Smashwords links for author Dell Sweet and W G Sweet

The Sweets on Smashwords

 


The story of Jessie Stone who goes on to form The Fold, a rival to the Nation. This story starts in the city of Watertown and tells the tale as Jessie leaves and makes her way across the country looking for whatever might remain of society… #Dystopian https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/870188


Across the United States the governments in cities, large and small have crumbled. The military has ceased to exist. There is no government that rules the people any longer. There are no laws and there is no one coming to set things right. #Apocalypse https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/870174


Being dead took the killer out of you, at least at first it did. You forgot all the little things of the old life. You nearly forgot your name: Where you had lived; what you had done. And then it changed, and you became #UNDEAD https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/819190


Nothing truly ends. We think highly of our race and we believe that the end of society means the end of the world, but it does not. #SpaceOpera #SciFi #SpaceTravel https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/797262


Star Dancer is an inner galaxy cruiser, transporting inmates and materials between the penal colonies on the Moon and Mars but the last few trips for her captain, Michael Watson have left him longing for more adventure out in deep space… #SciFi https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/728792


John is an average guy. He doesn’t believe in monsters. That may have to change. Kate has never believed in much of anything including herself, but she is learning to believe again. Together they take their first steps into the land of the dead… #Horror https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/725161


A little girl awakens screaming in the night, convinced that someone she calls Mister Bob has come to her window in the middle of the night to plead for his life, hoping she will intervene for him… #SciFi #Horror https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/696952


Fresh snow today. The whole world is covered in clean, white snow. It makes it look like nothing ever happened here. I can’t keep on this way it is too hard on me: Holding out hope, I mean… Little left… #ApocalypticFiction #Horror https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/666726


Kohlson saw Clayton Hunter lurch to his feet and stumble into the soldiers who were firing at point blank range in the tight confines. A series of bullets finally tore across his chest and into his head and he fell from view. #Zombie https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/666725


CBS had stopped broadcasting here three days ago: They had been dependent on travelers coming out of the east or up from the south.They had not stopped soon enough as viewers had witnessed the network studios overrun, and the anchor attacked and killed… https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/666722


“So, what happens next? We leave,” Bear said. “Manhattan’s dead.”

Madison looked around as Bear shrugged his shoulders.

“Jersey’s looking better and better.” He laughed a little.

Madison laughed too, “Yeah, it is.” #Survival #horror

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/666721


The tires caught, and the truck flipped into the air. It rolled before bursting into flames in the road.

Joel mashed the brakes on the truck, and slid to a stop. A split second later the kid spilled from the wreckage and started toward him… #Horror https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/896450


Zero Zero begins with a secreted base that holds the keys of destruction: A madman who holds those keys, and a small group of men and women who challenge him as the clock ticks down to Zero Zero. #Armageddon #Dystopian https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/461423


Billy intended to go for a walk downtown and kill some time. It seemed the safest thing in the world. He bent to take a look in the window of a car, two dead men, but the driver was not dead, he saw, as he raised his gun and leveled it on him. #Crime https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/487747


Joe and Laura are dreamers. They meet in the dream worlds and Joe begins to fall in love with the beautiful Laura, but the dream worlds are treacherous: Nothing can be trusted, and nothing remains the same for long #scifi #Horror https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/617155


Yellowstone: A natural disaster that may bring humanity to its knees. Super volcanoes, super earthquakes, the likes of which no living person has ever seen. Not a maybe, but an certainty. Who will survive? #Survival #Apocalypse #horror #Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/904314


WHITE TRASH: Fourteen million dollars in a burned suitcase. Parts of a dead man in a duffel bag. Two hired killers, a drug dealer, organized crime kingpins; all chasing two white trash kids from New York into the Deep South… #Adult #urban #Violence  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/902330



 

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America The Dead

America The Dead

When a catastrophic natural disaster looms on the near horizon, the government releases an airborne virus designed to make the human race better able to survive. Those that do survive are picking up the pieces of their world, and those that have died lay in their death sleep, but in their bodies the virus works on, mutating, setting the stage for a second catastrophe far worse that the first.
 
 
An apocalypse of epic proportions has shaken the Earth to it’s core. In the bigger cities the dead are growing quickly in numbers. Growing intelligent as they continue to change and mutate. They have one thought in their rotting brains, take over the world, and destroy those that live in the process. Billy Jingo leaves Los Angeles hoping there might be something better on the other coast…
 
 
Donita’s Notebook March 1st (Night) Quakes, at least three. Warmed up fast, and all the dirty snow that was piled along the streets has melted. Torrential rains. Thunder and lightening in the snow storm that came after sunset. Didn’t last long; turned back to rain. Parts of the projects are burning. Jersey is burning. The sky is red-orange, everything across the river is on fire. No one has come.
 
 
Gabe Kohlson moved away from the monitors. “Heart rate is dropping, don’t you think…” He stopped as the monitor began to chime softly. “Dammit,” Kohlson said as he finished his turn. “What is it,” David Johns wheeled his chair across the short space of the control room. “Flat lined,” Kohlson said as he pushed a button on the wall to confirm what the doctors already knew. Clayton Hunter was dead.
 
 
Donita: The hunger was terrible, all consuming, and it came in crashing waves. The impulse to feed seemed to be the only coherent thought she had. It was hard to think around, hard to think past. It was all she could do not to rush from the trees, find the smell that tempted her and consume it. Eat it completely. Leave nothing at all…
 
 
Arlene’s Journal It’s the night before the six will leave to go back to the outside. I think of it that way… The outside. This place overwhelmed me for the first little while. That and having to kill a man. But it was worse for those who stayed behind when we made our way to this place. If they had not stayed to fight the rest of us would not have been able to get away…
 
 
Donita walked down Eighth Avenue towards Columbus Circle. Behind her a silent army followed, numbering in the thousands. From the circle they would take the park. There were thousands of the living camped out in the park. She could smell them on the air that flowed past her face as she walked. They had believed they were safe in their numbers, and for a time that had been true, but no more…
 


Billy Jingo Collected Short Stories by Dell Sweet

Overview

Billy Jingo Collected Short Stories by Dell Sweet

Private Investigations:
I lowered the glasses, slipped a cigarette from my pack and lit it, and then settled back to smoke as I watched. I know, they’ll kill me, but isn’t life killing us all every day? I know, I know, excuses. I got a ton of them.
I took a deep drag and blew the smoke out my nose. I glanced at my watch. Another hour and that would be it.
It was about then that things got interesting.

A Dress For Janey:
I rode slowly watching the trail side. There wasn’t much to see in the moonlight, but enough to follow if you knew where to look, and I did.
The thing was, this fella was not no kind of careful anyways. And he was not no horse man neither.
I rubbed my geldings rump, patted a time, and silently promised him a little extra rest time once we caught up to this fool sometime later in the night…

My Own Apocalypse:
Mandy nodded. She fixed him with her serious eyes once more. “So what will you do?”
“Probably like I said, like everyone else is doing. I don’t see them but I can feel it… It’s like a drain on the city… The living moving out, the dead moving in. So I guess that’s me too… I’ll leave. Get out of this city… That’s first. It’s bad here.”

Star Dancer:
Earth Date: 2096 – 08 -25 – 16:21:43
Moon Base 14: United Planet Technologies
Intra Flight Systems: Star Dancer
Michael Watson
I purchased Star Dancer right after college, and I’ve never looked back. I can remember my great-grandfather, gone now for more than forty years, talking about what he had, had for opportunities right out of high school. That would be laughable now. My parents had, had my life mapped out from the age of two. Life Mapping was a serious thing, I don’t know any that don’t have their lives mapped out now from birth.
School was not complete without college. You could not be licensed to work the counters of Planet Burger unless you had two years of college. My own career had taken four years of specialty college and geared trade school from the first grade on. When other first graders were learning about monetary systems and world level banking, I was learning about Star Drives and ION Propulsion units…

22 short stories from Dell Sweet, including the original short story that became the seed for the Zombie Plagues. Hope you enjoy these short stories, Dell Sweet.


