Free Read Friday: G is for God Is Dead Part IV

© Can Stock Photo / Zeferli

Author Note: What follows is a brief foray into the world the four boys from my post apocalyptic series inhabit. A world of unrestrained brutality where death lurked at every turn, where the only law was the firepower one carried, and the only hope was for a swift death followed by a dreamless sleep. Inspired by Stephen King's Dark Tower series. Roland Deschain was the last gunslinger, one of these boys is destined to become the first.

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G is for God is Dead!

Part IV

On a winding country road four boys reach the edge of reality.

“It’s nothing, really, just the wind, and all that, there’s nothing at all in the shadows,” the man finished, jerking his head around to the right as he continued to search the shadows. “Or maybe it’s a nightmare that’s slipped its moorings,” he whispered more to himself as he turned from the four boys to continue his search of the darkness that had grown to fill the church with a palatable sense of approaching doom. They were trapped between the undead waiting outside, and a shadowy presence that inhabited the church. Why were the undead waiting? What invisible force was keeping them at bay? The questions begged for answers that were not immediately forthcoming.

“He’s crazy,” Window said, dismissing the old priest as he vanished into the thick gloom.

“Shhh,” Einstein said, “not so loud, he might hear you.”

“So, who cares?”

As the other three were dealing with the priest Billie-Bob had been watching the statue behind the altar. There was something about it that touched him in a darkly primitive place where old fears roamed unfettered through narrow corridors. Something that wasn’t quite right, aside from its size.

Window’s shout drew his attention, and when he looked away, just at the very edge of his peripheral vision, he spotted movement. The statue had moved, and he took several steps back as fear washed over him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. It had to be his imagination. It wasn’t possible for the statue to move. He focused his attention on it, watching for even the slightest sign of movement but the shadows were thick, and details were scarce.

He could move closer, but no, it was safer to remain where he was. He looked away, this time focusing on the statue and was rewarded with a slight nodding of the head. It had to be the shadows playing tricks on him.

Retrieving a flashlight from his pack he turned it on and played the narrow beam across the statue’s face, those clear blue eyes sparkled in the soft light. First one eyelid, then the other, closed and he took several steps back.

“Guys,” he whispered as he struggled to come to terms with what he had just seen. They were still arguing among themselves after the priest vanished into the deeper shadows along the side of the church.

Then he felt it on an emotional level, something reaching out to him, caressing his thoughts as it sought what? What was it searching for?

Do you believe? The question formed and he looked from the statue to his friends. They were the only thing he had ever believed in. The only thing he found he could trust. You couldn’t even trust adults in this new reality, it was every man for himself, and as the youngest member of this quartet he had experienced that disregard first hand. Most of the adults he’d met in his short life were focused solely on their own needs and wants.

You can trust me, a sweetly sinister voice whispered in his mind and he found himself drawn to the statue like a moth to a flame. He was aware the others had stopped arguing, their focus shifting from the priest to him, as they each in turn, spun around to watch as he slowly approached that living statue.

“Billie-Bob, what are you doing?” Window shouted.

The young boy failed to answer as he slowly approached the statue, one hand outstretched, reaching for those clear blue eyes locked with his as that inner voice soothed his terror. Quelling his fear, blanketing it with a spreading numbness that slowly washed through him.

With its numbing embrace came understanding as Billie-Bob shed his well earned doubts about humanities purpose and its future.  They had come to witness the dawn of a new era. Those who had gathered beyond the walls of the church, drawn by that which inhabited the statue, the undead were to be the chosen ones.

When he and his brother first arrived at Bremo Bluffs, they had been taken in by a husband and wife who had lost their children to the awakening. Their presence helped soften the blow of that loss, but the couple had found more solace in the bible, in particular the teachings of revelations and the passages that dealt with the rising of the dead. For them the awakening was not the end of society, but the beginning of a new age.

Did that mean they were doomed to an eternity of damnation?

“Come to me,” that sinister voice whispered in his mind, and he did, against his own will, unable to stop himself. 



To be continued!

The four boys featured in this story appear in my post apocalyptic coming of age series available from Amazon.

