The old Chevy idled roughly at the curb across from the Grocery King market. “Murder…” He waited until Murder gave him his full attention. “I want you to go in… See what’s what… https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Dell_Sweet_EARTH_S_SURVIVORS_AMERICA_THE_DEAD_THE?id=E__KDwAAQBAJ
Posted by Ami
These are random thoughts I wrote out and then left: As a writer there are somewhere around three million thoughts streaming into your brain at the speed of light all the time unless you are sleeping…
What if you knew that the last image of you in death, like Elvis sitting on the toilet seat, would be seen by everyone? Would it make you live your life differently if you knew at the very last breath that everyone would know who you are, what you were in life, see a clear picture, see a picture of you, dead, reduced to an inanimate corpse. No magic. You can’t fly. You didn’t miss the bullet. You are no longer a star, bigger than life, you died, just like everyone else. And all the things you covered up during that lifetime, all the times when you could have bent, changed, helped, are gone. And everybody knows what you did and didn’t do. Would it change you? Would it mean anything to you to know that, or would you continue to be the person you are right now? (I went searching for a picture of Elvis. I found a picture of Elvis dead, sitting on the toilet. I was sort of shocked. I felt as though it made who he was kind of small. In the end there he was, dead, sitting on his toilet.)…
Did you know there are places in this world where people start their day without coffee? Like a refugee. A refugee doesn’t get the chance to have coffee in the morning. If I was a refugee I’d be like, “Hold your ass! I’m having my coffee here! You rebels are starting to piss me off!” (One of those mornings, any morning really, when I have to do things before I have had my coffee.)…
The Litter box zone:
If you have a cat you have a litter box, unless you’re one of those aliens that teach their cats to use the toilet (They’re probably alien cats. I tried to teach mine and it nearly drowned… Twice). We scoop cat crap, get embarrassed when our friends come over and the cat suddenly decides that fancy fish dinner has settled enough and blows up the house, but if your friend Bob came over, walked into the corner of one of your rooms and took a crap, and then threw some sand over it, would that be okay?
“Whew,” says Bob as you are trying to decide what in hell just happened. “That fancy fish dinner had to go.”
Of course it wouldn’t be okay, so why do we allow cats to do the very same thing and then calmly take a scoop and cover it or remove it? And what about litter that absorbs odor? Doesn’t work. You could blindfold me, walk me around my house and I guarantee I could tell you when I hit the liter box zone. “Yep… Right here. Smells like wet sand/clay and cat sh*t,” I would say. (Do you have a cat? Enough said then.)…
Cat Trials: To determine whether cats truly do have nine lives.
Closed after one test… No, Cats do not have nine lives.
Excuses for why the cat is gone.
It was past it’s expiration date so I had to chuck it.
There was a terrible showdown between the cat and three mice. I think the mice were carrying knives. It was bad. Yes, they may have been blind mice, but they were friggin’ mean blind mice.
I traded that cat for a Volkswagen
What cat? We had a cat?
Other Cat Stuff…
Used cats: You never see ads for used cats, you know, “Gently used cat. Very low miles. Will trade for good dog, beaver or camping tent.”
One of the things I have against cats: They have fur all over them, and since I am in denial about having evolved from some sort of monkey or other animal, it bothers me to know they may rise and take over the world some day. Funny? I’ll bet that’s what the other monkeys thought about 25,000 years ago when Bob the different monkey shocked them all by fixing a hamburger and fries for dinner instead of insects and grass.
Whistling: If you whistle to a dog they’re coming. He or she will be right there. Whistle to a cat and they may flip you off, but they’re not coming.
Things you never hear… “Brother, can you spare a cat?”
“Give a man a potato he can eat for a day. Teach a man how to grow a potato and a cat will probably come along, dig up his garden and crap in it.”
Things I have not seen:
Three legged cats. Cats with their suitcases packed (Do they have suitcases?). Cats with a drivers license. Talking cats. Unpretentious cats.
