Earth’s Survivors SE 2 Dell Sweet on iTunes

Earth’s Survivors SE 2

Dell Sweet

This book is available for download with iBooks on your Mac or iOS device, and with iTunes on your computer. Books can be read with iBooks on your Mac or iOS device.

Description

Earth’s Survivors SE 2 includes the complete text from books three and four. It also contains a complete major character bibliography and other bonus material.

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, and Conner and Katie as they work to sort out their lives.

The Earth’s Survivors books follow 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. The Earth’s Survivors series of books follow the people that survive and set out to rebuild their lives. At first hoping only to make it day by day, but ultimately looking to the future and rebuilding a society where fear does not rule…

Billy and Beth: They have reached Manhattan and have settled in a small camp with those they gathered up on their trip across the country. They are waiting, but for what they do not know.

Adam and Cammy: They have made their way as best they can in the city, but the spread of disease and the rise of gang control has left them no alternative but to leave: Before they go they will have to deal with a loss of one of their own

Conner and Katie: They have fought their way across the eastern part of the country and now into the middle of the country looking for a place to call home. A place to set up the Nation.

Mike and Candace: They have made their way back to the small northern New York city of Watertown, but there is nothing left there for them. As they regather their strength they must decide what is next, where they will go.


iTunes: Get this Book right now! 


Also available at: NookSmashwordsKOBO 


Dreamers, Sci Fi and an Accidental Doughnut from Geo Dell

Posted by Dell on 03 20 2013

This week:

My brother published his first book last week: A Place Called Shiloh Check it out on Amazon where you can get a free preview.

Dell wrote this the other night: so, what about a story about a one legged alien who goes in search of a late night meal, say… Chinese, but, the kicker, when he says Chinese he really means Chinese… so he goes to the bus stop near his home… he lives with a little old lady and her thirty seven cats… too bad he didn’t have a taste for cat, but that’s another story… so… anyway, he hits the bus stop because, well, because he’s found quick meals there before. And, low and behold, there is a young Asian person there but upon striking up a conversation he finds they are Korean… So, the alien has to ask himself, does he feel like changing his selection to Korean? Well, does he?

He and Joseph talking back and forth. If it were me I would write the story and have a blast doing it, but I put it here because I wanted you to see how much we think along the same lines. For instance the other day I went into the kitchen…


An Accidental Doughnut…

A nearly completely ridiculous short story

Copyright 2013 Geo Dell

Foreword…

What is the point: The point started out to be an explanation as to why I ate the doughnut that sat on the counter in the kitchen after passing it several times and not succumbing to its charm. Well, I never did answer that but this weird little story escaped instead. What is it about? Well, I was hoping you knew!

An Accidental Doughnut… A nearly completely ridiculous short story


Bob’s Fresh Doughnuts

I think it was about… Oh, an hour ago,” I answered.

The cop shifted, pushed his cheap, yellow pencil across the page, stopped to lick the point for a second and then went back to it. He wrote and then gazed back at me, his one heavy eyebrow pushed up in the center. “And…?”

Next to him the huge German Shepherd Police Dog eyed me critically. Probably wondering what I might taste like, I told myself.

And?” I asked innocently.

The Doughnut… How did you happen to see the doughnut… What was it like.. What was the doughnut doing?”

Oh… Well, when I saw the doughnut it was just over there,” I flapped a hand towards the counter and then realized in horror that there was a small glob of strawberry jelly on my index finger. I quickly dropped the hand and stuffed it into my pants pocket.

When I looked up, I hadn’t even noticed I had looked away, the cop had his eyes, just under that one eyebrow, leveled on me. Squinted, piercing. “What was that?” The dog had curled his lip, cocked his head, and was looking at me like I might be a cat on a hungry night.

What?”

That thing you just did… With your hand… What was that about?”

Oh, well, I was pointing at the counter… Where I last saw the doughnut… Over there,” I nodded with my head. My hand tugged at my pocket, trying to jump out and betray me. I twisted it, trying to scrape off the jelly on the inside of my pocket.

Yes… Something wrong with your hand?” His eyes settled on mine. I could feel the conviction in them. I felt like signing a confession right then. To anything at all. Murder. Robbery. It didn’t matter. Whatever he asked me to sign… The dog whined.

I went for broke, pulled my hand from my pocket, now sweaty and sticky, and pointed at the counter. “Uh, well, right over there.” I glanced at my finger. No actual trace of the jelly. It had melted and the whole hand was now sticky. I looked up to find him staring at my hand.

Could I see it,” he asked?

Hey, it’s a counter top, Man… Whatever,” I said trying to sound casual.

Ha, ha,” The cop chuckled. “It’s a counter top… Good one… Your hand… Could I see your hand? You see, I thought I saw something on your hand… Looked like… Frosting or something.”

I held up my hand.

Uh… The other one.”

I held up the sticky hand and swirled it before his eyes. “Nothing on my hand.” The middle finger stuck to the finger next to it, and that one was trying to stick to the pinky. I put a little more pressure on it and it came away. I lowered it to my side.

Maybe I should turn out your pockets… Probably something in there,” he muttered.

The dog whined, edged forward, sniffed my hand and then began to lick it vigorously. I started to take the hand away but the dog growled so I left it. “He he,” I chuckled nervously. I shifted in my jacket, shrugged my shoulders. The dog was slurping loudly.

The dog knows,” The cop said. He smiled broadly. He looked over his shoulder at the tech who was opening up the crime scene case to do whatever they did with those crime scene cases. “Mona,” he said loudly. “Ralphie’s got a positive!”

Oh geez,” Mona said. She rummaged around in her case and came out with a plastic bag and a rubber band. Ralphie, the dog, I presumed, had finished the hand and was now intent on the middle finger. Sucking it so hard I was afraid he was going to take it off.

Christ.. Easy, Ralphie,” I said. Ralphie just growled and switched to the pinky.

Don’t talk to the dog,” The cop said. His eyebrow arched even higher into the stratosphere. “Ralphie… Release,” the cop shouted. “Release, Ralphie… Release!

Ralphie looked up at the cop guiltily, switched to my thumb, licked hard, …Rasp… Rasp… Rasp… then gave the whole hand on more lick and let go. He looked up at me, growled lightly, then sat down, half on the cops foot.

Geez,” Mona said as she came over. “I’d say Ralphie probably got the evidence, Earl.”

Bag the hand, Mona,” Earl, the cop said.

Mona nodded, stepped forward, smiled nervously at me and held up the bag.

No way are you putting that bag on my hand,” I told her. The smile fell off her face that fast.

So… That sounds guilty to me,” Earl the cop said. Ralphie leaned forward again, paying closer attention. If Earl thought I was a bad guy Ralphie believed him.

Look… The doughnut was on the counter…. I walked by… I saw the doughnut… Maybe the doughnut was eaten by another cop… How do I know. You can’t arrest me for that,” I said. I stifled a small burp that tasted like doughnut.

Are you saying cops eat doughnuts?” Earl’s dander was up now. Ralphie caught it and squirmed around whining in his throat, looking to come at me.

I didn’t say that exactly,” I said.

He looked down at his little notebook and quoted. “Another cop ate it,” he read. He looked at me with an Ah Ha look on his face.

That is not what I said,” I said. No my dander was up. If only I had a dog. I did have a cat but I suspected she was no match for the Shepherd. “I said, maybe… or probably, something like that. I didn’t say it was a fact.”

So, you didn’t see who ate the doughnut?”

Mona shifted and held up the Plastic bag, smiling hopefully.

No,” I said. “And anyway, you do that to dead people, right? Bag their hands to collect evidence? I watch CSI.. And, the dog, Ralphie, licked my hands all over… Wouldn’t that give you a … A…”

A false positive for Dog saliva,” Mona supplied and smiled.

Yeah.. I mean, well couldn’t it? And what else did the dog eat? What else might be on his tongue? That I could get blamed for!” I tugged my coat tightly around me.

He hasn’t had his lunch yet,” Mona said. She bent down and ruffled the fur of Ralphie’s mane. “Have wooo bwabeee…” She cooed in baby talk.

You are a big help there, Mona.” Earl said sarcastically.

You’re welcome, Earl.” Mona said oblivious to the sarcasm. “Oh he was licking… Uh, uh licking too.” Mona added. She turned bright red and smiled harder at me.

So… Well, that’s a false positive for dog… Dog ass,” I said indignantly.

And balls,” Mona added, red faced and still smiling.

Ralphie whined and looked embarrassed.

Oh wits okay bwaby bwaby,” Mona said. She bent and scratched Ralphie under the chin. “Hims wikes to lick his ballsy wallsies doesn’t him? Him does.” Ralphie licked her face and she popped her head back up flushing deeper red.

I grimaced and rubbed my hand against my jeans.“Him does… Him does,” I said to Earl.

Mona, Jesus, Mona,” Earl the cop said. “You’re messing up the case!”

Sorry, Earl,” Mona told him. She looked contrite. Ralphie whined up at her and she patted his head. Ralphie’s tongue fell out of his mouth, practically to the floor, and he panted happily.

You don’t have case,” I said smugly.

Earl the cop sighed deeply. He looked down at Ralphie who was busily licking every inch of Mona’s face. “Traitor,” Earl told him.

Oh him doesn’t mwean it bwaby waby,” Mona cooed.

Earl sighed again. “Him does mean it… Baby Waby,” Earl the cop muttered to Ralphie. Ralphie looked hurt but got to his feet and his tail began a slow wag. “Thanks for getting off my foot,” Earl added.

Hey. I hate to break this up, but can I go,” I asked?

