Really glad you came by...let's continue the story of Edgar Dewitt :)

I write "blog" style over weekly installments chapter-by-chapter and post Thursdays at 7:00 pm. I upload the raw, unedited story here because it's easier for me to write for an audience and waaay better than staring at a Microsoft Word page all year.

So! Don't hesitate to write me about grammatical errors, consistency stuff, me being mean to Edgar Dewitt or any other thing you might love or hate about this sequel - I'll take it ;)

Of course, to catch up on the story, you should probably read the debut novel, The Secret Island of Edgar Dewitt.

If you'd like to purchase it from this website I would be glad to sign it for you and even throw in our brand new soundtrack, King Of The Hemispheres!

Now buckle up, ready yourselves, and know that this story is about to take a "huuge" turn into Weirdsville.

Thank you so much for reading along!


Ferrill Gibbs

Secret island front cover


800x600 hairless edgar


Sometimes at night to fall asleep

I think about a hole so deep

that if I thought of falling in

I feel I'd fall from this world's end

And down to Russia...maybe China

Actually from Alabama

I go down to the Indian Ocean

Only there for one quick motion

Flip around and fall back through,

Back through the core and crust I'd spew

Up from the hole and back in bed...


Some folks count sheep. I fall instead.

                                                                     "Chevy" - All The Kimonos



Xaxxyn Wuju peered through the opening of the cave, disappointed to find the sun no less blurry than the day before.

...or the day before that. 

The world was a hazy, black smudge, and across the plains and distant mountainsides light was cast as if by a vanishing dusk or harvest moon, the ash ever present and ever thickening, closing in, stinging his lungs.

...stinging all their lungs.

The ash was in his temples now, and he tried to rub it away and rub the throbbing pressure too, but nothing.

They were all drowning in bad air. 

He slumped to his knees and wheezed to catch his last breaths, Xaxxyn's bloodshot eyes lifting to scan the village lake outside the cave entrance where atop its murky waters the fish had been swarming for days: some bobbing, some finning sideways, and others belly up altogether. It didn't take an above-average, Mesolithic kid to know why fish were bobbing: because they were dying too, of course, like the beasts beyond the village that had coughed and spat and toppled over in the mountain valleys day after day, leading up to this, which meant, of course, that he would soon topple over same as them, same as all his people were toppling, everyone alike, old and young. 

Behind him, like a cave of belly-up cockroaches, they lay: His family. Could be heard sprawled about moaning and clutching their guts, some coughing up blood and others spitting up blood - some even bleeding from the eyes and all of them sickly pale, just like Xaxxyn was, which was particularly distressing since all these people were deep, dark, almond brown. 

It was 11,453 BC. 

Then suddenly, like armageddon, came monsters tall as paperbark trees: hairless, dressed in garments of steel, swaying like liquid metal - like the world itself had opened up and molten power had marched forth from over the mountaintops and up from the distant valleys, there stomped such great creatures and vessels quaking the Earth, making it rock, as they made a beeline to Xaxxyn’s village.

Beneath his aching, kneeling knees, he could feel the crescendoing vibrations. Wheezing with death, Xaxxyn looked to the left and right of him and noticed the stones and pebbles were dancing wild like swarming fleas around his thin and dirty shins. 

Behind the spectacular squadron of gold and blue and red-uniformed beings there rolled a fleet of machines so grand and imperceptible that Xaxxyn, rising now, teetering to his feet, became so suddenly beside himself with such fear and horror that he could only blink at the flashing lights and the strange smokes that emitted from these godly chariots, and the steams and roars and buzzes that belched from them as they thundered forth down the distant slopes and up the steep ravines, almost now to his village, sparring with their spewing white puffs of exhaust against the ashen, dirty darks of the atmosphere.

“Chaaxolq…” Xaxxyn coughed over his shoulder, but it was no use. He was absolutely out of air.

“Uns xad fedta,” he spoke to his dying family in the cave behind, his quavering voice too weak to rise above the decibels of the magnificent machines. 

Surely this was the end. 

What a strange time to be alive.

