Author's note: In order to fully understand the premise of The Event, reading the information posted in my profile is essential!

Book I

The earth-shattering roars of the tidal wave of fire had finally been silenced. The gateway that had opened, that had saved the lives of over forty people, had closed itself against the onslaught of the end of the world. Those left behind had been obliterated.

Linda had been one of the last ones through. The noise in the air was changing in her ears, becoming screams and cries for help and desperate calls for lost loved ones. But for an immeasurable amount of time, she did not comprehend anything. She lay upon the evenly cut grass, pain ripping through every nerve in her body from the parts of her that had been scorched by the flames. It flared across her left shoulder and down her back in the soft breeze.

Finally though, she came back to herself. Her brain registered the heavy footsteps around her, the terrible burning pain. Her eyes were open, but the burned one was dead, and vision through her remaining one was blurred. Slowly, her arms trembling, she tried to sit up.

"John," she whimpered, her voice hoarse and cracked. She was starting to remember she shouldn't be alone. "Caleb…Sheba…" Her voice suddenly found volume. "Sheba! Sheba!"

The last words came out in a desperate scream. Her daughter, Sheba, had been running at her left side—her burned side—when the gateway had appeared. But in the slowly improving vision of her remaining eye, Linda could see nobody familiar. The people that had heard her scream, that were coming closer, were strangers to her.

"Don't move, ma'am," a shaking male voice said. "You'll…you'll be okay. Help is coming."

"Where's my baby?" Linda gasped, collapsing back to the ground, her voice choked in sobs. "My daughter! She has red hair! She was right next to me!"

"Ma'am, please…"

"Find my baby!"

"Linda!"

Another male voice had echoed through the growing sounds of the crowd. Linda let out a yelping gasp.

"John!" she cried.

More heavy footsteps, and then she felt strong arms encircle her. Slowly, gently, she was lifted off the grass and turned over. Her gaze focused on the man's lined face. He was blackened with soot, his clothes singed and smelling of smoke. And his eyes were wide with fear.

"John, find Sheba," she begged. "She was right next to me."

"It is okay, Linda," he replied quickly. "Caleb is looking for her."

Linda gasped again, and reached up to grip John's jacket. He tightened his hold around her.

"She needs a doctor!" he demanded suddenly. "Can't you see how badly she's hurt?!"

"We've been told not to move the injured," someone new replied. "Not until Professor Wogglebug can gather…"

A piercing scream rent the air. It made everyone, including John, jump in shock. Linda cried out, struggling in his grip.

"Sheba!" she cried. "That was Sheba!"

The scream abruptly died. Linda continued to struggle, unaware that her own voice was rising in volume again.

"Sheba!" she screamed. "Sheba! She…"

Her words died in her throat. A sudden feeling of senselessness and calm had descended on her, as though her body had been abruptly wrapped in a heavy blanket. She fell limp in John's arms, her eye rolling back as the pain faded away. She did not hear John shout her name, or see the sudden crowd of people close in around them.

Linda remained in the dreamless semi-darkness for many hours. When the weight finally lifted, and her gaze refocused, the first thing she saw was the high arched ceiling of a wide rectangular room. She lay on a soft cot surrounded by hanging curtains, and the air was filled with the sounds of soft murmuring voices. Her burns were tightly bandaged in rough white cloth. Strips of cloth encircled her head, holding a thick patch over her dead eye.

Linda raised her hand, trying to feel the bandages on her face. Someone gently grabbed her wrist.

"Don't touch, ma'am," an unfamiliar voice said soothingly. "The Wizard's ointment is still healing your burns."

Linda turned her head to look at the speaker, and gasped when she saw a scarecrow. Bits of straw stuck out at the hems of its blue suit, and its burlap head had a painted face. At the moment, the expression was concerned. It held a pointed blue hat by the brim in the other hand. She stared at it for a long moment in bewilderment.

"Where is my daughter?" she said at last, her voice weak. "Is she alright?"

The scarecrow seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"Your husband is sitting with your daughter," it said at last. "Along with your charming young son."

"My husband?" she whispered, confused. And then she remembered. John and Caleb. Of course, the easiest way for John to stay with her and Sheba would be to say they were married, and she was Caleb's biological mother. "Are they okay?"