From a real Social Website Commentary
The following conversation contains bad remarks about cats and cat like creatures. If bad remarks about cats or cat like creatures offend you, you should not read this. Also, no cats were harmed in the making of this commentary, nor do any of the participants wish any cats to be harmed for any reason… Except the ones trying to take over the world…
(The conversation started in response to an Article about Cat Allergies)…
Geo Dell: I am not going to read it. I don’t want to learn how to get along with cats… Here’s my theory of how cat allergies happen. I think the ACD Gene detects their presence and alerts you. Of course we should pay attention, but we don’t. I also have another theory. There is a pheromone cats send out. This enters the brain through our olfactory organs and then is, unfortunately, absorbed into the blood stream. Suddenly, usually within hours, you find yourself liking cats. WHAT? you think, How in heck did that happen? Easy, that pheromone carried a destructive gene sequence that attacked and overcame the ACD gene. After that contaminated people are screwed. Those people will continue to like cats, and, unfortunately again, the cats will take over the world and make us their enslaved race of human pets… Or… When the ‘Fridge is empty… Pet Food…
(Name Changed for protection): I had a dream like that once where cats had taken over the world and people had to worship them or be killed. lol
Geo Dell: True, sad, but true. It will happen. It’s inevitable…
Geo Dell: Oh… ACD = A**hole Cat Detector
Geo Dell: Reasons to not like cats… They used to be ten feet tall at the shoulder… They used to catch us and take us back for the kits to chase around and learn to hunt… They are only tolerant of us… THEY WANT TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!
Geo Dell: Every year thousands of people die in their homes and are eaten by cats. You never hear of cats dying in their homes and being eaten by us, do you?
(Name Changed for protection): lol
Geo Dell: Old people are forced to eat dog food. Well, cats are cheaper.
(Name Changed for protection): Hey, I think people forget they are living with animals. if you die, they will eat you. You’re meat at that point
Geo Dell: Yes, but I believe cats have secretly learned how to use the phone and call their friends over. Sort of like a… Fancy Feast
(Name Changed for protection): “Hey Oscar, this is Simon, my food supply died. you wanna come over and help me eat him? Tell whiskers and the crew that dinner’s on me this weekend.”
Geo Dell: Exactly. Now you are thinking. Rise up! Rise up, I say. And… Uh, well, I really don’t have a plan, but I would say start installing video cameras, keep track of these cats, especially the radical Pink Panther cats. And then, well, we’ll do something. Start a revolution or something. Sit around smoke pot, drink and say really deep things that nobody remembers the next day. At least that’s the way it was in the Seventies when we used to talk about revolution…
(Name Changed for protection): lol…
Okay, enough foolishness…
On other fronts….
I don’t know why I should be surprised when Monday shows up and I am no further ahead to catching up on things than I was the week before. Yet every Monday here I am, surprised again. And that would be funny except it’s true, which sort of makes it even funnier.
There was progress last week of course, just not as much as I would like to see. I always want mega progress, the whole board wiped clean, and of course that is not going to happen because as the board empties on one end it fills on the other. That is life for most of us I would bet.
The fifth Earth’s Survivors book Plague, the last book for the series until next year (maybe).
Free Preview and links: https://books.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-plague/id1015630497
This blog is where you will find information from me every Monday. Dell will do informational blogs as well, usually on Fridays or the weekend. Ami will do blogs throughout the week and load blogs for others.
That’s it for this Monday. I hope your week was a good one, I’ll be back next week, Geo Dell
STOP! This material is NOT edited for content. It is not fiction. It contains explicit language and descriptions of real situations. It is not suitable for minors, and may not be suitable for people who easily disturbed…
I was in the mess hall with a work crew one day. I had been working with this crew for a couple of years. The way the movement worked in this prison, the work crews were fed after population, or pop as we called it.
What it amounted to for us, was that we sat for quite a while, while the mess hall emptied out, so our C.O.’s could come and pick us up. In a Max inmates don’t move unescorted. No officer, you sit and wait. In a medium you go everywhere on your own. Sitting and waiting on your officer in a max mess hall you ended up seeing a lot of the crazy stuff that goes on. After all you’re stuck there, there isn’t much to do but watch.
