Release Day Seed of Transition!!!
Release Day Seed of Transition By Carolyn Holland and
Kef Hollenbach
The Genesis Project Book One
Carolyn Holland
Co-Author: Kef HollenbachCarolyn Holland
Genre: Speculative-Fiction,
Science-Fiction
Publisher: Books, Authors, and ArtistsDate of Publication: July 19, 2013
Number of pages:
150 pages
Word Count: 54,184
Cover Artist: Shae
Thoman
Press Announcement http://youtu.be/0VWvDhyjykQ
Paperback Amazon Book Description:
Seeds
Of Transition: Book One - The Genesis Project is full of gripping adventure,
psychological thrills, and emotional conflict from start to finish.
As the world’s population approaches 10 billion
people, and severe weather extremes impact crop and livestock production, the
demand for and price of food is rising. The American government, as well as
other powerful individuals, find themselves looking for intelligent, albeit
unlikely heroes in the world of academia.
Jarod Farra, a professor of agriculture at
Cornell University, quickly finds himself at the forefront of both his
longstanding dreams, and perhaps, some of his worst fears. Out of the turmoil
and fear of an impending international food shortage, a range of characters
come together to perform an experiment that will forever change the world as we
know it, and provide new hope for generations to come.
Chapter 1
Noakhali, Bangladesh
2030 AD
“Vows made in storms are forgotten in calm.”
~Thomas Fuller ~
The warm air enveloped the sleeping village as
if the dawn would bring with it the start of a day like any other. Farmers
slumbered, their bodies fatigued from the hard day’s work in the paddies. Mothers
rose quickly and quietly to nurse crying babies, hushing them so their fathers
could rest. The wind was picking up, ushering with it a blanket of clouds that
blocked the light of the full moon, making the night very dark. The rain
started to come down, softly at first and then more heavily as the night wore
on.
The slosh of waves slapped against the hulls of
fishing boats tied to submerged docks. The thumping sound of wood meeting wood
as the swells pushed the boats against the quays was getting deeper and deeper
as the rain filled the crafts, making them heavier and heavier. Soon they would
sink, their tethers preventing them from reaching the muddy bottom. Oars and
net staffs would soon float away.
Not so very far away the balmy, moist air was
rising from the water’s surface and mounting the wind on its trek toward the
sky. More warm air rushed in to replace it and then it too began to rise. The
repeating cycle continued and went on through the night; air swirled in and up,
over and over again.
Overhead, a platform of cool air waited to meet
the rising warm moisture, the collision transforming the mist into heavy, thick
clouds. The wind swooped in and the dance commenced, slowly at first but
steadily gaining pace. It tirelessly whirled the new clouds around and around
as the phase below repeated over and over again. The tempo swelled and the wind
began to howl its delight as more clouds rose to meet her, whirling and
churning, the action became more savage, more intense, building, and building
until finally, she was delivered and the tempest was born; beautiful and
exquisitely formed liked no other before her.
The
rising warm air fed her, and the wind strengthened her and her rage grew more
powerful with every passing hour. Soon, she would realize her full potential
and she would be unstoppable and unforgiving as she fulfilled her destiny. All
people would remember her name, she would never be forgotten.
Not so very far away, slumbering in their tiny
homes, farmers rested from a hard day’s work and mothers gently placed their
sleeping infants back in their beds. It was still hours from dawn; still time
for sleep before the new day began.
Ghazi woke suddenly, startled as he shot
straight up in bed, his heart beating so hard that he could hear it; a steady,
deafening thump in his ears. A desperate look around the room assured him that
all was well within the walls of his tiny home. Aala and Jarood were sleeping
peacefully. He realized that he must have been dreaming although he could not
remember it, his heart slowed to a normal pace but he was wide awake now and
not likely to go back to sleep.
The sounds of rain falling hard outside and the
gustiness of the wind caught his attention. It was still dark outside, at least
two hours from dawn but he looked out the window anyway. Nothing; at least,
nothing that he could see. He glanced at the small table in the corner which
held the union VHF radio. Had a bulletin come across and awakened him?
Something was wrong, he knew it, and he felt it. He watched the radio intently
for a few minutes, waiting, and then it happened.
The cyclone warning came in a frantic voice,
thick with the Noakhali dialect of the area. It said that the BMD, Bangladesh
Meteorological Department had issued a cyclone warning at 4am. The storm had developed overnight and was
expected to make landfall in the Noakhali district in the Upazila of Hatiya in
two to three hours. Village units were to proceed immediately with warning and
evacuation procedures. Maximum sustained winds had been recorded at 225
kilometers per hour, and the tidal surge was projected to be approximately 4.5
meters.
Ghazi’s blood became ice in his veins. He looked over toward his bed and saw Aala
staring back at him, wide eyed as the fear gripped her; she had also heard the
alert.
He sprang into action, all of the volunteer
training coming back to him now; he remembered what he had to do. He pulled on
his day clothes hurriedly; Aala roused the boy and directed him to dress
quickly while she went behind the curtain to do the same. Within seconds she
was back in the center of the room. She held two bags, one she handed to her
son and the other she filled with the most important items in the room. The boy
gathered food from the shelves, knowing exactly what to grab as his father had
performed this drill with his family many times; only this time it was not
practice. Ghazi donned the sash and hat that identified him as a Red Crescent
volunteer, and seized the megaphone that had been assigned to him.
Exactly three minutes had passed since the
warning had come across the radio, and the Farra family was at the door ready
to leave their tiny mud brick home. Ghazi quickly ran through what they were to
do and where they were to go. He would meet them at the shelter as soon as the
warnings were out to the people of the village. A quick look into each other’s
eyes, and everything that needed to be said between them had been said. Ghazi
opened the door and they entered the windy, wet darkness.
They separated; Aala and Jarood went in one direction,
Ghazi in the other. Mother and son trudged through the water and sucking mud
that had been the road just yesterday. She clutched at ...
About the Authors:
Co-Author:
Kef Hollenbach
was born and raised in Kentucky, USA. Going into business management after
graduating from university yielded an eclectic set of experiences ranging from
production work to mid-level management to business owner.
The
very proud parent of a son and daughter and husband to a deeply appreciated
wife, Kef revels in learning new things and visiting new places. With a strong
propensity for sharing, he strives to weave his experiences and what he has
learned into all of his writing.
Additional
information about the authors may be found at http://BooksAuthorsAndArtists.com
and on the Books, Authors and Artists Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/BooksAuthorsAndArtists
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