Earl frowned and fixed me with his best one eyebrow-ed serious look. “I know you know something about that doughnut.”

I never saw that doughnut again after the first time, “ I said.

Ralphie looked from me to Earl to Mona and then back at Earl again. He began to sit back down. Scooting his butt over so he would be on Earl’s foot.

No!” Earl said loudly. Ralphie stopped in mid squat and popped his butt back up the air as if to say…. I never meant to sit at all! … ‘Go on,” Earl said. But He wouldn’t meet my eye.

I stood for a second longer and then turned and walked away.

So… Buy you a doughnut?” Earl asked Mona.

Oh, Earl.. Couldn’t it be something except a doughnut? I hate doughnuts…”

The street

I let their voices fall behind me. I made the door, stepped out into the bright sunshine and looked both ways. The street was empty in front of the doughnut shop. I decided on left and started walking. Midway down the block I reached into my pocket, pulled out the wrapped package that resided there, and peeled off the napkin. I reached the corner, waited for the light, and then took my first bite of Earl’s missing doughnut as the light changed and I crossed the street….


Hope you enjoyed this little sideways trip, or as Laura from Dreamer’s would say say it Side Slip in my head. I’m going to get Dell to write the Alien story. I feel sorry for the Korean kid though. I suspect the alien might change his mind…

Check out the Life Stories Books only available from Amazon…

All with FREE Previews!

Earth’s Survivors Life Stories: Billy

Earth’s Survivors Life Stories: Jack and Maria

Earth’s Survivors Life Stories: Bear

Earth’s Survivors Life Stories: Beth

Have a Great Week, see you Friday, Geo!


Spring, introspection and book links

Posted 12-21-2013

Well, spring is upon us, I know that because half of my friends are depressed and the other half remembered to take their Prozac. And everywhere you look on-line there are people having conversations about what spring is about for them… Renewal, gardening, how they love each other and all of humanity. Yeah. Unless you believe in some fundamental difference in religion or the world that they don’t. Then they don’t love you quite so much, which is probably a good thing, because if they are that borderline you really don’t need them as a friend, and this may be the perfect opportunity, with all the rush of warmth and good feelings to lose them. In fact wouldn’t it be great to take them to Walmart and lose them there? Sorry, wishful thinking I guess.

I did have a pretty good week. Had a few good conversations during the week that were worth having too.

So the week is wound down and I spent the beginning of this year spreading myself entirely too thin. Carpenter, Writer, Plumber, Electrician, Webmaster, Son, Father and more. I stopped playing guitar, music and video games. I guess in an alternate universe that could be a good thing, but in this universe those are things that keep me sane… At least I think they do, unless I’m not sane and don’t know it. Hmmm. But seriously, I need to take that time to escape from pressure. We all do. We all have different ways we do it, but we do it. So I have promised myself that this year I am going to make time to do those things. Sure. Except, I really am going to figure out a way to do it, I just don’t know what that will be yet. Something will give in one direction or another and the time will be there. Maybe that would have been better saved as a new years resolution.

As a writer, choosing a somewhat public life, I have been frustrated a few times this past year when it has come to being able to speak my mind. There was a time, not so long ago, when I did speak my mind and I didn’t care about the consequences. I still have a great deal of admiration for people, who have chosen public paths, yet still do speak their minds. I always feel conflicted, speak my mind? Don’t speak my mind? It’s an issue for me because of the things I have seen changing in society lately, otherwise I would stay away from it.

When I was younger there seemed to be a live and let live attitude in this world I call home. Not so much anymore. Now it seems to be a ‘You better think like I do or else,’ world. That bothers me. And so the guy that never takes issue with anything is going to present an issue to you.

Here is how I look at life. Grant you life has shaped me, and is partly responsible for some of what I am, but that is a small part. Many years ago some one said to me, ‘You can make your choices in life, or you can let someone else make them.’ I thought, just let someone try to make my choices. But the fact is he was right. So I really do work on making my own decisions now. I don’t want someone else to make them for me, or fate, or whatever you want to look at it as. I want to have as much control of my life as is possible.

So I look at the world, what it has morphed into, what it continues to become as it changes and changes, and I choose, as I said, to walk the non-committal line. Now, for those of you who know me, that is different. I will talk about nearly anything with the people I call friends. My ears are open, my mind too, and I’m not only willing to listen, I’m willing to let it change me if it makes sense. I think that is a responsible position. But when I write, either Blog or fiction, or non fiction, I have a different level of responsibility. I am responsible on a different level because I am purposely reaching out to the public and giving them my opinion. Is that always true? I mean, do I set out to do it that way? No. Never. But that doesn’t matter a great deal either. I have seen words people have authored, that were committed to electronic media, or traditional print, come back and bite them. So, I try not to do it. I try to walk my fine line.

So as I said, when I was younger, it was live and let live. That is what my generation promoted. Now that has changed, and everyday it seems to become more extreme. If I don’t speak it really is allowing someone else to make my choices for me. So here goes.

I don’t have a problem with gays. I am not gay, I know that, but if I were I would not have a problem with it. I guess easy for me to say. I do not think Christ has a problem with gays. I don’t want people to send me six thousand scripture references telling me, ‘Yes he does,’ or ‘God hates it,’ or whatever. This is my opinion. I didn’t ask to argue about it. I have read the Bible, in fact I have studied the original scriptures, Gospels, Texts, Translations, Greek, Chaldee. I know what it says, and I know what it doesn’t say. I have read it. I don’t have a problem with Paganism, Wicka, Native American beliefs, or any other religions or spiritual beliefs. No problem. Sexual orientation, color, heritage, pride of heritage. No problem.

I do have a problem with people who are not tolerant of other people. People who hate for the sake of hate. Maybe I am the danger that is changing the world. Maybe I am the sickness that has leaked into our society. If so, good. I hope a great many others get sick. I hope the world gets sick and stays sick. If you are shocked by the words I have written then you should flush this page and never read any of my Blogs or books. I say that because I assumed that my outlook on life was pretty clear. I assumed I was making a statement with my writing.

I don’t want to make this blog all about striking back at things I don’t like. I do want to say what that person said to me. Make your own decisions. If you don’t someone will make them for you. Maybe you are like I was then and you don’t understand it yet. You will. That’s the great thing about life. All that advice. All those warnings. All that critical feedback people gave to you? It will all come back to you. You will eventually understand that you don’t know everything. This world is also about others.

So there is my stance. Not wishy-washy that’s how I feel. And that brings me full circle. And not having the time to take a break from life. Relax. Lately I have been re-examining my life. What is important, what is not important. What is not important is pretty clear cut to me. I don’t have a lot of time for game players, time wasters. I don’t have time for intolerance or people that like me if I change this or that. I’m not interested in joining anyone’s club, and I’m not trying to get someone to join mine.

I guess that means I’m not really walking that line any longer. I regret that I walked it so long, because some people made assumptions about me and what I think because I didn’t speak up. Proof positive that you can always change for the better.

As for people who do hate, hey, it’s your prerogative, but don’t do it in the name of God, or Jesus, or Allah, or the friggin’ Easter Bunny for that matter. And if you feel you must tell me all about your opinions, fine. I’ll be polite. I probably wont even light you up and tick you off. I’ll just listen and nod, and at the end I’ll tell you I don’t agree with you. Sorry. I have to, because if I don’t you might believe that I agree with you, and if you are about hate I don’t.

So that’s out of the way. What am I going to do this year? I think something has to go. The house will go. I will finish it. I spent this past week dry-walling the new laundry room and that is up and running. More work ahead, but it is getting less and less. So, that will go. The next thing to go is one of these careers. Am I a writer or am I running an on-line business? Well, both right now, but one will go. I will either throw it all behind one thing or the other. And it will be a question of return on investment. I know that sounds cold, but it has to be that way. If you really think about it the entire world works on return. If you give someone a compliment and they do not acknowledge you, do you give another? Not usually. If you are looking for a new social activity and you go and no one takes the time to greet you and say hello? Probably not going back. I’m no different. If the writing goes it doesn’t mean I’ll stop writing, it only means I’ll go back to writing for me, which is an entirely different thing…

Guess that’s it for me this Wednesday. I try not to be too political, but sometimes when you have a bad taste in your mouth it has to go. I am not, by the way, comfortable with the public side of writing. I do not go to book signings. I belong to only one writers group. It really irritates some of my author friends that I will not travel to promote my books, but I won’t. I watch them go to dozens of organized book signings. It doesn’t hurt my feelings. And I think that says everything I need to say about my writing. I do it because it is there. If you like it, great. If you don’t, great also.

I will leave you with a free preview of Hurricane which should be published sometime this coming year…


Hurricane

Copyright Wendell Sweet 2017, All rights reserved.

This preview is licensed for Geo Dell’s Blog. If you wish to share this preview with a friend, please point them to this blog. This material may not be copied, quoted, or transferred electronically, or in standard print for any reason, with out the copyright owners permission. Permission is granted to use small excerpts in critical articles both in standard or electronic print.


This material is copyright protected

This material is NOT edited for content


One

Elements

Monday:

“It’s bad luck to skip school on a Monday,” Amy Knowles said to her best friend Deidre Blevins.

“I know,” Deidre said, “But I hate it. I just can’t be there. I can’t deal with those Goddamn Nuns today. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Aim… I didn’t even tell Jimmy.”

“I know that.. Obviously I want to go… I mean,” Amy fell silent.

“What,” Deidre asked?

“We’re friends,” Amy said. “It’s been me and you way before Jimmy or Mike came along… It’s just that, sometimes we get too far away from that.” Her face colored.