"Your husband and son are fine," the scarecrow repeated.

A bolt of fear shot through Linda's heart. She gasped again, looking around the small curtained area wildly.

"What about Sheba?" she demanded breathlessly. "Is she okay? Did she get hurt? I heard her screaming!"

Linda was trying desperately to sit up. The scarecrow had a frightened look on its painted face. It had dropped its hat, and was holding up both hands.

"Ma'am, please calm down! You will injure yourself again," it protested.

"Then tell me what happened to my daughter!" Linda screeched, unable to prevent herself from crying out in pain. Angry tears were flowing from her remaining eye.

At that moment, one of the curtains fluttered, and John stepped into view. Linda immediately reached towards him, and he approached, taking her hands in his.

"It's touch and go right now," he said without prompt, ignoring the scarecrow, who was giving him a disapproving frown. "This place doesn't have anything in the way of modern medical technology." He paused, sighing. "She's stable for the moment."

Linda closed her remaining eye, more tears escaping as she fought back a sob of remorse.

"How bad is it?" she whispered.

"Bad," John replied with a sigh. Linda could hear the sadness in his voice.

She could not hold back any longer. A quiet sob escaped her, hissing out painfully as her body trembled with the strain. John sank to his knees next to her, gently kissing her clenched fingers. The scarecrow settled a hand on her forehead.

"I need to see her," Linda whispered after a long moment. "I need to be with her. Please."

The scarecrow seemed ready to protest. However, John was on his feet and bending over her before it could speak. Linda gasped in pain as John's arms slipped underneath her and carefully lifted her off the cot.

"Sir, I must protest!" the scarecrow declared. "She needs to stay still!"

"What she needs is her daughter," John replied flatly.

Linda settled her head on John's shoulder as he slowly carried her out into the main room. It was a wide hall, similar to a ballroom, with polished marble floors and ceiling-to-roof windows along the walls. The room was crowded, but there was only a handful of curtain squares. John was heading towards the closest one, many eyes staring as he passed. She could not see anyone that resembled a doctor…and there were several in the room that weren't even human.

"Bring a chair," John said to someone nearby.

"Yes, sir!" a female voice replied.

John paused at the entrance to the new curtain square, hesitating. Linda tightened her grip on him.

"Here, sir," the same female voice said.

Something was set down next to them. John shifted her in his arms, causing her to gasp in pain again. Everyone in hearing range turned.

"Sir, this is very unwise," a firm male voice said. "She still needs several hours more before she heals. I highly suggest we take her back to…"

"Mom…"

The voice was low, hoarse, and full of agony. And it was the first time Linda had heard that voice call for her in months. She sat up, ignoring the pain now. John needed no beckoning. He strode forward, pushing aside the curtain and carrying her into the tiny space. The instant her gaze settled on her daughter, Linda's breath caught in her throat.

Sheba's once powerful body lay frail and lifeless on the cot. The parts of her skin not covered in bandages and a strange white paste was flaming red. Most of her beautiful hair was gone, burned away. A very strange looking object was whirring by her head, a bit like a small fan. Sheba's face was turned toward it, her breaths coming in pitiful gasps. Her eyes were undamaged, but also unfocused.

"Mom…" she whispered again, a slight gurgle in her voice now.

"I'm right here, baby," Linda replied desperately. "Right here."

There was movement behind her. Linda glanced up to see Caleb entering, carrying the chair. Without beckoning, he set it down next to Sheba's cot, close by her head. Slowly and carefully, John set her down. It was soft and well cushioned, but still it was agony to sit upright. Linda ignored the pain, resting her arms on the side of the cot so she could lean in close to her beloved daughter.

"Sheba," she said softly. "Sheba, I'm right here."

For a long moment, Sheba didn't move. Then, slowly, she raised her more lightly bandaged right hand. Linda gripped it gently, tears flowing from her undamaged eye.

"Mom," Sheba whispered weakly. "Mom, it hurts."

"I know, baby," Linda replied, trying to sound soothing. "But I'm here now. I won't leave you."

Sheba moaned quietly. Linda looked up, scanning the small area for any hint of medical equipment. There wasn't any to be found.

