C.E. Whitaker III - The Red Rover

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2019 by C.E. Whitaker III

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

First Edition: May 2019

Cover Design by Simon Avery

Library of Congress: 2019903828

ISBN: 978-1-7338620-0-4 (e-book)

ISBN: 978-1-7338620-1-1 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-1-9554760-0-3 (hardcover)

Published by Darn Pretty Books

Instagram: @darnprettybooks

The Red Rover. Origins.

A story that began as a dream. The Wanderers. Several visions of characters I had just met, yet somehow intimately knew, interacting with a world that felt enthralling, yet often times, unfamiliar.

I awoke with newfound energy, grabbing my behemoth of a laptop, typing what felt like a hundred words a minute; all in hopes of remembering those evocative snippets from my subconscious that feed my literary urges.

Of all the ideas, outlines, synopses, teleplays and screenplays, this one felt different. No, this one was different. It was not just a story. It was THE story. An epic saga that was yearning to be shared with anyone who would dare entertain it.

Orion Moore and his classmates represent the youthful exuberance in all of us; who still believe that there is more to life than what weve been told. That our destiny isnt pre-ordained. That the path to greatness or success or happiness is more than likely to be filled with obstacles. Adversity is par for the course. But adversity does not have to equal failure.

Humanity has proven time and time again, no matter what the circumstances, that they will overcome. They will adapt. They will improve. And most importantly, they will thrive. Despite their inexperience, the members of The Red Rover are cut from the same cloth. Their youth is the key.

To be a great explorer, one cannot fear the unknown. For it is the unknown that truly makes this life worth living.

Special thanks to my mother, Deboran Patricia Whitaker and father, Charles Everett Whitaker Jr. for always encouraging my creative pursuits, even if the focus was primarily on improving my spelling and penmanship. I would like to think that I have improved.

To my manager, LeAnder M. Nicholson at Believeland Management. We met under less-than-ideal conditions, yet here we are, all these years later, taking giant leaps forward one small step at a time. Anyone would be lucky to have an advocate like you in their corner. And youre still short!

To the deceased, who mentored me; my lovely aunt Grenna Francine Whitaker, whose grace and intelligence continue to inspire me to be a better artist, but more importantly, a better human being; and my darling Susan Smith, my former employer, who gave me the tools [both professionally and economically] necessary to succeed in this often-frustrating business of Hollywood. She and I were kindred spirits in many ways.

Last, but most importantly, my best friend and favorite person in the whole world, Allritch C. Tessono Jr.

Junior was a genuine beautiful soul, who passed unexpectedly at the beginning of 2017, the same year I finished the manuscript for The Red Rover. What a bittersweet year that turned out to be. Your laugh was infectious, your humor was always sharp and your smile, could make even the surliest individual, brighten up. How could anyone ever forget those big pearly white teeth?

You were what our mutual friend Noel would appropriately describe as a good dude. If you ever had the luxury of knowing Cool Breeze that is about the highest praise a person could receive.

Allritch was without question the best good dude I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. None of this happens without his support. It goes without saying that I continue to miss him every single day.

Wherever you are my brother, I sure hope Im making you proud. I LOVE YOU!

A DESTINATION CANNOT EXIST

WITHOUT A JOURNEY

Orion heard his own heartbeat thumping his eardrums as he sprinted through a winter wilderness. Those beats eventually consumed by the sounds of his huffing and puffing combined with the vibrating crunching melody that his footsteps produced over the snow-covered forest ground. His green eyes opened wide, struggling to focus through his foggy helmet shield: this wooded area, shrouded by snow-capped mountains, was unfamiliar territory to him.

The frozen forest was an environment the faint of heart dare not tread. The trees towered over Orions head. As he looked skyward, it was clear that they were dizzyingly high. It was hard to tell where the trees stopped and the planets sky began.

Orion kicked up fresh snow with each step as he trekked through the dark woodlands dressed in his black and chrome spacesuit. His suit protected him from the elements. He was keen to remain on his current path, guided by the several footprints left straight ahead of him. He had done his best to avoid the broken branches as well as the snow-covered holes and steep embankments.

Attached to his hip was a matching silver sidearm fusion weapon, the color blending with his spacesuit. The perfect firearm for an unsuspecting enemy. In skilled hands, the powerful tool could be used to diffuse even the most dangerous of situations. However, Orion was still a neophyte.

The perilous conditions, worsened both by the weather and the woefully uneven terrain, caused Orion to lose his balance, sending him sprawling towards the stump of a large tree. He reached out with his gloved hands fanned to break the fall as his sidearm was shaken loose from its magnetic holster, landing on the snowy embankment beside him.

Orion reached for his neck and popped off his chrome helmet, revealing his jet-black hair and baby face. He was a teenager with very youthful features. Whenever he met someone for the first time, they almost always assumed he was younger than his current age. Not that he ever understood the reason. He was thirteen. In some Earth cultures that meant he was already a man.

As his helmet rolled down the slope, he felt the shock of the freezing cold on his nose and ears. His warm breath formed steamy clouds in front of his flushed face. He would soon have frostbite if he didnt keep moving.

Orion took long, deep breaths as he tried to calm his nerves. He staggered to his feet as the guttural growl of an animal startled him.

He immediately crouched back down, staying out of sight. The elements were no longer his primary concern. He looked in the direction of the growl. Trees stretched as far as his eyes could see. He heard the growl again as his eyes searched frantically for the source. Soon, there were more growls in unison. Orion swallowed hard as he trained his eyes on the deep woods, watching for any movement.

Orion! Where are you?

Orion turned in the direction of the young female voice that echoed in the distance. That sounded like Rio, a member of his team. God only knew where they were. If they were still nearby, he couldnt see them.

He tried to stand, but his right leg buckled under the weight of his body. He probed his leg for any injuries and then, sensing only minimal pain, steadied himself against a nearby tree and rose to his feet.

He froze against the tree trunk as a pack of ravenous snow leopards emerged from the woods just a few yards away. The only way Orion could see the white spotless beasts was through their dark beady eyes and red gummed mouths filled with jagged teeth. Their growls became more animated as drool seeped from the corners of their jaws. It was feeding time, and Orion was their dinner.