Take a closer look or get the book at Nook:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/billy-jingo-collected-short-stories-dell-sweet/1124308372

More from Dell Sweet:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22Dell%20Sweet%22?Ntk=P_key_Contributor_List&Ns=P_Sales_Rank&Ntx=mode+matchall



 

Zombie Kindle Edition by Dell Sweet

Zombie Kindle Edition


Johnny:
I am here in this farm house that Lana and I found a few weeks back. By myself. Lana is gone. I sat down here to write this story out before I am gone too. Maybe that sounds melodramatic, but it isn’t. I know exactly what my situation is.
We have been to Manhattan, outside of it, you can’t go in any longer, and we came from Los Angeles, so we know: It’s all gone, destroyed, there’s nothing left.

The Graveyard:
The moon rode high in the sky. Moonlight gleamed from bits of gravel in the dirt road that lead into the barn. Silence held, and then a scraping came from the ground, muffled, deep.
At the edge of the woods, eyes flashed dully in the over-bright moonlight. Shapes shifted among the trees and then emerged from the shadows onto the gravel roadway. One dragged a leg as he walked, clothes already rotted and hanging in tatters. A second seemed almost untouched, a young woman, maybe a little too pale in the wash of moonlight. She walked as easily as any woman, stepping lightly as she went. The third and fourth moved slower, purposefully, as they made their way to the freshly turned soil. They stopped beside the grave, and silence once again took the night, no sounds of breathing, no puffs of steam on the cold night air.
“Do you think…?” The young woman asked in a whisper.
“Shut up,” the one with the dragging leg rasped. His words were almost unintelligible. His vocal cords rotted and stringy, no air in his lungs to move his words. The noises came once again from the earth and the four fell silent… waiting…
A hand broke through into the moonlight. A few minutes later a young woman’s head pushed up, and then she levered her arms upward and began to strain to pull herself up and out of the hole. She noticed the four and stopped, her pale skin nearly translucent, her black hair tangled and matted against her face and neck. Her lips parted, a question seeming to ride on them.
“It’s okay,” the young woman whispered, “it’s okay.” She and one of the older ones moved forward, fell to their knees and began to scoop the dirt away from her with their hands.
“It’ll be okay,” the young woman mumbled in agreement through her too cold lips.
“It will… It will,” the other woman repeated.

Johnny:
I got up a second ago just to move around. The silence is killing me. How can it be so quiet? I made the circuit, nothing. The whiskey is gone and no effect left from it either. Maybe my body just can’t respond to it any longer. Maybe there is nothing left that can shock it. I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW!
Sorry… I should just say to hell with writing this out. I mean it’s like some sort of penance, isn’t it? Feels like it is. I hate it, but it is so real in my head, and I don’t really know that it can’t help someone else if it’s down on paper… Maybe it can, maybe it can’t. Where was I at… Arizona…
I remember that night in Arizona… I thought Lana was dead…



Get it right now or get a FREE extended preview!

https://www.amazon.com/Zombie-Dell-Sweet-ebook/dp/B0759TD7XK



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



 

Author Dell Sweet talks about author dell sweet

Growing up in Northern New York…


I and my sisters and all but one of my brothers grew up in Northern New York. This used to be mine country, a little further north, and then it became Paper mills that were the economic engine. Almost all of this area was purchased for Napoleon Bonaparte who intended to settle here. He even moved a mistress here who never saw him again, but spent the last of her life in a mansion secluded from most people and a long walk to get into the closest city; Watertown.
Bonaparte never made it here. Eventually the land was all sold and the trappers and Native Americans were pushed out so the loggers and miners could get in. They eventually gave way to the paper mills that were everything when I was a kid growing up here. You had few choices for employment, the best bet being move away and so many kids did just that.
Eventually the paper mills closed down and the new economic engine became the U. S. Army. We have the largest cold weather training base in the world here, and it is now used for training year around with thousands of soldiers attached to it. Without it this place would have dried up years ago.
I rarely write about this place…

The Great Go-Cart Race: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/362984

The End Of Summer: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/362994

True Stories from a small town one:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/276759

And I just finished a book about addiction and where it took me; Addiction: Conversations with my fathers: https://www.amazon.com/Addiction-Conversations…/…/1549541366

But out of dozens of books I tend to stay away from this place when I write. I am going to share part of another new book called The Original Survivors: Alabama Island. In that book my main character comes from here and the scene I am going to share came out of real life spent in this town…


This material is used with permission and it is copyright protected. This material is rated 18+


THE ORIGINAL SURVIVORS
ALABAMA ISLAND
The Original Survivors Alabama Island is copyright © 2017 Dell Sweet. All rights foreign and domestic reserved in their entirety.
Cover Art © Copyright 2017 Wendell Sweet
Some text copyright 2010, 2014, 2015 Wendell Sweet
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 persons places, situations or events is purely coincidental.
This novel is Copyright © 2017 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.

