Happy Sunday to you…

A wolf track through my backyard last winter

Posted by Ami

Happy May, almost June. It still feels like March here, but I am always hopeful summer will finally move in. The fifth Earth’s Survivors book is now available to download from Amazon, Nook, I-Tunes and Smashwords. Thanks to all who pre-registered for the book.

iTunes:
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-plague/id1015630497?mt=11

B&N:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/earths-survivors-dell-sweet/1122252296?ean=2940152010350

Amazon U.K.:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Earths-Survivors-Plague-Geo-Dell-ebook/dp/B0137DRAUY

Amazon U.S.:
http://www.amazon.com/Earths-Survivors-Plague-Geo-Dell-ebook/dp/B0137DRAUY

Smashwords Publishing:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/555784

It has been a crazy week. The next Outrunners book is still with the editor, but may arrive tomorrow (Yes we work weekends too) or early next week. It is a long book. Bigger takes longer. It’s worth waiting for though, I think.

I did a small amount of work on Hurricane this past week. I also UN-published all the short stories and I will compile them into longer works over this winter. A few places will not let digital publishers give away books, so I have to charge the minimum of 0.99 cents per short story. To me it makes more sense to compile all the short stories into a few books and publish them that way. Which would be cheaper overall for you the reader. I also like the idea that if I want to treat you to a short story here in my Blog it isn’t a problem with one of the vendors. It would not be a problem with independAntwriters, but other places have rules against offering up anything for free if they are selling it. Sort of makes sense, except sometimes I want to do it, and I own the work, so…?

I also worked on the house this week. Man, what a deal that has turned into. Let me explain a little so you will understand what I am dealing with.

This whole area is right next to the largest U.S. Army Base for Winter Training in the world. It has always been a big base back to the early part of the century.

In the 1950’s and 1960’s the people that lived around the base were mostly poor people who managed to afford the couple of bucks for an acre of land, but had no money left to take to the lumber mill for the lumber to build a house.

The base used to sell scrap lumber on the weekends. Ammunition boxes, leftover wood from barrack building or tear downs. The base also displaced an entire town so there were (Still are in places) houses standing empty. The base would sell truckloads of lumber for a dollar or two. As a result, many of the houses that were built in this area were built that way.

I knew that coming in to this work. I looked over the house and had a pretty good idea that it was that sort of build back when it was built in the 1950’s. But the price was great, I couldn’t resist it. Resist, should be spelled Idiot!

I stripped out the living room ceiling first. It was a dropped ceiling, I assumed there would be a sagging old plaster type ceiling up underneath it and there was. I pulled that down along with a couple of young guys I hired for the week. Let me say this about that. Hire a young guy to do those hard jobs. They will work like crazy for you.

So down came the ceiling, but underneath the ceiling was a surprise. The entire ceiling was made of two by four lumber pieced together. And going further, the rafters and cross pieces for the roof itself were also made of two by four pieces of lumber. I actually stopped and wondered why in hell the guy did that. Then I remembered this was back in the fifties, there were no building inspectors, codes, etc.

I decided to go ahead and strip out the walls. They appeared weak, flimsy, they were. Turns out, behind the wallboard someone had added in later years, were walls made of cardboard from a refrigerator box with a label from 1954. The cardboard had been nailed to the studs, taped just like wallboard would have been, and then wallpapered. It looked like finished wallboard/Sheetrock to me.

So that was where I was a few weeks back when I started this: Since then I have strung all new rafters, crosspieces and built a vaulted ceiling; while I was there I had the wiring replaced too. I mean, why not, the walls were open.

It has been interesting. I had intended it to be a project that lasted a few weeks tops, and I am far past that. But all the serious stuff is done now. A few more weeks, maybe the end of September and I should be done with all the major stuff. In the mean time, it is fun to once again work with my hands, and once it’s done I probably won’t be doing that again so I am enjoying it.

The week has been crazy hot, and then dipped back into the thirties. Crazeeeee. I will be glad when things level off. This week I will give you the Great Go-Cart Race. No, it is not a horror story. There are no Zombies in it. I wrote this story back in the early 1980’s. I only recently got it back.

It is a story of childhood that is a thinly disguised story about myself and my friends. I think it’s a good story. The children in this story are the main characters in the forth coming Fig Street. I hope you like it. Have a great week and I’ll be back next week…

The Great Go-Cart Race

© Wendell Sweet, all rights reserved. Published by: independAntwriters Publishing

This book 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 point them to this Blog Entry. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The Great Go-Cart Race by Wendell Sweet

This short story is Copyright © 1982 – 2015 Wendell Sweet No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the author’s permission. Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print

The Great Go-Cart Race

~1~

The summer of 1969 in Glennville New York had settled in full tilt. The July morning was cool and peaceful, but the afternoon promised nothing but sticky heat. Bobby Weston and Moon Calloway worked furiously on the go-cart they had been planning to race down Sinton Park hill, in the old garage behind Bobby’s house. Both boys had grown up in Glennville. Bobby on upper Fig, Moon on lower Fig. And even though they had gone to the same schools and grown up just a block apart, they had only recently become friends. The Go-cart was a project they had devoted the last two weeks to, and it looked as though today would finally see it finished.

By eleven thirty that morning they had the wheels on the go cart, and had dragged it up Sinton Park hill. An old piece of clothesline tied to each side of the two by four the wheels were nailed to served as the steering. One nail pounded through the center board and into the two by four allowed it to turn. It was the best go cart either of them had ever built, and it rolled just fine. The plan was for bobby to give Moon a ten minute head start down the hill. That way he should be at the intersection by the time Bobby got there, they figured, and able to make sure that Bobby got through it in one piece. Just exactly what Moon was supposed to do to stop a car, or Bobby-the go cart had no brakes, except Bobby’s Keds-he didn’t know. They hadn’t figured that part of it out.

“So, how am I supposed to stop a car?” Moon asked. He didn’t want to sound stupid. Most probably Bobby had it all figured out, but Moon couldn’t see it.

“Easy,” Bobby told him, “you don’t. You’d get freakin’ killed.”

“Well, I knew that,” Moon lied.

“See, you’ll be on your bike. You’ll be sittin’ up higher. You’ll see if there’s a car coming, I won’t, on account of how low to the ground I’ll be.”

“I knew that too.” Well, and then what? Moon asked himself.

“So easy. You just yell to me before I get to the intersection, and I cut off to the left and go into the sledding hill instead. You see that way I’ll be going up, instead of down, see?”

“Oh yeah!” Moon said, as it dawned on him. The sledding hill was there. Of course it wasn’t a sledding hill in the summer, but it was a hill, and he could see exactly how it would work. “I knew that too. I just wasn’t sure if that was what you were goin’ to do, or not,” Moon finished.

“Of course you did,” Bobby agreed.

Moon was just getting ready to bike back down to the bottom of the hill, when John Belcher showed up. John Belcher lived on West avenue, and his dad raced stock car out in Lafargville.

As a consequence, John Belcher had the coolest go-cart around. His dad had helped build it. Real tires-they even had air in them-with a real metal axle running from side to side to hold them. That was the best way to do it, Moon had said, when he’d first seen John’s go-cart. That way you didn’t have to worry about the tires falling off when the spikes pulled out, and the spikes always pulled out. It also had a real steering wheel, a real one. Moon had exclaimed over that. His dad, John had told him, had gotten it out of an old boat out at the junk yard.

“Hey,” John said, as he walked up, dragging his go-cart behind him. “Goin’ down?”

“Bobby is,” Moon said respectfully. You had to show a lot of respect to someone who owned a go-cart that cool. “I’m watchin’… At the bottom. So he don’t get killed, or nothin’,” Moon finished.

“Watch for me too?” John asked.

“Sure, man, a course I will. Bobby don’t care, do ya?”

“Uh uh,” Bobby said. “You gonna try for the whole thing?”

“Why, are you?”

“Yeah… Right through the intersection, and if I can all the way downtown. Probly won’t roll enough on the flat part to do that though, but at least through the intersection and as far past it as I can get.”

Sinton Park Hill began at the extreme western end of Glennville, and continued-though somewhat reduced-as State Street Hill all the way to the Public Square three miles from its start.

“Cool!” John said. Now it was his turn to sound respectful. “I dunno, man. If I do it and my dad finds out, he’ll kill me.”

“Well, who’s gonna tell him?” Moon asked. “I won’t, and neither will Bobby.”