As the gods reached his village, then congregated by the shore, Xaxxyn ducked behind the cave wall and dared to peek out with a wide, charcoal-colored eye. He could see his neighbors were peeking now too, the Stone-Tree girl from her neighboring cave who he used to play with, as the machines arranged themselves in a semi-circle, grinding to a halt uniformly, each vessel announcing its full-stop by blasting an ear-shattering note in some harmonious orchestra of otherworldly hums. 

Some idled on round, black circles; others idled on nothing at all - they rather hovered just off the ground as if on wheels of magic or as if, perhaps, they were merely the heavenly chariots of the gods themselves – Xaxxyn’s gods - and rode on the shoulders of his ancestors' dead souls. 

The gods themselves.

And after a moment’s pause, as Xaxxyn and the village watched on from their cave dwellings, the tallest among these alien creatures stepped forth, motioning with three of her six arms. She was glorious, like the sun, her face of beige but eyes of yellow - the only yellow eyes amongst her clan. Instantly, with a mighty jolt, a machine she'd hailed (a gargantuan vehicle, a silvery thing, easily as big as a small mountain and certainly as wide as eight stacked evergreens) jolted forth with power like Xaxxyn had never seen, and approached the blackened lake. 

He stepped out into the dim light now, too infatuated by the proceedings to be afraid now, as the behemoth’s wheels rolled to a stop adjacent to the lake shore. Then, what happened next, it must have been a sign from the constellations: Plunging forth from the belly of the silvery monster were two large corrugated tubes, and deep into the murky waters they went; then, somehow, with amazing power, with an ear shattering whirr from deep within the guts of the titan machine, one tube began to suck up undrinkable lake water, while the other began to gush out clean, clear, ash-free water.

Xaxxyn could tell from where he stood: The lake was almost instantly crystalline blue and the fish (who'd also been sucked up and spat back out) suddenly darted around again. Somehow their life-giving lake was healthy and alive, thank the gods.

Then the machine rolled back a few yards, and as the giant six-armed creature approached the lakeside and gazed out over the waters, her two large, yellow eyes darted back and forth.

She was inspecting the work. 

Satisfied, she turned and nodded a kind of approval. The lake behind her rippled clear as quartz. 

Xaxxyn turned and his family was there, everyone peering out over his shoulder at this transformation. Their blood-stained, fear-filled eyes searched his face for answers.

“Unka dewdoq,” he whispered to them, pointing a thumb to the lake.

The lake was clean, he said. 

Xaxxyn’s father, Boqdroq, gazed down at his thirsty, dying children, and nodded in surrender. Spanning his arms, he corralled them and then led his family forth, all stumbling after him, all limping like a beaten squadron toward the lakeside and between the towering machines and, hopefully, toward a life-saving drink.

As they crept between the row of stoic creatures - who had all turned to gaze down at the family now - Xaxxyn looked up and noticed their strange, translucent eyes – aqua eyes that seemed to ripple like water as they stared down. Xaxxyn’s father lifted his hands to show he meant no harm, then pointed to the lake before them and to the blistered lips of his wife who coughed silently into her hand, who reached out to pull her children in tight. 

And that's when the tall god, who'd overseen the lake cleansing, with the yellow eyes, lifted her enormous feet and stepped aside, allowing the Wujus safe passage. Xaxxyn watched his father study her and think it over for a moment, a being who could just as easily squash them like ants as anything else, rather than give them a drink. 

But gruesome death never came. 

Down by the lake’s edge, his family kneeled, yet as Xaxxyn bent over a coughing fit like no other had ever overtaken him began to manifest itself. Through hot tears he coughed into the lake, trying hard to catch his breath, his lungs rattling and cracking as his family paused with clean water in their cracked hands to look over at him with sympathy. As Xaxxyn continued to convulse and shake, he could feel the tall leader god stepping behind him, casting him in a long, dim shadow. Xaxxyn straightened up and winced, spitting one last time into the clean waters, finally catching his breath, and stared at the rippling giant behind him in the water's reflection.

Then he stood and turned to face her, her translucent eyes studying and peering into him, it seemed, and somehow, she seemed to convey something that felt like humanly compassion. He could feel it soundly.

