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    Devolution Day
    Devolution Day
    Devolution Day
    Ebook68 pages54 minutes

    Devolution Day

    By Richard Quarry

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Never eat your sister.


    Good advice, but sometimes hard to follow as a storm of devolution sweeps down on the Seattle library, transforming the patrons into saber-tooth tigers, tyrannosaurs, twelve-foot pink centipedes, and all manner of exotic, extinct, and eviscerating creatures. Few humans escape these horrific makeovers, and those who do find their celebrated cerebellums toppled from their perch atop the evolutionary tree in a contest against fangs, claws, beaks, and giant stomping feet.


    Caught on the top floor, Darcy and Schuyler undertake a desperate voyage to descend past the chomp-monsters to salvation. Only to find themselves hunted by....

    Gerbils?


    Yeah, but like really, really big gerbils. Eight inches tall at least! With slingshots! And if you ain't scared, man, you ain't right.


    Join us in a do-or-die Lost World saga of fire and mice.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRichard Quarry
    Release dateDec 4, 2022
    ISBN9798215744130
    Devolution Day
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      Book preview

      Devolution Day - Richard Quarry

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      The Homecoming of Lucian Wren

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      Devolution Day

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      Clearance Sale

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      Soldier of Discontent and Other Stories

      Devolution Day and Other F&SF Stories

      Angry Angel

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      Devolution Day

      A Saga of Fire and Mice

      Richard Quarry

      Copyright © 2022 by Richard Quarry

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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      Contents

      Devolution Day

      About the Author

      Geneslide

      Devolution Day

      The library had grown too hot to study pre-calc.

      The ultramodern building, with light pouring through its five stories of glass panels honeycombed around white steel triangles, was prone to warmth. But never before enough to make Darcy Mayfield see drops of sweat splatter on the open pages of her book (just a dumb bunch of squiggles anyway) and feel scratchy moisture trickling down from the armpits of the sweatshirt she’d unwisely worn.

      So seeking relief, Darcy went up to the fifth floor for something more, like, real world. She was paging through Seven Days to an OMG Bod! — she’d sweat her way there if they didn’t get the air-conditioning back on line — when she heard a stuttering snort from the end of the stack. Like a horse, only deeper.

      She looked over. And gave a start.

      Chill, she warned herself. Just some stupid prank. Don’t give the idiots the satisfaction of knowing your heart just did a triple backflip.

      Looking for something? Darcy said icily.

      A long face, equine but not a horse, stared at her with hang-dog melancholy. Behind it a slab-sided neck rose to humped shoulders, sloping down to where they were hidden beyond the row. Its fur was dun, with one jagged white stripe that she could see. It appeared taller than a horse, but thinner. She knew it had to be some kind of African antelope, but had no idea which.

      An antelope, in the Public Library?

      Some kind of puppet. Papier mâché, maybe, or one of those Screamer things of rags and glue. She didn’t smell any glue. Just a musty scent again something like a horse, but without that grainy, rather clean after-scent typical of the horses she’d been around.

      Squinting, she peered harder. Through the glass triangles the sun backlit the animal, lending it a thin golden aura. Beyond the sad-clown face a wide expanse of the city was visible, looking normal as ever.

      The eyes blinked.

      Chill. Puppets do that all the time.

      Its pendulous nose twitched. It loosed a pathetic little bleat. Then gave a dog-like shake.

      Uh….

      Darcy backed away, holding the book before her like a shield. She wanted to shout for help, but still feared being the butt of some prank.

      Nice … whatever.

      It had to be a prank! Just look at that nose! Or trunk. Or whatever. Gray and ridged like an elephant’s, it drooped down from between the eyes to well below the jaws. Intimidated as she was, Darcy half expected the apparition to try to blow the nose out of the way of its mouth the way she might brush back an errant curl.

      Instead it bleated again. So pathetic was the sound, so sad the brown eyes, that Darcy’s disquiet turned to sympathy. Setting her book atop one of the rows, she walked slowly forward, her hand out to show benevolent intent.

      This must be one of those reality show set-ups. She was probably on camera right now.

      Be chill. Be very chill. It’s when you look scared

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