Deidre nodded. “We do… So, where do you and me go today…. With no car… No way to get nowhere. I hate being on foot…. It’s just about all I keep Jimmy around for. That and the pot,” Deidre said.

“Really,” Amy asked?

She thought about it. “I could think of something better… For right now he’s okay. I like him well enough.”

Amy wondered what the something better might be. Deidre had colored a little bit when she said it. She didn’t ask though. It was good enough just being together. She didn’t want to complicate it with feelings.

“I smell rubber burning,” Deidre said and smiled. “A penny for your thoughts. That’s what my dad always says to me,” She said.

“They’re worth more than a penny,” Amy said as they reached the parking lot. She slipped her hand through Deidre’s arm. “Lead on,” She said.

Deidre was surprised by the arm, but pleasantly surprised. She liked the feel of it, she decided. She looked up at the sky then back down at the parking lot. “We could hitch out to your place or we could walk around downtown.”

“We could get picked up by some Psycho too,” Amy said.

“Never have,” Deidre countered.

“Okay, but if some Psycho picks us up and kills us I am going to be so pissed at you,” Amy said. She tried a little smile on her face. Deidre answered it with one of her own.

“Never happen,” Deidre said as they started across the parking lot.

“I’d probably follow you anywhere,” Amy said softly. So softly that Deidre was not sure she had even heard her.

“Yeah.. I wish that were true,” Deidre said every bit as softly.

Amy looked up at her. She had heard the words, but she was looking away. She was about to speak when Jimmy’s voice interrupted her. She looked up and there he was. His blonde hair hanging in his eyes, head half out the window of his truck. When no one answered he spoke again.

“I said, I thought you was staying at school today?” He said again looking a Deidre.

“Well, you said you might be here, so Amy and I thought we would try,” Deidre said quickly and smiled.

Amy nodded and smiled.

The car behind Jimmy’s truck blew its horn and Jimmy twisted around and glared back at the driver. He popped up his middle finger and showed it to the driver and then looked back at Deidre. “So, where we gonna go?. I didn’t make no plans and I ain’t got no money,” Jimmy said.

Deidre had about forty dollars on her, two tens in her pocket and the rest in her sneaker. She pulled out the two tens. “This will get us a little way, right,” She asked?

Jimmy took the two tens and slipped them in his pocket. “We can go out to Mike’s,” he looked at Amy. “He’s working on the Nissan today… I can help him… We can hang out… We have enough for beer now and gas to get there too.” Jimmy said.

The car behind him tapped its horn once more. Jimmy levered open the door jumped out and started to turn back to the car but Deidre caught his arm.

“Baby, you’ll get us in trouble. We’ll get caught,” she said as she pulled him away.

The guy in the car rolled his window up quickly. Jimmy smiled at him, flipped him off again and then turned back to Deidre and Amy. “Luck for that little fuck,” he said. “Come on.” He held the driver’s door open as first Amy and then Deidre crawled across to the passenger’s side and then turned and looked back at the car. The young guy behind the wheel refused to look back. Jimmy flipped him off again and then climbed back into his truck.

~

“What does it look like,” Bob Travers asked? He was at his own desk but he called up a view of the latest National Weather Service radar on his monitor.

Rebecca Monet leaned closer to the monitor, her breasts brushing against his shoulder as she did. “It could be the big one. It’s building fast and they are already predicting a path that will bring it right to us,” She told him. “I want to be the one that gets it if it does. I mean, I know I’ll have it at first but if it goes big I want to keep it instead of it going to Bethany,” she said in a low voice, nearly a whisper.

Bethany Jacobs was the anchor woman for Channel Eight News. She sat next to Bob during the newscasts. He had his pick of the big stories and left the rest to Bethany.

“Becca, you know I can’t do that,” Bob said in an equally low voice.

“Bullshit,” she said sweetly and smiled. “I know what your contract says. You schedule. You appoint. It’s your call.” Her breasts pressed more firmly against his shoulder. “Come on, Bob. I’m good. I can do it. You know I can,” Rebecca pleaded. Her hand came up and rested lightly on his upper arm. Her perfume was subtle but intoxicating.

“Bethany will go ballistic,” Bob whispered.

“So what,” Rebecca said.

“We have a …. A sort of,” Bob started.

“I know. It’s not like it’s a secret.” Her hand stroked his bicep. “I would do anything you want, Bob,” she said. The weight of her breasts against his shoulder suddenly seemed to increase ten fold. “I mean anything,” she said leaning closer and whispering in his ear. Her lips brushed his ear.

“Are we talking about the same thing,” Bob asked, his voice low. His eyes scanned the room looking to make sure no one was watching or eavesdropping.

“I’ve got a few minutes… I’m sure your dressing room is empty. Let me show you what I’m talking about. I think we’re on the same page,” Rebecca whispered. And this time her lips not only brushed against his ear they seemed planted there.

“I… I can’t right now,” Bob said.

“Can’t stand up,” she asked with a musical little laugh.

“Something like that,” Bob agreed.

“I’ll meet you there… I’ll let myself in,” She asked?

Bob nodded. The weight of her breasts were instantly gone, but the sound of her voice and the scent of her perfume were in his head. ‘Boy was Bethany going to be pissed off,’ he thought. But Tad Edwards, the station manager, had already dropped hints to him about seeing Rebecca work more, and a few other hints about how he thought Bethany was not aging well, meaning to Tad she was past her prime at twenty seven and he thought it was time for a fresh face. A younger face. Rebecca was all of twenty, and she was… He made himself stop thinking about her. He had to, or else, he told himself, he’d never be able to get up.

‘Man oh Man was Bethany ever going to be pissed off,’ he told himself again.

~

Paul lay in Jane’s bed. He had left early this morning on the pretext of having to go over the paper work for the year end audit, and that was partly true, but the real truth was that they had been getting less and less time together and he had simply needed to be with her.

“We have got to go,” Jane said from beside him.

“I know,” Paul told her. Her body was pressed to his own, one of his arms holding her to him. He didn’t let go. She felt so good. She reached over and bit his chest softly.

“Ow,” Paul said… “Okay… Oh all right… Maybe tonight? I could say I’m working late.”

“I can’t… You know I’ve got classes… Tomorrow?” She countered.

He smiled “That will work.” His hand slipped down and rubbed across her buttocks, squeezing gently and then, reluctantly, he let her go.

She held him a second longer and then kissed him before she rolled away. “I love you,” she said.

“I love you to,” he said automatically. “I’ll go first?” He headed for the shower and a few minuets later he was merging into traffic on I 65 and heading towards the Airport Road exit.

He and Janey had been an item for about a year. Paul Blevins didn’t really think about it as cheating on his wife Peggy any longer. He was pretty sure she was pursuing her own interests anyway. It just was.

He didn’t think too hard about the love aspect of the relationship either. Sure, he told her he loved her, and he did. She had a perfect body, and he loved it. And her attitude was great, he loved that too. And, she was completely devoted to him, how could he not love that? But the other kind of love? The kind that made you cry? Made your heart ache? No. He had loved Peggy like that at one time. He loved his daughter Deidre like that. She could probably get anything at all out of him. But she didn’t abuse it. She was a pretty good kid most of the time. Not out running around getting involved in all of the bad stuff that kids her age got involved in. He had no real concerns or worries about her. All of his real love. The kind that could hurt him anyway was reserved for her. She had never abused it and Paul didn’t think she ever would, or could for that matter.

He and Peggy had fallen apart a few years before and there seemed to be no way to fix it. Janey was pushing lately for them to be together. Her little boy, Lincoln, who was just two years old, already thought of Paul as his father. And Paul supposed that eventually he and Janey would probably be together.

Deidre had about six months of school left and then she would be off to college. Local if he had his way, New York if Peggy’s father had his way. And there was not too much that Peggy’s father did not get his way on. Money did talk and he had a lot of it.

Either way there was no reason to stay after Deidre was gone. There would be nothing there. It would feel too weird sleeping in the same bed, keeping up the charade. For what? For who? They really only kept up the pretense now for Deidre’s sake. If she was gone, what would be the point?

There would be no point, he told himself. Janey would most likely get her way… Sooner rather than later.

The radio played low as he drove and he listened as he watched traffic. Nothing much new. A tropical depression building off the coast of Africa. A big One. One that bore watching the weatherman said. Maybe it would be something, Paul thought, but he doubted it. They almost always slipped off and shot up the coast, or veered off and hit Louisiana or Texas. Most likely this one would too.

He came to a near dead stop in a long line of cars making their way onto Airport Road. Janey would be along in another thirty minutes or so. With Peggy’s fathers money it wasn’t a good idea to make themselves an easy target. On the surface Peggy might not seem to care, but Paul suspected she had to be thinking about the future too. Six months from now was the future. Or the end of their future. Six months from now, divorce most likely, and he didn’t mean to make it easy for her. So they were careful. Never leaving at the same times. Not being seen together.

The only reason he had stuck it out these last few years was Deidre. He wanted no custody dispute that she would be dragged into. No loss of seeing her. Peggy and her father’s money could make him look bad. Take her away. That would kill him. And, he knew it. She knew how much it would hurt him, which is exactly why she would do it. For Spite. For payback. Women were like that. Women whose fathers had deep pockets were even more like that, he thought. He had no doubt that had he pulled the plug a few years ago she would have made sure he never saw Deidre again until she was old enough to make her own decisions. But then Peggy may have poisoned her mind completely.

He could do without Peggy, Jane too, but not Deidre. So here he was, day after day. Six months to go and it would all be over. He inched forward through the traffic trying to clear his mind as he went.