While we’re sitting there, I watched this kid keep getting into a beef with an older guy. The older guy would nod his head patiently, and walk away from the kid, but the kid would chase him down, and start the shit all over again. The old guy put up with that for a good fifteen minutes, before he turned to the kid and warned him off.
The four of us on the work crew, sat and wondered what might happen next. But the kid walked away, and the old guy went back to working. I just made up my mind to watch something else to pass my time, when the kid came back from the kitchen and threw a punch at the old guy. The old guy backed up, pulled a pen from his pocket and stabbed the kid in the eye with it. The mess hall was locked down for the next four hours and we were stuck there sitting at a table by ourselves for most of that time.
Another time, a bad one, I was sitting in the mess hall with the Carpentry shop crew. And two men got into an argument. The argument went back and forth several times, the one guy would run his mouth to the other, and the other would say some slick shit back. Eventually the mess hall emptied out and it was just four of us waiting to get picked up.
At that point the mess hall workers come out and mop, pick things up, clean tables, so it isn’t unusual for them to be walking around.
So the one kid comes back carrying an aluminum tray in his hands. He says nothing as he walks up behind the guy. The guy senses him and begins to turn. The kid takes the tray and slams it into his eyes. Blood went everywhere. They had to call in a specially trained Bio Hazzard crew to clean up. The state police showed up. Markers were set by every blood drop and photographed. We sat there through the whole thing.
Posted by Geo
I spent today working on finishing up the links for the website change. At the beginning of the month Dell changed all the books over, so Amazon has it books back again.
Earth’s Survivors Nations Books:
Three: The Nation
I know that it took a lot of work to get those books back in that format. So I hope it works out well. He intends to support that series.
What else? Well spring has sprung here. It was so beautiful out today that I thought possibly someone screwed up, drugged me in my sleep, and transported me to somewhere warm. It was disheartening to find I was still here in New York but it was definitely heart lifting to feel warmth outside. I guess God turned the heat back on. Okay, he’s a good landlord after all. Forget all those bad things I said. I took the afternoon and threw together an acoustic guitar I could kick around with. I am also working on a bigger project that still has a way to go before it wraps up.
We have talked about books and besides finishing the second Dreamer’s book, and then Hurricane this fall, the summer writing schedule is open.
I live less that two hundred miles from most of the people I know. I have one friend that lives quite a bit further, the middle of the country, and another that lives all the way on the opposite end of the continent. What amazes me this year is that even though some of us are so far apart we have all had a long winter with all kinds of unusual weather. It’s strange to me that I can be talking to someone 1500 miles away and they are having the same weather I am having. That isn’t usually the case. It has been an odd winter.
Here is a short look at White Trash that I hope you enjoy…
Copyright Dell Sweet 2018
* * * * *
Original Material Copyright © 2010 – 2014 by Dell Sweet
All rights reserved
* * * * *
This preview is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living persons places, situations or events is purely coincidental.
Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.
Cover and Interior Art Copyright 2019Dell Sweet
Friday morning: Mistakes
The headlights swept the area of the lookout and then flicked off. Ben waited to see what would happen next. The car had parked right next to their own car, but they weren’t in it. They were a hundred yards up, just inside the tree line.
The door opened and a light came on. A voice: “It’s the right color maybe it is them,” the voice said. A young, thin black man stepped out into the circles of light cast by the headlights and stretched his legs.
The driver, a shorter even skinnier white kid, got out and looked around. “I don’t see them,” he said. He lit a cigarette and then shut the car door. “Yo ho,” he said loudly. “If you’re here speak up. We know we’re late.”
The silence held. Ben put one finger to his lips so Ed wouldn’t be tempted to answer.
“Told you. They’re fuckin’ long gone,” the black kid said.
Ben made a follow-me motion and headed over to the car. Not really sneaking, but walking quietly. He held his gun at his side and Ed did the same.
Both men were smoking now and looking out at the city lights. Ben walked right up to them and then purposely ground his foot into the gravel to make a noise. Both of them screamed and jumped.
“Where the fuck have you two been?” Ben asked. He actually was mad but he was even more relieved and trying hard not to laugh at the way they had screamed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the black kid asked. He seemed to recover the quickest. “We don’t know you.”