—————————————–

March 1st
Watertown New York
Off Factory Square: Joel Morrison
5:00 PM
Joel sat at the bar and watched football on one of the big screen TV’s Mort had put in. It was a slow game, he was tired, and his mind kept turning to other things. He couldn’t concentrate. Part of the allure of the Rusty Nail was the quiet. After a 12 hour shift at the mill with the constant noise from the huge machinery, the quiet had been nice. But that had all changed once the bar had become popular with the nearby base. He needed to go home. The crowd in the bar was starting to build and the noise was giving him the beginnings of a headache. He caught Mort’s eye and went back to his thoughts as he waited.
The Rusty Nail had always been a locals only bar up until a few years back when the economy had taken a nose dive. The nail was wedged up a side street off Factory square. Not exactly easy to find, and that had hurt business too as the old people left and the new people came in.
Mort, Mortimer to anybody that felt like being tossed out on their ass, had nearly lost the small bar and the building above it to the bank. The building above it had six small apartments that Mort had purposely left empty when he had bought the building fresh out of the service thirty years back. Who wanted to deal with tenants, he had said then. But times changed, and so he had sold his house, moved himself into one of the apartments, and then sold the bank on remortgaging the whole building as well as renovating the other five apartments. The bank had come up with a loan that took all of that into account and added a second income source from the apartments that could pay the monthly mortgage and put a good chunk of change into his pocket too.
He had signed on the x, taken their money, renovated the building, moved in the tenants and then taken a hard look at the Rusty Nail. He had decided to completely gut the bar and do it over. He had dumped far too much into the renovations though, including being closed for nearly a full month, and then opened it to find that the economy had taken an even deeper nose dive during those nearly thirty days. The third month into the new mortgage and he had found that he was maybe in a bad spot already.
Joel remembered now that he had sat right at the end of the bar when Mort had talked it over with some others, Moon Calloway, Johnny Barnes, Jim Tibbets, Joel had been welcome to include his two cents which he had declined to do.
“Well, what you do is put the word out to those cab drivers. Believe me, I’ve seen it. They will have them soldiers down here in no time, even if you are off the beaten path,” Jim had said. Jim was a school bus driver for the north side district and less than a year away from a fatal car accident on the interstate. Jeff Brown, who had been a local football star, was doing ten years up at Clinton Correctional for hitting Jim’s car head on drunk and killing him. But that night Jim had still been alive and had wanted to be a part of the New Rusty Nail that Mort had in mind. Something a little more modern. Modern bought the soldiers, but more importantly it also bought women.
“I’m not paying a cab driver to bring me G.I.’s,” Mort had said. “And I know your game. You’re just hoping to get laid out of it.”
They had all laughed at that, except Jim who had turned red. But after a few seconds he had laughed too, and the conversation had plodded forward the way bar conversations do.
“Well, you ain’t got to pay them exactly, give them a couple beers,” Moon threw in.
“Jesus Christ,” Mort exclaimed. “That’s why you boys ain’t in business. You think the beer is free.”
“I know it ain’t free, Mort,” Jim said. “But it don’t cost you that much. You get it wholesale.”
“Wholesale? I drive right out to that wholesale club and buy it by the case most of the time just like everybody else. Cheaper than them beer guys, except draft, of course. That ain’t free. You got to pay the yearly club fee. You got to pay them taxes to the feds. You got a lot you got to pay for. Some fuck crushes your can you’re fucked for that nickel. Jesus… wholesale my ass. It ain’t no bargain.”
“Yeah? … Let’s see,” Moon starting writing in the air with his finger. You get it for let’s say six bucks a case, I know that cause that’s what I pay out there too. So six bucks divided by 24 is,” he drew in the air for a few moments, erased it, and then started over. “How the fuck do you do that, Joey… The six goes into the twenty-four? Or times the twenty-four?” Moon asked.
“Uh, it’s a quarter a can,” I had supplied.
The argument had raged on from there. Once Moon found out he was paying a buck fifty for a can of beer that only cost a quarter he was pissed off.
In the end Mort had talked to a couple of cab drivers. Free draft beer one night a week if they bought soldiers by all week long and told as many others as possible about the place. Within two weeks Joel hadn’t recognized the place when he had come by after shift to have a couple of beers. The soldiers drank a lot of beer, the bank mortgage got paid, and life was fine. Except for the fights, Joel thought, but you can’t load young guys up on alcohol and not expect trouble. Especially when those young men were just waiting on the word to go and maybe die in another battle that remained undeclared as a war. High stress levels meant heavy duty unloading. The M.P.’s got to know the place as well as the soldiers did.
“Joel, you ready?” Mort asked now.
Joel smiled. “I was thinking back…” He had to shout to be heard. Tomorrow his voice would be hoarse. “This place was empty! … Yeah… One more then I gotta go,” Joel agreed.
Mort leaned closer. “Gov’ment tit. I know it, but screw it. It’s all the Gov’ment tit. Road and Bridge projects. Job centers. One way or the other it comes out the same. Even them subsidies so the paper mills can still run. It’s all the Gov’ment tit, ain’t it, Joel?”
“It is,” Joel shouted. He nodded. It was. This town would have dried up years ago without it. Mort left and then came back a few moments later with a fresh beer.
“Vacation?” Mort yelled.
Joel nodded. “Two weeks of silence,” He shook his head at the irony and Mort’s laughing agreement was drowned out by the noise.
“If I don’t see you, have a good one,” Mort said leaning close.
Joel nodded. “I will.” He raised his glass and then tossed off half of it. A few moments later he was outside on the relatively quiet sidewalk punching numbers into his phone, calling for a cab. The night was cold, but the cold sobered him up. It seemed nearly capable of washing away the smoke and noise from inside the bar. He stood in the shadows beside the door waiting for the phone to ring on the other end. The door bumped open and Johnny Barnes stepped out.
“You ain’t calling for a cab, are you?” Johnny asked when he spotted him.
Joel laughed and ended the still ringing call. “Not if I can get a free ride from you.” Joel told him.
“Yeah, you were always a cheap prick,” Johnny agreed. “Hey, I heard you’re heading into the southern tier tomorrow?”
“Two weeks,” Joel agreed as he levered the door handle on Johnny’s truck and climbed inside. His breath came in clouds of steam. “Get some heat in here, Johnny.”
“Coming,” Johnny agreed. “Man, I wish I was you.”
“Me too,” Joel agreed.
Johnny laughed. “Asshole, but seriously, man. Have a good time. You gonna hunt?”
“Nothing in season… Maybe snare some rabbits. Not gonna be a lot this time of year.” Joel said.
“Maybe deer,” Johnny offered. He dropped the truck in drive just as the heat began to come from the vents.
“Probably, but they’ll be out of season. Rabbit and I got freeze dried stuff. Trucks packed, which is why I didn’t drive it down here.”
The truck drove slowly through the darkening streets as the street lights began to pop on around the small city: The two men laughing and exchanging small talk..
———————————————–

The book is on Amazon… https://www.amazon.com/Original-Survivors-Alabama-Island-ebook/dp/B074DJZX2J

The Original Survivors Alabama Island
Rochester NY: Joel

Late Morning

Joel came awake with sunlight streaming in through the windshield of the small car. He looked around at the road. Stalled cars for as far as he could see in any direction He was somewhere outside of Rochester, but…

read more here

America The Dead episode five


EARTH’S SURVIVOR’S AMERICA the DEAD: BOOK ONE

Based on the series by W. G. Sweet

Episode 5

PUBLISHED BY

independAntwriters Publishing

AMERICA the DEAD: BOOK ONE

Copyright © 2013 by independAntwriters All Rights Reserved

Writers: W.W. Watson, Geo Dell, W.G. Sweet, G.D. Smitty

This book, in this blog format, is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. 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.

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual living persons places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

This novel is Copyright © 2013 independAntwriters. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the authors permission.

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


EARTH’S SURVIVOR’S – AMERICA the DEAD: BOOK ONE


CHAPTER FOUR

March 14th

Everyone was up early and ready to go before the sun was barely above the horizon.

“Yesterday,” Jake said to no one in particular. “Thirty two hours long.” Silence greeted his remark. Katie checked her own watch.

“So, like, that means things are slowing down,” Lana asked?

“You think,” Jake asked unkindly.

“Well, something like that,” Lana shot back defensively.

“Why would it go backwards,” James asked?

“Yeah. Wasn’t it supposed to stop, reverse and then start up again,” Lana asked?

“Maybe,” Conner agreed. “But that was all based on theory. No facts involved at all. I think they had some evidence that the poles had reversed at a few points in history before. And some legends that spoke about the Earth standing still for a day, something like that. But even so, that’s all theory. Not fact.”

“Yeah,” Jake chimed in. “It’s like an asshole. Everyone’s got one.”

“Don’t you mean opinion,” Lana asked sweetly?

“Whatever… We ready to go, or what,” Jake asked? Everyone followed him outside in the uncomfortable silence that fell.

~

“What’s up with those two,” Katie whispered as she followed Conner outside.

“Who knows,” Conner whispered back. James met his eyes and raised his eyebrows. Conner shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as if to say I don’t know.

“We may as well take all three trucks,” James suggested. “That way if we find stuff we want it’ll save us driving back to get them.”

“Easier if we get stuck too,” Katie suggested.

Jake shrugged his shoulders. “Fine by me,” he said. He headed for the Suburban with Lana right behind him. Jana and Katie headed for the pickup truck. James broke into a laugh and grinned at Conner. “Guess that leaves me and you in the old dinosaur… Want to drive?”

“After you,” Conner said laughing. James started the truck and pulled out last in line and followed the other two trucks as they picked their way along the edge of the ruined road.

~

“It was me that asked Jana to go with Katie,” James said as they followed slowly along behind the other trucks.

Conner nodded. His eyes following the sides of the road as James drove along. “I thought it was something like that,” he said. “What’s on your mind, James?”

“Well… A lot,” James said after a second or two. He hesitated a little longer. “I guess mainly to say Jana and I would like to go with you when you leave… And Katie, I assume.”

“Yeah,” Conner agreed. “I know that probably seemed kind of quick.”

“It’s a…”

“Quick world,” Conner finished. “Katie said the same thing. I don’t know how much better off we’ll be, but we’d be glad to have you two with us if you want to come.”

“We would. Jana and I talked it over. We talked all night long last night. I got nothing personal against Jake; he did alright by us, but he’s a little too…”

“Demanding…? Aggressive..?” Conner supplied.

James looked thoughtful. “I don’t know… Something like that. I just don’t see him being able to see this through. I feel like if we came back here in ten years we’d find him still holed up in that … He’s… I don’t know… Too immature to talk to about it. He has only one way of looking at things… That can’t work.”