The audit. Now there was a sobering thought. Janey really was helping with the audit. He had bought her in. It was a mess. There were real problems there. Problems that would take Janey to fix if he could convince her to do it for him. She was helping. Going through the mounds of paperwork. She was smart, she would see it. He would let it be her own idea. He hoped it would be her own idea. He pushed the thoughts away.

The line of cars suddenly poured onto Airport Road and he sped up just making it out and merging into the middle lane at the expense of a blaring horn and a pissed off driver of a beverage delivery truck who had not wanted to let him in. He made the left lane finally, signaled at the light and cut across the feeder road and then into the restaurant parking lot.

A few cars, and, for the second time in as many weeks a moving van was parked in the lot. Companies did that all of the time, but he could not remember if there was a moving company nearby with that name. Peggy was what he was thinking of. Peggy and her fathers deep pockets. Her fathers money that could hire a private detective to follow him. To poke around. Six months, he reminded himself as he parked, got out and walked to the restaurant. She could do as she pleased with Daddies money after that.

He whistled as he walked to the door, unlocked it, and stepped inside the restaurant.

~

Dave Plasko shot the ball under his knee and across to Steve Minor. They had tried letting Darren Reed, who was part of their little group, play but he was too slow mentally to keep up. It confused him and then it panicked him, and once he was panicked he might do anything. Best to let him watch from the sidelines as he was now.

Steve caught the ball, faked left then nearly walked himself to the right, put the ball up, and it barely kissed the rim as it went through.

“That’s it. You dudes are done,” Dave said.

“Another one?” Light said. “One more?”

“Got to work, Light,” Dave said. “Outside clearance. Can’t fuck that up. We’ll play when I’m back this afternoon.”

“Now, how is it you three white boys got that all sewn up,” Light asked?

“Hmm… We’re white? … It’s Alabama? How the fuck should I know. This is your fucked up state not mine, Light. You know we ain’t on that shit.” Dave told him.

Light bounced the ball across the small basketball court that was just off the main prison yard, and into the Recreation box on the other side.

“Yeah.. If you could only play that fuckin’ good all of the time…” Dave joked.

“I do, New York. You motherfuckers just cheat too Goddamn much,” Light laughed.

The yard gate opened and Jack Johnson, an overweight correction officer stepped in and looked around the yard. “What the fuck, Plasko,” he asked when his eyes fell on him. “You and your girlfriends ready to go to work or not? I ain’t got all goddamned day you know.”

“Later,” Plasko told Light. They touched fists. “On our way, Mister Johnson,” he called out. He looked to Darren and Steve and the three of them headed across the rec yard to the gate.


I hope you enjoyed the preview. Please visit my sponsors:

Earth’s Survivors

Have a great Wednesday, I’ll be back Friday…


Earth’s Survivors Rising from the ashes from iTunes

Earth’s Survivors Rising From The Ashes

Book 2, Earth’s Survivors – Earth’s Survivors

Dell Sweet

This book is available for download with iBooks on your Mac or iOS device, and with iTunes on your computer. Books can be read with iBooks on your Mac or iOS device.

Description

Rising From The Ashes continues to follow survivors of a worldwide catastrophe. A meteorite that was supposed to miss the earth completely hit and became the cap to a series of events that destroyed the world as they know it. Police, fire, politicians, military, governments: All gone. Hopes, dreams, tomorrows: All buried in a desperate struggle to survive. From L.A. To Manhattan the cities, governments have toppled and lawlessness is the rule. The dead lay in the streets while gangs fight for control of what is left. Small groups band together for safety and begin to leave the ravaged cities behind in search of a future that can once again hold promise.

Los Angeles: Billy and Beth started out with a small group and wound up on the East coast, camped in a field where they can watch what is left of Manhattan as it burns. Now they have to decide what is next for their growing encampment. They have been south, most of the south seems to be gone. They had pinned their hopes on the East coast, but it’s clear that New York is no better than L.A..

Manhattan: Adam Has found his way out of the Dying City of New York only to get pulled back in as he finds a group of survivors coalescing around his leadership, that want to stay close to the city. But New York is firmly in the hands of the Gangs. It’s only a matter of time before the gangs tire of threatening him and come after his small group of survivors and he knows it.

Old Towne New York: Conner and Katie find their responsibilities grow quickly when they step into the fight between two factions and provide safe haven for some of the people they had plans for. A show down is inevitable. They will have to bring the fight to them before they bring it to them, or face being destroyed.

Watertown New York: Mike is left for dead, and when he awakens he believes his group of survivors has been destroyed. He makes good an escape, but his doubts will not let him rest. He fights back from his injuries, picks himself up and goes back searching for them where he believes them to be held captive by the same people that left him for dead.

The Earth’s Survivors series of books follow the people that survive and set out to rebuild their lives. At first hoping only to make it day by day, but ultimately looking to the future and rebuilding a society where fear does not rule…

This is the original series that has found new life and new writers to take the story to completion.

Read more right now!


Earth’s Survivors Rising From The Ashes Book 2, Earth’s Survivors

Earth’s Survivors Rising From The Ashes

Book 2, Earth’s Survivors – Earth’s Survivors

Dell Sweet

This book is available for download with iBooks on your Mac or iOS device, and with iTunes on your computer. Books can be read with iBooks on your Mac or iOS device.

Description

Rising From The Ashes continues to follow survivors of a worldwide catastrophe. A meteorite that was supposed to miss the earth completely hit and became the cap to a series of events that destroyed the world as they know it. Police, fire, politicians, military, governments: All gone. Hopes, dreams, tomorrows: All buried in a desperate struggle to survive. From L.A. To Manhattan the cities, governments have toppled and lawlessness is the rule. The dead lay in the streets while gangs fight for control of what is left. Small groups band together for safety and begin to leave the ravaged cities behind in search of a future that can once again hold promise.

Los Angeles: Billy and Beth started out with a small group and wound up on the East coast, camped in a field where they can watch what is left of Manhattan as it burns. Now they have to decide what is next for their growing encampment. They have been south, most of the south seems to be gone. They had pinned their hopes on the East coast, but it’s clear that New York is no better than L.A..

Manhattan: Adam Has found his way out of the Dying City of New York only to get pulled back in as he finds a group of survivors coalescing around his leadership, that want to stay close to the city. But New York is firmly in the hands of the Gangs. It’s only a matter of time before the gangs tire of threatening him and come after his small group of survivors and he knows it.

Old Towne New York: Conner and Katie find their responsibilities grow quickly when they step into the fight between two factions and provide safe haven for some of the people they had plans for. A show down is inevitable. They will have to bring the fight to them before they bring it to them, or face being destroyed.

Watertown New York: Mike is left for dead, and when he awakens he believes his group of survivors has been destroyed. He makes good an escape, but his doubts will not let him rest. He fights back from his injuries, picks himself up and goes back searching for them where he believes them to be held captive by the same people that left him for dead.

The Earth’s Survivors series of books follow the people that survive and set out to rebuild their lives. At first hoping only to make it day by day, but ultimately looking to the future and rebuilding a society where fear does not rule…

This is the original series that has found new life and new writers to take the story to completion.


Get this book right now: Click Here


Blogging, working on the house a free short story from Rapid City

Posted by Geo April 12th 2017

 

It has been a busy week for me, and a week where I accomplished no writing at all. That seemed strange at first, but I got so much else done that I decided it wasn’t strange, just a temporary kind of new.

I worked all week on remodeling, smashed almost every finger and thumb that I have, wore myself out completely a few days in a row, and still felt grateful for it. It made me wish even harder to be living a life that models my books. I think that is why we find tales like that, a struggle to survive, impelling. It is a lifestyle we long for because it is completely different from what we have. No taxes, no $4.00 a gallon gasoline. No boss on your ass, and all the rest of it that would personalize it for each of us. That kind of life has pulled at me since someone bought it up to me at 18, and offered me a chance to live it.

I had an opportunity then to homestead in another country. It was serious. Isolated. Living completely off the land in a very wild place. No neighbors, cars, roads, telephones. Nothing at all. I was young. It sounded so great. My wife was pregnant and said no and that was that. She would not have a baby in the middle of nowhere. And that bought the realization that even if we stalled a few years, eventually she might have to have that baby in the middle of nowhere. It was a dead issue for her after that.

I understood it on two levels. First the reality of living that life or a life in the real world where my wife, child and family were. And just examining that on the surface made the decision for me. Second, even though the decision had been made, I was absolutely convinced that if I had gone I would have succeeded at it and loved it.

Because of that duality in me, I always pressed to learn as much as I could that would make me as self sufficient as possible, and I have. It allows me to write about things in my books with assurance. I can write it because I have done it. Learned it. Not because I read it in a book or Googled it. (Although Googling things is pretty damn impressive too, and I have used that a few times). My point is that for the past three weeks I have left the keyboard alone and turned back to working with my hands. And, as is usually the case with me, working alone too.

It’s been great, despite the broken finger, smashed truck and busted up thumb, blisters and dead tired, nothing-left-at-all, way I have felt most nights. That is my compromise for life. It’s like an uneasy truce I declared back there at 18. I have to have some of that sort of time.

It has seemed to work great most of the time. But, I found the same unhappiness, missing something that many of us find in life. Marriage, success, money, it doesn’t matter. There is, and always has been, something missing for me, and it took a great deal of life to finally forge an uneasy truce, compromise, cease war with myself.

It takes real effort to keep it working, moving. But it can be done. Part of it is what I write. I say I don’t know where it comes from but it’s obvious that it is strongly flavored by my desire to live that life I felt I should have lived.