“Yeah?” Ben asked. “Do you know Carlos by any chance? Are you two sorry looking fuckers Daryl and Danny? Huh? Would that be you two?”
“Man, there ain’t no call to cuss,” Daryl said.
“No? Then explain why you’re almost twenty-four fuckin’ hours late?” Ben asked.
“Car broke down. Carlos only gave us enough for this shit box and it broke down,” Daryl said.
“For twenty-four hours?” Ben asked.
“Hey, man, we had to get a part, okay?” Daryl asked.
“What part?” Ben asked.
“The mother fuckin’ alternator, okay, white man?” he asked.
“No need to go in that direction,” Ben said.
“Yeah? Then get off my fuckin’ back,” Daryl said. “And put those guns away unless you’re gonna use them.” He pulled a gun partway out of his own pocket. It looked like a Chinese made 9 mm.
Ben was tempted to shoot the kid just for the threat, but he slipped his pistol back into his jacket pocket, walked over to the Ford’s trunk, unlocked it and swung up the trunk lid. “You ready or what?” he asked.
Up The Hill
It felt like he broke his kneecap when he slammed it into the bottom of the dashboard. He must’ve dozed off. When he had come awake, he heard them talking and realized the deal was finally going down. He jumped out of the car, rubbed the knee for a second and then started down the hill at a quick pace.
It was maybe a quarter mile and he wasn’t in bad shape, but he wasn’t in great shape either. It was the goddamn cigarettes. That was what was the worst of it. Killed your wind. Heart, lungs, bad shit. He had to stop soon before they fucking killed him.
By the time he got close to the lookout he had to stop and catch his breath. He didn’t want them to hear him breathing heavy. He wanted to sneak up on them. He finally caught his breath and crept forward into the woods that surrounded the lookout area.
Daryl opened the trunk of the Toyota and picked up the blue duffel bag. He tossed it to Ben and Ben caught it deftly. Ben stared at him until Daryl broke the stare.
“If you want it any time you can have it,” Ben said softly.
Daryl’s eyes cut back up. “What’s that supposed to mean, white boy?” His hand plunged into his jacket pocket.
“Words to an old song,” Ben said and smiled. The smile didn’t extend to his eyes. His eyes said, ‘If you want a piece of me you can have it.’ Daryl looked away again.
Ben set the bag down and ran the zipper. He pulled a few bricks out, counted and then looked back at Daryl who refused to meet his gaze. His eyes kept sliding way.
“A little short,” Ben said.
“My ass,” Daryl said.
“It is going to be your ass,” Ben agreed quietly. “There are two and two missing. See this mark?” He turned one of the bricks over to show a mark in the shape of a star. “I know that mark. That mark tells me a lot. Where it came from, which clan made it. And what it is. Pure heroin. I mean pure. Hasn’t been touched. From Torres, deep Mexico.” He turned the other brick upside down. A double circle with a triangle. “Also pure. This time cocaine. Almonte’s crew, Ecuador. I know this stuff, like I said. And I know what should be here. Two and two missing. Cough it up.” His gun magically appeared in his hand.
“Hey, man,” Danny said. “I think we need to calm down. Why you wanna kill someone right off the bat, man, huh?”
“Where is it?” Ben asked. He set the duffel bag into the trunk, and switched the gun to his shooting hand. “I don’t necessarily want to kill anyone, but I will. I have no problem with that.” He lifted the gun and aimed at Daryl’s head.
“Hey,” Daryl started.
“Drop the mother fuckin’ gun,” a new voice said. “Don’t think about changing positions… I mean all you fucks. All of you. Starting with you, wise guy. Bring that gun down.”
The man who owned the voice stepped up behind him and pressed the barrel of a gun to Ben’s neck. Ben’s hand dropped and the man took the gun from him. “On the ground out flat, Hands behind your head,” the man told him.