“You’re probably right. He’d still be here with Lana… Probably with a couple of babies running around… But, maybe that’s not such a bad thing…Maybe that’s a good thing…” He shrugged. “The immaturity… I don’t know… It’s there though. Maybe he’ll move out of that. Maybe it’s just the situation.”

“Maybe,” James agreed. “But that’s exactly the time he should be mature, isn’t it?”

Conner nodded. James continued.

“So, maybe it’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. But not for me. I don’t want to stay here. Nor Jana either. I wouldn’t want to quit this unless I knew this was all there was. I mean, this couldn’t be worldwide, could it?”

“I don’t know,” Conner said softly. “But I agree. I know what you mean. Katie and I talked about it last night as well and came to the same opinion. It could be better elsewhere, and, whatever is right for Jake or Lana isn’t necessarily right for us. I was for going from the start. I have to know if this is really the end. If there’s anything else. If it is I’ll deal with it. Find a place to settle down. Thank God I have Katie, you and Jana… Maybe we’ll meet others on the way to… Well, where ever.”

“I think so,” James said. “There are people, other people around. We just got to find them… Or them us.”

“Yeah… We got to remember rifles or pistols… I hate to say it, James, but we may need them.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah.”

They continued on in silence as the small caravan made its way past a collapsed building partially blocking what was left of the road.

“I think… It’s not my business,” James said, “But I think you made an enemy of Lana. She was thinking you would be with her…”

“Yeah… I could see that, James… I don’t think Jake was pleased either.”

James nodded. “Nope… None too… Him I wouldn’t worry about though. Her, she’s pretty spiteful. I’ve only known her for a week, but it’s enough. That child did pretty much what she wanted to I’ll bet… Used to having her own way… Getting what she wants… When she wants it.”

“Yeah… I can see that… But last night we talked about the journals; I’m keeping one, Katie is as well, Lana said she would… Something to leave when we leave…”

“It’s not a bad idea,” James agreed. “I’m not much for writing myself, but Jana might like it.”

Conner nodded. “Well, Lana liked the idea. She didn’t say she’d go, but she might… So, hate me or not, she might be with us.”

“Oh,” James said. “I see that. Maybe she’ll be okay… She’s a kid… Maybe she’ll change.”

“Guess we’ll have to see,” Conner agreed. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

James worked the truck up and over a huge slab of up-tilted asphalt and followed along behind the other two trucks as they made their way down the strip.

“What did you think of the idea that Jake had of fixing up one of the new trucks,” Conner ventured after a few minutes.”

“Won’t work. Or at least it won’t work without a lot of trouble. The new engines are computer dependent. We could probably find ourselves another motor, maybe even a new crate motor at a parts store somewhere around here,” James said.

“What’s a crate motor,” Conner asked?

“It just means a new motor, all crated up when it was sent from the factory. They sell them. Race cars. Old rebuilds… Like that. But even if we couldn’t find a crate motor, we could find enough parts to rebuild anything we would need to rebuild on nearly any vehicle. So really, when we’re done, we’d have what amounted to a new vehicle. Jake wants to oversimplify that. He thinks we can just find the parts and swap them out on the motor that’s in the truck. Maybe we can… I’m not that good though, and I don’t think he is. I think we should stick to what we can do for sure. Utilize what we have… The new parts.”

“That what you think we should do? Build a vehicle?”

“Yeah… Maybe two… Four wheel drive of course. Go right through them top to bottom. Everything new. It would take a few weeks, but we’ve got that and more. Meantime you could work on your Ham radio idea, “James finished.

“Can you get electric? Those big Ham radio outfits need regular power.”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem. We’ll just find a generator. That will give us all the power we need. We could even hook up a power inverter to give us one twenty in the vehicle,” James added.

Conner nodded. “So we’re going to jump right into this thing. Get ready to go?”

James nodded. “I’m with you. I’m not spending next winter in a cold factory building unless I have to. There’s a place in Tennessee… Maybe Kentucky.” He closed his eyes for a split second as if seeing something only he could see. He shook his head, frowned and then continued. “If not, I’m thinking the coast… Southern or western, either will do. Whichever one looks to be the better bet. And who knows how hard it’ll be to get there? So the sooner we’re ready to go the better.”

“I agree,” Conner said. “I’ll talk to Katie.

“And I’ll talk to, Jana. But we already talked…”

“So did we,” Conner agreed. They both laughed.

James angled the big truck around a final piece of asphalt and into a cracked and buckled parking lot. The two other vehicles sat silent; waiting for them.

As they left the truck Conner noticed that the store hadn’t seemed to incur any more damage since the last time that he had been there. The roof was bowed inward, it had been before, but there were plenty of upright pillars that supported the roof and they all appeared intact. At least the ones he could easily see. The supports were spaced about every sixteen or so feet.

“Safe,” Jake asked?

“Looks the same as it did the last time,” Conner allowed. Katie and James looked at him and he shrugged. “I’d say so. It looks the same as it did the last time I was here. It doesn’t even look as though anyone has been here.”

The scattered, powdered snow seemed undisturbed around the shattered doorway that lead into the building. Conner snapped his flashlight on and led the way inside.

The inside of the store told a different story. Someone had been there during the time Conner had last been there. Several of the glass display cases that held the weapons had been damaged. They were locked. Who ever had made the attempt had made it halfheartedly. The glass was safety glass of some sort. It had cracked, spider webbed, but it had not broken and caved in.

“Guess someone tried to get in,” James offered.

Jake held up a discarded crow bar. Even in the weak light they could see the streaks of scarlet on one end. Jake let it fall to the floor. The clatter was loud enough to make Lana draw in a quick breath in the broken silence that followed.

“Jesus, Jake,” She sputtered. Jake only grinned.

“Why does someone go through all of that when they could’ve taken a simple screw driver and just popped the locks,” Katie asked?

“Well,” Jake started.

Katie had walked behind the counter, taken a screw driver from her pocket and began to jimmy the lock mechanism. It was a cheap sliding set and easily bent to one side far enough to slide the glass door open. Katie smiled.

“Learn that up in the big city, Miss,” Conner asked with a smile.

Katie smiled back, reached inside the case, careful of the glass that had sprayed in small slivers from the spider webs in the top, and withdrew pistol after pistol, setting them on a wooden topped case next to the cash register.

“Forty five caliber… Nine millimeter, a cheap one though… Three eighty, kind of nice, though small… Here’s a much nicer Nine Millimeter…” She set several more guns on the wooden top, looked up with a crooked grin and asked, “Well, gentlemen…Lady… what will it be?”

“You really know about this kind of shit,” Lana asked in an awed voice.

“Obviously well enough to know what’s what,” Jake said.

“That’s right. Obviously well enough,” Katie agreed. She gave no further explanation.

“What do you think, Katie,” Jana asked?

“Yeah, what would be the best,” Conner asked?

Katie shrugged. “It depends on what you like. I like a three eighty myself. It’s small. Not as heavy as a Nine millimeter.” She pulled her own Nine Millimeter. “This was my Dads… A good gun, but I liked the Three Eighty I had… A Three Eighty won’t really knock somebody down, not like you see in the movies. But, a nine millimeter won’t always do that either. It’ll just make a bigger hole. If you want to knock somebody down you need this.” She held up the bigger forty five caliber pistol. She held the mostly black pistol easily in one hand. “This will knock somebody down and kill them… And, on the off chance that your aim was bad and you didn’t immediately kill them, believe me… They are not going to feel like getting back up.” She grinned. “It’s still not like the movies… You know, where you see them flying backwards through the air. But, it will knock them down and keep them there.”

“Jesus, Girl… I’m like in awe,” Lana said.

“Katie,” Katie said, “and thank you.”

“So how do you know all that…? Like for real? How do you know all that shit?”

“My dad was a cop… Not in New York, before we moved there. He had a thing for guns. I just caught it. When he knew I was going to be like him when it came to guns, he sent me for training… Safety stuff mostly, but I liked it so much I started buying my own weapons as well. I took the test… Eventually I would’ve had my foot in the door in New York. That’s a good department. I would’ve been in already if not for the economy. “

“The thing is I love to shoot. I’m good also,” she sighed.

