An Alien Rescue Read Online Free

countless times before, and for many and varied reasons. This time was different though, this destructive flooding was due to the arrogant species that now found itself on the wrong side of nature. Gaia was fighting back, taking over from the eco-warriors who had tried in vain to persuade officialdom to consider what pollution was doing to the environment… and winning while wreaking a terrible sword of vengeance for the ills subjected to the planet by those she was slaying.
    His soaring ethereal flight took off once again, heading further north.
    Scott recognised some of the passing landscape from personal experience, particularly that of Nottingham City. The elevated Castle stood proud and aloof upon solid rock, its historic shape was unmistakable. With almost impossible to scale cliffs as its first line of defence against attacking hordes, the castle was now inhabited. Instead of the Sheriff of Nottingham or a present-day Robin Hood with his merry men, it was the stronghold of thieves and murderers. There was absolutely nothing merry about its new uncaring caretakers. Scott had visited the city on numerous occasions and studied at the university. He had enjoyed an occasional beer at the oldest pub in England called, The Trip to Jerusalem, with student friends . It had been built into the vertical face of the castle’s cliff many centuries before, exploiting a fault in the solid rock face. It was rumoured the Knights of St John had drank ale within The Trip’s confines before setting off to fight in the Holy Crusades, tanking themselves up for the battle against a most unchristian but worthy enemy. He sighed at its flooded disappearance, wondering if any sealed barrels of beer might remain submerged in its remains. The entire Trent Valley had become drowned from the effects of a rising sea level, forcing millions from their comfortable homes, it seemed. It now gave the impression of a wide and lengthy water-filled estuary that stretched halfway across England from Lincolnshire’s own lost coast. He suddenly understood that all the coastal cities, towns and villages, over the entire planet, were now presently beneath the sea, completely engulfed or destroyed. The former inhabitants of all these areas were now on the move, millions upon millions of homeless souls forever driven onwards by the will to survive. Any ground above the new sea had found itself inhabited by a new breed of person. The pretentiously green-wellington-boot brigade who would have walked their professionally groomed pedigree dogs with silly and ridiculous names across the dry-stone walled fields had been replaced by worn-clothed and soggy footed refugees. A dog under these conditions would more than likely be considered as a tasty dinner than that of a pampered pet. The dog’s pretentious owners would be considered even less! Surviving farms, towns and villages were indiscriminatingly possessed by those who felt their own selfish needs were greater. The original owners and occupants had been forced out of their homes by the advancing and angry tide of city slickers, with the disposed owners reluctantly joining the ranks of the homeless… or to die defending what was rightfully theirs. Property was a thing of the past, except for the new warlords. They were the latest product of a vanishing landscape and growing violence. These unscrupulous individuals proved to be nothing less than ruthless dictatorial criminals who grasped at an easy advantage over the desperate and the needy.
    Here and there, across the land, small groups of survivors organised themselves into little communities, each one striving to build small makeshift fortresses within soggy swamps or on the edges of lakes, rivers and remote highland lochs. The learned ways of the ancients was making a comeback, with historians showing their true colours in an otherwise lost society by helping to reconstruct crannogs. A crannog is a type of ancient loch-dwelling found throughout Scotland and