And then, with a mighty, flesh-like finger, she reached out and touched a streak of blood on his chin, blood he had coughed up, which made Xaxxyn’s mother leap up and stand between them.

She withdrew her giant finger and nodded - she waved six arms down at Xaxxyn's mom in understanding.

Then she stepped back and motioned for another machine. 

This time, a ship jolted forth that resembled a pair of giant coconut halves stuck together, but open ends out: a machine that hovered and was about half as tall as a small mountain and as wide a six hefty boulders. At the six-armed god’s request, its engine revved with the cry of a million eagles and the coconut shells quaked violently. Somehow through the left shell, it began to suck in the dirty, ashy air of their world and through the right shell, it spat out clean, breathable air onto Xaxxyn and his village. 

Millions and millions of gallons of clean air poured out from the machine, like a wondrous and welcome cyclone, covering their village instantly, and Xaxxyn  could feel it instantly: he and his family were being pelted with renewed, ash-free, life giving oxygen, and he found it was medicine to his very bones. 

As the air entered his lungs and he gasped and choked and coughed out the old, terrible air, he could feel the suddenly nourishing elements flooding in like water to all parts of his body: out to his fingertips, all the way up to his throbbing head and out to the tips of his toenails where instantly there was relief. Sweet, long-awaited relief. It was as if he'd been smothered by a sheep's hide for weeks now and suddenly, it had all been lifted. Through blurry eyes he gazed up and smiled at the god, lifting his hands to her, then peered out across the lands beyond her giant feet to what was now a zone, a bubble, of clean air all the way out to the mountains where beyond it was still dark, the region where the clean air had not yet reached. 

Then the whole village came pouring forth from their caves, who’d hid from sight until now but now basked in the clean air and took in huge, reviving lungsful while coughing gleefully, flocking down to the clean lake like wild geese and drinking greedily, splashing joyously in the waters, hollering, laughing, celebrating. Xaxxyn and his family cackled and followed suit, suddenly refreshed by the wondrous clean air around them and the water in their veins and the vast amounts of drinkable water to come, and the renewed fishes and renewed world - they all scurried back to the lakeside to take in the delicious nourishment. As it coursed through his veins, and the clean air through his chest, he was suddenly like a person again.

Maybe they were saved. 

That’s when, from the heavens, at the giant god's beckoning, one last, heavenly machine descended: the sleekest of all of them, easily as tall as a towering cypress tree, but only as wide as a large boulder – like a silver, celestial snake, or a worm. 

On front of this vessel spun a large, rotating spiral, and as it neared the ground the spiral began to turn ever faster, more and more furiously now with each passing second, its humming and whirring ear-shattering as it floated ever downward. The god then waved all her arms toward the various caves nearby and ushered the village to take shelter quickly, and obediently, Xaxxyn’s family and the villagers all retreated to their homes, lingering just long enough in the cave openings to peek out and to see what just might come next. 

Clean air from the coconut machine continued to blow liberally into the caves as they watched the descending machine, as it reached the ground and finally, with its rotating spiral, it tore into the earth.

Bearing down now, sending huge chunks of dirt and rock and Earth’s crust flying while crystalline vents on all sides of the machine began to open and suck those flying chunks in - every pebble, every piece of crust, all of it caught like a leopard's mouth inhaling dear meat, leaving no earth or boulders or earth crust ever strewn about - it dug. 

Then the diving machine was gone, off into the deep Earth, leaving nothing behind but a vibration beneath their feet. In its wake, a 17-foot-wide hole in the ground remained. Then the six-armed-god motioned the villagers back outside to corral them around this hole, and presenting it to them, she pointed downward, off into the blackness.

Xaxxyn looked down past her fingertips and could see the tail end of the ship still descending, about 40 yards below into the earth, and from its tail, perhaps ias a conversion from the chunks it had taken in, it had lined the side walls with golden, keenly inscribed bricks.

They were shiny and beautiful and were like nothing Xaxxyn had ever seen before - like treasure from the gods.

The entire hole shined from the Earth like the sun.

"This takes you safely to the other side," she said, "where you can be safe from the falling star." She was speaking in their own tongue, he realized. How did she know their language?