“Yeah, but if someone see’s me…”

“Yeah… I’m gonna though,” Bobby said. He could see John was aching to do it.

“Okay… I’m gonna,” John said decidedly.

“Cool!” Moon exclaimed. “Really frickin’ cool!”

John grinned, as did Bobby. “Well,” Bobby said, “guess you better head down, Moony. Moon didn’t need to be told twice. He stood on the pedals, and fairly flew down the hill.

~2~

“Think he’s down the bottom yet?” Bobby asked John quietly. They were both sitting at the side of Sinton Park hill. Their sneakers wedged firmly against the black top to hold them. John had allowed ten minutes to tick off, keeping faithful track of the time with his Timex.

“Oughta be,” John said in a whisper, licking his lips.

“Scared?”

“Uh uh… Well, a little.”

“Me too… Ready?”

“For real?”

“For real,” Bobby said solemnly.

John didn’t answer, he simply pulled his feet from the pavement, turned and grinned at Bobby, and began to roll away. Bobby followed, both of them hugging the side of the road, as close to the curbing as possible.

It was a slow build up for the first few hundred feet. Sinton park hill didn’t begin to get really steep until you were better than half way down, it was gradual up until that point. Even so, within that first few hundred feet, Bobby realized that everything had changed. John was already a good fifty feet ahead of him, and pulling away fast enough that it was noticeable. They were not going to hit the bottom of the hill at even close to the same time. Moon would have to watch for both of them separately.

John made a sharp curve up ahead, and disappeared from view. Everything, Bobby knew, was sharp curves from here on out, and that would not change until they were well past the halfway point. And, this was much faster than he had thought it would be. Much faster.

He fought with the rope through the curve, but he could no longer keep to the side. He was going to need the entire road.

And if a car came? he asked himself.

He had thought of that, but he had thought he would be able to stay to the side. No time to think. Another curve just ahead, and he had only barely glimpsed John as he had flown around the curve. Just the back tires really. He probably wouldn’t see any more of him at all until they were down at the bottom.

The second curve was not as bad as the first had been. He didn’t try to fight this time, he simply let the go-cart drift as far as it wanted too. He came off the curve and dropped both sneakers to the pavement. Instant heat, and the left one flipped backwards nearly under the two by four that held the rear tires, before he was able to drag it back in.

“Jesus,” he moaned. It was lost in the fast rush of wind that surrounded him. Torn from his throat and flung backwards. He hadn’t even heard it. Another curve, and the Indian trail flashed by on his right.

The Indian trail was just that. An old Indian trail that cut down through the thick trees that surrounded Sinton park. He and Moon had carefully negotiated it several times. The Indian trail was just before the halfway point, he knew. There was a really sharp curve coming up, just before Lookout Point. You could see nearly all of Glennville from there.

He fought the curve. Harder this time. It felt as if he were going at least a million miles an hour. Two million maybe, he corrected himself. And the go-cart was beginning to do a lot more than drift. It was beginning to shake. And, his mind told him, you ain’t even at the fast part yet! Lookout Point flashed by, and he fought his way around the sharp curve, going nearly completely to the other side in order to do it…. Yes I am, he told himself.

The road opened up. A full quarter mile of steep hill lay before him, before the next curve. It would be a sharp one too, but not as bad as the one he’d just come around. John was nowhere to be seen ahead of him. Presumably at and around the next curve already. No cars yet, and hopefully there wouldn’t be any at all. It was Monday, Sinton Park saw most of its business on the weekends, if they’d tried this then…

The quarter mile was gone that quick. This curve, and one more, and the rest was all straight-away. He gritted his teeth, and flashed into the curve.

Halfway through, nearly at the extreme edge of the opposite side of the road, the first raindrop hit him. A small splat, or it would have been. The speed with which he was moving had made it sting. Splat, splat. The tires were nearly rubbing the curbing when he finally came out the other side of the curve and hit a small straight-away. And now fat drops were hitting the pavement.

He sped into the last curve, and this time the wheels didn’t skim the curbing, they seemed glued to it. Screaming in protest as he tore through the wide curve and made the other side. The rain came in a rush. Turning the hot pavement glossy black as it pelted down. He used the rope carefully to guide himself back towards the side of the road. Slipping as he went, but making it. His hands were clinched tightly, absolutely white from the force with which he held the rope.

Straight-away, slightly less than a mile, and far ahead, where the stone pillars marked the entrance to Sinton Park, he watched John fly through the intersection. Nothing… No car. Nothing. He made it. He could make out Moon sitting on his bike at the side of the road. Leaned up against one of the pillars. Moon turned towards him, and then quickly looked away. The hill was flashing by fast. Too fast. He’d never be able to cut into the sledding hill. Not in a million years, and especially not with the road wet like it was.

Halfway. Moon was turning back, waving his arms frantically. Bobby slammed his Keds into the slick surface of the road. Useless, and he dragged them back inside after only a split second. Nothing for it, nothing at all. The intersection was still empty, however, so maybe…

Moon scrambled away from his bike letting it fall, and sprinted for the middle of the road, but he was far too late. And even if he hadn’t been, Bobby told himself as he flashed by him, the go-cart probably would’ve run him over.

“Truck!” Moon screamed as Bobby flew past him. He stumbled, fell, picked himself up, and ran back towards the stone entrance post, watching the intersection as he went.

The truck, one of the lumber trucks from Jackson’s Lumber on Fig street, made the intersection in a gear grinding, agonizingly, slow shuffle, before Bobby did. Bobby laid flat, and skimmed under the front tires.

Moon stopped dead, the handlebars in one rain slicked hand, and his mouth flew open as he watched. The undercarriage was just above his head, and if he hadn’t laid down…

Moon watched, frozen, as Bobby shot out the other side as neatly as if he had planned it, the back tires missing him by mere inches, and suddenly Bobby was well on his way towards State street hill, and…

Moon grabbed the handle bars tighter, flipped the bike sideways and around, and pedaled off after him as fast as he could.

Bobby raised his head quickly. He had truly believed it was over. He’d been praying, in fact. He hadn’t expected to make it all. He fought his way to the side of the road, and watched as far ahead, John slipped over the top of State Street Hill, and headed towards Public Square.

There were cars here, and more than a few blew their horns as he slipped slowly by on the side of them. He dragged his feet. Pushing as hard as he could, but managing to slow down very little. The top of the hill came and went, and reluctantly he pulled his feet back once more, and hugged the curbing. The only problem would be from cars cutting off the side streets.

The rain began to slack off, as he started down the hill-a brief summer down pour, they had them all the time, but the road was still wet-at least he could see better. The rear of the go-cart suddenly began to shimmy. He risked a quick backwards glance. Very quick, but it was enough to show him that the rubber was shredding from the tire on the outside, and it was also beginning to wobble. The spikes were coming out, and if that happened…

He pushed it away, and began to concentrate on the side streets that seemed to be flashing by every couple of seconds. Oak, Elm, Sutter, Hamilton. Nothing and nothing, and thank God. The rubber went a few seconds later. He could hear the metal rim ringing as it bit the wet pavement. The hill began to flatten. State Street Hill was nowhere near as long as Sinton Park Hill, and thank God for that too. Finally, he slipped past Mechanic street, and the hill flattened out. He could see John ahead, coasting slowly to a stop nearly in front of the First Baptist Church that held a commanding presence of the Public Square. He watched as John finally stopped, got out, and looked back. Moon whizzed past, standing on the pedals, screaming as he went.

“We did it! We freakin’ did it!”

Bobby smiled, a small smile, but it spread to a wide grin. So wide that it felt as though his whole lower jaw was going to fall off. His stuck out his much abused Keds for the last time, and coasted to a stop behind John’s go-cart.

“Man, did’ya see it? When ya went under th’ truck, Holy cow, for real, did ya see it? I thought you were, like, dead, man, for real!” Moon said as he ran up, John along with him.

John looked pale, really pale, Bobby saw. He supposed he looked the same.

“Under a truck?” John asked. “A freaking truck? A real one?”

“For real. Scout’s honor,” Moon told him. “It almost ripped his head off. I saw it! For real! Next time I do it,” Moon declared as he finished.

“Next time?” John asked. He looked at Bobby.

“Uh uh,” Bobby said. “There ain’t ever gonna be a next time, Moony, right, John?”

“For real. Uh uh. No way. Not ever.”

Moon smiled. “Well, too bad, cause I woulda… For real.”