Some people I know would leave this life to live that life in a heart beat. Others flat out say they would never do it. If given the opportunity I would go in a second, I say. And then I think of all the obligations I have. Things that I have said that I would see through, do, people I would be there for, and I know I could never do it.

What is my point? My point is that when I write about it. Or I take a few weeks off to really work hard with my hands, it’s just a s good. It can be, just as good. Or as good as having feet in both worlds can be. I think the writing is the grand escape. A good story should be able to take you away. I hope mine take you away. I hope you enjoy it so that when all the crap you have to deal with in the real world comes along you can deal with that easier because you took a little breather in your head.

I like feedback. People do write to me and tell me their opinions, I enjoy that, whether it is people I know or people I am hearing from for the first time.

It’s a little cooler here in New York. My work on the house is progressing nicely, a little slower than I would have wished, but still progressing. Next week is electrical work, insulation, security system and all the other stuff that has to go in before the sheetrock goes on the walls. I’m enjoying it, and in a few weeks it will be down to paint and carpet, finish work, and I will be back to being only a writer for the fall and winter. By the time that happens I will be grateful for it I’m sure.

There are just so many smashed fingers and tired limbs left for my future, I guess, and then I will be only writing. But I put a limit on that a few weeks back, kind of my own end of the world. If you check the main blog page you’ll find the clock running, counting down the hours until I pull the plug. It’s a long way a away, but it is nice to see it there running. Counting down the time to the third part of my life.

In the meantime I will publish everything I have written in all the series and then some. When I spent time last week going over the books and the outlines for the series, it amounts to 40 books for the Earth’s Survivors series. That probably seems very ambitious, maybe even unattainable, but if you stop to consider that I have already written 20 of the main books and another 9 of the side books that fit the puzzle it doesn’t seem so unattainable. Only 9 or so to go.

I hope you had a great week, where ever you are. Hello to my friends in the UK. I am glad I have friends there. My Mother’s parents were English and Irish. I have always felt that connection. My father on the other hand was African American and Native American so I have always felt that pull too and I am grateful to my friends here in the States and the UK that share that sort of heritage too.

I will leave you with a short story, the first short story from Rapid City…

Rapid City #1 By Wendell Sweet

BLOG EDITION

Copyright © 2013 by Wendell Sweet

If you would like to share this book with another person, please direct them to this blog entry. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This short story is Copyright © 2013 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 authors permission. Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print..

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.

DEDICATION

For Shell. Nothing else to say


RAPID CITY

The Town At Twilight

It was late when I came into Rapid city. Though the buildings had been thrown up as temporary shelters some twenty years past, they still held sway over the main street. But they seemed empty, abandoned in the twilight.

A faded, crudely lettered, wooden sign nailed to one side of the bat wings of Blood and Breakfast made the street official. Or as official as anything ever got in Rapid city.

My horse didn’t seem especial nervous as she made her way along. If you ride a horse, and everyone did now, gasoline was long gone unless you were a part of the Nation, you got used to their moods… Perceptions, and you paid attention or you might wind up dead. Horses were still free and Zombies couldn’t chase them down and eat them. Not that they didn’t get one occasional, they did. But it was rare.

My own horse watched the shadows slide from alleyway to alleyway between the old buildings. Her large, liquid brown eyes watching careful like. She was no fool, but she also didn’t appear to be alarmed to me.

The zombies weren’t out. They rarely came near the city in my own experience. At least not before full dark came on. So I didn’t concern myself with them. But I didn’t slide either. My eyes automatically slid from shadow to shadow in the buildings alleyways as I tied my reins to the rail out front, made the steps and headed up to the bat wings. I Heard a pigs squeal suddenly cut off and hoped there’d be some meat to be had with the usual eggs and biscuits.

Rapid city had been thrown together by some of the survivors who had come out of the North looking for a warmer place to live. You might as well say driven out and not just by the cold, but the zombies. Zombies didn’t mind cold. You could come across one naked as a jaybird, seeming frozen at the side of the road in the middle of the winter and think it would be no trouble. But the minute you turned your back they’d be up and on you. Once bitten there was no turning back. Oh in the early years there had been talk of some kind of a cure, but it had never come to anything. After awhile all those Government mouthpieces that kept talking cure got bit themselves and you just didn’t hear from them anymore. Not too long after that the whole government structure fell apart and for all intents and purposes, excepting those of us who could fight, the world belonged to the Zombies.

I had taken to gun-fighting. First: you had to be good with a gun so you could get them bastardly Zombies before they got you. Second: For some reason those that were left alive seemed to be hell bent on killing one another. A man couldn’t hardly turn his back on no one lest a bullet find him between the shoulder blades. And women? Well, short of whores of one kind or another, I had no truck with them. A woman, a real woman, was in short supply and worth killing over. Even if she was an ugly woman. I’d seen a four way gun battle over a one legged Whore down by Texas a few years back. And I’d heard about a thirty two man shoot out over a woman out on Alabama Island. And she was a slatty slip of a woman, but they said she could breed and that was that. I’d come across that one when it was over and they was counting the bodies. But these were things that were in the past. Years ago.

Back then things of that like seemed a waste to me. Here these Goddamned Zombies were killing us by the thousands, millions and these dumb son-of-a-bitches were killing each other. No sir. I’d rather take me a whore in some town when I need one. You can keep those so called proper women. And I will tell you; in my experience a whore can be a perfectly good woman. Love just the same as one of those sulky, pale things I seen out on Alabama Island a few times.

They say the plains is free of Zombies. That’s what they say. They say the Zombies is smarter, they stay around the cities where they can find food. And from what I’ve seen I’d have to agree. They seem to be evolving. But, didn’t we kind of know that was gonna happen? And do you know what the bitch is? There ain’t no goddamn way to win. You got to die, and when you do they got you. Pisses me off just to think about it.

The Blood And Breakfast

I made my way careful up the balance of the splintery steps, through the bat wings and into the Blood and Breakfast. The Blood and Breakfast only served two things. Whiskey and Breakfast. You could order just about anything you had a mind to at any time of day. And they might even listen to you, let you ramble on ’til you was done, but in the end they would tell you. You could order eggs and biscuits, meat if it was to be had. And you could have your whiskey in a bottle or a glass if you considered yourself fancy. But that was what there was and no more to be had. I put my head back to thinking as I looked around the interior.

I’d heard a lot of things about the plains. There was land. There was food to eat. And they say there’s men that has run off with whores and made them proper women out there. I heard it enough that I got to go. This will be my last stop in Rapid City and then I’m going. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder waiting for a damn Zombie to get me. Or another gunfighter. There’s a broken up BlackWay, what we used to call a road. Ain’t many seen it, but probably ain’t many been looking for it. Not only have I seen it I know where it goes. Like I said, a short stop here. Load up on supplies and I’m on my way.

The original settlement had not been laid out to serve other travelers but as a refuge for those escapees from the North. Even so within a few months all of the original settlers had been run off or killed by the Zombies. The ones that came later settled the city. After that Rapid city had become the main gateway to the southern states.

The name had come from the rapids in the nearby river. Well, the river had been near town. Things changed pretty quick back then. Dams a thousand miles away burst with no maintenance, rivers sprang up, died out. Nature did what nature wanted to do. Before the first coat of paint was drying on the church building, the river had spread out nearly a quarter mile wide and was no longer the fast moving body of water that it had once been.

These days it was more like an evil smelling swamp, with the actual river nearly a mile away. It was Hell in spring when the Mosquitoes hatched but the good side of that was the other residents of rapid city, the Zombies, didn’t like the Mosquitoes Something in their bite made them zombies drop like flies. Didn’t kill them outright but it knocked ’em down, gave them some kind of sickness, and a knocked down Zombie is one you can kill real easy. Most of the Zombies that found their way to Rapid City became residents of the swamp in just that way. Their bodies tossed unceremoniously to the alligators that had found the swamp a few years back. Alligators didn’t turn when they ate Zombie. They didn’t even seem to mind eating it. The residents, few as they were, breathed a little easier, and life went on.

The blood and breakfast was located in the old church building. The building had been gutted except the altar area which had been turned into a small dance floor for the whores and travelers. The ratio of whores to travelers was about 3 to 1, but the ratio of clean, disease free whores was about 1 to 5. You had to be real careful. If old Doc mulberry had rejected it, you should be smart enough not to check it out for yourself. If it could kill you you didn’t want it. But of course if the whores didn’t get you, the Zombies would. And some men liked to gamble.

The blood came anytime after the dinner meal. We’ll, after it had been served , not necessarily eaten and ended. It was kind of fluid so to speak, always had been. There was no violence while the serving was going on, and that was enforced by a shotgun wielding crew of about four employees who would show you some blood quick if you really needed it. In my experience it always turned out better to obey the rules and wait. No matter who you were. Even the gunfighters who visited knew the rules and obeyed them.

As I stood looking around I smelled coffee brewing too, probably thick as molasses and only black, but that was fine with me. I beat my hat against the doorpost, shook off as much dust as I was able to, caught the bartenders eyes, Smoky, was his name, and took the table his eyes had given me.