“So… What will it be?” She let the smile return to her face, reached over and began to jimmy another of the locks on the sliding glass doors.

They spent the good part of two hours in the store. Camping gear; rifles, pistols and ammunition. Conner began to feel like they were equipping there own private army before they were done. Even so by the time they left everyone was carrying at least one pistol, and several rifles and boxes of ammunition had found their way into the back of the pickup truck. Katie, Conner noticed, had added a matte black forty five caliber pistol to the Nine Millimeter. She wore them in webbed holsters on a wide leather belt.

“I thought you preferred a Three Eighty,” Conner said half jokingly as he replaced the Nine Millimeter he had decided on back into the side holster he had chosen.

“I do,” she said. “For shooting… But like I said, a Three Eighty can’t knock somebody down.” Her eyes met his.

“Yeah… There is that,” Conner agreed quietly.

They spent a short amount of time looking through a small convenience store in the same parking lot. There was very little left. Most likely cleaned out, James voiced, by the same folks who had tried to take the guns. This was evidenced by smears of maroon on the counter tops. Even so they managed to find boxes of stuff in the storage area. They finished filling the backs of the trucks with basic First Aid stuff and several boxes full of Candy bars and junk food too.

The sun had been standing overhead for what seemed like hours. James Spoke.

“Hotter,” He said. “You can feel the heat. And,” He motioned with his hands, “the snow is melting faster too.”

“Got a theory on that,” Conner asked?

James shook his head.

“Maybe the whole process takes time,” Katie said.

“Maybe,” Jake agreed. “Maybe it’s not so easy to start something spinning in the other direction… And we don’t know if it really stopped or not. The sun’s coming up in the north, or it was, but that seems to be changing also. I don’t think it stopped all the way. I think it’s just got a different spin now. And maybe a different path.”

James nodded as did Conner. “I guess we’ll leave it for the scientists… Long as we don’t fall off the Earth.” He chuckled a little.

“Call it a day,” Conner asked?

“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “We still have to unload all of this.” There were a few halfhearted complaints, but everyone piled into the trucks and they made their way slowly back towards the heart of the city and the old factory that lay behind Old Town.

Jana March 14th

We are six people who have managed to stay alive through whatever it is that has happened to our planet. My husband James and I were fortunate enough to be protected by our spirits and brought through all of this.

I am Jana Adams; my husband is full blooded Blackfoot and a very proud man. A very good man as well. And not just to me. He treats all people well.

My mother was Cherokee and my father was French. I don’t mean French transplanted to this country. My mother met him in France. We are looking forward to whatever the Great spirits purpose is in this.

We have many young people with us. Conner Davis. He’s mixed race. Like many of us. He probably doesn’t realize it but he is in fact our leader. He’s in his early twenties. I guess the mixed race stuff doesn’t matter anymore, but I lived with it for so long that it’s hard for me to let it go.

James has suffered worse with those prejudices. Many other people besides me. Maybe the world is at that place where all of that stuff can be let go now? I hope so.

Katie Lee is a beautiful young woman. Her father is African American, her mother Asian. She has her father’s dark skin blended with her mothers features. Striking. I enjoy her company. She reminds me of my daughter. I don’t know how she fared in all of this. I suppose we’re all wondering similar things.

Jake Light. And, Lana, Marcia Lana Santos fill out our party. We are planning to leave here in a few months and head south, or west. The direction isn’t decided only the realization that we need to go. The thinking is that we should head south. Somewhere warmer. After all, there is no electricity here. And we are living in an old factory right down by the river. It’s not a bad , and we’re lucky to have it. Almost the entire city has been destroyed. Most buildings are unsafe to live in. This one was built up against the cliffs. It’s solid.

When we leave, we’ll leave all of that behind us. This is who we are. We will most likely continue to the south. We are currently looking for a Short Wave radio set to try to get in touch with others around the world. You, whoever you may be, may be able to reach us that way where ever we have gone to now.

James believes in the people. That the people will once again live on the earth the way they used to. James believes it, and so I believe it. I’ll continue to keep this book up while we’re here and include any useful information we can pass on to you before we go…

Katie March 14th

I guess I should start this the right way. I hadn’t thought about it when it was just me to think about. But it’s more than me. Or even those of us that are here now. It’s the ones who might come. Or will come after. So even if you figured out almost all of what I’m about to write I’ll write it anyway.

I read back over what I wrote and it doesn’t even seem like me. Like I wrote it. Like those things happened to me

My name is Katie Lee. I was living here when all of this happened. I’m not from here. I actually did live here for a while last year, but that’s a long story. The point is I’m not really from here like the others are.

My man is Conner Davis and we are with two other couples; Jana and James Adams, and Jake Light And Lana Santos. I came here with them; Conner was on his own then. I was too, even though I had people around me. I guess if you’ve read all of this diary you know what I’m talking about. I had Jana as my friend. This diary and my father’s gun. I Thank God for what I had, especially Jana.

Jana and James are older. They are really good people. Jake and Lana are younger. Well, Lana is. Lana’s even younger than I am, but Jake is quite a lot older. I don’t think anyone cares about that anymore though. At least nobody here does.

We are going to leave here sometime in the next few months and try to make it down to the Gulf coast. We don’t know for sure how that will go. I’ll keep this updated though until then. We’re going to leave these behind us. Hopefully they will be useful to someone. But I think I’ll keep my little Notebook. It means something to me.

Things we know: You can get trucks and cars to start as long as they are older ones that don’t have electronic brain boxes, as James put it. That is how we intend to go before winter or just after winter really lets go. Otherwise we’d really have to wait for summer to settle in before we could chance travel.

There are several sporting goods stores in the area. We’re all carrying guns now. It seems smart to do. Maybe I should say it would be stupid not to. We think it only makes good sense.

This building we are in seems stable, but many of the other structures in the city aren’t safe to live in. We don’t know if it’s even all over with yet. Whether there is more to come. We hope not.

We’re going to try to reach others with Ham Radios. We’re also trying to find a battery powered television set just to see if anything’s on the air. We’re hopeful. We’re also going to pick up some hand held F.M. radios. Walkie Talkies James calls them. That way we can speak to each other when we’re separated.

The sun is rising in the north. Really the North West. The days were long, then short, now going back towards long again. We don’t know what that might mean. Where it will end or even where we will be when it does end. And maybe end is the wrong word to use. We don’t know what began or ended; might begin or end.

I re-read that, I guess it seems melodramatic, at least to me, but it’s honest.

I’ll write more as we go along.

March 15th

Early morning darkness held the road that fronted the old factory. The moonlight, sparse, reflected off the rapids of the river.

A shadow moved by one of the pickup trucks. Another moved by the Suburban. The sound of sand gritting beneath the sole of a shoe came clearly in the shadowy darkness. The door of the pickup squealed loudly as it was carefully opened. The shadow paused looking towards the Suburban. The shadow there appeared to be fighting with the door to no avail. The shadow next to the pickup gestured quickly with both hands and the shadow next to the Suburban gave up on the door, crossed to the pickup and quickly climbed inside. Once they were both inside silence returned to the small patch of asphalt that fronted the entrance to the building. A few seconds later the pickup roared to life. The headlights snapped on, the wheels turned hard left and the driver launched the truck down what was left of the shattered roadway.

Voices were raised in alarm from inside the building, and within just a few moments everyone inside was outside. Lana, gun in hand, unloaded a full clip at the fleeing pickup truck. Both Jake and Conner snapped off a single shot, more in startled response to Lana’s’ shots than with any real hope of hitting the retreating pickup truck.

“Jesus,” Lana said breathlessly. “They stole our truck!” She turned and looked at Conner with wide, frightened eyes. “They stole our Goddamn truck,” She repeated. “How could they steal our truck?”

