Children of The Crash, A New Humanity - Book 3 (e-Book)

Book Three of "The Crash" series.

About this premium e-Book:

**SPOILER ALERT: The following description contains spoilers.** You should read Backfire Crash and Beyond The Crash first. 

In this, the third book of “The Crash” series, Children of The Crash, A New Humanity, as the survivors of The Crash” seek to create a better society, they discover that the children who remain have something new and different to contribute to rebuilding the world. But their quest is marred by the corrupt and evil forces who caused The Crash in the first place. This adventure takes you from the rainforests of Brazil to the naked peaks of Tibet, from the ruins of civilization to the hope for a New Humanity. 

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Please enjoy an excerpt from Children of The Crash.

**SPOILER ALERT: The following description contains spoilers.** You should read Backfire Crash and Beyond The Crash first. 

When I heard the “Hello” in my head, I slowly recognized that it was Jaguar. Facing Lauren’s death, I was crawling toward a precipice, ready to fall into my deepest depression or something worse. Hearing Jaguar stopped me. A fissure split my mind, and light burned through. Jaguar waited for me to respond.

I wanted to tell her to go away, but I also knew I couldn’t do that. The song Lauren had played for me that had come to mean so much echoed in my mind: “Rain Black, Reign Heavy.” Two lines kept repeating: “I choose to bleed, I choose life. I choose to live, I choose to fight.” How could I turn away from that? It would be like turning away from Lauren, and it was Lauren who had found Jaguar’s tribe, the Zo’é. 

Mustering as much strength as I could and facing the light that burned through the granite of my mind, I finally responded to Jaguar with a question: “Are you okay?” 

“We are safe, but we feel your loss. She was with us before.”

Jaguar was referring to Lauren, and this made my throat tighten with grief. After an empty pause, I said, “Yes, Lauren is gone. Something happened when we traveled, or something went wrong with the bombs and the waves they created.”

“In our tribe, those who die are always with us, because they are part of eternity, the always now. They can never truly be gone, even if we do not see them anymore.”

Her statement felt meaningless to me. Even while facing the warmth that Jaguar brought, Lauren was gone. She was not still with me. I didn’t really care about philosophical ideas at the moment. So I asked in deflection, “What did you feel with the waves we sent out?”

Jaguar replied, “When you came to us this time, we saw others, through you, who seemed lost. And we also saw those who were like the ones who ran at us, those we had to kill before. We felt the waves and helped them along, helped them reach those others. Some of the people were close. Some were far. We saw the waves reach them.’’

“That was our intent. Thank you,” I said. “From what we felt, we think this is what happened throughout the world. We all did our best, and I hope it will make a difference. We don’t know the full effectiveness of it yet, though.”

“Don’t you see?”

“See what?”

“Where and who we are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stop thinking.”

“What?”

“It’s there. It’s not words. It’s not thought. It’s there.”

What the hell was she talking about? As the light in my mind glinted, I was slipping again anyway, wanting to crumble on the floor of this room and stay there until something changed, but I didn’t want to make the change, myself. I was tired, lost, and getting pissed, losing patience. But here I was having this conversation. Could I escape to Ben’s library and finish one of his best bottles of Russian vodka? Did he have a shitty bottle of vodka? Would this girl leave me alone?

She was right, though. I needed to stop thinking. I pictured a bottle of vodka, which looked and sounded pretty fucking good right now. That’s what I wanted to see and hear for real instead of philosophical thoughts projected into my mind from a child. If I left my room and headed for Ben’s library, would Jaguar follow me? Of course she would follow me. She was in my mind. Fuck!

An image grows: viridescent eyes, penetrating. Dark fur. Piercing moonlight. Intense focus. Rippling muscles. Iron claws. Shoulders spread. Back arched. It gathers into a force, into concentration that lives without thought. Pulling me with it, making me become it. Darkness curls around me forming a tunnel that twists into saturated green and purple strands.

I see through the emerald eyes now. They are me. And I stop moving. I breathe with intent. Silence echoes. I feel everything around me falling away until I smell the damp soil, the sultry greenery cooling in the azure moonlight. I crouch on the path.

The silence becomes insects buzzing, calling for mates. Frogs crying. Life grows to a symphony throughout the speckled shadows, calling. It’s here. We’re here, bigger and bigger, all around. 

I stand. Daisy stands. Jaguar stands. Calmness flows. 

The path lay before us. Darkness swings away like curtains revealing a grand play. Light rains down through the leaves. I can not shrivel and hide. I am brought up to see again. What we accomplished was not for nothing. This was not a mechanical exercise. This was not an obligation. This was a stepping through, and I can not go back. 

I continue my controlled breathing, the air flowing through me, my eyes seeing farther, my ears wrangling sounds deeper, my nose filling me with wholeness, my skin feeling everything: cold shivers, warm stretches, slick openness, strength ready. I taste life.

In my room. Jaguar is there. The jaguar is also there in me and me in it. Daisy pants calmly next to me. I come back to myself.

Jaguar says, “Now you see the eternal now.”

Steve Patchin is an author, photographer, and artist who has been working and running a studio in Las Vegas, Nevada since 1996. Derelict Dreams, an Illustrated Novel is his first novel. It includes more than 80 full-color original artistic photographs that make his apocalyptic story of two young sisters come alive. Steve is a Las Vegas native with an extensive portfolio of photographic images, realistic composites, and impressionistic paintings. He has owned and operated his photography and video business, Patchin Pictures, since 1996, winning eight Emmys for his work.

Steve has never stopped expanding and refining his art, photography, and writing. His resume of images displays an abundance of styles and subjects that are uniquely appealing: from traditional landscapes and cityscapes to his distinctive “photo paintings” that are more impressionistic, sometimes surreal, or other-worldly.