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Depths Above is a bold adventure that depicts Earth’s response to an unimaginable, global threat. It will be man, himself, who returns to wage war in the countless adaptations of a more sweeping genesis then ever conceived. No longer alone in the universe, truths regarding evolution and man’s true path to salvation will be revealed. A skilled team of specialists must find a way to protect their world from
assimilation into the ‘Conclave’, a ruthless intergalactic empire, or worse… from total annihilation.
The people of Earth are unique - animated with an inherent spark that promises the acceptance of a rare gift. Amidst the confusion of planetary warfare, a second battle will be fought to preserve man’s spirit, now threatened by extinction. Three souls, beings of pure light, were sent to judge the hearts, minds and character of man. Will he prove himself worthy? The time has come for the celestial trinity to cast their vote.
Guardian versus aggressor – with fist, tooth and talon - will hope endure?
This gritty and skillful novel was influenced by the enduring works of Frank Herbert’s “Dune” and Isaac Asimov’s “Foundation Trilogy”. In the classic vein of such epic stylings, Depths Above weaves an
intricate web of Sci-Fi storytelling. A multiple recipient of the Pennsylvania Scholastic Arts Awards for Creativity, Todd Miland is already a published author, with work featured in various magazines and journals.
Happy reading…
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The large, interior warehouse had been completely refurbished into an accommodating living space. If someone were blindfolded and led there, never having seen the way in, they would have believed it to be an expensive, uptown suite. Except for the bare concrete floors, inornate walls and open ceiling, the spacious area had been sub-divided into the various smaller rooms that typify an urban residence. There were bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and other rooms that served purposes only essential to those who now inhabited them. When money is not an issue, almost anything can be accomplished.
The Loomis’ had associations to that dark, sordid world operating just below the veneer of our perceptible reality and layer of law. This included a Black Market that could acquire anything or everything that someone could possibly desire. This was at a cost, of course, and with the acceptance of personal risk. The cult that operated as an extension of Jose and Felicia Loomis had both the cash and power to allow them safe bargaining amongst this immoral breed. Moreover, they were duly feared by them. It was universally understood that the Loomis’s had no loyalty to anyone, and that they were just as likely to vent their wrath upon the wicked. This reputation allowed them to get what they wanted, when they wanted it.
Felicia stalked through the general living quarters to a room off one of the fabricated hallways. As she opened the door a foul stench washed over her. She breathed it in deeply.
“Jose, I’ve brought you something.”
She kicked at a young boy who lay sprawled on the bare floor, chained to an iron ringlet which had been bolted to a structural support girder. He yelped and scrambled away from her reach.
Felicia removed a can opener from a dresser drawer. She had to shift through a pile of empty tins to find it and gashed her finger on one of their sharp, ragged edges. Putting the finger to her mouth, she sucked on it while trying to negotiate the opener, one-handed, onto the fresh can. The process was cumbersome, so she reluctantly pulled the digit from her lips to finish the routine. Retrieving an unwashed fork from the same drawer, she handed both to Jose.
“Here. This should do the trick.” Her voice pealed with insincere cheer.
Another child, chained like the first, began pleading for mercy and her freedom. A sharp tug on the chain silenced her.
“Remember the fate of your friend there, bitch!” Jose released the chain’s slack from his slick hand and let it snake to the floor. The girl began whimpering… quietly to herself.
Jose Loomis was stretched out on a large Victorian bed. Its four posts were scarred with deep gouges from a network of chains that encircled them. A bare mattress, too small for the frame, had been placed directly over the springs. Jose enjoyed the discomfort of their sharp metal points which had been twisted out of position with age. Every unexpected prick was a delicious surprise. Five children, none more than nineteen years of age, were huddled around the bed - chained and exposed. Dog bowls filled with indistinguishable meat or rancid water had been scattered among them. Some of the bowls were over-turned, creating a sickening film on the hard floor. Their captives slid about in the foul soup.
Jose was even more revolting than the conditions. He lay naked as well, except for a tattered Armani sport jacket and a stained Hugo Boss tie knotted loosely around his throat. Thick circular scars marred his flesh - reminders of a fateful night and a not so chance encounter with law enforcement. One of the agent’s bullets had also struck his face and, as a result, his head was misshapen; like a growing bruise on a tomato that continued to shrink the healthy pulp. The dark iris of one eye had dissipated and flowed out into the white sclera. Jose’s skin was pocked with sores and his unclothed lap was caked with himself.
Felecia looked at him with regret, not because of his appearance or state, but because she resented that they could no longer blend with the cattle outside these walls. She missed the fine meals and extravagant shopping that they had shared. She supposed that she could still do those things, but it wouldn’t be the same without Jose. She still loved him. No one could have shown her the things he had.
After the first bite of the salty meat, Jose hurled the can and it’s remaining contents towards one of his prisoners. It bounced off his prone body without eliciting a response. He spat the rest from his mouth and onto the mattress.
“Nothing!” he roared at no one in particular. “What is this world coming to? Not the smallest morsel allowed for, at the very least, taste”.
Jose commanded one of the girls to return the dented can to him. When it was in his grasp, he used the other to swat her back to the ground. Then he turned on his mate.
“Felicia, you idiot, its right here on the label - ‘Dolphin Safe’! You know how important this is. Do you want me dead?”
He threw the can at her, which she deflected with ease.
Unaffected, Felicia smiled at him sweetly. “I’m sorry darling, but I had a bit of a distraction at that hideous supermarket you sent me to. A distraction, however, that I think you’ll be most interested in learning.”
She cleared a pile of clutter from off the dresser in one broad sweep, before sliding herself onto it. “Do you want to hear about it?” Crossing her legs daintily, she placed her hands in her lap, looking every bit the lady that she wasn’t.
“You know what I want… what I need,” he yelled, spittle flying from his broken lips.
“Fine, fine,” she said. “We can take one of your pets here. It will do the trick for now. Look, I see you’ve ruined one over there.”
She pointed to one of the boys. His body was still, with his neck twisted unnaturally over his shoulder. Blank, cold eyes stared up and out the makeshift walls and into the scaffold of girders overhead.
“No, no. Get me that one. I need it fresh.” His greasy finger directed her to the boy she’d kicked on her way in.
Felicia’s smile widened as she slid off the dresser.
“Oh, by the way, I still need to tell you what I’ve found!” she snarled.
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