Book one

 ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

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The Dark Tower Movie: Review

I've been a fan of Stephen Kings work since the mid seventies when I was in the military. Anyone who has served knows military service is comprised of long periods of unrelenting boredom punctuated by brief moments of sheer terror. It's during these down times that most people turn to books as a way to pass the time. I was no different and quickly amassed a library of paperbacks that followed me around the world. You always had a book handy for when it was time to hurry up and wait.

I see you there in the corner nodding your head, you understand what I'm talking about.

As a fan I read each of the  Dark Tower books as they were released, following Roland of Gilead in his travels as he sought out the man in black. So it was with a mix of trepidation and excitement that I watched as The Dark Tower movie came into being. I've seen many of the movies based on his books, and with the exception of The Shining, most were failures. Which I can understand, Stephen King is a writer whose prose tends to draw you into the story, making you feel as if you are a part of the action. A feat that is very difficult to pull off on the screen. There is an intimacy in his work that you either get, or you don't.

So back to my thoughts about the movie.

On my day off I attended the noon showing of The Dark Tower. I'd read the reviews, saw the low ratings on rotten tomatoes, but I had to see for myself. My first clue that things were amiss was when I entered the theater to find only three other people there. About twelve more showed up before the movie started. Of course the time of day could have been a factor, I kept hoping.

To say I'm disappointed in what they did, would be an understatement.


For those who haven't read the dark tower series I believe the movie would be great to see. It's got everything one would want in an action fantasy. The misunderstood child whose dreams are in fact reality. The brooding hero who grudgingly accepts the task of protecting the child. A villain everyone loves to hate, a man who can kill with a word, and doesn't hesitate to do so. And whose only purpose in life is to destroy that which stands in his way, while at the same time taking down the hero. 

The use of the children to attack the tower was reminiscent of The Shining and its sequel Doctor Sleep. Of course that psychic ability Uncle Steve refers to as The Shine, and alternate realities are a common thread that populates much of his work.

But if you've been a King follower for any length of time you will likely be sorely disappointed by the movie. While it's an action packed thrill ride that adheres to the main thread of the series, with impressive special effects, and likable characters, it falls far short of the depth and breadth of the book series. It might have been better to not even link it to the series, instead of saying based on The Dark Tower series by Stephen King, in the opening credits maybe they should have went with inspired by.

But there's enough there I believe, to draw new readers to the series to find out what all the fuss is about.

The previews for IT were astounding. Hopefully it fares much better than The Dark Tower.

Overall I rate the movie a solid 3.5 stars. 

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Synopsis:

The Dreadland Chronicles is a post apocalyptic dark fantasy inspired by Stephen King’s Dark Tower series, that seeks to answer the following question.

If Roland Deschain was the last gunslinger, who will be the first?

They are three, bound by a fourth, coming together in a post apocalyptic world to confront a growing evil that threatens to destroy mankind once and for all. But can they overcome their own differences in time to save their world, and the fate of all the others?

Fourteen years have passed since the dead walked, and obscurity means survival in an increasingly dangerous world. For the survivors compound at Bremo Bluff that obscurity is threatened when a group of children are abducted.

Four boys embark on a quest to rescue the children. A journey that will lead them into adulthood, with a brief detour through the Dreadlands, as they come face to face with the harsh reality of a brutal world beyond the barriers that had served to protect them.

In the dead city of Richmond they will face a savage cult who worship a creature of the night. They are not gods, nor are they demons. Born of despair these creatures lived along the shadowy edges of our well lit world. Where misery dwelt hand in hand with anguish.

When the dead walked, and man fled the cities to the east, he left behind an offspring of man’s despair. Once viewed as the nightmare imaginings of a fevered mind, these creatures were now awake in a world where the population that served as their food source has been severely reduced.

Awake, and very, very, hungry.

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Billie-Bob's Birthday: Part IV

Branches fell to the ground around him and he returned fire, the double ought buckshot finding its mark, doubling the boy over as he dropped to the ground in a tangled heap.

“Help me,” the girl screamed behind him and he swung around expecting to find another attacker in the depression with them. Instead he saw the crown of a baby’s head as it emerged from between her upraised legs.

“Don’t let him fall on the ground,” she shouted as she pawed at the ground with her hands. He was keeping his distance, his finger still sore from being nearly broken by her relentless grip.

