dead? Would her mother even have noticed? Would she have given Cyan a thought?

Don't.

Cyan opened her eyes and waited for them to fully adjust to the light. She couldn't stay where she was – she would need water soon. Helplessness washed through her. Where would she go? She fought the deepening despair.

Water. Shelter. Phone. In that order. Don't think about anything else. Choose a direction, stick to it.

Tying her hoodie around her waist, Cyan set off.

The sun marked time as it crossed the sky and Cyan's insides were aching from hunger and thirst. The coffee at the clinic after her run-in with Joel was the last time she remembered drinking. Not the best last drink before finding oneself in a desert, she thought.

The clinic ...

That had been the previous night, before New York had crumbled around her. The memories of running away from Joel after he'd found her at the clinic were suddenly vivid.

The bridge. Falling. Darkness. Cyan's arm throbbed mercilessly and she tried to pull the tattered bandage tighter around it. Maybe he did break it ...

The thought of being lost in the desert with a broken arm was overwhelming. Cyan stumbled forward faster, trying to escape her own thoughts.

But, by the time the sun started dipping towards the horizon behind her, Cyan was trudging mindlessly, the panic forgotten. She looked back the way she'd come and saw the dunes stretching behind her as much as in front of her. The descending sun sent shimmering orange across the sky and made the sand around Cyan blaze. The light seemed to make the despair dissipate with her and she found a rock to sleep against. Curling up on her hoodie, she promised herself that the next day would be better. She would find water and shelter and someone who knew what had happened in New York. Maybe she could even relocate from there now. In fact the end of Joel and his shenanigans wouldn't be the worst thing to happen. Cyan smiled suddenly as she realized – lost or not – at least she was free. And she hadn't been free in a very long time. She watched as clouds rushed over the land, darkening the night. As she fell asleep the only thing occupying Cyan's mind was the hope that the clouds meant rain.

She stepped out of the opening of the tent. Sand scrunched under her toes as she walked barefoot to the fire. The night was turning pale above her. Dawn was arriving. She sighed. She had missed the night sky again. Why couldn't she seem to wake earlier anymore? She looked around at the other tents. Nearby a sentry waved a greeting. She smiled and then, realizing he wouldn't be able to see her expression in the faint light, she waved back. There was no point in trying to sleep more; maybe she should get dressed and start her exercises. Something jolted within her.

Cyan woke abruptly. She lay for a minute praying that when she opened her eyes she'd be in New York and that the desert had been another one of her many crazy dreams. Reaching out her hand her heart sank as she felt dry, coarse sand under her fingers. As she sat up, a new kind of pain hit her. Her face and arms had burnt in the sun the day before.

Cyan stood slowly and took a mental inventory of her injuries. Nothing too serious – even her arm felt a bit better, stronger. Maybe not broken. Sprained. Hanging her hood over her head to shade her face, she continued in her original direction, hoping that eventually she would find the end of the desert. Her mind churned trying to work out where she was and how she could have landed there after passing out on the bridge. But by the time the relentless sun had passed over her, Cyan's thirst had reached a new level of severity and her thoughts centered on that alone. Her mouth was as dry as the sand underfoot, and every time she tried to swallow, it seemed like barbed wire was being pushed deeper down her throat.

That afternoon she seemed to reach the end of the dunes and the desert flattened out into dusty plains. Joy of joys, Cyan could see water ahead of her. With renewed energy she hurried forward.

But as she stepped a couple of feet onto the plain, the ground started shaking underneath her. The memories of New York pounded her as she fought to find her footing. Something huge was moving beneath her! Cyan screamed in horror and kicked out frantically. Her foot connected with something solid within the shuddering sand that was shifting her downwards into the cavern and to whatever was waiting there. It was a trap! Cyan squealed as she saw the red eyes above the snapping pincers, trying to grab her feet. Cyan kicked at the eyes, making the creature roar in pain and anger. It shot upwards towards her, still gnashing its teeth and pincers and making the sand fly around Cyan. As it propelled upwards, Cyan pushed off its head as hard as she could and landed with a thud that winded her completely as she hit the solid desert floor. Scrambling to her knees, Cyan looked back, wheezing in an effort to catch her breath. The creature was bucking and flailing in the sand from which Cyan had just been expelled. Clearly he was still in pain from her stomping his eyes, but was emerging from his trap. Cyan bit back a scream of horror at the giant tick-like creature. His pincers were large enough to slice her in half! If she had fallen into the trap from the other side, his pincers would have done just that. She had no idea if it would be able to chase her, but she wasn't going to wait and see. Cyan heaved herself to her feet and stumbled away from the lair, tears streaming down her face from the fright and the sand. She ran as fast as she dared, now vigilant to any sign of traps beneath the sand.

Much later, when the sun's heat had abated slightly and the desert sky cast a bluish hue across the sands in preparation for a gentler colored evening than the night on the dunes, Cyan felt calmer and was able to walk more confidently across the solid looking ground. Finally, when she was sure that she wasn't being tracked by a giant insect, Cyan stopped to rest. She realized then that she had lost her hoodie in the creature's attack. Cyan looked back and for the first time since her encounter with the desert creature, she wasn't checking to see if she was being hunted, and so only then noticed that the same water she had been heading towards was now behind her too. In that instance Cyan remembered the illusion of water in deserts. Her limited education at the inner-city school had taught her that much. What were they called again? Mirages. Realizing with dismay that there was no water ahead, Cyan felt the last threads of her grasp on her composure slipping through her fingers, as she knew with certainty that she was well and truly lost. She let go of frustrated tears. Cyan lay down on the sand and curled up, pulling her sweater over her head to shut out the nightmare of her situation. It was ages before she finally wept herself to sleep.