Jake headed for the suburban, pulled the keys from his pocket, prepared to unlock the door.

“Jake,” Conner called. “Where are you going, Man?”

That’s our Goddamn truck. I’m going to get it.” His eyes were wild. The truck keys in one hand, a pistol in the other. No shirt. Sock-less shoes, laces trailing.

“It’s an old truck, Man,” Conner said.

“It’s my old truck,” Jake said defensively. “And if I catch that fucker…”

“Fuckers,” Lana said.

“Huh,” Jake asked?

“Fuckers as in I saw two heads. Two of them. Not one,” Lana said. Her voice held a breathless, excited quality to it that Conner didn’t like. She was dressed in jeans and a thin T-shirt. She shivered slightly, whether from the cold or the excitement Conner couldn’t tell.

“Either way. One, two, how would we catch them? … And then what? Are we going to shoot somebody for stealing an old truck? Is that what things have come to,” Conner asked?

“Look, don’t get moral on me,” Jake said. He leveled his eyes at Conner. “I do things my way. You take from me you pay for it.”

Conner just stared back at him.

“You’re soft,” Jake said. But his fists, still clenched, dropped from the truck door and he walked away from the Suburban and back into the building.

Lana threw Conner a nasty look, finally managed to fish a replacement clip from her overly tight front pocket. Ejected the empty one into her hand and slid the new one into the pistol with a solid click. “Soft,” She echoed as the clip clicked home. She turned and walked back inside the factory. In the distance the muffler of the truck began to fade. It was hard to tell where it had gone. Which direction.

James stepped up beside Conner where he stood with Katie and Jana. “I’m not going to kill anybody over an old truck,” he said.

“Me either” the other three said in near unison.

“Guess we better start making sure everything’s locked up tight,” Conner said.

“We’re going to have to start keeping a watch,” Jana said.

“We will,” Katie agreed. “What if the next thing they want is a woman?”

“That’s not funny,” Conner said.

She leveled her dark eyes on his. Silvery moonlight reflecting from them. “I wasn’t trying to be funny. Now that they know we’re around…” she shrugged. “Lana may have overreacted, but… Maybe not…Who the Hell would pull a stunt like that anyway? Everything’s just lying around… Want a truck? Go get one… No… It’s a mind set. Someone who takes like that doesn’t take because it’s easy. They take because they like it. Because they can…” She lowered her voice, “Truck… Woman…. Might all be the same to them.”

No one answered.

~

Jake and Lana sat talking in low tones as the others walked back into the building. They had rebuilt the fire and the warmth and light spread out, glowing on the brick walls. “Jake,” Conner started.

“Listen,” Jake said. “I shouldn’t have said that… I didn’t mean to say that. And, no, it would be stupid to go chasing after a goddamn truck in the middle of the night. And, no, I don’t want to kill someone over stealing a piece of shit truck,” Jake said. “But that kind of shit can’t happen… I mean, what’s next?”

“Yeah,” Conner agreed. “Yeah. I guess what’s next is locked up trucks. No keys left in them. And…” He looked over at Katie. “I guess a guard at night… Katie said… She thinks someone who would come to take a truck might come to take a woman also.”

The silence held only for a second.

“Fuckin’ A,” Lana spat.

She looks positively rabid, Katie thought. “What I mean,” Katie said, “A truck… Maybe one of us… Who steals a truck when everything’s just laying around free to anyone who wants to pick it up?”

Jake nodded his head.

“Well as soon as it’s light I say we follow the tracks. If we’re careful it should be no problem at all,” Conner said.

“Goddamn right,” Lana said.

“Should be armed… I’m sure they will be,” Katie said.

“Not you… You’re not going are you,” Conner asked?

“I’m the best shot we have,” Katie said. “It’s that simple. If we don’t go after them,” she shrugged and then shook her head. “No,” she said. “The more I think about it, they’ll probably come back. And they’ll probably come back armed as well. Hell, maybe they were this time.” She looked at Lana.

“Lana saw two in the truck, but how many more were there? Or back where ever they went to,” she finished seriously.

“So. The idea is to take it to them before they bring it to us,” James asked?

“Got a better idea,” Jake challenged?

“No… No… But I’m no killer. It’s still just a damn truck…”

James finished.

“Yeah, tonight it was a truck, tomorrow it might be me… Or Katie… Or Jana,” Lana said.

James stayed silent, thoughtful. He sighed. “What a damn mess,” he said at last.

“It’s that,” Jake agreed.

“I got to agree, James,” Conner said. “It’s not the same world. What if they do come back? Do we decide then to do something? It might be too late.”

“Honey. I think it’s best to go get them,” Jana said quietly, her eyes on James’s own. Those eyes looked frightened, Conner thought. He supposed a little of that fright was resting in every ones eyes right now.

“I don’t like to be bullied or pressured into anything,” James said.

“Hey,” Conner said. “It’s no pressure, Man. It’s real. It really just happened.”

James nodded his head yes but a frown remained stamped onto his mouth. Deep lines scared his forehead. His hands twisted restlessly in his lap. He suddenly bought his hands together firmly. “Okay,” he agreed. “Okay. I see the point. I’ve done a lot of hunting. I’m a good shot with a rifle… … I’ll go.”


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Borderline: He had walked past the mouth of the alleyway twice already. There was someone in the car… http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/borderline-dell-sweet/1124650060?ean=2940046372045

Mister Bob by Dell Sweet Mister Bob is a collection of short stories from Author Dell Sweet. https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/mister-bob

Earth’s Survivors: Alabama Island His left leg was bad. Not broken, but cut badly, maybe sprung, after all he had lain with it twisted to one side for what he assumed was a very long time… #Undead https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1128328912?ean=2940155194422

Rocket by Dell Sweet: Hay Vida Book 1 Michael Watson is the captain of an inner galaxy cruiser: He Purchased Star Dancer and has spent the last twenty years running people and supplies to the established bases on the Moon, Mars and Saturn’s moons… https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rocket-dell-sweet/1127803268?ean=2940154403600

TRUE: True Stories from a Small Town #2 This is a book about the man who made a difference in my life. I don’t mean the minimal difference that some people make. I mean a man who was actually good. Inside where it counts. https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/true-wendell-sweet/1114374008?ean=2940044271807

The Legend of Sparrow Copyright © 2017 by Wendell G Sweet

DREAMERS

The Legend of Sparrow Copyright © 2017 by Wendell G 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’re 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.

Parts of this novel are Copyright © 2009 and 2010 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.



This material is NOT edited for content and is rated 18


Light from another Moon:

Slip Sliding

Laura

He sat on the wall for hours. I watched. I saw when he noticed the name and number. Nothing. I slipped sideways, I watched. He traced the name with one finger. I saw his lips form the numbers. He closed his eyes, mouthed the name, the number, and opened his eyes again. Closed them once more.

How long, I thought. I slipped sideways again, traveling across time to the same place; short bursts. Less this time.  It was dangerous. I wasn’t even all that good at it either. He was a no show. I slipped. I slipped again. There he was. His eyes closed his lips moving.  He opened his eyes looked right at me. Really saw me. But I felt he didn’t know what he saw. I was not me… Not my actual self.

I dream as a sparrow. Unique? Probably not: After I decided to dream as a sparrow, I realized there were hundreds of dreamer’s who dream that way. Birds. Cats. Dogs. Lizards. A fly on the wall. His eyes held mine. He did know. I slipped back to where I had started from once again, and then let go, drifting in the blackness. Hoping for an easy return.

I fell hard, but there was no panic in. I lay on the mattress and wondered when it would happen. The ringing of the phone answered my question for me. I picked it up, but did not speak. An unreasonable fear lit a fire in my chest. He could be anything at all. He did not necessarily have to be a dreamer.  He could be The Trickster himself. The Thief of Souls. He could be…

“Laura,” he asked?

I drew a deep breath before I spoke.

“You dream,” I said.  There was nothing else to say.