There was no fresh pork yet despite the screaming pig. But there was still bacon to be had, a better treat to my thinking. It seemed like the only meat I ever ate was venison or horse. And the zombies didn’t have it that way. They didn’t care what kind of meat they ate. But of course they preferred people. It just galled me that they was never having the problems with food that the rest of us had. I’d heard of a few places where the tables had been turned. Where hunting parties went out looking for Zombies. Shot them down. Bought them back to display them. But I also heard how them places went bad too. There was always one that stepped over the line and decided to eat what they shot. Don’t let that shock you. After all, isn’t it the same Goddamn thing the Zombies are doing to us? Sure it is. Except that old saying you are what you eat comes into play pretty damn quick. To me it made no sense. I couldn’t cypher how they had got to think to eat a Zombie. The things were dead. Stunk to high Heaven. And it only made sense that it would turn you. Just about every Goddamned thing you had to do with them frigging Zombies would turn you.

Like them idiots that thought you could mate with them. Breed the UN-dead right out of existence. That never turned out well neither. I guess men just thought strange thoughts sometimes when they set down to ponder this whole situation out and there wasn’t always someone there to talk sense into them. Anyway, I knew I was tired of horse and venison, and nowhere near ready to lunch on Zombie. But a little bacon would be a good treat. It’d been a few years since I had any, a little place down toward Texas where it had once met Mexico was the last time.

I took the bacon. A half dozen biscuits and as many eggs. When there’s fresh food you take it. Jerky and hard biscuits was the normal fare. Horse or Deer jerky. And once Turtle jerky. Jesus, that there was some bad stuff. I suppose you might get to thinking around the campfire late at night, belly rumbling, that a little Zombie might not be so bad after all.

I rolled a smoke and sat watching twilight paint the dirt street golden as the sun sank. I spoke to a boy leaning on the wall watching me and sent him to do for my horse. He was off the wall as soon as I flipped a gold piece at him and out the door. I heard him lead my horse away, feet clomping in the early evening stillness. I sometimes worried about my horse. A zombie will eat a horse if that Horse is tied up and can’t get away from it. I seen a Zombie horse or two in my time too. Yes. A horse could be turned. Jesus. It’s a rough sight to see.

The kid would make sure the horse was inside but not penned. She could go if she needed to. I’d find her later. Wouldn’t be the first time. In this world your horse was everything. I’d known men who loved the company of their horse mor’n other people. There was something I understood, but dinner was coming so I put the horse out of my mind. The evening was nearly here and I was safe inside. And I felt good.

The Gunfighter Profession

I am Robert Evans, a gunfighter. I wear stitched leather gloves with no fingers. There is a man in Alabama City that makes them special for me and a few others that be in the life of gun fighting. They protect my palms. They give a good grip. And they leave my fingers clear so they do not get tripped up when I need them. Those gloves have always made people look twice, and a lot of what I am about is psychological. A painted picture. I want to be feared. Sometimes I think I am no better than the Zombies when it comes to that. If you fear me you stay away from me. But there was the other side of that too. You kill what you fear. Yes you do.

I don’t fight overly much anymore. That sort of occupation is dying out I guess. There was a time when the world was crazy though and we found ourselves in a different kind of life. The cities fell. The cops failed to keep us safe. Governments were all talk, and then they were no more. The dead were everywhere.

That was our time. Gunfighters. Gold on the nail and we could make death happen. I carried two fully automatic 45 caliber pistols with custom extended clips. Made my own ammo. Still do. Knock a Zombie down at 100 yards. Walk into a crowd of Zombies and take them all out before one could touch me. And although I was not special I was no slouch. There were only a few in my league. Jimmy Jenkins… Lila West… A few others. We were sent for from all over to take care of Zombie outbreaks. But the sheer numbers overcame us. And the shock wore off and those that were still alive began to fight back. And we, gunfighters, became outcasts. Social misfits. Hated almost as much as the Zombies we had once been hired to kill. The people felt we had taken advantage of them. Lied to them. And some even suspected that we ourselves had something to do with those Zombies. Some sort of bond. Like maybe we had spawned them so we could profit from them. I never made no Zombie any more than I’d ever be willing to eat one. But back in the beginning? We was feared. I could not tell you how many Zombies I put in the ground for permanent. Thousands. High numbers of thousands.

Now nobody gives a shit about us. There were so few people that lived that it looks like it would probably take about ten thousand years before anybody would need to be fighting over anything. Maybe the Zombies will take over. Maybe the earth is no longer for the living. But there is land everywhere. Gold everywhere. The women live longer than the men. Life is just harder for a man. Die sooner, except when the zombies get you then you don’t even get to die. And even if the women that are left are mostly Whores there are enough for everyone. No need to kill over them anymore, despite those things that still go on. Really, there are just a few of us left and every time I come around somewhere it seems there is a half dozen less faces that I had been used to seeing. The Zombies get a few, and we still kill each other too. Makes no sense to me at all.

There was and is speculation about that. Are we dying out? I think we are. Looks pretty clear to me. How can you kill something that’s dead? You can’t. Is this God’s judgment? Maybe. Government fuck-up? That’s what I think. We will never know for a fact what did happen, but I know this, I believe we’re done. I wouldn’t say it if I was you though unless you’re prepared to meet your God. It’s just that way. We may be dying out. And we may know we’re dying out. And the Zombies may be on the verge of inheriting the earth, but we don’t want to hear it. Saying it will usually get you dead fast.

The Good Old Days

Dinner and Conversation

When I was younger it was cockroaches. People believed that someday a nuclear missile would take all of us out and the earth would be left to the cockroaches. That’s funny because even when we are gone the Zombies will go on and the cockroach population will be kept in check, because, as it turns out, Zombies love cockroaches. Eat those little fuckers just like Popcorn. Like a treat. And, it applies to nearly every goddamn bug there is. If you study Zombies for awhile, I killed them for a living for many years so I had to, you will see them do it. Just reach down and snatch a bug from the ground, or the floor, or the air and stuff it in their mouths. And they are fast. Gone are those early days when they were slow. No more. Only the mosquitoes are a different story. If we could have just found out what was in Mosquitoes we might have gotten someplace, but it’s too late for that now, truly it is.

I flicked my cigarette away as the food came. It’s been a good six months since I’ve eaten real meat. That had been on Alabama Island. The Nation. I was looking forward to the Bacon. Just seeing it on my plate made my mouth water.

The Nation is what has bought most of this country back under control. They control the communist whole, not just each and every little area but the whole of the continent. North, South, East and West. They’re there. I do trade with them. I could probably fall in with them and establish my own settlements, be myself again. Beef, Coffee, Sugar, Textiles, Electricity if you were in one of their settlements or one of their larger cities like Alabama Island you would think that nothing had ever happened.

But there were rumors about the nation. They were getting shaky, falling apart, and on my last trip to Alabama Island I saw that that might be true. If they were shaking it might take some time before they shook themselves apart. They were so big that I couldn’t really see it. The only thing that made me really examine it at all was that America was big… The biggest… And it fell apart.

I mulled life over as I began to put away my dinner and listened to the conversation around me.

Concerns about the weather. Too much sun. The farming, crops. The Nation. Concerns about the Zombies, was it over? Was it done? Talk about a gunfighter who had been tracked down in a small town down near the Texas border and killed. That one I had heard about. Vigilantes, something like that. Tracked him down. Betsy, one of the whores, had caught something bad. Bad enough that Doc Mulberry didn’t know what to do about it. A zombie that had been acting strange, coming around the Blood and Breakfast and going through the trash. Even in the daylight. If it was like that with zombies now I guess it didn’t really surprise me. They’ve come around like that before. Zombies were adaptable… Changing… We all knew it. And then the conversation moved on and I lost interest as I ate my dinner.

The Challenger

It took me a few seconds to realize that it was quiet. All the conversation had fallen off. The roar of the silence broke through to me. It’s odd like that, ain’t it? How the absence of sound can call you up out of your thinking sometimes, faster than actual noises can. This was bad though. Stupid of me. The old me would not never had been caught like that.

I looked up following the directions of the stares and heard the low clacking of new boot heels as they made the wooden steps that came into the saloon.

He was known to me, but that didn’t mean I was known to him. I had seen him fight more than once. Perhaps four times total if I recalled correctly. Gunfighters were so rare now as to draw attention. I drew my share of sideways glances and small murmurings as I said. And handling my own business was nothing new for me. I did it when I had to. My guns talked for me.

John Baxter, that was the gunfighters name, walked in and straight to the bar. I would have liked to have thought that he had not seen me but I knew he had. He was working way too hard to not look my way. He had used his peripheral vision to check me out same as I would’ve. And I was caught completely off guard. I had not heard him soon enough. Not his horse coming, nor whatever it had been that had tipped off the bar crowd and caused them to fall silent. The only edge that I had if there was trouble, and in my world there always was, was that he did not know I was unprepared. And even as I thought those thoughts I prepared myself. And as far as I was concerned we were back on even ground just that fast.

In those seconds I had freed up my pistols, changed my leg position and looked over the room completely. I ended by moving my body slightly to present a smaller target. Seconds spun out. John ordered a whiskey and kept his back to me. I considered shooting him dead right in the back. I’m not above it. Better dead, no matter whether you were right or wrong in the way you got it done.

The crowd was absolutely silent and drawn back away from us. Making room. They had seen a few gunfights in the Blood and Breakfast. Even so two gunfighters in the Blood and Breakfast at the same time had to be something unheard of in awhile. Most likely the whole town had been aware that something might be up, maybe from the second I come into town. Certainly before I knew.

I looked at my plate regretting that I’d saved the bacon for last as it now sat untouched on my plate along with the biscuits sopped in egg yolks. There were at least three flies having a feast. It pissed me off, but it would not keep me from eating it later. I told myself I should have shot him in the back just for the pure fact that he was making me miss my breakfast. And I would have to eat it cold later with fly shit that looked an awful lot like black pepper after we were done with our business. John turned slow from the bar. Dinner in the Blood and Breakfast was done being served.

