Babble Installment #1

Babble Installment #1

The adventure & conspiracy starts in Babble, book one of the Cosmic Conspiracy Series. Read the first installment below.

EVERYONE WINS in the Rabble Preorder Campaign & Giveaway

Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.

 

 

But no need to wait. Here is the next installment of Babble

One young boy is the key to the universe.

Babble is the story of Bobbie Cagle — a teenage misdiagnosed autistic boy who is the first human to leap into a brave new world of consciousness — an evolutionary leap as great as the first fish that crawled from the sea onto land.

But unfortunately, everyone wants Bobbie for their own purposes.

Installment #1

Part One – Charlotte 2032

Chapter 1

Angela Cagle looked from her friend to her son sitting cross-legged in the corner of the cold, dark room, where he worked feverishly on his newest tower. She tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder from the all-too-familiar statement she’d just heard. How many times in the past fourteen years had they suddenly been forced to move, often because of similar news? Funny, she thought, even though we’ve lived in this room for weeks, it still smells like dust and stale air. And now it sounded like they’d need to move again.

After taking a couple of deep breaths, she asked, “Was it a man or woman asking about me?”

“Man,” came the laconic reply from Pendra, who ran the local food exchange where all the artist community members shopped.

Angie pulled out a cell phone from the back pocket of her worn jeans, flicked it on, and went to the photo section. After searching through the files, she showed the photo to her friend.
“Was it of either of these men?” she asked as she held her breath.
Pendra glanced at the image, “Nope.”
Okay, that’s good, Angie thought. She flicked to the next picture. “How about this one?”
“Nope again,” Pendra replied, then asked, “Are you on the lam?”
“You could say that,” Angie replied evasively, flicking through to the next picture. “How about this one?”
Pendra studied this picture a bit more closely before replying. “No, not really. He’s dressed kind of the same, but no, that’s not the guy. In fact, it’s his dress that made me suspicious. All casual and plain until you get down to the shoes. Spit-shined where you could see yourself in them. Oh, and he appeared to be missing part of his right ear. Know anyone like that?”
“No.” Angie shook her head. “Damn.”
“What’s wrong?” Pendra asked, a worried look growing on her face.
“Someone new has joined the hunt,” Angie replied. She took a moment to consider her options even though she already knew there was only one course of action. Her gaze drifted back to her teenage son, who continued to ignore everything around him but the tower. Of course, the room wasn’t much to look at anyway with only one window that framed a dilapidated building across a narrow alley with a similar window staring back at them. The building was in the most run down part of Charlotte, North Carolina. Even though Charlotte was known as the Queen City, like many large metro areas, it showed its age. Like an elderly queen, it had grown ugly with wrinkles and age spots brought on by the last decade-and-a-half of economic decline and stagnation. Angie had been told Charlotte was in better shape than much of the rest of the country; much of the rest of the world, for that matter.

“We’re all going to hell in a hand-basket,” her mom had often said, shaking her head slowly with a deep frown etched on her face. It’s only grown worse, Angie thought, as the wealthy few seemed dead set on bleeding the poor masses dry, forcing people into various kinds of communes like this one just to survive.

The sign had read “completely furnished” which meant it had a small cot in one corner where Bobbie slept, an old Army surplus foot locker that housed their few possessions including a few books Angie used for Bobbie’s homeschooling, such as it was. Despite her son’s lack of responsiveness, Angie had continued to read him textbooks that matched his age level. After all, it had been proven that babies could absorb information from the outside world while still in the womb so Angie reasoned the same might be possible for Bobbie. The remaining furnishings included a small kitchenette where Angie prepared their meals, except when they were invited to eat with some of the other families. Fortunately, such invitations were frequent. Despite her son’s strange ways, everyone had taken to him. She suspected it was an artist-respecting-artist sort of thing.

She gazed at her son as she considered their next move. Though he would soon turn sixteen, with his small, wiry frame, he could easily pass for twelve or thirteen. His jet-black curly hair, worn long because he made such a fuss when it had to be cut, contrasted with a pale complexion that left him prone to sunburn.
“We can’t leave yet,” Angie muttered as much to herself as to Pendra.
“Why not?” Pendra asked. “The dude looked like he means business. I mean, he tried to cover it up, but I’ve been working at the exchange long enough to become a pretty good reader of people. Let’s put it this way. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley. Hell, I wouldn’t want to meet him in a lit one by myself.”
Angie pointed to her son, who continued to stay engrossed in the object before him. “Bobbie’s still in one of his ‘creative spurts.’ He gets very upset if he’s disturbed in any way, scratches and bites until he’s allowed to get back to his work. To say he’s dedicated to his art is a gross understatement.”
Pendra gazed at the boy and the intricately designed sculpture in front of him, this one made from various cast-off pieces of electronics the boy had scrounged from who knew where. “He’s really quite an artistic genius, you know,” Pendra said with a note of affection mixed with amazement in her voice. “We’d hate to lose the two of you from our little artist haven here.”
Pendra paused a moment. Angie noticed her friend glancing down at her long fingernails, each one decorated with intricately etched images. This week it was a study of fruit. The previous week the theme had been “My Favorite Things.” Angie knew Pendra didn’t consider herself an artist but claimed to be more of a groupie. She simply liked hanging out in the artist community. Still, artistic talents tended to come alive if you hung around artists long enough. She had to admit Pendra’s nails were their own work of art.
“But of course, you have to do whatever is necessary to keep him safe. How long has he been at it this time?”
“About ten hours.” Angie walked over to the footlocker, pulled out a couple of backpacks and an old duffel bag, and started placing their clothes into the bag.
“Really? Without sleeping?”

Angie nodded. “Sometimes he stays at it until he collapses from exhaustion, but when he wakes up, he goes right back to it. He could easily be at this for at least another twelve hours or more, though it looks like he might be coming close to completing this one.”
“How can you tell?” Pendra asked.
“I’ve seen all the other towers he’s built over the last fourteen years.  While they’re all unique, often built with different materials, and varying somewhat in size, they all have a similar look to them, at least so far.”
“It’s a little like a painter doing a study, like Monet and the lily pads, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Angie replied without looking up from her task. “Who knows, really? He doesn’t like to talk about his art.”
She smiled at her own comment. Truth be known, Bobbie didn’t like to talk about anything. Her son would be sixteen soon but had yet to say his first word—well, at least not any words anyone recognized or could understand. It had been one of the clues that had alerted her that her son was different from other children. Of course, at the time, she had no idea just how different Bobbie was. It had all begun with such a quiet innocence.

Stay tuned for part #2 next Friday or jump ahead by joining the Rabble Preorder & Giveaway.

EVERYONE WINS in the Rabble Preorder Campaign & Giveaway

Receive the first 13 chapters of Rabble (book 2 of the Cosmic Conspiracy) AND a 50% off coupon for Babble (book 1) just for entering. When you enter the giveaway, you’ll automatically receive the option to download the excerpt and start reading right away. You’ll also be entered in a drawing for a Rabble t-shirt, mug, and autographed copy of the book.

 

 

2021-08-18T16:13:56+00:000 Comments

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