Tuesday, May 10, 2016

The Journey of Jimini Renn

In a world without surface water, Jimini Renn wants nothing more than to live inside the protective walls of Adam City for the rest of his life, but his little brother has other ideas. 

As far as Jimini is concerned, Adam City has everything he needs. It has a well that provides much-needed water, food, and safety from the dangers of the outside world. When his bookworm of a brother leaves to chase waterfalls, Jimini must follow even though he knows it will probably mean his death. When the first person he meets on the outside pulls a gun on him, he’s proven right. No one who calls himself a slaver and has a gun has Jimini’s safety in mind, even if he is sexy. The journey Jimini expects isn’t the one he gets.

 “Help me,” the man whispered, so lightly Jimini could barely hear it.
Jimini nodded, taking the jug from the man with his free hand. “Let go of my hand and I’ll prop you up so you can drink. In exchange, I ask that you do not shot the gun again.”
The man still held on to his hand as if his life depended on it. Jimini put his hand over the man’s and tried to pry his fingers away. It was pointless. His grip tightened even more. Jimini sighed and started working around the restriction.
“Why?” The man croaked out when Jimini moved his body, so he was cradling the man’s head in his lap.
Jimini pushed the man’s back up and wriggled around until he was sitting up, leaning against him. “I’m misunderstanding the question.” Jimini handed the jug back to the man. “Drink slowly, not a lot all at once.”
The man tipped up the jug and took a long drink, some spilling out of the corners of his mouth, not listening to Jimini’s words of caution at all. “Do you not understand my words?”
Jimini reached up for the jug with one hand, the other bracing them both with a fist in the dirt. He took the jug and set it down between his legs. “You need to go slow with it, let your body adjust to the water. Going from nothing to full could make you sick.”
The man was heavy against him, his long dark hair tickled Jimini’s face as it came to rest against Jimini’s shoulder.
“Why are you helping me?” The man asked. His voice was deep, and he sounded better this time as if the water wetted his throat enough to speak clearly.
“Why wouldn’t I extend help?” Jimini asked.
The man tried to laugh, but he winced instead. “Where did you come from?”
Jimini wasn’t sure if he should answer or not. “What happened to your water, sir?” he asked instead.
“It got stolen.”
“Did you not pull the gun on them the way you did me?”
“You aren’t from around here, are you?”
“No.” Jimini wasn’t stupid enough to tell this man where he lived. “What is your name?”
“You tell me first.” The man picked up the jug and took another drink of water.
“That is very rude, sir.”
The man set the jug down again. “Aaruth. My name’s Aaruth.”
The man sat up, moving off him and letting go of his hand. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to stitch a wound, would you?”
“Yes. On more than one occasion. My mother was very good at that task before she passed on and taught me well. I’ve even had to sew up a cut on myself before—”
“I don’t need your fucking life story. Just sew up the cut on my stomach, will ya?”
Jimini sighed. “You’re manners are astonishing.”

Author Bio:
Living in Southwest Michigan, April resides with her husband and two kids. She has been an avid reader for several years. Ever since she wrote her first story at the age of ten, the characters in her head still won't stop telling their stories. If April isn't reading or writing, she can be found
outside playing with the animals or taking a long walk in the woods. If you wish to contact her, email 
authoraprilkelley@gmail.com. Please visit her website at authoraprilkelley.com

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