“Come to kill you, Robert,” he said easy. His eyes were gray, hard and flat. A tight smile played at his small mouth. His lips were pursed. His hat sat upon the bar where he had thrown it.

“So I thought,” I said aloud. I moved not at all. My own blue eyes gave away nothing of my emotions. My hands did not shake.

Silence fell and held. Just the sliding and shuffling of the feet of the townsmen, the whores and the travelers alike sliding backwards from what they considered to be the fighting zone. I was thinking I had waited too long, that I should have shot him in the back, when a twitch of his shoulder told me he was going for his gun.

The noise was deafening. I emptied half a clip into him from under the table top. Half a modified clip was fifteen bullets. And the first four or five took the bottom edge of the table off as they flew at John.

The thing about a gunfight is that it slows down time some how. You ask any gunfighter and they will tell you that’s true. I watched as my first bullet plucked at his shirt front before his own gun had completely cleared leather. My second bullet blew his collarbone apart just a few inches from where it joined with his neck, but his gun was out and spitting fire. It was about then that two things happened.

The first was, I felt a sudden heaviness in my chest. I didn’t have time to puzzle that before one more bullet found its mark and I saw John become dead. This one midway in his chest. Showing only as a tiny hole but it was like the light went out of his eyes all at once. When those two things were done it finally registered in my thoughts that I had been shot too. Hit, not killed. I was pretty sure not dead or dying. To prove it I forced myself to move and I was able to move just fine.

The smoke hung like a curtain in the air. The smell of hot metal, gunpowder expired, hung in that same air.

Someone said… “They is both hit… Lookit!” Real low… Like a whisper.

In the Alley By The Door

John finally had the sense to fall down. His gun clattered to the floor just before John himself did.

Time slipped by. I wanted to see how bad I was hit. I had no real idea. I finally stood from the table and looked down at myself. A small neat hole just below my shoulder in my upper chest. Red blooming around it like a small, spring flower. I was hurt, but not bad. I had been shot worse.

“Get the Doc,” I said to some skinny, slat-sided whore crouching in the shadows. She looked scared to death or almost. She lit out, seeming glad to, and I walked over to John where he lay sprawled on the floor and put one more bullet right between his eyes. Best to do it soon. I’ve seen a body start turning before the life is really even done leaving it. Those bastard Zombies can’t wait… Or the Dead disease. Whatever it is that turns them. A little dog hiding under a nearby table yelped when I fired and scrambled, nails clicking on the wood floor, trying to secret itself better. I reached down and took John’s guns and personals, gold mostly, set them on the table, grabbed one booted foot and dragged him towards the back door.

I kicked the rear screen door open, dragged him bumping down the steps and rolled him over towards the trash cans. I’d done my part and now my chest was beginning to hurt. I felt like sitting down all at once. There was a little bubbling in the lung on that side. I could both feel and hear it. It was an odd thing. And I could feel the bullet in there, wedged tight, burning. I didn’t relish Doc. Mulberry operating but the alternative was unacceptable. And I had come through much worse. Much worse.

I was turned to go back in when the Zombie got me. He must have been crouched down by the garbage cans in the shadows and I hadn’t seen him. He had me by the wrist growling and snarling before I could shoot him. I got my gun up and put one through his head as fast as I could, hoping the ricochet didn’t take off my hand. He let go and laid down with one leg twitching and his back arched stiff for a second. Then he was dead for good, Amen.

I stood for a few seconds wondering what the hell had just happened. But, I knew what had just happened. I had lived through a goddamned gunfight at the old age of fifty two just to get bitten by a ever-lovin’ friggin’ Zombie. I stood a few seconds longer thinking of how unfair that was, remembering the conversation from inside while I had been eating. A Zombie had been coming around… Going through the trash… but then the craziness of the situation hit me and I had to laugh. And laughing was how old Doc Mulberry found me.

He looked from the Zombie to my wrist dripping blood on the dirt of the back alley.

“That from the fight or the Zombie,” he asked me.

“Zombie,” I answered . I tapped lightly at the bullet hole in my upper chest. He nodded.

“Ain’t that a bitch,” he said.

I laughed. “Ain’t it… Ain’t it just…”


I hope you enjoyed that story. Get the three story collection from:  iTunesNookSmashwords


Check out more of Geo on: AmazonNOOKiTunesSmashwords
Check out more of Dell on AmazonNOOKiTunesSmashwords


New releases and partner projects with Geo Dell

Posted by Geo Dell April 10th 2017

It has been a pretty good week here and it looks like spring has sprung!

I finally finished, to my satisfaction, Earth’s Survivors QutRunners Book One. It ended up, after two read throughs, at 115 k. So it will be a nice long book. I did not get to Billy Jingo. I did build out GeoDell.com, I also made a decision about Rapid City, previewed Earth’s Survivors four, and looked over the construction work that is coming up on my home. It was a week with a lot to do and it kept me away from writing for the most part. For the lesser part though I did get all of my ducks in a row. So Monday I will be able to jump right in.

I will also try to get an Earth’s Survivors Book Five preview out soon too. It is a good book. I think you will like it. But since it was written two years ago I had forgotten exactly how it went. I was shocked when I opened the front cover and realized which story it was. Can’t say more, but you will probably be very surprised. There is a small preview in the back of Book four, I just need to get a longer preview done and post it.

Rapid City: I gave a lot of thought to America The Dead, another Earth’s Survivors series that follows Other characters from New York, L. A., a few other large cities. Decided to release the America The Dead books instead of the Rapid City books.

Okay, a little humor concerning cats…

I would just like to say I have a cat. It loves me. It’s not a dog, but I do my best to overlook that and for the cat’s part he seems to do a pretty good job of overlooking my shortcomings too… Like Not being all that appreciative of the dead snakes, chipmunks mice and birds he brings me. He looks at me like I’m an idiot because, hey! He’s done all the hard work. Hunted it. Killed it. Bought it to me. All I have to do is eat it. So, I have a cat. I do not wish any harm to befall any cat. Please don’t write to me and tell me I hate cats, because it would really hurt my cat to find that out…

I have often daydreamed that the cats have wandered off. Become lost. But then I think, how will I explain it to Mom when she gets home and wants to know where the cats are? Hmm. So, I came up with…

‘Excuses for why the cat is gone.’

It was past it’s expiration date so I had to chuck it.

There was a terrible showdown between the cat and three mice. I think the mice were carrying knives. It was bad. Yes they may have been blind mice, but they were friggin’ mean blind mice.

I traded that cat for Volkswagen

What cat? We had a cat?

Other Cat Stuff…

Used cats: You never see ads for used cats, you know, “Gently used cat. Very low miles. Will trade for good dog, beaver or camping tent.”

One of the things I have against cats: They have fur all over them, and since I am in denial about having evolved from some sort of monkey or other animal, it bothers me to know they may rise and take over the world some day. Funny? I’ll bet that’s what the other monkeys thought about 25,000 years ago when Bob the different monkey shocked them all by fixing a hamburger and fries for dinner instead of insects and grass.

Whistling. If you whistle to a dog they’re coming. He or she will be right there. Whistle to a cat and they may flip you off, but they’re not coming.

Things you never hear… “Brother, can you spare a cat?”

Famous Quotes:

“Give a man a potato he can eat for a day. Teach a man how to grow a potato and a cat will probably come along, dig up his garden and crap in it.”

Things I have not seen: Three legged cats. Cats with their suitcases packed (Do they have suitcases?). Cats with a drivers license. Talking cats. Unpretentious cats.

Okay. That is me this morning. Forgive me for the cat remarks. I love cats. Okay I don’t love cats. I like my cat though and I wouldn’t let a dog eat him, and I really like dogs so that’s a big deal. It is beautiful here in New York. It’s nearly 11:00 A.M. this early morning it is appreciated as it has been such a tough winter.

Okay. I hope you had a good week. Check out the new Geo Dell site. See you next week…

New Releases that I am involved with:

All of these new releases have FREE Previews through Amazon…


 Earth’s Survivors Life Stories: Bear Kindle Edition


New Kindle Releases from Wendell G Sweet

New Kindle Releases from Wendell G Sweet

Earth’s Survivors Life Stories: Beth Kindle Edition

Beth comes from Los Angeles in the first days of the Apocalypse and makes her way across the country to the east coast and then finds herself backtracking across the states to the middle of the country and the Nation which is growing in the former state of Kentucky.

Before the apocalypse she is beginning to pull herself back up from the gutter of life, learning to live again, trust and believe. The apocalypse almost crushes that hope she had begun to grow, but she must fight past that, refuse to believe the end has really come.

She travels across the country with Billy, facing both the living and the dead as she makes her way from one coast to the other. The trip is long and she is holding out hope of structure, life, safety on the east coast: Hopes that may not be realized.

