Fleischer paced the campsite glancing left and right, up and down. No Amie. After a fruitless search for the lad Joseph Smith, not much older than Amie, a chilling thought crept up on Fleischer. ‘Not Amie too,’ he murmured. He cleared his throat. ‘Nah, don’t be silly, she wouldn’t’ve gone far.’
Friedrich pressed the button to see if the box would light up the white tree trunk with English words, but all it did was go “click” and flash in his face, blinding him for a moment.
As the green spotted blindness wore off, he heard another click and something cold and hard on his ear. ‘Stealing is verboten.’ A voice spelt out in measured words.
Herr Boris Roach had assured them they had reached the Promised Land—Australia. Now that they were here, settled, and with questions…he turned cruel; more like the rulers they’d fled, than the friendly man he’d been. Questions? Herr Boris Roach forbade questions.Read more "LOST WORLD OF THE WENDS (3)"
It crouched beside me. ‘Come on, you can tell me. You can trust me. I can grant you anything, any wish you have.’
Beside me perched a man-size cockroach. Its oily armour glistened in the golden rays of the risen sun.