Clawing Back from Chaos: Book 9 in the Cat Among Dragons Series (A Cat Among Dragons) by Boykin Alma

Author:Boykin, Alma [Boykin, Alma]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: science fiction, human wave, london
ISBN: 9781773420127
Publisher: IndieBookLauncher.com
Published: 2017-05-10T04:00:00+00:00

The next morning, Col. Selassie tugged her scarf tighter around her throat and wondered what alien or mad scientist in his, her, or its right mind would invade Britain in winter. Exeter town perched on a rise beside the River Exe. Once it had been a major commercial port, but now tourism and administration dominated the economy, much as the cathedral dominated the old city. At the colonel’s elbow, Rachel did arcane things to a hand-sized electronic box and muttered under her breath about volcanism, Dartmoor, hot springs, and other geologic matters. “All right, I’ve got it down to within a kilometer. The disruption centers here.” She showed the officer a map. “The dark bit is the solid rock it sits on, an old bit of volcanic something or other.”

They got into the vehicles and carefully navigated through toward the center of town. “Commander, do you know what ‘it’ is yet?” Selassie asked.

“Not a clue,” a cheerful voice replied. “Around the river bend, please. We’re within half a kilometer.”

Whatever it was required entering the pedestrian section of town. The few passersby out that early on such a miserable morning gave the soldiers odd looks but generally ignored them. The previous evening Lt. Bustos reported that someone had been spreading a rumor on the Internet about a VIP coming to town for the folk culture festival down by the river. The poster had whinged about the mess that the security staff would cause.

“There.” Rachel pointed to a building on the volcanic spur. “It’s there—or rather, under there.”

Col. Selassie groaned. “St. Nicholas’ Priory museum? Are you absolutely certain?” This would not be easy to explain, the Ethiopian woman thought, as she looked at the remains of the red stone buildings. In part demolished after the Dissolution of the Monasteries, according to the historic trust sign by the gate, the former priory now housed a Tudor and Renaissance history museum.

“I’m quite certain, Colonel,” the small woman affirmed, peering through the closed gate. “Hmmm, that’s interesting. If the restoration and repairs were all finished last year, then why all the draping around whatever it is in the courtyard?” Rachel turned back to the troopers. She pointed down toward the River Exe, cheerful expression gone. “And why is the river boiling?”

Sergeant Lee braced in case the hill started moving as the river churned, but the ground under their feet remained stable. As he watched, the festival tent trembled and collapsed as the ground softened under it. The workmen setting up for the day’s events were trying to run, stumbling and scrambling in panic as the ground heaved and opened up around them. A fountain of darker soil surged up in one place. “Oh shit, the dirt’s liquefying,” Cpl. Allens swore. “Just like Christchurch.”

“And Sikeston, yes,” Rachel said quietly. “And like will happen in London, and a few other places, if we don’t get this stopped. Get me in there.” She pointed to the gate.

It was unlocked, and the troopers fanned out. Rachel aimed for the construction area, pulled aside the concealing sheeting, and pointed at a pair of metal plates.

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