The Caller -A New, Unpublished Story!

The family of four had been surviving on their own since the War of 2012.

Five years had gone by, the last two without them seeing another person and there were no signs of their old world returning.

The bombs had made most of the land unlivable. The radiation and mutations had spread quickly and this small group was all that remained of normal life for hundreds of miles around their small cabin in. Set in the hills of Kentucky, it was a sturdy, nearly airtight shelter that had saved them the fate of their neighbors.

“What are ww..we hunt…ttiiin, daddy?”

The seven year olds stutter was painful to hear. It made the man’s heart hurt but he smiled at the golden haired child. “Turkey. It’s Christmas.”

That was something new and the boy grew appropriately quiet as they crept closer to the pond’s edge. Their movements were and slow and careful and yet wrong, like something was wrong with their legs. The lack of fresh food was taking its toll.

“Gobble.”

 The noise brought a smile to both their dirty faces and the father silently pulled his sharpened walking stick from the pack on his back.

“Gobble.”

“Sniff. Gobble.”

The sounds weren't right either, even for this post apocalyptic hell but the hunters paid it little mind as they sprang up from behind the decaying water plants.

“Dad!”

Too late,  they saw the wolves and the wild canines lunged toward them, leaving the looted duck nest.

“Get down!”

The father swung his hand, where a flashing blade now began to blaze through the air. On a tightly wound rope, the sound of the Caller echoed for miles.

“Oohhh.!’

It was a howling, high pitched whine with horribly loud tones that made the boy cover his deformed ears.

The wolves reacted with confusion too, whimpering, and the man swung it harder.

“Whoo…”

It went higher and the predators began to back up, snarling their fury. It drove them back with only sound used and the small pack ducked into the underbrush with a last lingering glare.

:oohhh…!”

It was spinning nearly out of control now and the man forced his fingers to let go. The object was not totally inanimate and the sound lingered for a moment even after it slid into the grass. It made an awful moan as it ended, leaving an amazed silence.

“It worked!"

The child’s speech was clear as a bell and the father watched him run gracefully to the Caller. His eyes widened. The ears were normal!

The child flashed him a grin, an intelligent grin and the father struggled to breathe. What magic was this?

“The book was right, daddy!”

Not a trace of slur. The man took the object carefully, stunned. Now he knew what the inscription meant. “Your heart’s wish if it is pure.” He’d just been thinking how much he loved his son despite the deformities and flaws. And his wish had been granted! The boy was healed!

Later that evening, the man sat by the fire with a tattered notebook in his hand, listening to his wife and children talk as they prepared a holiday feast with almost no food. He thumbed through the brittle pages absently. Had it’s author survived?

Angela’s Journal.

The man rubbed his sore wrist thoughtfully. So many of the things in it were true! What if the people were also? A refuge for survivors.

“No turkey?”

“No, honey.” The nine year old girl nodded resignedly, thin shoulders drooping.

“Oh. Okay.”

The man’s gust twisted with the need to do something. A refugee camp would have food and vitamins and water. He ran a calloused thumb over the journal’s weather beaten cover. The directions said always southeast. Surely a group that big wouldn’t be hard to find?

“I’m thankful anyway, momma. Cause Alex got fixed. Now, he can run!"

“We all are darling. We all are.”

The wolves had trapped them, starved them. His wrist ached deeper. Had. Now, there might be a way out and some magic to ease the trip.

“Love you, momma.”

“Love you too, sissy.”

“What about me?”

The three of them hugged, exchanging their emotions and the man could take no more. He stood up, ragged journal clenched tightly in his grip.

 “Pack it up, woman. “ The hope in his voice shocked them all.

“We leave for Safe Haven at first light.”

Check out the book this is based on.

"This is Safe Haven Refugee Camp. Can anyone hear me?

Hello? Is anyone out there?"