"You must jump to get there," she continued, "but do not worry. You will be safe. Just grab the side wall when you get to the other side. The place you will find there, it will make a good home for you. Much better than this place." She looked around at the quickly deteriorating world just outside the bubble of fresh air and frowned with her sparkly lips. 

“Yaard-gontaah,” exclaimed Xaxxyn. He waved his arms up at her in protest. There was simply no way: he was petrified of heights. 

"You can," she encouraged, "you must do it, if you want to live. But once you get there - and heed this, all of you, village - whatever may come, do not jump back down the hole. This hole is made for one trip only, and after that, there can be no more." She bent lower to them and raised her arms in warning. "Multiple trips can be extremely dangerous! Our bricks have strong characteristics for you. More than one trip can be deadly. Please hear this."

Not to worry, thought Xaxxyn, as he looked back down into the earth. As deep as this hole was, one trip would certainly be enough. 


Later that day, at three in the morning North America time, Xaxxyn and his village climbed up from the hole, one by one, safe and sound.

They were welcomed by a blast of cool, clean air, a brilliant starry sky, and a slew of healthy beasts off in the field grazing peacefully.

Strange beasts, they were, unlike any the villagers had ever seen before.

They were the first American settlers, Xaxxyn and his village, and as they waved goodbye to the last benevolent machine of the gods, as it rose into the sky with its big spiral whirring and blinking with otherworldly lights, they then turned their focus to the strange land, and finding shelter, and to building a new life here in this world.

In Alaska.

Chapter 1: The Fall of Chris Weedy 

Chris Weedy was faking it. He'd been faking it the whole time, practically.

Yeah, his shoulder did hurt from where Flounder had blind-sighted him but he could still stand up and destroy the kid if he wanted to, right now. Still, he let Flounder drag his limp and uncooperative body away from the cabin and down the forest trail, just to see how far he could go. It was hilarious. Weedy tried not to smile and blow his cover.

"Where am I?" Chris finally groaned, when he could take no more. He opened his eyes as Flounder dropped hold of his hoodie, by which he dragged Weedy.

"Thank God!" Flounder exclaimed. "We've got to get our butts out of here, man! Edgar told me something big is coming."

Edgar was right, something big was coming.

Weedy was coming.

"No, no, it's ok,” muttered Weedy, fake-coming to. “I'm getting up.”

As if Flounder could ever knock him out! Chris swallowed down rage of having to fake his surrender to such a...nothing of a person

'Cool," said Flounder, and with a nod peeled off down the trail. Once he was gone, Weedy turned toward the cabin and cracked his knuckles, and raged. 

"Dewitt," he seethed. 

Then Weedy marched toward the nearby cabin and burst forth into its glowing room, glaring down the stupid hole that Edgar Dewitt had used to trick him. 

“Edgar!” he screamed, knowing he was down there. He’d watched him jump earlier with a big, goofy bag in tow. He had watched them both from where he lay on the forest floor, playing dead like a possum. After that turd Flounder had cheap-shotted him.

And he knew he was still down there. 

“I know where you aaaaaare!” Weedy teased, enraged. 

Edgar had to be alone, too, and now, with no help from his friend, Weedy could have his way with the dweeb. Edgar was up to something and Weedy was going to find out what and then he was going to stop it, because he hated Dewitt enough to want the opposite of anything he may ever want. 

And then we was gonna beat the everliving crap out of him. 

He dashed across the room to Edgar’s fish station and grabbed a silvery, spare flashlight that lay on the counter, then, with the torch aimed away from his face, he flicked it on to see if the battery worked.

“Yeah," he purred. "This'll do nicely.’ 

Then he darted back across the room and leapt out over the expanse of black, feeling himself sucked down by all the gravity in the world, and whooshing down like a hairball through a vacuum clear, down, so violently down, he fell. 

But he did not wince as he fell, not him, because it was nothing. 

Well, almost nothing.

Maybe he had a butterfly, maybe two in his sinking stomach, but soon enough they were gone and he was finally able to open his eyes again. And as he spiraled through the world he shined the light around and studied the walls before him, floated toward them, even reached out to touch the inscriptions with his fingertips, studying everything, taking it all in.