Grabbing a towel from his pack he scooted over and gently removed the emerging baby,

“You have to make him cry or he wont breathe on his own.”

“How do I do that?”

“Smack his ass.”

“What?”

“You heard me, turn him upside down and smack his ass, you’ve got to get the fluid out of his lungs or he won’t survive.”

Pounding footsteps came from behind him and he swiveled around on his hips, drawing his revolver as he did, firing at the boy running towards him. The baby that had been nestled in his arm jumped in response to his gunfire and struggled to take a breath, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Quickly he suspended the child by his feet and slapped his bloody bottom. Amniotic fluid was ejected from his mouth and he cried in a shrill voice with his eyes screwed tightly shut.

“Give him to me,” she said as she reached for the child.

Todd wrapped the baby in the towel and handed him to his mother as another contraction slammed her onto her back and a second baby’s head emerged.

“There’s another one,” Todd said as the second child emerged much easier than the first. This time he knew what he had to do and quickly had the child wrapped in a t-shirt, as he only had one towel, and suckling at its mothers breast.

“We have to cut the cords, and you have to get the afterbirth out of me,” the girl said and Todd’s stomach performed several lazy somersaults.

“Just tie them off in two places and cut between them,” she said, “after that you should be able to pull the placenta out, but do it gently.”

Todd was sweating as he tied the cords, his hands shaking so bad he was hardly able to tie the knots. Finally he managed to do what he had to and was able to put everything behind him as he turned his attention to the task of getting them out of there. He knew where an old woman lived who’d be able to help the girl heal, but first he had to get rid of those around him.

Gathering up his shotgun and pistol he filled the pockets of his jacket with shells.

“Where are you going?” she said.

“We gotta get out of here, and we can’t do that while they’re still out there.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to do what I do best, I’m gonna go out there and kill every one of them.”

“What about me?”

“I’ll be back for you.”

“But what if one of them tries to sneak up on me while you’re gone?”

Todd pulled the forty five semi automatic from his pack and after checking to make sure it was loaded passed it to her.

“Safety’s off, all you gotta do is aim and squeeze the trigger, but be careful, it’s got a bit of a kick. When I come back I’ll let you know it’s me so you don’t shoot me.”

With that he turned and vanished into the forest.

He was alone now, unencumbered with the extra weight of someone who didn’t understand the true brutality of the world in which they lived. It was time for what this world had turned him into to emerge and take the fight to them. Hands that had recently helped bring new life into this world, would now be used to reduce the population of those who dared to come after him.

As night slowly descended upon the forest he moved like a wraith through the shadowy depths. The first group he came upon didn’t even know he was there until it was too late. He emerged from the shadows with his guns blazing and three of the attackers met their end, the other two fleeing into the night as he moved on to his next target, and his next, each with the same result.

At last they were alone and he returned to the depression where he helped the young girl to her feet and cradled one sleeping baby as he led her into the forest depths where an old woman would tend to her and ensure the survival of her twin boys. As he looked down at the sleeping child he realized he could really get comfortable being a dad. 

The End

I hope you enjoyed this brief foray into the world inhabited by Billie-Bob and his friends. To read more about their adventures in a post apocalyptic world follow the links below.

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The Reaping Excerpt

As many of you may know I've been hard at work getting my next book ready for release. THE REAPING is book two in my DREADLAND CHRONICLES series that follows a group of four boys through a post apocalyptic world. The story was inspired by the westerns I watched growing up and Stephen King's Darktower series that follows the adventures of the last gunslinger, Roland Deschain as he pursues the man in black.

For me a Gunslinger represents a force of good whose purpose is to bring order to a lawless land. But where did they originate? The DREADLAND CHRONICLES is my attempt to answer that question.

Every Wednesday over the next five weeks I will be sharing a different short excerpt from THE REAPING to, I hope, whet your appetite for its release on June 24, 2016. That weekend, the 24, through the 26th, the first book in the series ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR will be free on Amazon. There will also be a contest featuring a unique one of a kind prize for the winner with smaller gifts handed out to everyone who participates. See the end of this post for more details.

Without further delay I give you the first except from THE REAPING.