The Survivors

*Free on all retailers

Author’s Website    Diesel   iTunes   Kindle   Kobo   Nook   Smashwords   Sony

 

Nuclear (Dark Fantasy Tuesday)

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust
We conquered this great land
Now keep it, we must
By any means, wrong or just

How? A weapon

Full of arrogance

We helped it evolve
Working equations
Man wasn’t meant to solve

Envisioned for defense

Created to cause massive death
We call it security, safety
But of that, there’s little left

Now, the whole world suffers

No one in control
For money and power
We’ve damned our souls

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust
We’ve destroyed this great land
Now watch it rust

Chaeck out this book

Character Profile: Todd O'Neil (DF Tuesday)

Todd O'Neil

Age: 28

Height: 6'

Eyes: Green

Weight: 175 lb.

Birthday: 12/15/84 

Hair: Dark Brown Curls

Race: Cherokee/ Caucasian

Career Before the War: State Trooper.

After the War: Level 4 Eagle in Adrian's Army.

Quote: "I'm more Adrian's than I ever was my mother's."

Strengths:

- Unshakably stubborn about what he believes in.

- Very loyal to his fellow men.

 

Weaknesses:

- Always needs to make sure his ass is covered before going out on a limb.

- Is very suspicious of people and of himself.

FBI Notes:

Todd O'Neil applied to be an FBI agent in 1978 but was denied for failing the mental test.

Has no capacity to give his life in service despite being a public servant.

Backstory:

Unlike most of the others at Safe Haven, Todd had a decent childhood. His mom was a hooker who died in the jailhouse during the birth, and his father, a sheriff, did a good job of raising his unwanted and very unexpected offspring.

Todd followed in his father's footsteps becoming a cop and then a Arizona state trooper but he has always worried how much like his mother he really is. It makes him very straight-laced.

When the war came, he and his dad tried to defend the jail. Todd was the only one to survive. He found Kyle a week latter, rescuing the mobster from a car accident and the unlikely pair became fast friends.

Neil has never let his hair down and refuses to go anywhere without his state trooper hat. Everyone assumes to be his. It really belonged to his father, and he wears it to honor a hero who fell in the line of duty.

A Post Apocalyptic Journal (Story Sunday)

1/1/2013

It’s been almost two weeks since the War and I still can’t believe my luck. Joe, a senior Green Peace member, showed up late and heard me trying to dig my way out. There were no other survivors of the secret meeting. Why was I spared? I deserve to still be under that house. My dreams always start me in the basement. Maybe I’ll find answers there.

We're holed up in a barn with a tin roof, waiting out the storms, and I wonder if my companion hears any of what I dream about. Doesn’t matter. Not much does now except making it to Little Rock. My grief for America is almost unbearable.

1/4/2013

We hit Nellis today and I think maybe I’m sick. I’m seeing things Joe doesn’t, hearing voices. I see odd colors in new places; stare at eyes that glow like neon bulbs from dark and empty windows. There are words in the trees and movies in the gritty clouds, puddles with reflections… I may be having a break down. It’s barely a scratch on what I deserve.

1/5/2013

It’s getting worse. The people we’re seeing, the awful, pain filled refugee’s still trying to find each other, haunt me, stalk me. They fall to their knees at my feet, beg me with tears and outstretched hands to help, to save them, and then I blink, and see they never even looked at us. What the hell is happening to me? Am I in a comma somewhere and this is all one of my horrid nightmares? How I wish that were true. I’d gladly trade my life for America’s.

I share the blame for all the pain and death, should have revealed who I was back when there might have been a chance to stop it all, but like those who betrayed us, I didn’t want anyone to know the truth either. The need to atone is consuming, overwhelming, and I can’t make enough progress each day to be satisfied. The worry is endless.

1/7/2013

The dreams are slowly convincing me I’m not crazy, demanding I take action. I remember each scene in such vivid detail when I wake! Even in the clear light of day, they look good to me.

I owe the whole world a huge debt but to my country, I owe everything that I am, even the one waiting for me in Arkansas, and I have to at least try. I’ve decided to start in the morning, when we reach Las Vegas. That infamous skyline is dark now, but in the city that never sleeps, there are people. I know. I can almost feel them.