Bobby looked at John. “Did you know it would go so fast? How fast were we going, Moony?”

“No way,” John said softly.

“Probly… Forty, at least forty.” Moon said confidently.

“You think so?”

“Could be,” John agreed, “cause like the speed limit is thirty five, and we were passing cars, and that was on State Street Hill, not Sinton,” he opened his eyes wide as he finished.

“Hey, maybe fifty,” Moon assured them.

“Did it look scary to you?” Bobby asked.

“Scary? Uh… Yeah, it did. I thought you guys were dead, for real. I was pedalin’ as fast as I could, but it took a long time to catch you. Was it?”

Bobby looked at John. “Yeah,” they said, nearly at the same time.

“Really scary,” John added.

They all fell silent. John, Bobby noticed, seemed to be getting some color back in his face.

“Wanna go buy some Cokes?” Moon asked at last.

“Can’t,” John said, “no money.

“We’ll buy,” Moon said, smiling once more. He helped drag both go-carts up over the curbing, and turn them around. Moon rode his bike, as Bobby and John pulled the go-carts behind them.

They rehashed the entire ride as they walked towards Jacob’s Superette. Laughing, the terror already behind them.

Later that day when Bobby and Moon finally made it back to Fig street. They stuck the go-cart in the old garage behind Bobby’s house. They talked about it from time to time, even went in the garage and looked at it occasionally, but they never rode down Sinton Park Hill, or any other hill, with it again. It sat there until the fall of 1982 when Bobby himself dragged it out to the curb and left it with the weekly garbage.


Free Book for the Weekend:

Earth’s Survivors: Apocalypse.

Earth’s Survivors Apocalypse follows survivors of a worldwide catastrophe. A meteorite that was supposed to miss the earth completely, hits and becomes the cap to a series of events that destroy the world as we know it. Hopes, dreams, tomorrows: All buried in a desperate struggle to survive. Small groups band together for safety, leaving the ravaged cities behind in search of a new future…

U.K. Link: Kindle, Amazon Digital


U.S. Link: Kindle, Amazon Digital

I hope you enjoyed the story. Have a great Labor day and I’ll look forward to your company next week, Dell Sweet.

Advertisements

The Nation Chronicles: Book Two (The Nation Chronicles Trilogy 2) Kindle Edition


The Nation Chronicles

This is copyrighted material


For several miles before they reached and successfully passed around and beyond the city of Rock Springs, black oily smoke had hung over them in the sky. …

The vacation he had planned was a three week camp out in the State Forest Preserve that started only twenty miles to the east. The preserve was nestled up to the military reservation and stretched from there all the way into Central New York. Mike had no idea exactly where he would camp. He had decided to just hike until he found a spot that suited him.

As he headed for the bathroom he noticed that the clock on the dresser was off. Not blinking, but off, and he could vaguely recall dreaming of waking during the night to some loud noise.

It had seemed at first, when he had awakened within the dream, as though the entire house had been shaking. He had passed from that dream into another, but the noise and the shaking had seemed to accompany him into that dream as well. It had to have been the strangest dream he could ever recall having.

At first he had been in the house and the walls had been shaking around him, and the next thing he knew he had been standing in a field with thousands of other people.

When he had spotted Johnny Barnes in the crowd, he had walked over and tried to talk to him, but the dream Johnny had acted as though he hadn’t heard him. Then he had been back in bed in his own house on Linden Street, talking to a priest that was sitting on the edge of the bed.

The priest had been telling him that he had a choice to make. Mike wasn’t sure what the choice had been, but could remember telling the man that he didn’t want to choose anything. That he just wanted to go back to sleep. That had apparently satisfied the priest, as he had shook his head and seemed to float away.

Mike shook his head, recalling the dream as he entered the bathroom. He picked up his toothbrush from the small plastic cup that held it, squinted into the mirror, and turned on the cold water tap.

Nothing happened.

“What the hell,” Mike said aloud, “frigging water out too?” He dropped the brush back into the cup and headed into the kitchen to start the coffee.


Working on new writing

So, one thing COVID-19 has done is give me even more alone time, gobs of it, hours and hours, and, surprisingly I have put it to good use, I think.

Writing, building guitars and building computers. It is keep busy work, and that bugged me. I should do something great, wonderful, amazing. Well, that didn’t work. I really could come up with anything in that vein. Then I thought: Now that I have had over a month to organize my life, writing and projects so that I could easily pick them up and have a balanced schedule once this over with… Why not just make it over with right now, for me? So I did.

I stopped living for the news, the political fencing, worrying about when I can go out, and starting thinking about everything that is now organized and just waiting for me. And, besides, when do I go out? Is going to Walmart really a social thing? Or Home Depot? Lowes? Those are the only places I go besides the doctor. I know more about my Cardiologist’s receptionist than I do about most women in my life. Is that weird? No, maybe, it’s the place that has become everything to me in the last few years, so it isn’t surprising to me.

Heart attack, another heart attack, and then a heart attack as they had me on the table to do an Angioplasty. That led to open-heart surgery. That went wrong, badly wrong, and that led to having a cardiologist that I see very often, so it’s no wonder when I think about it, who I know and why, and where the time goes.

But, does it? I mean, should that eat up my schedule so much that I have no time left? No, it shouldn’t, and during these times I have been forced to evaluate that, and it turns out I spend most of my time either waiting to do something, like go to the doctor, or worrying about what the doctor or the next test or X-ray will have to say. That is not life, it is waiting for life while it slips by, because there is life to be lived, even in these times.

So, everything is organized. I dug out the book Fig Street, a Glennville book, that has been on the back burner since about 1986. How can that be, you ask? Because when you take that attitude of waiting on life, waiting for it to be your life, your time, a lot of water can slip under the bridge.

There was a wife at one time, then another wife, and then another and another. Looking at that I think, what on earth were you thinking? Over time, it led me to wonder what was wrong with me, and there are things wrong with me, and those ex-wives, it is always two-sided, but to make the same mistake over and over again, there had to be something wrong with me on a deeper level.

That sounds right, except I know as a human I want answers to things. I am not satisfied to leave a thing alone, or to take the obvious as the answer, but in my case the obvious was the answer, I just didn’t see it until years later. Arrogance.

When you are young everything comes to you. Sometimes so fast that you don’t even realize that you can slow it all down, take your time with your choices, but youth doesn’t want to do that because, MY GOD! Life is slipping by. Funny, but true.

I am also the sort of person who is driven by my passion, and so music, writing, and other interests, drive me. Being married, being a conformist, toeing the normal line, have never been things that became a passion to me. I hate to say it, but it is true. Most probably a life alone would have been a better choice. Even so, here comes the lockdown and I find myself sheltering in place and waiting for life to begin again, because that is what I am used to. Except, life is going on, it reaches me even here in my cocoon.

So, I dragged out Fig Street, a thinly disguised story about my childhood hometown and all the things I knew about it. When I dug it out I found that sometime back in 2014 I wrote a companion piece entitled Glennville. Did not remember it until I began to read it, but once I did I decided to finish it. It is a murder mystery, not like my usual writing, and I liked the story when I read it, so, it was easy to slip back into it and finish it.

Once I re-read it and finished it, I realized it was more than a companion piece, it was part of Fig Street, the first part, it comes before Fig Street and sets it up. So, the next thing is to jump into Fig Street and finish it so that the entire book is finished: Then I will have to decide if it is still going to be called Fig Street or Glennville. I’ll see when it is done.

The next thing is Hurricane. I wrote Hurricane in 2009, the second story after White Trash, and yes I wrote a third book to complete that trilogy; which is about a young woman named Rebecca Monet who is featured in each book. It is her life that these three unconnected crime stories were written around.

Hurricane is written, but is not in my word processor yet. I have to pull the balance (I have the first few chapters in digital form) out of the old tattered notebook and get it written in digital form.

That is after Fig Street and after that? Well, there are about 10 unpublished Earth’s Survivors books I don’t know what to do with. There is also that third crime story, which would complete the Rebecca books, and a few dozen other books I have written, want to write, should write. The point is, it took this COVID-19 lockdown to make me realize that for the last several years I have gone back to waiting on life to …? I don’t know, finish for me? The heart problems are bad, but they are also controlled with drugs. Time is time, it is going to pass, I may as well do what I like and stop worrying about things that are out of my control, Dell…


GLENNVILLE

Glennville is Copyright © Wendell G Sweet 2020

All rights foreign and domestic reserved in their entirety.