They heard her before they saw her, whistling a soft tune, a haunting melody that was anything but  upbeat. Like a funeral dirge best shared during the procession when the casket takes its final journey to the grave. From around a bend in the small stream the sound came, competing with the babble of the water rushing over smooth stone, and the restless voice of a soft breeze that stirred what leaves remained, their dead bodies chattering against one another like skeletons dancing a frenzied jig.

Cautiously they approached the sound, coming upon an old woman kneeling on the bank as she washed clothes in the cold waters of the stream. Her calloused hands were red with the cold, and as they rounded the bend she pushed herself to her feet with the help of a gnarled cane, tilting her head to one side like she could hear their footsteps on the grassy bank.

“I been waiting for you boys to find me. Mama said you would be around,” she said as the hem of her long dress caught in the moving water and the fabric drank its fill. She wore a black shawl stretched across her shoulders, her white hair in stark contrast as it rested against her back.

“Don’t be bashful now, I know you’re out there, I can smell ya.” She turned her head to look in their direction, the cataracts coating her eyes capturing the sunlight to lend them a silvery appearance. Her face was a road map of wrinkles, each one denoting a different emotion, the lines radiating out from her narrow lips ready at a moments notice to punctuate a smile or a frown.

Window moved past the others, following the narrow strip of brown grass that served as a bank to keep the stream on its course. She blinked several times as he approached, taking a hesitant step back as he got closer, his six two frame towering over her diminutive five three posture.

“He got to you, didn’t he boy?” She said with a faint quiver in her voice. It was obvious she was frightened by Windows sudden movement, but at the same time she carried herself like one who was prepared to meet her end. She reached out with one hand, and gently caressed Windows cheek like a mother comforting her child.

“How did you know we was coming?” Window said.

She smiled then, relaxing her grip on the walking stick she used to keep herself upright. “Mama told me back when I was a young un. She said, Sophie, you help them four boys when they come, you wait right there, don’t go running off, cause they’s gonna need your help.”

“How long ago was that?” Window said.

“All my life I’ve known, and I’ve waited, cause mama told me I had to. From the time I was a wee child running barefoot down to old man Winner's little store, I’ve known of you.”

“But that was before we were even born,” Window said as the others joined them and the old woman tilted her head to each in turn.

“You can see us?” Billie-Bob said.

She laughed then, her voice filled with a joy that helped push back the chill of the late fall day, offering a brief respite from the cold as a spreading warmth filled each of them at the sound of her merriment.

“Everything that has been, and is yet to be, has been writ down for those who know where to look,” she said before turning to look in Billie-Bob’s direction.

“I can see you with my heart, and that’s all I need. I can see your pain, you did something you thought was bad, but it wasn’t. Sometimes we are pushed to do things we otherwise would not do, for these things we can’t be held accountable, least ways not to ourselves. Where each of you are going you need to leave your guilt behind, it’s the only way you will survive, the only way the world as we know it will continue on its way.”

“What good is this world?” Einstein said, “why should we worry about letting it continue on its way.”

The old woman reached over and touched Einstein’s cheek, “I feel your pain son, but sometimes we have to know loss before we can know joy. It’s the way of the world and it won’t do us any good to fight it. You can’t see that now, but you will.”

“Can you help us?” Meat said.

“That’s why I’m here,” she said as she took Windows hand into her own, “he’s got something very bad in him," she said as she nodded at Window, "they calls them reapers, I can see it hunkered down next to his soul, trying to hide from me. I can’t help with that, but I know what you need to do. Let’s go inside where we can talk.” She looked around, searching the woods around them for other intruders, the boys followed suit, finding only the empty forest.

When they turned back a small cabin stood behind the old woman. It hadn’t been there before, Meat was sure of it, it was like it had materialized right out of the forest behind them.



End Excerpt

THE REAPING is available for pre-order HERE!


Book II, THE REAPING is due to be released June 24, 2016. That weekend, the 24, through the 26th, the first book in the series ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR will be free on Amazon.

Anyone who grabs a copy and leaves a review, (good, bad, indifferent) will receive an autographed bookmark, and will be entered into a drawing for a chance to win a one of a kind glass mug. I'll have a photo of the mug next week.