He took Ben’s gun and dropped it into the blue duffel bag. He took Ed’s gun, then Daryl’s, and Danny’s last. He checked the cars, found the other 9 mm in the glove box. He took Ed’s bundle of cash when he searched him, whistling as he did. He dropped the cash and the three cheap, black 9 mm guns into the blue duffel bag, which he set into the open trunk of the Ford. He holstered his own weapon and flipped the safety off the small Chinese gun Daryl had been carrying. He stepped back and tripped over the curb.
The gun went flying and all hell broke loose. Ben jumped up and caught Ed’s elbow dragging him backwards fast. Daryl and Danny grabbed the brown suitcase, threw it on to the back seat of the Toyota and jumped inside.
Ben had been just about to make his own move when the cop made the mistake of tripping, playing right into Ben’s game plan.
The cop found his feet, got his own gun back into his hands and then ran for the woods. Ben got his other gun from his jacket, passed the 22 to Ed, and palmed the silenced 9 mm himself. They both duck walked around to the front of the Ford, got to the door, levered it open and got in. Ed crawled across to the passenger’s seat while Ben jumped into the driver’s seat. A shot came from behind them, staring the rear window and passing through the fleshy part of Ben’s shoulder. Ed leaned out the window and opened up on Daryl who was leaning out of the driver’s side of the Toyota trying for another shot. He apparently had no idea how to use the gun. He ducked downward into the car when Ed fired back.
“Ed, you gotta drive. You gotta drive, Ed” Ben said. He held his shoulder as he slid across the seat and they switched places.
Ed was nervous, but he got the car going. He started to turn around to see where he was going, but another shot starred the glass and he simply floored the Ford and dropped it into reverse.
The Ford leapt backwards, smashed into the rear quarter panel of the Toyota and pushed past it. The Toyota skipped across the gravel as the Ford screeched past it, spun around, and came to a stop pointing outward. Ed floored it and started out of the turnout.
Daryl had the Toyota started a second later. “We got to get them, Danny. We got to get them or were dead, man. We got to.” He spun the wheel hard left on the Toyota, jammed the gas pedal to the floorboard and slewed around, clipping the stone wall and then screaming out onto the blacktop; chasing after the Ford.
Ben managed to get his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number.
“I’m coming to you,” he said… “Like a dream… A bad fuckin’ dream… I’ve been shot… Not bad, but be ready for me.” He clicked off the phone and shoved it into his pocket. “I’m gonna tell you where to turn. Don’t sweat it. This is part of the plan, only it was supposed to be just the cop, not these dip shits. Now it’ll probably be both… I can shoot: If I have to take them out I will… You understand, Eddie? You got me? You drive. Turn when I tell you, we’ll be fine. Drive hard, but don’t lose them. They stole from us, we have to get that back, plus the cop was probably parked farther away. We have to give him time to reach his car and follow us.”
“Good…” He took a deep breath. The pain was heavy in his shoulder. Maybe a fractured bone, maybe worse. Or maybe just the freshness of the wound. “Okay, turn left at the bottom of the hill. First left, that will get us on our way.” Ben told him.
Up The Hill Again
He made it back to the car and nearly passed out. He couldn’t open the door. The door was stuck, and then he remembered he had locked it. He reached into his pocket for his keys but the pocket was empty. He searched his other pocket, his coat, but there were no keys.
He yelled. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He slammed his fists into the top of the car over and over again. He finally turned around, leaned back against the car and then slid to the ground.
He stayed that way for a while, he had no idea how long. Finally, the rage passed and he got back to his feet and walked off down the hill in search of the keys.
Thankfully most of the lookout was well lit. Still, he didn’t find the keys until he was at the absolute end of his journey. They were on the ground amid some scuffed up earth, just about a foot past the curbing he had tripped over.
He pocketed the keys just as the sound of distance sirens came to him and looking out over the city he saw the red lights heading for the park. He sighed and began to run once again.
I hope you enjoyed the preview. You can get the book at the links below.
That’s it for me. I hope you have a great week. Dell will be here Sunday. Check out the new site when you get a chance. Geo…
The Forest closed in around me quickly. Even as a spiritual presence I could feel it: I began to worry about my body where it lay at the edge of the woods.