Cover Art © Copyright 2020 Wendell Sweet

Some text copyright 1984, 2010, 2014, 2015 W. G. Sweet 

LEGAL

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 person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

This novel is Copyright © 2020 Wendell G. Sweet. Dell Sweet, W. G. Sweet and Geo Dell are publishing constructs owned by Wendell G. Sweet. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the author’s permission.

Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.

This material is licensed to wendellsweet.com It is not edited for content, and is not intended to be used on any other website without the express written permission of the author.


ONE

Glennville 1969 – Part One

In the shadowy darkness of the old Langford house, it was next to impossible to see anything. Millie moved carefully through the living room, skirting the old furnishings; mother had picked them out herself better than… What was it? She asked herself, twenty? Thirty years gone by now?

Thirty, she decided, or close to thirty, maybe in between. Jake would know for sure. It was a real pain in the ass having to walk around in your own damn house in the dark, but at least no one could spy on her, she reasoned. Not that it was any of their frigging business what she did, she told herself, of course they seemed to think it was. And not that the dark mattered anyhow. She hadn’t changed a single thing since mother had placed it where she wanted it. It was familiar. She could, she reasoned, find her way around blindfolded if she had to. And there was some light, only a little, but some.

But if there’s some, Millie, they can see you. It has to be dark… Really dark, her little voice whispered.

That little voice, Jake, had been with her forever. Had protected her forever. It was just the way Jake was. It was, well, it was Jake’s job, sort of, she decided.

“Okay, okay, doin’ it, okay, Jake,” she whispered into the darkness.

She had learned a long time ago to listen when Jake spoke. Jake was really smart. Somehow Jake knew things before she herself knew them. Like magic of some sort, she decided. Just like that, like magic. But you had to be really, really careful with that little voice too.

She had to talk to a special doctor, more than one, she didn’t remember the reasons why, but they had made her leave her home, go for a long ride in the back of the town police car; she had come to a building where she had met the doctors, and talked to them for hours.

They had asked her about the voices, they didn’t say how they had known, they just had, and so she had told them the truth about Jake. How Jake watched out for her. How Jake seemed to know when she was in danger, or might be.

But she had learned a new lesson, because after she had told them they had locked her up, for her own good, although she had seen no good in it at all. The state hospital they called it, but everyone she met there had called it The Burg. A strange name for a very bad place where bad things happened everyday… But those were things she could never talk about… Jake had told her that.

So she had learned not to tell those nosy frigging doctors anything, and most importantly, you couldn’t let them know you heard voices in your head. Christ, no, they’d never let you go if they knew that. But after Jake had told her how it was, and she had told the nosy doctors that there were no voices. That she knew that there never really had been, that she knew she had been maybe just a little sick for a while there, they had let her go. Just exactly like Jake had said they would.

The Burg, was actually a state mental hospital in Ogdensburg New York. After she had healed, they had put her there. In a tiny little room, all alone, except for Jake. It was where they kept all the nut cakes, Millie knew. And they had kept her for almost…

Ten years, six months, seventeen days, and forty seven minutes, Millie, the little voice informed her. And if they think you’re going over the edge again, they’ll send you right back there. Right back, Millie, so be careful…

“But I ain’t crazy, Jake. You said so, I ain’t,” Millie whispered into the darkened room.

I know you’re not crazy. But that don’t change it. They think you are, and they make the rules. And, Millie? Hadn’t you better close those drapes now? Hadn’t you? Before someone peeks in and sees you just standing here in the dark, and gets the idea that maybe you have lost it? Hadn’t you better do it, Millie, huh?

“Okay, I’m going, I’m doin’ it, Jake. Right now I’m doin’ it. Right now,” she moved off muttering under her breath as she went. She knew Jake was right, the people of Glennville watched her every move and talked about her all the time; said she was crazy. She wasn’t crazy, she knew, despite what they said, she was just careful. And Jake was probably right, there probably was someone out there, and if they did peek in…

She moved through the house, pulling all the heavy drapes shut as she did. She knew they were there all right, no doubt about it at all. She could feel them, and she wasn’t about to let any of them peep in at her.

But, Jake whispered, they could just waltz right up, open the front door, and walk right in like they owned the place, couldn’t they?

She thought for a second, then locked up all the doors before she headed for the kitchen to fix her dinner. Better safe than sorry, she told herself. And when Jake took the time out of… Well, out of whatever he normally did with his time to tell her something, then she should listen. She should, and really… Well, he had been right, with everything locked up tight and the drapes all drawn, she felt much better. Safe even, protected.

She felt carefully in the darkness for the overhead cabinets, found the one she wanted, drew a small candle stub from within, and lit it. It shed just enough light in the kitchen for her to see by, not enough light for anyone outside to see in by. She knew that to be a fact. She had tested it herself. She had lit the candle the first time, left it in the kitchen, and went outside. She hadn’t been able to see it inside at all, except through the very bottom of the kitchen window, and that had only been a small amount. She had fixed that the next day though. It had begun to bother her, just a little, a small amount, and so she had asked Jake to fix that for her. He had. The next day the window had been painted on the inside, and she hadn’t been able to see into it at all when she had tried that night. She dripped a small amount of wax onto the counter top, and stuck the candle fast.


Thanks for reading this small excerpt. Glennville is a small city modeled on my real hometown. I never intended to write about my hometown, but the first book I wrote included it (I was sixteen, do the math and that is a long time back). I lost that book entirely and then eventually got it back. Having lost it, I wrote the entire Earth’s Survivors series to replace that lost book, and then when I got it back I found I had lost my enthusiasm for the Earth’s Survivors series.

In any case, I found Grenville working its way into my writing, and really, the entire Earth’s Survivors series kicks of in Glennville as well. Doubly odd, I spent almost all of my life away from my hometown. Texas, Florida, Alabama, I loved the Gulf, even so much as spending some time in Mexico. I thought that would be it. I would settle down south, somewhere on the coast, and I would never come back: Yet, here I am, just a few miles from where I grew up. I could say that’s it. I’m back and I’ll spend the rest of my life here, but who can predict life?

So, my point is, make the best use of this time, because there will be a day when we are talking about how this was, instead of how this is. I am writing. If you write, draw, create music, read, get doing it. Go slow. Be you, Dell…

Genesis Earth: Gods and Devils by Geo Dell series Genesis Earth

Synopsis

Genesis Earth: Gods and Devils is the second book in a trilogy of books that document the plight of the peoples of the Earth as she faces a mighty battle of super powers rarely glimpsed by mankind. Facing complete global destruction small groups band together to fight the powers that seem to be pushing the earth toward her final destruction.

Will it be a case of too little too late? For some it will be the end of everything, they will give all they have and pass from life into death. But the battle may not be over for them, for many will find themselves rising from the sleep of death only to be pulled back into the battle to save earth and her people. There seems to be no peace in life or in death. No answers for humanity, but faith only in the things they have followed and embraced.

On a faraway planet two armies face each other. This battle would determine the outcome of the battle on Earth, and there were no guarantees how it would finish up. In the Heavens, God reigns, offering the paths that can be followed. A beast locked within a pit for eons is bought to the surface in chains to stand before him, and is ultimately loosed on the world.

In the second book the destruction has begun, and the lines have been clearly drawn. Those who are left alive, and those who have risen from the dead will begin to follow the paths that they have chosen, some reaching for salvation, some bent on complete destruction, others only long for the end of the fight and the peace they hope it will bring.

KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/genesis-earth-gods-and-devils

Genesis Earth: The Roads Out Of Eden by Geo Dell series Genesis Earth

Synopsis

Expand/Collapse Synopsis

Genesis Earth: The Roads Out Of Eden is the third and final book in this trilogy that document the plight of the peoples of the Earth as she faces a mighty battle of super powers rarely glimpsed by mankind. Facing complete global destruction small groups band together to fight the powers that seem to be pushing the earth toward her final destruction.

Will it be a case of too little too late? For some it will be the end of everything, they will give all they have and pass from life into death. But the battle may not be over for them, for many will find themselves rising from the sleep of death only to be pulled back into the battle to save earth and her people. There seems to be no peace in life or in death. No answers for humanity, but faith only in the things they have followed and embraced.

On a faraway planet two armies face each other. This battle would determine the outcome of the battle on Earth, and there were no guarantees how it would finish up. In the Heavens, God reigns, offering the paths that can be followed. A beast locked within a pit for eons is bought to the surface in chains to stand before him, and is ultimately loosed on the world.