1/11/2013

Other than myself, there are only 30 people here so far. Most of them are elderly men but I doubt half will make it; their injuries are just so bad I can’t help them in anyway but provide drugs to dull the pain and a comforting hand to hold while they die. Each one kills something inside me and I wonder if I’ve sacrificed family for dead strangers but I can’t just walk away. They need me too and other than a little ‘listening’, I’ll put it out of my head and go on. I haven’t abandoned him. I’m just very late.

1/12/2013

We sleep in vans and buses, not enough workers for tents yet but I have an idea for two common room set ups, and when the new man, Doug, recovers, that’ll be his first chore. Doug’s important to me, I know it. I just don’t know how yet. I found him by accident or maybe by Fate leading me?

He was trapped under a collapsed concrete bridge in a national forest near the Nevada state line. Small packs of coyotes were keeping him from escaping the crushed car and shallow water, and it’s amazing he survived so long despite his huge size. A retired Army Sergeant, he’s one of my kind, just a little too old for what I need the most. He said a tremor took out the bridge while he was crossing it and that made me decide to start keeping track of those things too. If the temperatures continue to drop, and this is wintertime, so they should, then we won’t make it to Montana before we have to hole up somewhere. That thought keeps me awake at night even when the guilt isn’t burning into me. Where?

1/13/2013

Damn, I’m tired. These people are depending on me for everything and I’m encouraging it, showing them I can handle the weight, but between standing guard at night on third shift, rescue and supply runs during the day, and camp setups and breakdowns, I’m beat. I have to get the help, the magic my dreams hinted of last night. Will Fate send me what I need?

1/20/2013

We heard foreign voices on an American military channel yesterday and I moved the camp, ordered it. No one argued and that makes it official for me. I’m the boss. I know it’s because they were scared, the voices calling for everyone to surrender to the Mexican Draft, but for me, it’s real now. I’m in charge of 48 terrified, hurting refugees, and I’ve started carrying a portable CB system on my back so I can listen for trouble from that side too. Gangs are attacking towns in New Mexico and Colorado, the stories are awful and many of my "sheep" are now survivors of two Wars. The threat of the Guerillas is a serious one that will require a harsh plan and a lot of defensive work that these people will have to learn, help with. They’ve had an easy ride so far but soon, that will have to change. The first mandatory meeting’s coming up. Guess I’ll find out then if I’ve done enough by them to get their support and cooperation.

1/25/2013

They’ve agreed to all the things I wanted. We even have a name now: Safe Haven.

We set up the two big tents, along with a center bonfire in a big metal pool and celebrated by barbecuing the chickens Doug found on a nearby farm. Tomorrow, I’ll show them the mess truck a few of us quietly put together. It has it all, including a hot water heater, and since we have a cafeteria cook now, we’ll have regular meals soon.

We also have more heaters and supplies on the way. Kyle and Neil found an undamaged sports store and I’m damn glad to have those two. They’ve both volunteered for the private and the public police force I’m starting and I chose to split them up, have them both lead their own team. Kyle started first and I’m encouraged, feel okay about sometimes leaving the camp in his hands on third shift.

1/26/2013

My leadership is official and I can see some of them waiting for me to become like the politicians of the past but I won’t use my authority unless I have to. I plan to keep giving them back some of what was stolen and slowly, things will come together. I see a better time of it in the future and look forward to the help my dreams keep hinting of. Five or six more like me will take us to better places. Like Arkansas.

Check out this book.

A Plea to Palos (Dark Fantasy Tuesday)

Oh great rock, up in the sky,

Planning to hit humankind in the eye,
Why must you come here,
Threatening all I hold dear?

Oh giant stone, up in space,

Hoping to land on the human race
We know you're coming,
And we're down here running
I wonder what will be your taste
Will it be cold, death's kiss
Or will I see all the people I've missed?