Posted by Dell
I was watching a commercial for a chicken farm, a popular brand of chicken we have all probably eaten (Unless you do not partake of meat then please excuse me). They called it a safe and clean place for the chickens. Yes, the announcer said, ‘We maintain a safe and clean environment for our birds.’ I thought What! I was amazed because, after all, the chickens end up being slaughtered. So I wonder if anyone besides me has thought, how is that safe? Safe up until the time we kill them? Do they give a warning first?
‘WONK! WONK! WONK! WARNING! WARNING ALL CHICKENS! IT IS TIME TO GO INSIDE THE PROVIDED HUTCHES FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY! WE CAN NOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY ANY LONGER IF YOU STAY ON THE MAIN FLOOR AREA! … WONK! WONK! WONK! WARNING ALL CHICKENS…’
Of course when they go inside the provided hutches as any good chicken would do they are snatched up and killed. Poor chickens. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that the chickens are not safe, maybe clean, maybe they have public showers for the chickens, but safe? I guarantee the chickens don’t think so.
Reduced prices in the grocery store. I realized the other day that I have a severe thinking disorder. I was at the store and I saw a box of doughnuts marked REDUCED. Probably day old or something, or even week old for all I know. But I realized as I looked at the box that somehow in my brain I translated REDUCED as REDUCED FAT. So I grabbed it and threw it in the cart, all the while my brain is saying Yippee! (Or something like that, maybe a little more appropriately manly) Fat free! or Fat Reduced! Arrg. It goes past that too. Later when the box was sitting on the counter, I stopped and snagged a doughnut… Then another, because, after all, they are/were reduced.
Random things from today: I put in a new mailbox today. The old one got taken out by the plow the year before last. So Mom went out there, took some clothesline and tied it all back together. So for the last two years it has worked that way, the box itself suspended from the post by a cradle of clothesline. I was not here of course or I would have fixed it with drywall screws. I fix everything with drywall screws. Well, nearly. If you haven’t discovered drywall screws and screw-guns (The two go together) you should get in your truck (Or sedan or minivan or whatever) and motor on down to the local building material store.
Drywall screws come in many lengths. My personal favorite is 1 5/8″. Yes. That is because you can fix so many things that are broken. Just long enough to get in there and hold, but not so long that they poke out the other side. Now, granted, you may find that you have your own favorite. Some folks like
1 1/4″ or even 2″ which are right on the edge of long.
So what’s so great about them? They hold well. They are Phillips head and they grip well. They come in packs of 250 to 500 (Contractors can purchase boxes of 2500!) for God’s sake! What’s not to like? They have only one drawback that I know of, when you hold them as you are screwing them in they sometimes have small thin pieces of black (The screws are black) metal that ends up embedded in your finger/thumb. But, it’s not really a big deal, and, besides, you can probably get some sympathy for it later. Show it to your wife-girlfriend/significant other and she/he might say, Awww poor baby. Anyway, that’s my plug for drywall screws. With duct tape and drywall screws we could probably fix the entire world. I mean look at those NASCAR guys and what they do with duct tape. Now ask a carpenter about drywall screws (I used to be a carpenter, union even) and they will tell you they are gold.
Anyway, I have said enough about drywall screws and I only said it to let you know that I installed a brand new mailbox and only used four drywall screws to do it. Yes, that is because it was new and all I really had to do was secure it to the post. But what I really wanted to talk about was the waste. That old box? It so could have been saved. I mean it only needed maybe a half dozen drywall screws and we could have kissed the clothesline goodbye. Good as new. Well, sort of, after all it was hit by a plow. But, the amazing thing about plastic is that it bounces right back.
To prove I was right I actually screwed the whole thing back together, removed the clothesline and it only sagged a little and leaned to the right a few degrees. But I could have fixed that with some 2″ drywall screws and some black duct tape (The box is black) and a little black spray paint and maybe some ¾ inch pine. But no. I dragged it out. Cut a new post. Sharpened the bottom. Pounded that into the ground with a 5 lb sledge hammer. Put the new one together, slipped it over the new post and then used my magic drywall screws to screw it on, well, and the two lag bolts that came with the kit and were totally unnecessary if you have drywall screws, not to mention the lag bolts are silver and stick out like a sore thumb and the drywall screws are black and blend right in… Sort of.