In the third book the battle is racing toward conclusion. There are no guarantees of the outcome, those that fight, fight with the knowledge that they may fall and stay fallen forever, but that they might also rise to a new life. Those that have risen from the dead and those that abide in life will make their choices and the final battle will decide.

KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/genesis-earth-the-roads-out-of-eden

White Trash

I have two books that are my favorites, this one, White Trash, and the book Dreamers. I enjoyed writing each one immensely. The author Andrea Scroggs worked most of two years with me collaborating on this book, Dreamers and The Earth’s Survivors series of books…

White Trash

By Dell Sweet

Fourteen million dollars in a burned suitcase. Parts of a dead man in a duffel bag. Two hired killers, a drug dealer, and two organized crime kingpins; all chasing two white trash kids from New York into the Deep South as they head for what they think will be safety in Mexico. Adult orientated. Sex, language and Graphic Violence… 18+ No preview is available due to the Adult Content. Drug Use…

“I was in the woods. I ran. I didn’t know what those guys would do. I knew you lived here. I was heading here when I saw you come out. I wouldn’t have done that… I couldn’t have. Especially when you fell inside the car. It made me gag.”
She paused and met his eyes for a second, then looked away once more. She closed her eyes like she was remembering the scene, or it was playing out again behind her closed lids. David supposed it was. She continued in a lower, measured voice.
“When you got done-I was surprised how fast you did it-I just stayed in the woods for a few minutes… Like I didn’t know what to do… I guess I didn’t,” she shook her head. “Then I walked down the road through the woods across from the other car. I was going to tell you… Call out… but you seemed so focused… I guess that’s the word: Intense might be better. And anyway, next thing you know you were done with that too. Then the cops… I came out of the woods when the cops got here. You didn’t see me ’cause you were talking to one of them…” She looked back at him and held his eyes with her own. That was pretty easy to do: David seemed unable to look away. “You mad?” she asked after a few moments.
“How old are you?” David asked.
“Huh?” she asked.
“You know… How old are you. I look at you and I keep thinking you’re younger. Then you talk and I start thinking you’re older,” David said.
“Fifteen,” she said. “Still wanna do me?” she asked and smiled.
“God,” David said, nearly choking.
“I’m kidding,” she laughed. “I’m eighteen.” She pulled out her driver’s license and showed it to him.
David looked from her to the license. “Doesn’t really look like you.”
She sighed, took the license and stuck it back into her pocket. “Now who else would it be?” she asked.
“That was mean,” David said. No one ever looked like themselves on a license photo.
“Yeah, but the upside is I’m legal and I bet that matters, doesn’t it?” April asked.

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/902330

EARTH’S SURVIVORS AMERICA THE DEAD: THE FOLD ONE

EARTH’S SURVIVORS AMERICA THE DEAD: THE FOLD ONE

Copyright 2020 Dell Sweet

All Rights Reserved

Additional Copyrights © 2010, 2012, 2015 by Wendell Sweet.

 All rights reserved, foreign and domestic

This book 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. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

LEGAL

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 person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

This novel is Copyright © 2016 Wendell Sweet and his assignees. Dell Sweet and Geo Dell are publishing constructs owned by Wendell Sweet. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the author’s permission.

Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.

FOREWORD

Some people think that writers craft stories, write them specifically as told to, or as circumstances dictate them to. And there are writers who do that. I don’t. I write what comes through to me. What stories I see when I sit down and begin to write. It is that simple for me. Most times I am along for the ride. If that makes me a lesser writer, or a pawn, so be it. I have always suspected there is more to writing than we know there is. Maybe we who write are only conduits to some other place.

This group of stories about people surviving a catastrophic world changing event and rebuilding their society has been with me since my early teens when I first wrote about it. Many things have come along in my life, changed me, the circumstances of my life and even the way I live it, but the story has always been there: A constant for me.

Dell Sweet 03-04-16

THE FOLD ONE

Prologue

Year Two

January 15th

The Nation

“As long as it never freezes around the wheel it will be fine,” Tim said. “It will still work.”

“If it doesn’t freeze solid?” Tom asked.

“If it doesn’t freeze solid,” Tim agreed. “But it may… We’ll have to see,” Tim added.

“It shouldn’t,” Josh said. “I have never known the rivers and streams to freeze solid in my area, and we’re much farther south here than I was. Plus all the changes that have happened: Two extra hours of sunlight every day would make things warmer, not colder, wouldn’t it?”

“Might do something,” Tom agreed. They were discussing whether the power house could continue to operate through the winter. Whether the stream that fed it would freeze solid and stop the wheel from turning.

“Well, what I’ve done is simple enough,” Tim said. “I’ve just vented the water that keeps the generators cool right back out, just down from the wheel. That’s why no ice is forming anywhere around the wheels. That should keep it from forming, but if the entire stream freezes solid then we’ll have to shut down the plant, no flow, no go,” Tim said.

“We’re going to keep the flour mill open?” Josh asked.

“Keeps the water flowing, keeps the ice from getting a foothold. All we do is take out the drive shaft and the machinery doesn’t move, just the big wheel outside,” Tom said. “Now the sawmill, that’s almost non-stop. I suppose that eventually it will slow down as soon as everyone has built a home, or we finish up projects we want to build, but for now it’s full production every day.”

“I can’t see a day when it wouldn’t be,” Josh added. “People are coming in every week. Slower now, but they’re coming.”

“You should think of something else we can use the flour mill for in the winter, Tim” Ronnie said. “There has to be something.”

“Lots of stuff,” Tim said. “But the smartest would be to generate our heat from there. A small boiler system could heat everything in the valley. Add a laundry center, or hide washing, processing, which could use the steam heat too. Use the water power when we need it to grind flour, which is really only about a month and a half out of the year, use the water after that to drive steam into the valley. The two won’t conflict with each other.”

Tom was nodding. “One thing though. Move the hide processing far away. Down the valley somewhere where it won’t contaminate our ground water: Where the stench won’t be with us all day every day. I’d really move it completely out of the valley if we could.”

Mike added his agreement. “How hard would it be?”

“Not very,” Tim said. “I’d put the steam boiler in another building, close by, just run the pumping system from the mill building. We have tons of pipe we bought back. I’d run that pipe about two feet under the ground and right directly under the path we use in the valley. At two feet we should be insulated from most heat loss, but there will be an accumulative effect that will keep the path free of snow or ice. Sort of like a heated sidewalk. A bonus. We can top the path with gravel, install good drainage too so it doesn’t end up a muddy mess.”

“Then I’d build the wash house, hide houses separate too. It’s just a matter of running pipe to them. We would have our mill; our steam for heating and hot water all from the same building,” Tim said.

“Tim, what did you do in the old world,” Mike asked.

“School… Video games, little innocent hacking,” He answered. He blushed as he spoke.

“And how did you learn all of this?” He let his hands rise to take in the entire settlement.

“Oh… That… I like to read. I have a memory that works kind of funny. It’s like this: I read something and it goes into my head. Maybe I read something else, other ways to do the same thing. That goes into my head too. Then I visualize it, like I’m actually doing it… Maybe a few times, maybe more, but I see how it works. I see the way to do it. I see the mistakes I could have made too. So when I really do it, it’s like I already did it, I already know how,” he said. He looked prepared to be disbelieved.

“Really?” Mike asked.

“Really,” Tim answered.

“I can see that,” Ronnie said. “I’ve done pretty much the same thing in my head when I’m doing construction work. I work it out in my head and I have it. I didn’t trust it at first, but eventually I came to look at the work I was doing in my head as the same as really doing it.”

Tim was nodding in agreement.

“I’ve never tried it,” Mike said, “but I will: Apparently it works.”

“Why don’t we get together tonight, have dinner together and discuss it, vote on it,” Tom suggested.

“Candace will be up there anyway,” Mike said.

“She and Patty are up there helping with the new work on the clinic, germs; concrete sealed floor, plastic walls… They aren’t doing the work all alone, more like directing it. Steve says it will be a big deal… Cut down on infections,” Ronnie said.

Mike nodded. “So, she’ll be there anyway.”

“They’ll come to a meeting?” Tom asked.

“Positive they will. It’s a good idea. We’ll get all of us together and get it approved,” Mike agreed.

They walked out onto the path that lead back up to the cave. A team of horses was passing by, slowly pulling a sledge piled high with logs toward the sawmill that was farther up the valley. Chloe, who was driving the team of oxen that were pulling it smiled and waved as she passed them by.