Oh merciless boulder, speeding through the stars

Damn it, are you there, by mars?
On your way to destroy my planet
Do you covet our cars and minibars,
Or have we lost the right to live?
Oh, what judgement you give!

Oh enormous disaster set to happen in 2039

Will I survive your devastation,
And strive to rebuild my nation?
The end is near
Will man still be here?
Unlikely, I fear
I'll miss me

Oh heartless asteroid, spinning closer

Each day, a roller coaster
Can't you move out of the way?
Why must you make My planet pay?
There are thousands of other races
Why mine?

Oh heartless weapon of mass destruction

Will I see your arrival,
And watch the end of man's survival?
Am I safe in my room?

Oh ancient harbinger of doom,
Can I assume its over,
And give those I don't like the cold shoulder?
Or is it a bad time to seek vengeance?

Oh cosmic remnant, knocked off your axis

Why must you sack us?
We've done little harm yet to space
Why must we die?
Can’t you just try,
To miss me on your stop here?

Oh, great Palos, due in a few years

Will you bring the end of life,
Or is it okay to breathe?
Since I have this uncontrollable need
To survive, to remain alive
Mercy, I plea!
Let me and mine be!

This could come true. Palos really exists. It will pass very close to Earth and if it hits a ‘keyhole’, will be pulled into our gravity and impact the Southern hemisphere.

New, unpublished Short Story- The Meeting

"Tomorrow is Halloween." 

The Sergeant's grave words instantly brought quiet to the meeting under the Big Rock. They had come together for the Plan, dozens of species which couldn't stand even the sight of each other, here to work together on a common goal.

"Some of us will not return from this mission. Those not back come sunset tomorrow will be honored for their noble sacrifice."

 The huge Troll looked around the den, his flickering yellow eyes sweeping the gathered warriors. "They say we do not exist. We will show them otherwise. We will stop them from destroying our very lives!"

There were rumbles of agreement from the small herd of Cyclopses, all that remained in the entire world now, but the Unicorns voiced a unanimous feeling.

"They don't know that that every time they tell a child we don't exist, it wound us, slowly kills us. They are ignorant."

The boulder above trembled with the raised voices, most against the horned horses and the Troll slammed his club against the earth, making it shudder. The dirt screamed in protest and silence fell.

"It doesn't matter. They are evil. Nature's soul has been ripped out and used for their comforts! They have earned this for hurting the Mother!"

The thunderous agreement came from even the pale symbols of purity behind her and the Unicorn bowed her head in acceptance.

"Come dawn, we will be by your side." The Troll's voice was almost kind in response but there was steel in the words. "We do not do this lightly. We have let them almost wipe us from existence before joining Nature's army." 

The lean Cyclops stamped his paw in agreement. "Surely this will make them understand." 

The Troll shrugged, not meeting his fellow mythical creature's eyes. "And maybe a halloween miracle will save us all. Until then, I fight!"

The Big Rock shook again with angry voices and the birds in the nearby roots clucked in satisfaction. Nature would be happy with how the recruiting was going this time. 

Humans had finally done enough damage that even the most peaceful of life forms were adding their strength to the fight. With the Unicorns now on board, more of the most elusive creatures would too. Like the Dragons. 

Small battles were already taking place across the planet, sharks a common soldier, but for the most part, humans still had no idea that war had been declared by The Mother. They simply refused to accept the environment as a living, thinking being and that was their mistake. It would also be their ultimate downfall, as Nature had no mercy left to give. 

Her first blows, Katrina and the Indian Ocean Tsunami, were felt worldwide but the worst was yet to come. Mother Nature had reached her limit and humans had to go. Or she would.

Dedicated to all the 'life forms' man has hurt, killed, destroyed completely, changed irrevocably. I hope someday we'll actually deserve to share this planet with you.

Would you like to check out some more of my stories?

"This is Safe Haven Refugee Camp. Can anyone hear me?

Hello? Is anyone out there?"

The Survivors

*Free on all retailers

Author’s Website    Diesel   iTunes   Kindle   Kobo   Nook   Smashwords   Sony