Let me say also, while I’m not on the subject, that maintenance men that come and do work for little old ladies (My mother in this case) and tell her they are putting in a four by four pressure treated post should actually put in a four by four pressure treated post and not a scrap piece of two by four they called a post. Just saying. I pulled the old post free and found that it was a two by four and then had to get back in the truck and go buy a four by four. So ten years ago when this guy originally put the post in he lied and charged for the more expensive piece of lumber.
Okay, I did yard work the rest of the day. It finally warmed up here. Past the middle of May, about time. I swore I saw a woolly Mammoth stroll past the house the other day, but it could have been my bearded friend from down-street. He does have a big head and he sort of looks a little Woolly Mamothish on occasion. I got the yard work done and then watched the cats run around in the yard. They are brave right now, but, the Turkeys are up and about and they are particularly fond of cat. If you look back to my blog from last year you will see we have turkeys that fly up into our pines and wait for the cats to come out, then dive bomb them and try to get them. I don’t know if this is because they were sparrows in another life and harassed or possibly killed by cats and now it is payback time, or if these are just a mean species of Turkey. All I know is it is very disconcerting to watch 25 or 30 pounds of turkey drop from the sky and go after the cats.
I shouldn’t laugh, but cats are always so haughty that it’s good to see them rattled for a change. That got me thinking about Jamestown and the early settlers that disappeared one fall/winter. I’m telling you, Turkeys dropping from the trees could have been the deal there. Turkey plummets, hits the settler, knocks them cold, the other Turkeys come up and drag him or her off into the woods where bad things happen and the next thing you know they have all disappeared. Yes, I know, hard to prove, but every time I walk out by the pines I wonder. And sometimes it looks like those Turkeys are grinning… Maybe…
Okay. What’s up this week. I worked on the SE books. This has been a long term project. First released in paperback only, but with a different editor than the main books. Finally, re-edited by the same editor that revised and re-edited all the books and now released in eBook format, as well as updated in paperback too.
Earth’s Survivors SE 1
Earth’s Survivors SE 2
Earth’s Survivors Plague is the latest and probably last Earth’s Survivors book. Hurricane is on the burner along with Fig Street, and then I believe we will all be looking towards our Fall releases and maybe even enjoying a little summer weather… I hope you do too. Have a good week… Dell.
He lay for a few minutes thinking about how much he loved Candace, wondering how funny it was that he had lost so much yet gained so much, something he had never had and had been in no hurry to go out and find. He wondered how he had ever managed to live his life without her in it. He wondered over how deep his love was in such a short period. It seemed like it was just yesterday when he had first met her. He had remembered how he had never really found tattoos attractive on a woman, but she had this tribal thing that started on her left hand, wrapped around that wrist and then sleeved her arm, disappearing under her shirt sleeve. It was one of the first things he had noticed, and when she had been reaching for something he had seen another piece of the same work that came down across her flat stomach and slipped below the waist band of her jeans. While he had been wondering if it was a second piece or part of the same piece, she had caught him looking. Her eyes had settled on his own and the next thing he knew he was thinking about her in an entirely different way. Thinking about making love to her, about being with her. Thinking that could never happen, Tom was obviously interested. And then she had walked over and changed his entire life.
He couldn’t be without her now. The man he was becoming had a lot to do with her, probably would have never existed without her, and he had never even known she existed, never even known that love could be like that. The entire world was destroyed, but he had found himself. And she loved him too. He could feel it, see it. It was every bit as strong as what he felt for her. Not clingy, just real. Total.
“Hey,” Candace said. His eyes had slipped closed; he opened them to see her standing over him, a cup of coffee in one hand.
“Coffee,” He said.
“Good,” she said. “It’s alive. Were you going to sleep the day away?” She handed him the coffee carefully as he sat up.
“Something wore me out,” He grinned. “You okay?”
“More than okay,” She answered. She leaned over and kissed him…
Episode ten of the popular America the Dead series: The survivors have gathered a few together, lost one of their own, and now will have the opportunity to bring more survivors into their circle…
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