“Wise words from a Sparrow,” he said. His voice was deep. No real accent. Inflection.

“I was afraid,” I said.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Me to…  So…” He asked?

“Where do you know,” I asked? “What places?”

“The docks… Around there… The factory… The house where I live with my wife and children. And I can create… I can create places,” he answered.

“Wife and kids,” I asked? Good, Laura, I chided. How stupid could you be? Or obvious… I thought about it. No matter, I still would have asked.

“I don’t understand it,” he said. “I used to go there in real dreams. Then one time the dream seemed to become a real place, or the place became real in the dream… It makes no sense. I rarely actually go there, but I very often start out there in my dreaming… There’s something wrong with it… Her… In that place.”

“There are places like that,” I agreed. A dream wife, I told myself.

“There’s a place farther up the river. Below the main factory. On the ledges. An older factory. They don’t seem to be there. No one… No dreamer’s. It’s a place from my childhood… Really not more than a foundation left on the river bank,” he said.

“How will I find it,” I asked?

“I’ll go to Locust Street: Sit on the wall. Watching, waiting. Once you come I’ll walk there; it’s not that far. You’ll follow me,” he suggested.

If he was anything other than a dreamer I could be in trouble, but it didn’t feel that way at all. “All right,” I agreed. I hung up, lay back on the soft mattress and slipped into a dream. A few seconds later I settled on the branch of a tall pine tree and waited.

He took longer. One second the wall was empty, the next it was not. Once he saw me he got up and began to walk. I followed him.

When he stopped I saw nothing but a small clearing at the river side. It was possible he saw something more than I did. Something I could not see. It was his dream after all.

Shape shifting is no big trick. If you dream you have gifts; I can shape shift easily. I dropped from the sky, slowed myself about five feet from the ground and changed.

It is fast. I have watched it in a mirror. It is not so fast that you cannot see what happens. But even if you see you may not understand.

My bird body expanded quickly, morphing as it did. I knew enough to cover myself as I changed. The clothes were an afterthought and did not come immediately. So far I had only shocked myself with that and I had no wish to shock anyone else with it. Most especially the first other dreamer I had chosen to reveal myself too.

It wasn’t so much naked. We have all been naked. If you dream it is a natural state of the dream unless you’re conscious of it and clothe yourself. It is the process that can be hard to understand. The feathers melt away. The flesh knits itself together, races across my body. Building it piece by piece. It happens fast, but it can be unnerving. For a brief second you can see the blood vessels swimming to the top of my skin from someplace deeper within me. Finally, the clothes come, the hair, the features draw themselves on my face. Dramatic. I knelt close to the ground, standing as I came together.

“I have never seen anything like that,” Joe said.

“It can be a little freaky,” I agreed.

He pulled out a notebook. “Page twenty-six,” he said, thumbing through it.

“What,” I asked?

“Page twenty-six,” he repeated. He turned it to show my name and the numbers. “Drove me crazy. I wasn’t as good then. I couldn’t remember where I got the name or the number from.  And I could never remember the number in the waking world.” He turned the pad around closed it and slipped it back into his shirt pocket.

“Eventually I figured out how to take the notebook with me. I wrote in it, but it took so long to remember that I had written in it. Then once I found it, to know what it was.”

I nodded. “You can take it back and forth?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I can translate it both ways.”

I was impressed. “Maybe you can teach me. I’ve never tried.”

“Yeah, maybe you can teach me to shape shift” He raised his eyebrows.

“If I can,” I agreed. I looked around: As we had talked the old crumbling factory walls had rebuilt themselves around us.

“It’s because it’s private,” I said, gesturing at the walls. “A private place. It has to be built from your mind.”

He nodded.  “Almost dawn,” he said.

It was my turn to agree. “You come here every night?”

He nodded again. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”

“You’re not weird… I’m not weird… Maybe we can help each other. I’ll be here.” I agreed.

I thought that he would say more, but he simply flashed out of existence. I shifted, side slipped, we were not of the same time, and I felt myself falling… Falling. Seconds later I landed.  Crouched on my bedroom floor. Feathers flew in the air in a perfect gray-black storm. I made my way into the kitchen, started the coffee, and headed for the shower.

The Light from another Moon:

Shifting Realities

Joe

The garage was dark, as always, but enough light spilled in from the Moonlight to go through the items in the cart. The sacks were ears of corn. The parts were varied. A keyboard, missing the space bar. Two plastic stubs stuck up where it should have been. An old computer. The dinosaur kind.  Huge and boxy, probably worthless. A small LCD screen or plasma maybe, the old flat screen type before flex screens.

She spoke from the darkness.

“Why do I always find you out here,” she asked?

I jumped. My heart skipping beats.

“The kids miss you. You’re never home.” She smiled, but the smile had too many teeth. Was too sweet. Too nice.

“I just got back,” I said. And that was true as far as it went.

“You’re always just getting back,” she said. She moved closer.  The moonlight shining through her nightgown left nothing to my imagination, which is pretty good all on its own. Her hand touched my chest. Her palm flattened against it.

“I miss you too,” she said huskily.

“I… I have to go… I have to go again,” I said.

Her hand spasmed and then slapped flat against my chest.  She backed away.  “You are never here. Never!”

“I…”

“I, what?”

“I try…”

“I try? I’m your wife…” She leaned closer. “What’s in those other places,” she asked in a rough whisper. Her tongue came out, forked, purple, and licked at her lips. Colors shifted across her face. Iridescent greens, reds, oranges, yellows, purples. I sidestepped, and…

I found myself in the garage. Empty, but wrong. Something moved in the shadows.

The troll was on me so fast I did not have time to think. Stinking, hot breath on my neck, sharp claws sinking into me. I threw myself out of the dream and spun away into blackness. The pain followed. I spun down faster and faster.

I’d left my body sitting in a wooden chair pulled up to my desk. The force of my impact back into my body shattered the chair. I sprawled on to the floor and skidded all the way to the wall where I slammed to a stop.

When I caught my breath I checked myself over: Nasty bites on my chest, deep scratches on my arms. It could hurt you. It could kill you. I waited until I had my breathing under control and then made my way to the bathroom medicine cabinet.

The Light from another Moon:

The Tracker

Abignew

Abignew squatted on his short legs and lowered his head to the ground. He inhaled deeply, sucking up the scent of the dream. He shook his head and shuddered as the scent worked its way up into his brain. A few minutes later he lifted his head and looked around the empty garage with his red glowing eyes. He snuffled deep in his chest. A bass sound like a suppressed snort. He lifted his head and sniffed the air, then slipped into the time stream…


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EARTH’S SURVIVORS LIFE STORIES: BILLY By Dell Sweet

EARTH’S SURVIVORS LIFE STORIES: BILLY

By Dell Sweet

Copyright © Dell Sweet 2017, all rights reserved.

Additional Copyrights © 2010 – 2014 by Dell Sweet

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. 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 © 2017 Wendell Sweet and his assignees. The Names 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. All rights foreign and domestic are retained by the Author and or his assignees.

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

Cover art Copyright 2017 Wendell G Sweet


This material is NOT edited for content and is rated 18+


Esmeraldas, Ecuador

Tommy Murphy and Jefferson Prescott

Jefferson Prescott stood quietly and sipped at his coffee. The house in Esmeraldas was his private escape. He could sit and watch the ocean, or travel into the mountains in just a few hours time, and Ecuador was such an easy country to live in: The people so happy with so little.

He owned a building in Manhattan, he owned a house in the hills outside of L.A., but this was his favorite place. This was where he did his real business, entertained and spent time with the women in his life, besides his wife and daughters back in Manhattan. This was the place where he bought his associates. Those that another man might call friends: In Jefferson’s world there was no place for friends. The luxury the concept didn’t exist.

