Whistler Sage - G-Strain.pdf - mm 08.04.12 - jessab

G-§TRAIN

Sage Whistler

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Dear Readers,

Writing science fiction is nothing to shake a stick at, and I applaud all who undertake this endeavor.

The G-Strain was a labor of love and hate for me, but it was a learning experience that I wouldn’t give

up for the world. I dedicat this story to my AFF fans because they were the reason this story ever

made it past chapter one. I don’t think I would have finished The G-Strain anytime soon without the

little messages that prodded me on. Someone even promised me chocolate if I hurried up and

finished it. So, what I’m really getting at is that I hope you enjoy this new world I have created. I

know when some people read this story, they will wonder just where in the heck I came up with

these ideas. That’s an easy one: Too many late nights watching over-the-top science fiction movies

and a dash of Stephen King. I’ve included a glossary at the end of the story to help you identify the

“alien” terms featured within. Thank you for your purchase and…

Happy Reading!

Dedication

To my AFF fan group. You guys never let me give up on finishing this story.

Acknowledgement

My undying thanks and appreciation go to the lady who made this all possible, Denise Mosley. She

saw in me an author at a time when I was just a gal with dreams.

Disclaimer

Barbie is the property of Matel ©

CHAPTER 1

“If there was something out there, don’t you think we would have found it by now?”

~President Alan Corgis

(when asked about his thoughts on life forms beyond the Milky Way Galaxy)

~Sometime in the future~

It’s funny what the mind latches onto when your nerves are strained to the fraying point. At the

moment, while Jared’s elevator zoomed up twenty-seven floors, he was thinking about Barbie dolls.

It actually wasn’t all that far-fetched, considering that just fifteen minutes ago he’d run into a vintage

store and purchased one for his cousin, Abigail. Of course, that also explained why he was ten

minutes late for his interview. He’d known when he went into the store that he was going to pay for

it. But the sign in the window had announced the last Barbie doll in stock and a price Jared could

afford. He hadn’t been able to resist.

With the type of luck he had, by the time he got out of his interview the doll would have been sold.

So he’d made the sacrifice, and now it was time to face the music. He was late, and he needed this

job badly. Companies like Houghton, Inc. didn’t offer interviews every day. It had taken a lot of

string-pulling and begging to get this one.

He was so dead.

The doors slid open and Jared leapt out, not paying attention to the broad-shouldered man standing

on the other side. He slammed right into the man, who had been waiting for the elevator. The man

reached out and steadied him on his feet before letting go.

Jared flushed. “Ah, excuse me.”

A set of pearly white teeth flashed from a startlingly handsome face. “No problem, just try to look up

more often.”

If he saw men like this one all day, he’d never look down. The man had mocha-colored skin, hazel

eyes, and the most kissable lips Jared had ever seen. Neat dreadlocks fell to his broad shoulders and

framed an undeniably masculine face. Down, boy —the man was putting off major straight vibes.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll do that.” Time to make a retreat before he made a bigger ass of himself. He started

walking in the direction he thought would lead him to the main desk of the Houghton front office.

The bag with the doll in it slapped methodically against his leg. He adjusted the arm in which he

carried a portfolio of his drawings. Most people used holocards these days, but he was willing to bet

Mr. Houghton would appreciate the time and money he’d spent on paper and actually drawing with

his own two hands.

The drawings themselves were a lifetime of his work. Well, only about a quarter of it, really. He had

hundreds of them back in his apartment and at his aunt’s house in the attic, but these he’d worked on

specifically for this interview. Houghton was looking for the next hottest thing in videogames,

specifically RPG themes. Jared had created an entire world and over twenty new characters.

Hopefully, Mr. Houghton would like them as much as he did.

Eventually, he came to a set of glass doors with the official Houghton logo stained on them in the

shade of white ice. His palms were sweating as he reached for the silver handle and went inside.

Heaven only knew why companies blasted the air conditioner twenty-four seven. The cold air

instantly chilled his already damp skin, and Jared was left shivering as he headed for the oval desk in

the middle of the room.

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