"What kind of medicine are they giving her for pain?" she asked John, who was standing behind her. "She's a Slayer. They need to give her more than normal."

John sighed, shaking his head.

"They don't have medicines here," he said sadly. "The best they've got is that white gunk all over you. It works wonders in healing burns, but it doesn't do anything for the pain." He glared back at the curtains. "These people don't even know what pain is."

Linda sighed deeply, gritting her teeth against the fresh wave of grief.

"They saved us, John," she whispered. "We must be grateful."

She bowed her head, not wanting to think about what had just happened. The tidal wave of fire, the screaming people, the end of the world…

"She recognizes me now," she said. "She knows me. She called me 'Mom'."

Linda felt a tiny hand on her shoulder, and knew Caleb had come up to her. John knelt beside her a moment later and wrapped his arms around both of them. She leaned back against him, trembling. John gripped her tighter.

And Sheba started to scream.

Caleb gasped aloud. John staggered to his feet. And Linda nearly fell out of her chair. Sheba's screams were not wails of pain or fear. They were deep, guttural, blood-chilling, all-too-familiar shrieks that rang deafeningly in Linda's ears. She clapped her hands to her mouth and tried to keep from screaming herself.

"No," she moaned. "No, no, no. Sheba, no!"

If she wasn't terrified of injuring her, Linda would have seized her daughter's shoulders and shaken her violently. As it was, she gripped Sheba's hands and forced them still. Sheba was twisting her body horribly, her eyes rolling. A commotion was sounding in response to her screams outside.

"No!" Linda wailed, turning desperately to John. "It's over, John! She can't be having these visions again!"

John appeared frozen in his shock. It was Caleb who reacted first. He ran out through the curtains. There was a brief scuffling noise, a muffled "sorry", and then he was back. He had a clipboard and a pen in his hands. Three others followed him in as he ran to Sheba's other side, pushed the pen into one of her twitching hands, and guided it to the paper on the clipboard. Instantly, she started writing, her screams dying away as Linda stared in sick shock.

The numbers were appearing there, just like before. The horrible, damning numbers that had turned her life completely inside-out. She could recognize the pattern already. Date, number of dead, latitude, longitude. Over, and over, and over again.

"What is going on?" demanded a male voice.

The scratching of the pen suddenly silenced. Sheba's hand relaxed, the page only half filled with miniscule writing. Almost automatically, John reached down and picked up the clipboard, the pen slipping from Sheba's fingers and rolling onto the floor. She had stopped twitching now, her eyes fluttering closed as she sank into unconsciousness.

John stared at the clipboard for several moments, ignoring the questions from the strangers at the entrance. His expression was slowly turning from dead hopelessness to confusion.

"This is different," he said at last, his voice soft. "These numbers…are different."

"What is going on?" the male voice demanded again. "Sir…"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," John replied. "I need to figure these out."

It had become too much for Linda to handle. She let out a pained moan and clutched her arms to her belly, doubling over until her forehead touched the mattress of Sheba's cot. Immediately, several pairs of hands gripped her. The sound of a clipboard hitting the floor echoed dimly in her ears.

"Stay with me, Linda!" John begged. "Linda, please…"

"I can't," she whispered back. The world was starting to spin around her. "I…I…"

She sagged, her body slipping off the chair. The grips tightened, preventing her from collapsing onto the floor. Linda wanted to collapse, to fall into oblivion next to her daughter and never return. To avoid the next fiery end Sheba had just foretold. John was still pleading with her, but she could no longer hear him. She sank, deeper and deeper, until the darkness claimed her at last.

And the saga has begun! As readers of the prologue might have noted by now, the characters of John and Caleb have carried over. They will continue to appear throughout the series, and can both be considered major characters. But though both evolve beyond what they were in their original movie (particularly Caleb), I claim no credit towards them.

And many of you might be wondering by now about Sheba and the numbers. Well...patience grasshoppers. That is explained in Book VII. And I promise, it is a LOT better than aliens!

So, where have our beloved characters ended up? Those of you who looked around this account should know by now...or, yanno...just look at the category this is posted under. But for the rest, I am sure you can guess! After all, where else in the world is there a talking scarecrow?