Tommy Murphy stood at the rail a few feet away and smoked a cigar, looking out over the ocean. He was probably the closest person he had to a friend. The two of them had a lucrative relationship. Jefferson’s drugs and drug connections, Tommy’s organized crime connections. Between the two of them, they controlled almost everything that moved on the East Coast. They had tentacles that stretched all the way to the west coast, and inroads into the south that we’re starting to look like highways.

They both dealt in millions daily. Privately, they were probably two of the richest men in the world, but they were on no one’s list of who’s who, except a few specialized task forces within the world’s governments: Even they couldn’t touch them. They owned too many of their officials, too many of their agents were on their payrolls. They didn’t fight the task forces or special government branches the way the old syndicates had, they simply bought them. Every man really did have his price. And if that was too high you simply bought the man beside him, or above him, it was just as effective.

With all the deals they had made, and the millions they had amassed, nothing came close to what they had on the burner right now. Tommy had fallen into a deal on a tip, a way to collect on a sizable gambling debt, and the two of them had decided to take the risk.

Tommy sipped at his drink and then raised his eyes to Prescott. “Concerned?” Tommy asked.

“Unconcerned… It’s only money,” Jefferson assured him.

“Good,” Tommy said quietly. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a slim silver cylinder. A small red button, with a protective cap in the same cheap looking, red plastic covered the button.

Jefferson pulled a deep breath, audible in the sudden silence. From somewhere deep in the jungle of a forest that surrounded them a big cat screamed.

“Looks like nothing,” Jefferson said.

“I told the kid it reminded me of these little refill cylinders I used to have for my BB gun when I was a kid,” Tommy said.

“Jefferson laughed. “I can’t imagine that you played with anything that didn’t have a silencer and at least a ten round clip.”

Tommy laughed and then fell silent. “This is it, Jeff. Strip off the protective cap, push the button… The kid said it doesn’t matter after that… How close, how far, it will protect us.”

Infect us,” Jefferson corrected. “There is a difference.”

“Infect us,” Tommy agreed. “I figure, why not… We paid the big bucks for the rest of it, but this will start us down that path… Why not do it.”

“Why not,” Prescott agreed. “A sample? Just enough for two?”

Tommy shrugged. “He didn’t say… I depended upon the reports he smuggled out more than the first hand knowledge he has. He knows what he has seen, but he has not witnessed anyone come back… The reports detail exactly that.”

Jefferson laughed and shook his head. “Immortality.”

“Immortality,” Tommy agreed. He paused, stripped the small red cover from the slim, silver tube and pressed the button before he could change his mind. Nothing: He turned the silver tube back and forth.

“Maybe there should be no sound,” Jefferson said. He had braced for what he expected: A small cloud of vapor, a hiss, something to impart that magic the tube was supposed to contain.

Tommy raised the tube to his nose, but there was no detectable odor. “But did it do its job,” Tommy said so low it might almost have been to himself if he had not raised his eyes and asked of Prescott.

“The million dollar question,” Prescott said quietly.

Multimillion dollar question,” Tommy corrected. He stared at the container a few seconds longer and then slipped it into his pocket. “In for a penny,” he said.

“In for a pound,” Prescott agreed.

“You know Ben Neo?” Tommy asked after a few moments of silence, changing the subject to private business.

“Your best,” Jefferson said.

Tommy nodded and turned back to the rail. “When you find out who it is, tell me. I’ll have him take care of it for you. He’s good. Discreet. Fast.” He turned and looked at Jefferson. “Yeah?” he asked.

Jefferson nodded. “Yeah, I appreciate it. I’ve got Carlos on it. I’ll know soon. When I know, you will know. From my lips to yours,” he said.

Tommy nodded. He sipped at his drink again.

“I have that young woman you like so much coming over in just a little while,” Jefferson said.

Tommy turned away from the rail and smiled. “I could use the diversion,” he said.

Jefferson shrugged. “It’s what we do for each other,” he said as he got to his feet. “Enjoy yourself, Tommy. I am about to head back… Take care of a few things. I will see you at your place up in the Catskills next week?” he asked.

“Absolutely, Jeff, absolutely,” Tommy said. The two men embraced and Jefferson left the warm night air of the deck and followed his driver who was waiting to take him to the helicopter pad. Tommy watched him go and then turned back to the rail, watching the waves out in the sea, rolling under the moonlight.

“Sir?” a voice said from the doorway.

Tommy turned from the rail to look at Andrea Ivanna Zurita, the beautiful young woman who stood in the doorway smiling.

Ecuador

Jefferson Prescott’s Estate

Wednesday Morning

Andrea Zurita had been alive for the second time for more than three days. The men who had left her body had done so carefully: Senor Prescott would be very angry to find them on his land. Transgressions had been met with violence in the past, the bodies dumped into the ocean.

Andrea Ivanna Zurita had taken I’ll three days before in the small village near to Prescott’s property. She worked for Prescott, someone allowed on and off the property with ease. She had taken ill at work suddenly, no one knew the why of it and her family was poor: A doctor, other than the local clinic, was out of the question. So she had been sent home to rest, but she had never made it to the local free clinic: She had lapsed into a coma a few hours later, and while her family had still been reeling she had died. No rhyme, no reason.

Andrea Zurita was a young woman, there seemed no reason for her sudden illness and death, but there were things that should be done, and so the local Mirukus, shaman had come. A few words, prayers, the shaman was a transplanted Haitian. They understood most of what he said, but not everything. He had left and they had prepared her for burial. She was washed and dressed in a plain white cotton dress. The second day came and the family came to call, leaving their wishes where she lay in her grandmother’s home. The third day came, and the burial was coming. Cousins, men who worked in a neighboring village, were on the way to open the grave. That was when Andrea had sat up and vomited blood.

Her eyes had rolled back into her head. Her body shaken, but her chest did not rise. She had spoken no words, but she had tried to rise several times before one of the arriving cousins, crossing himself, had bound her with rope, hand and foot. They had sent for the Mirukus again.

The old Haitian had come quickly, taken one look at Andrea and then spoken cryptically, quickly. “Return her to the man that has cast this spell on her. He has bound her to him in life and that has followed her into death. Return her for she is yours no longer.”

The Mirukus believed the white man, Prescott, had attempted to control the river spirit Pullujmu, to take control of the beautiful young woman for his own devices, but she had slipped over into death and was now controlled only by those who controlled the dead. He had left fearfully, quickly, and had refused to come back for any reason. With nothing left to do for her they had taken her and left her bound body on the long drive that lead to the Prescott house. The white man may have her, but he would not have what he expected to have.

Jefferson Prescott.

Jefferson watched as the men carefully skirted the body of the young woman in the back of the patrol truck. They had picked her up and, not knowing what else to do, they had bought her to him.

Her eyes rolled in her head, but occasionally they would stop and focus, seeming to stare through him. Blood seeped from her open mouth, staining the front of what looked to be a burial garb of some sort. She was, at first, unrecognizable to him until one of the men told him she was his own worker, Andrea Ivanna Zurita: Kitchen help, among other things, she had been here for more than a year. To Jefferson’s Catholic upbringing she seemed possessed, and he kept his distance as he watched her, perhaps as superstitious as the local shaman had been.

He had eventually made the phone call to the Policía Nacional del Ecuador, and left the matter in their hands. He had seen stranger than this in his time in Ecuador, and had no doubt he would see it again. He sent one of his men into the small village with a thousand dollars in U.S. Currency, Ecuador had no currency of its own, for her family. A thousand dollars would go a long way for a poor family living in an equally poor village.

His phone had chimed and he had excused himself to answer it. He was needed back in Manhattan; Ben Neo had found the answers he required. He pushed the problem of Andrea Zurita from his mind and concentrated on plans to leave that evening and return to Manhattan.

The Policía Nacional del Ecuador had come some hours later, taken her off his hands without question, as though they saw this sort of thing every day, and he had never heard another thing about it, or given it another thought. He had taken his private helicopter back to the United States later in the day as though nothing of any significance had occurred…


EARTH’S SURVIVORS LIFE STORIES: BILLY

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