Lilly waved to Chloe as she passed her a little further down the road, as she waited to cross the slushy path. She was coming from the cave and heading to the school that sat on the other side, the ridge side of the path, nestled up against the steep sides of the valley where it was protected from the winds. The snow next to the path was hard packed. The snow in the field was three feet deep, and there was at least three months of winter left.

A second sledge came following the first, Joe Stevens waved as he approached her where she stood. Tom had hitched a ride from the flour mill, hanging onto the back of the sledge. He peeked around the back of the sledge and smiled. She couldn’t help but return it. He jumped off now as he neared her, and walked across the sloppy path, taking her hand.

“May I,” he asked as he helped her to cross the path. “Going back to the school,” he asked as he walked beside her holding her hand.

She stopped, stretched onto her tip toes and kissed him.

“Yep,” she told him as she began walking once more.

“Is that any kind of English for a teacher to be using,” Tom asked.

“Yep,” Lilly told him and smiled.

“Hey, where’s my kid who’s usually glued to your hip?” Tom asked.

“Annie’s watching him. He fell asleep after he had his lunch,” Lilly told him.

“Nice lunch. Lucky kid,” Tom said with an affected leer.

“Yeah, well, when he’s done with them you’ll get them back,” she said laughing as they walked across the path.

Tom laughed too. “Got a lot to do?”

“Half a day of school. Kids will be back from lunch in just a few minutes. I just stopped off at home to get something to eat myself,” she said.

“Well, I have more to do with Mike and the guys anyway… I just saw you and wanted to see you, you know,” Tom said.

“Yeah? Well, I know what’s on your mind and we’ll see about that later on,” Lilly told him with a smile.

Tom grinned, watched her walk back to the school, and then turned and walked back to the power plant where the others still stood.

When he reached the power plant and jumped up onto the boardwalk all three of the others were looking up toward the main cave. They all looked concerned.

Tom walked closer. “What’s up?” He asked.

“We have a visitor,” Mike said. He jumped down from the board walk and began heading toward the cave with the others.

“Visitor,” Tom asked as he hurried to keep up.

“Rollie,” Ronnie said. “The trader? He’s bringing our new doctor and a whole wagon load of supplies.”

“Debbie Jenkins has post this morning down the valley. She said he passed by her about an hour ago, so he should be popping up over the ridge directly,” Mike said.

“Came through the old state park entrance,” Ronnie told him. “Says the road all the way in is good... Clear.

“Parkland,” Mike said.

“Right,” Ronnie agreed. “I guess I’ll never remember the name if I don’t keep it in my head. Anyway, Parkland called the day before yesterday. Told us he had gotten there and would be leaving in the morning; that would be yesterday morning. Not bad time for horses pulling a wagon.”

“Hell no,” Tom agreed.

“Who’s the new doctor,” Josh asked.

“Emmett Stiles,” Mike said. “Older guy, don’t know much about him. Candace talked to him more than anyone else. Says he’ll fit right in if he’s anything like his radio personality is.”

“Huh,” Tom said.

“Huh exactly,” Josh agreed.

They made it to the top of the pass just in time to watch the sleigh approach the steep grade that would bring it to the top of the pass. An older man sat high on the wagon, driving a team of four oxen. The other man sat across from him. The trader drove the horses easily up the incline and onto the broad terrace that fronted the cave.

The man, somewhere south of sixty, Mike thought, set the brake on the sleigh and then looked down at the five men.

“How do,” The man said.

“All right,” Ronnie said.

The other man smiled and nodded hello.

“I imagine you’d be Rollie,” Mike said as he offered a hand. “And you would be Emmett.” He shook hands with the doctor also, and helped as both men climbed down to the ground.

“Rollie drives a fine wagon, well, sleigh this time of year, but I don’t recommend this kind of travel over long distance. This thing need shocks… Something.” He laughed as he massaged his back with both hands and then stretched and yawned.

“Well, you better hope these folks want you or you might find yourself walking back,” Rollie said and laughed.

They all laughed and Mike introduced the others. “This is Ronnie, best carpenter we have here. This here is Tom, takes care of our farm with Josh, who actually is a farmer and shows us how to do things right. And this is Tim who knows pretty much everything else.” They all shook hands and said their hellos. His eyes were drawn to the huge tarp covered load, the wagon and then the Oxen. “You’ll stay a while?” Mike asked.

The man’s eyes had caught the electric lights spaced along the tunnel that lead into the cave. The tunnel now ran right down the right side of the main cave. It flowed in a curve all the way to the other side of the mountain and the second cave where it emptied out in the main cave area. You could use the doors there and the built up earthen ramp to continue right down into the third valley. He nodded and then shook his head.

“Yeah… Yes, I thought to stay a bit and rest a little. So… You do have electric. Amazing. I know of no other place that does, excepting Alabama Island, and they are barely up and running with it. I was sure you had it, electric I mean, and so I banked on it: Added a few items you might could use… There a place where I can put up the oxen?” He asked.

“Sure,” Tim said. He helped the man disconnect the team and then he and Josh excused themselves as they lead the team down into the valley.

Candace, Patty, Sandy and Susan came from inside the main cave.

“Hello,” Emmett Stiles said As Candace stepped forward. He used a walking stick, but did not seem to need it for anything more than an affection. His black hair was long, twisted into a pony-tail that hung between his shoulder blades. A smile rested on his full mouth, his skin a light brown.

“Candace, Doctor Emmett Stiles,” Mike said. He turned and looked from Candace to Patty. “Doctor, my woman, Candace, you two talked over the radio.  And my friend Patty, Ronnie’s woman. Ladies this is our new doctor. Come to us from Johnson Crossing.”

Sandy overheard the introduction from just a few feet away where she had been looking over the wagon and hurried over with Susan.

“This is Sandy… Susan. Sandy is our nurse. She took over the load after Jessie left,” Mike said.

Everyone said their hellos and Emmett turned to Sandy.

“I wanted to meet you, Sandy. I have heard so much about you,” Emmett said.

“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor. Candace told me all about you,” she said.

“Emmett.” he lifted his eyes to include everyone. “Emmett is easier on my ears.”

“Emmett,” Sandy agreed.

“Sandy,” Emmett said. “Maybe you could show me around? … You too Susan, of course.”

“Absolutely,” Sandy said.

Rollie spoke up as they walked away.

“She’s telling a different story… Just so you know,” Rollie said in a low voice.

“Who,” Mike asked.

“Jessie. Radio, incoming on a relay a week or so before I left. Says you ran them out in the middle of the night… Says they were lucky to make it out alive. Not all did, in fact.”

Ronnie shook his head and laughed. “Try to do someone a favor and it bites you in the ass. “We walked them out, allowed them to go when we caught them about to go on their own with nothing. Gave them weapons, food,” He shook his head in disgust.

“You called it though,” Mike said. A sad smile curved the corners of his mouth downward. “You said it would get switched up and it did….” He turned to Rollie. “We’ll talk more later… Maybe others will want to hear what she said.”

“How’s a cup of coffee sound?” Tom asked a few seconds later to break the uncomfortable silence.

“You got coffee?” Rollie asked.

“Well, instant,” Tom admitted. “Coffee is gold here. We hope to grow some next year though.”

“Now see, that’s why you need me. I think we can help each other a great deal,” Rollie said.

The door opened behind them and several people flooded out of the cave and surrounded them. Ronnie made introductions as Mike kissed Candace on one cheek.

“Well,” Mike said as things quieted down. “Come on in and let’s get some coffee in you.”

“All right,” Rollie agreed. He turned to the sleigh and in a second one corner of the tarp was loose and flapping. A second later he had thrown it back over the load. Boxes upon boxes, Mike saw. Rollie reached in the midst and pulled out a large sack and then an old fashioned coffee grinder. The smell of ground coffee hit him on the constant wind that blew over the pass and down into the valley. Rollie turned back with a huge smile on his face.

“Let’s make the coffee real. And let’s call this a good will gift to you folks,” he said, holding out the old fashioned coffee grinder and the sack of beans.

“Okay then,” Mike said and laughed. He took the grinder and Ronnie took the sack of coffee beans. They walked into the cave together, the crowd all talking at once.

Snoqualmie Settlement

Washington State

April 28th

Year Two

The Fold

“Easy, Frank,” Gary warned, “you ain’t got but two inches, and you’ll be over the damn edge of the roof.”

