The Forbidden Zone by Aedan Sayla
Earth in the Near Future
A select few wanted there to be lot fewer mouths to feed. A minority of the population made it happen. The problem is the plan worked way to well.
Sustainable genocide was the plan, and yet things went way to far. Now humanity is approaching zero.
They want to breed me to make up for their mistake. To hell with them.
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Description
Find more from this author on:
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GoodReadsAbout the author:
Author of Erotic Christian Fiction
Up till now only half the story has been written and so now it's time to read everything and not just what many have found acceptable. The truth and love itself are not bound by man, but are timeless and should be shared in full and so I write the whole story.
Sincerely, Aedan Sayla – Also writing as Frank Carlyle (Pen Name)
What inspired you to write your book?
The way the world has been going for sometime seems to especially lend itself to the apocalyptic themes of this book. I hope it doesn't play out like I have portrayed, but………………….
Here is a short sample from the book:
Reaching the door first she turned to me half out of breath and barring the way she said, “What if it isn’t someone locked up?”
A telling moment passed by before she added, “What if it’s one of the ‘Others’?”
A tense silence ensued in the crowded hallway. Strangely I had never fancied myself to be the leader type, but it was my voice that spoke out in the stillness, “We need to know for sure. We can’t leave someone locked up. We can’t do that or we…… we would be like those who stole us away from our families. No matter what we can never be like them! No, not any of us, ever!”
The girl before me inclined her head and gave a slow nod before turning to push at the door. It only shifted an inch, but then it shifted more as I and others came up to push against it in concert with her.
The door gave way as all the stuff piled against it was pushed back. There was no light in the expanse beyond the door and the reality of that was beyond eerie to expe-rience in the moment.
At any moment poised on the edge of darkness’s gloom I expected something to leap out and start biting at me. Instead of a bite though came a very male sounding Amer-ican accented voice, “Over here!”
Drawing in a breath of relief I was in time to see the Pakistani girl do the same. She’d been just as scared as I was. Somehow knowing that helped me feel better.
Turning to the packed hall I cried out, “We need a light of some kind.”
Before long a couple of boys squeezed by us with a pair of makeshift torches in hand. As the fiery light lit up the gloom the boiler room compartment came alive with dancing shadows.
We moved forward into the darkness and with our pro-gress the shadows all about us danced in a way that I found to be beyond creepy and far too close to a horror movie I had once seen. The unknown male’s voice rang out again directing us and we moved forward as a group.
In the midst of the boiler room we came up upon what could only be called a cage. It was something you’d ex-pect to see a poacher keeping a guerrilla or something like it in, but this one held a man.
He wasn’t a teenager like most of us, but in fact I took him to be in his mid-30s to 40s, if the hard lines of his fa-cial structure that bespoke of hard-won experience were to be believed. He had a rugged independent like quality to him and seeing the way his big hands gripped at the bars of his cell I was reminded all over again of the analogy of a wild animal desperate for freedom.
His voice confirmed it, as it grated out with clear mas-culine authority, “Get me out of here!”
The authoritarian quality of the voice had me moving forward as if my own father had directed me to do some-thing. Several hands grabbed at me and held me back even as one of their voices cried out in a panic, “Look there on his shoulder! He has the marks! He is one of the ‘Oth-ers’!”
The shadowy dancing torchlight directed my eyes to-ward the man’s only visible shoulder. The man was shirt-less and though he had heavy body hair it was yet clear to see that he had the two red infamous marks denoting the gene therapy application that had promised to make all the bad times go way and life to return to normal.
My heart chilled within me at what I had almost done.
In answer the caged man gave the cage door a loud rat-tle as he declared with pronounced masculine wrath, “I am not one of them! Now open this door!”
No one moved and in a way it was suddenly clear to all that nobody was going to answer his request. Regarding us all with extreme frustration he sighed and pushed away from the bars only to slam up against the back side of the cage with a growl of rage that sounded almost animal like.
The point that I took away though was that it wasn’t an-imal sounding in the ways that the ‘Others’ sounded like. It was just close to it.
Maybe he was in an early stage of the process of changing and thus still sounded more human. If so why would they have brought him?
If he was one of the ‘Others’ of what possible value could he have to the elite that they would risk bringing him to their safely hidden away land?
He was darkly muttering to himself as he began to pace back and forth tightly within the narrow cage. I could only catch a word or two of what he was saying, “Nothing but kids…… stupid kids……”
Suddenly the scene we all stood gripped by was shat-tered apart by the echoing call of someone from the hall, “Land! We see land!”
It was the diversion we all needed to turn away from the impossible responsibilities of the moment before us. Like dutiful mice we left the boiler room quietly.
The last glimpse I had of the man behind bars was of him silently watching us leave. Surely if he was one of the ‘Others’ he would even now be yelling and screaming pro-fanities at us, but this man did not do any of those things.
It was like he had silently chosen to accept his fate. How did someone without a soul do that?
His silent demeanor upon our retreat affected me more strongly than anything else that he could’ve done. I was at the back of the pack who were now quickly disappearing from view as they rushed topside to view the land on the horizon.
Inside I felt like I was dragging a great weight behind me that if I didn’t stop I would somehow be pulled over into a great abyss by. The man surely couldn’t be trusted though.
Abruptly the Pakistani girl, who was just ahead of me, reached out to seize a torch out of the hand of the Japa-nese boy from the control room. We three were all that was left of the crowd from earlier.
Taking the torch she turned to forcefully head back the way we had come. Startled, I looked at her even as the boy jabbered away in Japanese excitedly, but before I could speak she held up a hand and said, “You said, that no matter what, we can’t be like the pigs who put us here!”
She didn’t need any further argument from me as I was already turning around. It was just deeply wrong to leave this man to die down here.
He was going to kill us when he got out, but sometimes the obvious truth just didn’t matter when the right thing needed to be done. Shaking like a leaf I went back the way I had just come from until I was in view of the man, who stood as silently as we had left him.
The Pakistani girl held up a big wrench and said, “Promise not to kill us if we let you go!”
“I promise not to kill you.” The man’s deep voice ech-oed solemnly out with.
Hastily I added, “And none of the others either!”
“Well now, that depends.” He drawled out with what actually sounded like dry humor.
My voice squeaking I asked, “Depends on what?”
“Whether they attack me first, Honey. I will defend myself.”
Logically my mind concluded that was only fair, but emotionally it was far too open-ended for my liking. Call-ing myself all kinds of stupid I stepped forward and took off a set of keys on a hook that hung out of reach of the cage.
In the semi darkness I stepped close enough to the cage door to fit the key into the lock. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t even get the key to fit into it.
Suddenly a powerful hand wrapped about my wrist completely, even as his coolly accented American voice intoned, “Allow me.”
His hand firmed away all the shaking within mine and directed the key into the lock. His wrist turned and my hand went with it in mirror action.
The cage door sprung open and drawing in a deep breath I stepped backward quickly as my wrist was re-leased. The man only dressed in a pair of pants stepped free from the cage and let loose with the loudest sigh of relief I had ever heard.
Breathing deeply for several long moments he stood poised before us even as we held our breath.
At last he spoke, “Thank you! I have to admit I was go-ing a bit crazy in there.”
Glancing to the Pakistani girl off to his left, who still held the wrench high in the air, he said in a bemused tone, “Guess I should work on my choice of word selection shouldn’t I.”
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