This is what that turd’s been hijacking Van Rossum’s class for! He’s found a hole through the Earth

It made perfect sense now - how had he never seen it? All those questions the hick had been asking about a "Hole Down To China" - the had a purpose. 

Quickly he turned the flashlight to his Rolex and began to run figures in his mind: he'd been falling for about seven minutes or so now… and the world was 8000 miles wide… and since gravity pulled exponentially at negative 9.8 meters per second squared -- well, there must be about 35 more minutes of freefall left until the other side. 

Nobody knew it, but Weedy’s dad was a physics instructor at the local college and Chris paid attention without anyone knowing, and watched all his father’s taped lectures, and tried all his father's sample calculations.

Weedy paid attention - always paid attention - to everything; and unbeknownst all to the other jerks in school who might have ragged him for it he really kinda liked to do math. 

At any rate, it was sure coming in handy now. 

He reached out his hands and tucked in his legs, then fell like a rock through the world, in a Bhudda pose, keeping his flashlight on the walls and marveling at all the cool things he saw as they passed. It sure was something. Inscriptions, symbols - even a cartoon.

Yes, it was an animation, apparently designed for a faller. As Chris watched the wall a streaming flicker of images began to create some kind of scene: a group of  cave men coming out of their caves but suffocating due to an asteroid strike. Then, some sort of weird machines came down from the sky and dug a big hole through the Earth, to give the cave people passage to the other side.

Why didn't they just fly them around the world in their ships?

Soon enough, after enough falling, Weedy looked up the tunnel and saw what he'd expected to see: a light!

Frantically he clamored to the wall and reached out his hands, and just as he arrived the other side was there. So he grabbed it and strained for a moment - his bum shoulder...that idiot Flounder, - but finally pulled himself out into the sunshine. 

It was some other world – some island world - with sea and fish swimming and waves and rocks and most of all, nothing but ocean to the end of the world.

They were alone. There wasn't a single stitch of land in sight and nowhere to run, and there was nobody there to help Edgar Dewitt this time.

And there he was: Edgar Dewitt, currently rowing away in some kind of stupid, lumpy, ridiculous looking lopsided orange raft, piled so high with stuff it almost made Weedy laugh.

What an idiot. 

“DEWITT!” he screamed, running down to the shore, stopping just beside the chilly waters because they seemed to fall off steeply. “YO! EDGAR!” he hollered again, balling his fists, but it was no use. Dewitt was too far away now and probably couldn’t due to the distance and the brisk, gusting ocean wind. 

Whatever. It was alright. Weedy would just hang around until he got back. Where was he gonna go? There was nothing but ocean all around as far as the eye could see, and when Edgar returned to shore, Weedy would be there, and nobody would be able to stop him from doing all the Weedy things he really wanted to do. 

But that’s when he realized, suddenly, glancing around the island crust: something was not good. He'd been so wild with rage he knew he'd missed something.

Glancing from side to side, his eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. Everywhere on the island, from every shore to the outskirts of the hole – even right below, just beside his feet – lay stick upon stick of sinister red dynamite.

Even worse, something else was afoot. Through the violent ocean winds he couldn't miss the hiss, and when he looked over, there, he realized, like a big, slithering snake, was a fuse. A very lit fuse. Weedy's jaw dropped open and he screamed like a frightened hyena. 

He was standing on a mountain of dynamite.

In a fit he turned and sped towards the hole, diving out over the abyss in retreat, screaming all the while. Once falling, he pointed his body straight like a dart to get as much speed as he could muster – as much aerodynamic positioning as he could maintain – and dove into the Earth to speed away from that dumb idiot Dewitt and whatever idiotic thing he was currenly up to. 

What in God's name was with that guy? He was always doing something stupid. 

Oh well, as he fell, Weedy grabbed his hands and squeezed them together, trying to calm his shakes. 

He hated the shakes. They were weakness ripples, bubbling forth from somewhere that's soft within. 

Ah, forget him. Forget Dewitt, for now. Weedy would go back to Mount Lanier and Edgar could have his friggin dynamite pity party on his stupid island.

For now...