“No sweat, Gar’,” Frank replied. “That about where she needs to be, Joe?”

“Looks sweet to me,” Joe answered smiling.

“Frank! For God’s sake be careful, you’re going to fall, I just know it,” this from Annie on the ground.

 No I’m not, not unless Joe pushes me I’m not,” Frank said, and laughed.

“Oh, when you get down from there, Franklin, I’m going to swat that smartness out of you for good,” Annie called up, sounding relieved.

“She will too,” Frank whispered to Gary.

“I heard that,” Annie said from below.

“Shove it up just an inch, Frank,” Joe said.

Frank shoved the solar panel back up, estimating the inch Joe wanted.

“Good, right there, now hold on for just one second…” a heavy thunk sounded as Joe drove a nail into the roof, through one of the panels tabs. “Two more, Frank…”

 thunk … thunk.

Gary was holding the side. “’Bout done, Frank. Got ‘er?”

Frank smiled, “Easy as pie…” his foot slipped, and he slid backwards. Gary’s arm shot out quickly, a startled gasp came from Annie below. Frank held onto the panel, instead of holding the panel, and just hoped Joe had enough nails in it. One foot slipped off the edge, the other held however, and the slide stopped.

thunk … thunk.

“Okay, Frank, you can let go,” Joe told him, and looked up. Gary had him by one arm. Joe bent and quickly drove another nail into the roof.

thunk, thunk, thunk,

Frank pulled himself up carefully, with Gary’s help, and then sat down on the rough shingles.

“I didn’t know,” Joe said.

“Neither did I,” Frank told him. He laughed uneasily.

“Honey?” from Annie on the ground.

Frank leaned over the edge of the roof. “I’m fine, Hon. I think I’ll just sit here for a minute though if you don’t mind.”

“Well damn, Frank, lean over the edge and fall off why don’t you!” He drew back.

Joe handed Gary the hammer and the apron full of nails, and began to work on the wiring. He popped the end of the panel open, fished the cable through, stripped it, and began to finish the circuit.

“Uh, uh,” Frank said. He took the hammer and the apron, and began fastening the bottom of the panel. Gary’s arthritis was bad: Bad enough that he shouldn’t even be up here, and he was afraid of heights too.

“Suit yourself, Frank,” Gary said, obviously relieved.

Joe twisted the wire-nut on the last three ground wires, wound a short length of electrical tape around them, and closed the panel front. “That’s it,” he said, as he stood on the sharply pitched roof.

thunk … thunk

“Me too,” Frank said, handing the hammer back to Gary. Gary turned and dropped it over the edge, close to the house, the nail apron went the same way.

Joe grinned. “Let’s go try it,” he said.

Seven months of scrounging solar panels, back-up batteries and wiring, and now the moment of truth. Joe waited anxiously while Gary negotiated the ladder, a slow trip. Gary did fine going up the ladder, it was down that was hard, he knew.

Frank waited nervously beside Dell, Annie, and Peggy on the ground, until Gary finally reached the end of the ladder. Joe fairly flew down behind him, the excitement evident on his face. They all walked inside the cabin.

It was the largest cabin at Snoqualmie settlement, built the first year with some help from Jeremiah and Anson, when they had come up. They needed a large cabin, so that all of them could get together. Snoqualmie had grown a great deal in the last year. Joe and Becky had bought Dell and Peggy when they had come cross country from the east. Six months later Frank had come without Jessie. Shortly after that Annie had come and they had become an item: Jessie had come on her own, but she had not stayed long. Lisa and her man Sam, six other couples had followed. Now there were better than seventy people here in the first encampment, and over three hundred in the small valley by the lake: The numbers kept rising.

In addition to the larger cabin, there were seven others scattered in a semicircle, and more than eighty down closer to the lake. Most had been part of an old summer camp for kids. Joe walked to a large electrical panel, mounted just inside the doorway, and waited for the others to catch up.

The panel held the main breaker. They had wired the eight cabins with florescent lights. No outlets, they didn’t have enough panels for that yet. Six large sodium lights ringed the cabins outside. Joe hesitated, his eyes locked on the overhead light fixture. “Here goes,” he said, and then flicked the main breaker.

For a split second nothing. And then, softly, a low hum, almost insectile, as the fluorescent light stuttered to life.

Gary levered the front door open. The sodium lights had a sensor switch that would automatically turn them on at dusk, but Joe had installed an override switch next to the door. Gary flipped the switch as he stepped out the door, and the sodium arc lights glowed softly. Within five minutes they were at full power, shining brightly in the late afternoon air.

“Think it’ll run anything else?” Dell asked.

“Eventually, if we can hunt up a few more panels,” Joe answered smiling. “We did it, can you believe it?”

“So long as you don’t want to build a nuclear power plant next, Joe,” Gary said and laughed. The others joined in, their laughter rolling across the clearing As they turned to walk back to the cabin they heard the sound of a motor on the quiet mountain air.

“Damn,” Gary said as he dodged inside the cabin and came back with an armload of rifles.

He passed them around as the motor grew louder.

There was one road into the old forest preserve, and none of them had heard the sound of a gas motor in close to a year, the entire settlement used horses. Their outpost was the entrance into the actual settlement a half mile distance deeper into the forest, spread around the lake.

Joe took a rifle from Gary. He ejected and checked the magazine, then slammed it home once more. The rifles were the real deal, full auto at the flip of a switch, taken from some dead soldiers they had come across on one of their excursions for supplies.

Sarah ran Snoqualmie settlement: She had since Jessie Stone had left more than a year before, and had never come back. Snoqualmie had risen from a disorganized settlement of outlaws, desperate men and women, to a respected settlement that was ruled with a somewhat iron hand.

He could clearly hear more than one motor now, maybe three, Joe thought. Frank looked over at him and arched his eyebrows, but the truth was that Joe had no idea who this might be. There were gangs from the larger cities that sometimes raided the smaller encampments, but none had ever come this far out, and Snoqualmie was far from small. Over three hundred people were here. Armed men and women. Gardens were planted. Houses had been built. It was home and they all felt the same about it. No gang would be taking this place from them, stealing their children, raping their women, murdering their men. It was a question that came up often living so close to what was left of Seattle Washington. It was why the rifles had been picked up, cleaned, and put into service. It was why this house was the outpost you had to pass to get down into the actual settlement.

Becky came from the house with her own rifle. She took up a position by a tree on the other side of the main road where it turned in from the old park road and then angled down toward the lake and the settlements. The motors grew louder as the vehicles turned the last corner and rolled out into the clearing that fronted the house. Three sport utilities that had seen better days, Joe saw. Their drivers shut down the motors and silence fell on the day. The tick of cooling motors came to Joe’s ears. The door on the closest sport utility began to open and Beth called out from across the yard.

“I would step out unarmed if I were you,” Becky told them. The others in the yard had raised their own rifles and pointed them at the door and the person who was stepping from the sport utility.

A short woman stepped out, long black hair, black-lensed glasses covered her eyes. Joe began to lower his rifle. She stripped off the heavy leather coat she wore and tossed it back into the truck. She pulled the glasses down her nose and stared over them to where Becky stood, a wide smile on her face.

“Oh god, no way,” Becky said. Her voice caught as she lowered her rifle and moved toward the woman where she stood next to the truck. “Jessie… We thought you were dead, Jessie. We thought you were dead.” she told her when she reached her. Becky wrapped her arms around the smaller woman and hugged her tightly.

“I get that a lot,” Jessie joked. She made room for Joe as he came over and wrapped his arms around the two of them. “I get that a lot,” Jessie repeated.

April 11th 1952

Jeremiah Edison

Jeremiah Edison drove the old tractor carefully down the side of the slippery hill. It had been raining for close to three days, and it didn’t look as though it was going to let up right quick, he thought.

The rain was causing all sorts of problems, and not just for him, he knew, but for the cows as well. The biggest problem was the creek, and the only way the creek wasn’t going to be a problem was to unplug the thing.

He sat on the tractor as it slipped and slid its way down the hill through the gray sheets of rain. Jeremiah let out a sigh of relief once it reached the bottom. For a second there, he had been sure both he and the old tractor would end up in the creek, but God was smiling on him today.