The dead seem to have it in for her and twice she is attacked by them as she makes her journey. It is only her own resolve and courage that will help her to overcome those attacks if she can and make her way to the Nation and the safety she has been searching for…

eBook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06Y4Q2RG5
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1521019959


Earth’s Survivors Life Stories: Bear Kindle Edition

Bear is the man who made his way out of New York amidst the death and destruction of the apocalypse and fought his way across the country, finally ending up a member of the Nation, and the Leader of the first OutRunner team. This book follows Bear from Manhattan to the Nation as he makes his way across the country and meets the people who will become members of the OutRunners, lifelong friends and the woman who will become the love of his life.
Bear will become the leader of the Outrunners just as Mike is the current leader of the Nation. Bear, Beth, Billy and Pearl are the heart of the team.
We don’t know much about Bear, he is a closed man. He is loyal. He is a loner and prefers to be. Learn more about him here as he emerges from the death of the city and finds his way back to life.
This book begins at the beginning of the apocalypse and works through the first few months as Bear makes his way from Manhattan to New Jersey, Pennsylvania and then through the middle states and finally Kentucky where he meets Mike Collins and becomes a member of the fledgling Nation, founded by a group of survivors who believe they have found the perfect place to begin to rebuild society. Bear hopes to find a permanent home with them…

eBook: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06Y4PB9V5
Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1521019789

 


KOBO Books from author Dell Sweet

Earth’s Survivors Box Set by Dell Sweet

Earth’s Survivors

Synopsis

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…

All seven books in one collection. Follow the survivors as they struggle to survive in a vastly changed world, where the living are just as likely to kill you as the dead are.
The release of this box set puts the series to an end. I have enjoyed writing it, I hope you have enjoyed reading it, Dell Sweet.

  • #11298 in Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science Fiction

Take a longer look at Earth’s survivors Box set: Click Here

Also In this series

View all

Earth's Survivors: Knock ebook by Dell Sweet
Earth's Survivors Apocalypse ebook by Dell Sweet
Earth's Survivors: Home In The Valley ebook by Dell Sweet
Earth's Survivors: Plague ebook by Dell Sweet
Earth's Survivors: Watertown ebook by Dell Sweet

People of the world and news from Dell Sweet

Posted 06-09-13

Well, Earth’s Survivors Three is available now. I gave it away over the weekend. Usually that is about 150 books or so for me, but this came to several hundred. I hope those of you who downloaded it enjoyed it.

I am currently working on the second space novel (Just editing for Geo) Tomorrow I will start upload the first Earth’s Survivors Outrunner book. I will send that to Jay and Geo next week or the week after. For a guy who dropped out of school and lived on the streets, could not read or write because of that and had to be taught by someone, it amazes me that I spend all of my time either reading or writing now. If I don’t have a book I have either written or intend to write running around my head at any given time, something is wrong.

It’s raining in New York. Heavy, cold rain. Spring is official, but has been pretty hard to find so far this season. I thought I would share part of my past week with you…

I use Windows Seven for my operating system. Not because I like Windows Seven, but because Linux is not universally accepted yet. So I use Linux as much as I can and then Windows Seven when I have to.

I purchased a new machine a month or so ago and it came with Windows Eight. Oh, I could write a whole blog about how I hate Windows Eight. And I do. It compromises you and your information on every level, because it insists on having it. It insists on knowing everything there is to know about you. Do you have five freckles on the inside of your left thigh? That would be about the only thing it doesn’t ask or know about it, but I would not count on the fact that it doesn’t know, it just might. Anyway, for me, too nosy. I buy the software and so I guess that means I am supporting the invasion of my privacy. But I would like it to be more like a car. A Toyota will drive me anywhere I want to go, but, so will a Ford, or a Chevy, or a Dodge, or, well, you get the idea. So why is it we only have Windows? Where the hell is the support for Linux? Or something else? Okay, That’s all I have on that.

So, I deep-sixed the machine I bought because, as it turns out, you can not easily delete win 8, at least on this machine. It would not allow me to install my Win 7. I struggled with it for a week. I decided in that space of time that there was not redeeming quality there and then one day I went online, ordered the parts from Amazon to fix my old machine. Kicked myself for not doing that first, and once they came I spent a few hours fixing the old machine. Once I was done I unplugged the new machine, stuck it back in the box and slid it under my desk. It made a great foot rest until my mother’s machine locked up the other day.

Moms machine is my old machine. I wrote several short stories and my first novel on that machine, a lawn sale item I had all of 40.00 dollars into. “Well, how would you like a Windows Eight machine, Mom,” I asked? For her it’s great. She is a social animal, mom is. I think something like 600 face book friends. She has all her on-line shopping places, her Kindle account. Huh, I said to her, people actually use computers to socialize? Mom just laughed at me. She figured out Win 8 immediately and has no problem with it. Humph…

I use Windows Seven and it makes me money, or helps me to make a living. It’s a tool I use to run the software that makes my living, and allows me to access the publishing services I need to be able to make my living. It also allows me to buy and sell on-line if I so choose, use software to listen to music, manipulate my artwork and create Artwork too. Record Music of my own. Read other E-Books (Yes, I read other authors, not just the ones here at independAntwriters). In short I spend a great deal of time in the Windows Seven environment and all I ever do is complain about it, uh, sort of like I am right now. But once I got a load of Win 8 I decided I would embrace Win 7. No more complaints from me.

So, last week I went to Google for a translation for a phrase spoken by one of the characters in Earth’s Survivors Three. Candace Loi is Japanese and African American. Her Grandmother spoke Japanese. I remembered the pronunciation for Grand Daughter in Japanese, but did not want to hack the spelling. And, growing up and hearing it, having an idea in my head what it meant, and then what it really means are different things sometimes. I went with Magomusume instead of Mago. Magomusume is more formal, and not really used often. But, I didn’t want to confuse things, it’s not like the character can launch into a long explanation about why it is not usually used in the Gender specific form.

So, I found it, but, when I had searched, it had also shown me a few images of people that indirectly related to my search. Japanese life. Yes, for once, not porn that always seems to pop up, but actual people… With their clothes on. I was awed, and I did something I rarely do, I spent about four hours more on Google looking for more pictures of people from all walks of life. So when you read Earth’s Survivors Three and you reach the point where Candace explains Magomusume you will know that as soon as I wrote that I then spent four or so hours Googleing stuff. I went ahead and clicked the ‘Images’ link on Google. Like I said, usually I am Leery of it, but this time I carefully restricted my keywords and was rewarded.

Poor, Gypsies, Vietnamese, Japanese, Native American, African and African American. One simply led to the next. And, why look if you don’t intend to keep? The reason I thought of that is because I know a man who, whenever I visit, has his desktop machine (A MAC, Ironically) set to show different life scenes. And this is on his office machine, so, while I’m waiting, I watch the picture show. I have been there enough times to know the pictures, and so I anticipate certain ones.

I sit in the padded leather chair, in his office, in America, where even the very poor do not starve to death in the streets, or get shot or terrorized by soldiers, or shot, killed and dumped in a ditch somewhere. At least not as the normal course of a day. Violence does happen here too. Having both grown up poor, and spent time actually living on the streets as a teen, I understand that what we see on the surface is only a poor reflection of what is under that surface. But I sit in his padded leather chair and I watch scenes from all over the world. People, Artwork, Animals, Architecture and more. It’s pleasant to watch. Soothing. I suppose it is for him too.

But the images I discovered that day were people who knew nothing at all about me. My life. My computer. The life I lead is so far from their life that it might just be incomprehensible to them. In any case, for most of them, they will never live this type of life. And, they don’t look all that unhappy about the possibility of never living this life to me.

Yes, in some instances I’m sure they are. When their basic rights are violated, when they are oppressed, when they are hungry. Not our version of hungry, I mean when they have not eaten. Maybe for days. So, their life is not all roses, but they don’t miss what they have never thought about, seen, or experienced. And I looked at the pictures and I thought this is what I need to look at every day. This is what can keep me connected to the real world. That is important to me. Being grounded. Staying grounded.

So I spent about four hours and downloaded every picture that I came across that I liked. I put them in a folder and I have added to that folder a few times now when I have thought of other people I would like to see. Then I set my desktop to that folder and voila. I Guess I am bringing it up because it affected me in some unexpected ways.

First, I have dual monitors, so as I work I can see the pictures change, for the most part. The only time I can’t is when I have something else up on the second monitor. But, I found that I tend to leave that monitor blank most of the time now. And that, throughout my day, I am watching the faces pop up. A mother in Africa with her baby. A band of Gypsies Exiled by Hitler before or during the war. He hated them as much as he did the Jewish people. A proud but poor Father in Mexico posing outside of a house most of us would not want to step inside of let alone call home, with his family. All smiling. Looks like they have a lot of love if not money.

A young Native American mother sometime back in the 1700’s staring wide eyed at the camera, her child held in her arms. She looks so young and scared. A little Boy smiling up at the camera, tribal scars on both sides of his face. He looks so happy. His smile is genuine. A mother nursing. Rebels posing with Machine Guns on a road in a jungle somewhere. A young Vietnamese woman making her way through the ruined streets of some Vietnamese city. A Chinese woman with her child on her back, wrapped and looking at the world go by as mom makes her way to where ever she is going. And more…

A family on the road. A father carrying his children. Images of war, images of peace. Images I have no context for, only the people looking into the lens of the camera, or away: Caught unawares. I realized it really was keeping the world in my mind. Why is that father carrying his children? What does that mother feed her children? Do they know about the western world? What do they think about it? I like it. It keeps the world on my mind. The part of the world that is important.

I don’t mean our jobs, bills, house payments aren’t important, I am only saying that people are more important. Seeing these people from all over the world. Some surely still living, some long gone away, keeps me grounded. If only because of what I just said. Know some a re gone. Some still here. It reminds me that there were times with my family, friends, I wish I could have back, had cherished more. Some of those people are gone now. If I remember them as I look at the pictures it’s like they never left. And, there are the questions I have for those I see in the pictures too. It keeps the important things in the world in perspective for me.

It has been an interesting week, and I am glad I made the change. It even makes me grateful, yes, grateful, to Microsoft for this desktop where I can watch those changing pictures. Or whoever came up with the idea. Does that mean I can’t complain about Windows anymore?


Take a look at my books on Amazon: Dell Sweet