Paul Jones - Revelations

So, a plan was being formulated; it was a risky one, no doubt, and would involve taking one of their collection of submarines to the frozen island in the hope that maybe its precious reserve of Earth-born seeds had survived.

Emily glanced across at Mac, sitting next to her on the beach. His beard was fuller these days but better kept than when she had first met him. He had added a pair of neatly trimmed sideburns.

“Makes you look like Abe Lincoln,” she told him, rubbing the tip of her finger across the oblong of hair on his cheek.

“Abe Lincoln? Wasn’t he a singer with one of those eighties bands?”

She nudged him playfully with her shoulder, then leaned in close, her head against his shoulder, linking her hands around the crook of his knee. Mac’s eyes were focused on the far horizon but every now and again he plucked a handful of the coarse yellow sand and allowed it to sift slowly through his open fingers.

“No sign of them yet?” he asked, pressing his cheek against the crown of her head.

“They’re still a couple of hours out, I guess. But they’ll be here soon and everything will change again.” They sat in peaceful silence for a while, allowing the pleasure of each other’s company and the breeze rolling in from the sea to envelop them.

“Well, duty calls,” Mac sighed eventually, unaware of Emily’s internal conflict. He turned and kissed her lightly on the lips, untangled himself from her grasp, and pushed himself to his feet.

“Help me up,” Emily said, all thoughts other than the love she felt for this man fading from her head. Mac pulled her to her feet and she took his hand in her own. “I’ll walk with you. Rhiannon’s probably wondering where I am anyway.”

They strolled back toward the camp slowly, reveling in the time they had been allowed. Behind them their fresh footprints and the indentations in the sand where they had sat quickly filled with the incoming tide and then vanished, leaving the beach as pristine as before they had arrived.

Thor greeted Emily at the door of the apartment, tail wagging enthusiastically, tongue lolling from the side of his jaw. They used the term “apartment” loosely around camp; it was actually part of a smaller office building that had been sectioned off into quarters for married or partnered couples. It wasn’t what you would call fancy, and certainly no comparison to her apartment back in Manhattan, but still, it was home and she smiled every time she walked through the door. Of course that smile could also be credited to the love that was waiting for her each time she set foot inside.

“Missed me, eh?” Emily asked, rubbing the dog behind his ear as he pushed up against her legs, escorting her inside. “Where is everyone?” she called out.

“We’re in here!” Rhiannon shout-whispered, her voice floating in via the living room. Emily followed it into the bedroom.

Rhiannon looked up from a chair in the corner and smiled at Emily. “Look,” she murmured to the tiny form bundled in a blue blanket held tightly in her arms, “Mama’s home.”

“Hi, Baby Boy,” Emily cooed as she reached down and took the child from Rhiannon and cradled him to her chest. She looked down adoringly into the face of her son and he stared back, wide-eyed, reaching a tiny hand out to his mother.

They named him Adam. It seemed fitting given the circumstances. He was the first child born into this new world and had quickly become a symbol of hope for every one of the survivors at Point Loma. This unexpected gift had, at first, shocked then lifted the spirits of their fledgling community. And since his birth, Emily knew of at least four more pregnancies.

Emily placed her lips lightly against her boy’s forehead. Adam gurgled his pleasure back at her, smiling in that odd way of his, as though he wanted to speak something to her but his body was too young to form the words he needed to say.

Emily sighed and pouted at her boy. This was going to have to be just a short visit; just to see her son, just to make sure that he was real, that she had not dreamed him up. She often found herself finding an excuse to pop back to the apartment and check on him, but she had work that she had to get back to, preparations that still needed to be made before the new arrivals showed up, so she would have to return the boy back to his auntie Rhiannon for the rest of the afternoon.

“How’s he been?” Emily asked as she walked around the bedroom, rocking the boy gently back and forth, cherishing every moment she could.

“Fine. He just woke up from a nap, so he’s a little hungry. I was about to feed him.” Rhiannon gestured to a bottle of baby formula sitting next to the chair.

“I’ll do it,” Emily said. She moved a fold of blanket from the boy’s body and looked adoringly at her son. To say that he was a miracle was an understatement. She clucked at the boy and he smiled awkwardly back at her, squirming gently in her arms, both hands now reaching out for her, lacing around her outstretched finger. He is just perfect , she thought.

He had Emily’s same high cheekbones and nub of a chin ( although not my ears, thank God for small miracles ) and the same shock of hair and slender lips as his father. But it was Adam’s eyes that truly set him apart; they followed his mother’s face with innocent interest, his ruby-red irises sparkling like stardust, responding to the tiny scintillations of red that dotted Emily’s own eyes, glowing with their own faint luminescence. And, in that briefest of moments, Emily sensed the unbreakable connection that existed between her and her child. She sensed him reaching out with his young, inquisitive mind, exploring, and from around the planet she heard a chorus of other voices answer, welcoming him to their strange new world.

Well, here we are again. As always, there are a few people I would like to thank. It should go without saying that I owe a debt of gratitude to the 47North team, who continually amaze me with their creativity and precision.

To my editor, Jeff VanderMeer, cheers, mate.

And, of course, I want to thank you, the fans and readers of Emily, Thor, and her new compatriots. Hopefully this book has answered some of the burning questions you have emailed me since the release of Exodus .

I had always envisioned Emily’s journey to have taken up three books, but she has taken on a life of her own and demands that I tell more of her tale. And as we all know, you don’t mess with Emily, if you know what’s good for you. So, there will be more books to come in her universe.

Make sure you check out my website at www.DisturbedUniverse.comor join my Facebook page, www.facebook.com/pages/Paul-Antony-Jones/150633681672260, for news and updates on her new adventures.

A native of Cardiff, Wales, Paul Antony Jones now resides in Las Vegas, Nevada. He has worked as a newspaper reporter and commercial copywriter, but his passion is penning fiction. A self-described science geek, he’s a voracious reader of scientific periodicals, as well as a fan of things mysterious, unknown, and fringe-related. That fascination inspired his first novel, Extinction Point , and its first sequel, Extinction Point: Exodus . Emily Baxter’s adventures will continue in future installments of the series. Join the author’s mailing list at DisturbedUniverse.com.