He slipped the worn gearbox into neutral, and sat looking at the rush of muddy-brown water. The creek was a good four feet above the point of flooding, and he wasn’t sure it was a smart move to try to put the tractor in that. The tractor was sure footed, but so was a goat, and he’d seen more than one goat end up on its ass. But there wasn’t anything else for it. If he didn’t move the trees that were clogging the creek, and flooding it out and over the banks, then he might as well just sit back and watch a couple more cows drown.

Jeremiah knew cows, pretty much anyhow, and every one that he and Maggie owned were just as stupid as any other cow he’d ever seen. The cows didn’t understand flooding, they didn’t understand how the water could weaken the banks, and so the big dummies just walked on down to the creek, just like any other day, and got swept away when the bank crumbled under their weight. Three days of rain and four dead cows, and though cows were stupid, they weren’t cheap.

Jeremiah sat in the pouring rain and stared at the creek. Normally, the creek was no more than eighteen inches deep at the most. Course normal wasn’t what it was today, he thought, and wishin’ it was wouldn’t make it so. It was his own damn fault, he reminded himself. Two of the trees that were clogging it had been there last summer, and hadn’t he promised Maggie he’d take ’em out before fall? He had, but he hadn’t, and so here he was in the pouring rain fixin’ to half kill himself to get ’em out.

Looked like the best way, Jeremiah thought, might be to try and snag the biggest one right from the bank. He squinted as he shielded his eyes to peer through the rain. One thing was for sure, sittin’ on the tractor and thinkin’ about it, wasn’t gonna get it. Reluctantly, Jeremiah climbed down off the tractor and edged closer to the bank. The rain was coming down hard, but the section he stood upon seemed solid enough. “Probably what the cows thought,” he muttered as he moved closer.

He walked back to the tractor, unwound a long section of chain from behind the seat, and walked back to the creek. The top of the bigger tree was sticking a good three feet over the bank, and he was glad that it was. He could see that the water was rising faster, and moving along quicker, and he had no wish to get any closer to it than he had to. Quickly, but carefully, he wound the chain around the tree and pegged the links with an old bolt to hold them. Looks good, and solid as well, he thought as he slipped the other end of the chain over the bucket. He genuinely didn’t want to try and turn the tractor around. In fact, he thought, as muddy as the ground was, he’d be damn lucky just to get it back up and away from the creek when he finished.

He gave an experimental tug at the chain, and then climbed back up on the tractor. Carefully, without grinding the gears any more than he surely had to, he shifted into reverse, played the clutch out slowly and brought up the slack in the chain.

“Well God?” He asked, looking skyward, “You keepin’ a watch down here? I could sure use a hand about now, Lord. Amen,” Jeremiah finished.

He let the clutch out a little further, playing the gas pedal as he did, and let the tractor go to work. The over-sized tires spun, caught, and the tractor began to slowly back up the steep bank, pulling the tree out of the muddy water as it did. Jeremiah released the breath he had been holding, and just as he did the chain snapped in two. Jeremiah barely had time to register what had happened when the old tractor flipped, crushing him beneath it… …

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Dell_Sweet_EARTH_S_SURVIVORS_AMERICA_THE_DEAD_THE?id=5_7KDwAAQBAJ


Genesis Earth Trilogy

Genesis Earth

Series OrderNewestTitleRating

Genesis Earth: Armageddon by Geo Dell Series: Genesis Earth. Words: 60,130. Language: English. Published: September 18, 2014 

Genesis Earth is a trilogy of books that document the plight of the peoples of the Earth as they face complete destruction of their world. On a faraway planet two armies face each other to do battle. In the Heavens, God reigns, offering the paths that can be followed. A beast locked within a pit for eons is bought to the surface in chains to stand before him, and is ultimately loosed on the world.

Genesis Earth: Gods and Devils by Geo Dell Series: Genesis Earth. Words: 69,540. Language: English. Published: September 18, 2014 

Genesis Earth is a trilogy of books that document the plight of the peoples of the Earth as they face complete destruction of their world. On a faraway planet two armies face each other to do battle. On Earth, a beast has been loosed. Some will bow down before it, others will fight it with their only weapon, faith. In this second book the destruction has begun; the lines have been drawn.

Genesis Earth: The Roads Out Of Eden by Geo Dell Series: Genesis Earth. Words: 60,760. Language: English. Published: September 18, 2014 

Genesis Earth is a trilogy of books that document the plight of the peoples of the Earth as they face complete destruction of their world. There are no guarantees of the outcome, those that fight, fight with the knowledge that they may fall and stay fallen forever, but that they might also rise to a new life. Those in death and those in life will make their choices, facing off in one final battle.

Intolerance from Geo Dell…

Intolerance from Geo Dell…

I wanted to touch on intolerance a little bit today. The more I see intolerance in this world this more amazed I am. Does it take a truck to run over some people to get them to see? I tend to not want to shove my complaints off on someone else. I see that often and I don’t like it, you have your own opinion or you don’t. If you do and you say things like, “Well, this guy said that, or That guy said this.” Then you are just wasting time. You are arguing someone else’s position and hedging your bets so that you don’t have to say anything about it yourself. I would call that chickenshit, but if course that isn’t politically correct so I would have to call it Waffling or something, but we all still know it’s chickenshit. And if you read my blogs I would say you are already aware that I am not politically correct anyway, nor do I have any aspirations of being politically correct. In fact I think political correctness has its own place in the chickenshit lane. It says, I really want to say this, but I am afraid of what saying that can do to me.
Intolerance: I am a Christian but I am also part Native American so I kind of mix those two things. I could lie and say, No, I am completely this way, or, I am completely that way. But I tell the truth when it comes to that because I happen to think the creator would want it that way. The thing is, I have three different kinds of blood in me and I wonder about all three of those cultures.
I don’t really get anything to my face, and I have lived a while so there really isn’t too much that hurts my feelings, at least not when it comes to me. It is when I see intolerance towards others that I tend to get upset, especially if one of those someone’s is someone I care about, or it touches a nerve. Just food for thought about being a human being in this world we live in…



 

Earth’s Survivors box set contains the entire Earth’s Survivors series in one volume.

Book One: Apocalypse.
Earth’s Survivors Apocalypse follows survivors of a worldwide catastrophe. A meteorite that was supposed to miss the earth completely, hits and becomes the cap to a series of events that destroy the world as we know it. Hopes, dreams, tomorrows: All buried in a desperate struggle to survive. Small groups band together for safety, leaving the ravaged cities behind in search of a new future…

Book Two: Rising From The Ashes.
Earth’s Survivors Rising From The Ashes continues to follow the survivors of a worldwide catastrophe. From L.A. To Manhattan the cities, governments have toppled and lawlessness is the rule. The small groups are growing, branching out in search of a new future. It chronicles their day to day struggles as well as their dreams as they search out new hope in their shattered world…

Book Three: The Nation.
This part of the story really concentrates on the formation of The Nation and the people who will build it and carry it forward, but it also brings along the side story of The Fold and the people who will build that haven. It gives a more complete picture of Adam and Cammy, and picks up the Tale of Billy and Beth, Mike and Candace, Conner and Katie as they work to sort out their lives.

Book Four: Home The Valley.
Home in the valley concentrates on the building of the first and most important settlement of The Nation. The valley settlement is where the people that run the Nation will come from. They will rise to leadership positions across the former United States. The first supply trip out for the Nation nearly turns to disaster, and more of the separate parties join and become one under the Nation Flag.

Book Five: Plague.
Plague outlines the sudden rise of the dead, chronicling the spread across the country. It follows Adam, Beth, Billy and Pearl as they head north looking for an antidote that can bring the plagues to end. It also sees the first babies born to the Nation, the formation of both the Fold and Alabama Island, and the loss of one of the founders of The Nation without whom the Nation may dissolve…

Book Six: Watertown.
Major Weston read the report twice and then carefully set it back on his desk. Johns or Kohlson: One of the two had stolen samples of SS-V2765. It was not a question. No one else had the access, no one else the proximity or knowledge of where it was stored. Two of the virus, one each of the REX agents were missing. Enough to infect several million people, and that was just the initial infection…

Book Seven: World Order.
This book steps back to the beginning to bring you the story of the Fold. Jessie Stone, why and how Snoqualmie settlement came to be. It begins in present day and then falls back in time to the beginning of the Apocalypse. The Fold becomes the biggest challenger to the Nations power. The community that can force the Nation into compromise, or bring a war that may destroy both societies…
Get a FREE preview right now!

https://www.amazon.com/Earths-Survivors-box-Dell-Sweet-ebook/dp/B01GULFBQA