Showing posts with label sci-fi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sci-fi. Show all posts
Friday, 10 November 2017
Monday, 4 September 2017
Wednesday, 1 February 2017
Monday, 16 January 2017
Book Spotlight: Toltec Dawn by R.J. Hore
Science Fiction
Date Published: 2016
Publisher: eTreasures Publishing
Fergus mac Ogma, a youthful Irish acolyte at the Toltec Temple of Cashel has a burning desire to survive, and become something more than a native underling in a land controlled by invaders from across the ocean.
Captain Mixcoatl is settling in with his wife as commander of the Toltec fort at St Albans when he is suddenly summoned to meet with the new governor in London and learns of the plan to invade the Continent.
Rowena, the young Saxon girl, is fleeing England with her uncle the monk and attempting to reach the Continent across the Channel. Their flight is interrupted by a band of outlaws who offer to guide them.
Set in the years after the Toltec conquest of Ireland and England, three lives become entwined as they face personal desires and challenges of an occupied land, religious tension, and threat of an invasion.
Excerpt
Fergus’ gaze wandered to the dust motes captured in the wayward beam of sunshine that entered through the narrow window. For some reason the fine specks reminded him of grains of gunpowder. He might not be squatting here if not for the gray magic of the overlords.
The headmaster’s stern stare swept the class. “Who can tell me the significance of today’s date?” The tall redhead’s hand was the first raised.
Fergus rose to his feet and shook a cloud of ash from his shoulders, the residue from the morning’s flagellation. “This is the one hundredth anniversary of the first landfall in Connaught by the Golden Jaguar.” He couldn’t help adding, “From this year of 1215AD, according to the peasants.”
“And what is the significance of the landing, Fergus mac Ogma?” Frowning, the headmaster tugged at his jade earplug, one of the signs of his impatience with the seminary students.
Fergus allowed a smile to flicker across his broad, freckled face. He made a slight bow. “This landfall brings civilization to the five kingdoms, and enlightenment to the rest of the world.”
The headmaster frowned. “Not yet to all of the rest of the world, young pup.”
“Is it not simply a matter of time, Master?”
“You presume to know the wishes of the Smoked Mirror, my unworthy pupil?” The ancient priest’s dry voice dropped to the level of a fading autumn breeze.
The other novices shrank into their threadbare robes. The temperature in the stone cell fell by several degrees.
Fergus remained unconcerned. “Is it not our duty, as missionaries in the name of Tezcatlipoca and the Great Khan himself, to carry the word to every corner of the world?” He sat back on his straw mat.
“It will be, if any of you ever leave the shelter of this abbey as graduates and acolytes.” The headmaster shook his high priest’s robe and surveyed the crowded chamber, pointing with stick-thin fingers laden with gold and emerald rings. “To make certain you remember to humble yourself before the gods, and the Great Khan, run outside, around the abbey grounds, six full times. Then take your willow switches, go to the courtyard, and flagellate your bare backs until the dinner bell is sounded.” He smiled. “Cell partners will take turns. Finn, you will start on Fergus until he bleeds, and next it will be your privilege. Go!”
“See what trouble you have created,” Finn hissed at Fergus as they jostled through the doorway.
Some of the other students glared at Fergus, others simply bowed their heads and shuffled off toward the exit.
Fergus smiled calmly. “This only makes the body and mind stronger to carry on our divine work.”
He ran, soon leaving Finn and the others behind. As Fergus dashed across the uneven ground he glanced up at the rock and the castle, the high, round tower black against the sun. Adjacent to the castle, the half-completed stone pyramid stretched toward the sky, smoke rising from the temporary altar at the summit. “Someday, I too will sit upon a rock and judge, I swear it.”
About the Author
After winning a Canadian Authors national contest, Ron connected with Champagne Books of Alberta to complete “The Dark Lady” fantasy trilogy, followed by “The Queen’s Pawn” trilogy, and his fantasy detective series of eight novellas: “The Housetrap Chronicles.” His latest novel with Champagne is “Alex in Wanderland.”
Ron recently signed with a second publisher, eTreasures Publishing of Florida with, “We’re Not in Kansas,” a near-future thriller, followed by a what-if, “Toltec” trilogy. The first book in the series, Toltec Dawn is available now, with the second, Toltec Khan, available shortly.
Ron, a member of several writing groups, reviews genre novels for an on-line magazine and sometimes escapes to his sailboat on Lake Winnipeg.
Follow Ron at: www.ronaldhore.com and www.facebook.com/RonaldJHore
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Tuesday, 10 January 2017
Wednesday, 14 September 2016
Book Spotlight: Mystra by Crystalphoenis
Science Fiction/Fantasy
Date Published: July 15, 2016
In the wake of the Kryllidar war, creatures of myth and legend, the elder races, and the psychically gifted fled the telepath phobic Alliance worlds in search of sanctuary. They found their safe haven on the planet Mystra. It was a paradise world, then something went horribly. A great cataclysm unleashed a storm of deadly energy that threatened to tear the planet apart. Cut off from the rest of space by a barrier of destructive force, all appeared lost. Then from despair came hope. The energies unleashed by the cataclysm had an unexpected effect. Dormant genes carried by women of an ancient Druidic line were suddenly activated, giving the women the ability to control the elemental forces of nature. The elementals saved Mystra from destruction, but their newfound power came with a price. The incredible forces they wielded, in time, destroyed them. Only by bonding with a male, who also carried the dormant gene, could an elemental be saved and her powers safely harnessed.
An elemental’s power reaches maturity on midnight of her twenty first year. If she is not bonded before the midnight hour, the elemental will go mad, lose control of her powers and destroy herself and everything around her. Tivonna, daughter of King Arcus of Aquilla is nearing her twenty first year. A level four elemental, her father has searched the planet for a bondmate, a kiosan, that can match his daughter in power. Searched and failed. He is left with no choice. For the good of Mystra, at midnight on her twenty first birthday Tivonna must die.
Meanwhile, high above Mystra’s skies a golden starship takes up orbit around the shrouded world. Jasen, telepath and last of his kind, has come to Mystra seeking answers. Beings of fire and light appeared from nowhere and swarmed across the galaxy before disappearing as mysteriously as they had appeared. In the creatures’ wake three star systems lay in ruins. Nothing survived except for one lone world. The planet Mystra was untouched. Now Jasen and his friend Hawk will do what no one has done in centuries. Penetrate the planet’s deadly energy barrier and reach the surface below. What they find there will change their lives forever and may hold the key to saving more star systems from destruction. For the fiery invaders are not gone … only sleeping.
Excerpt
Prologue
The planet Mystra …a world as beautiful as she was mysterious. Pulses of multicolored lightning flashed through the dense white clouds that shrouded the planet’s surface, hiding her secrets from prying eyes. Once sister world to a multitude of planets, she is now alone. Surrounded by the debris of what at one time were viable worlds, she is the last vestige of life in an otherwise barren system. In solitude, she waits for those who would come to unlock her mysteries…those with the skills and courage to breach the flashing clouds surrounding her and reach the surface below.
With a rippling of space, the sleek golden starship dropped out of hyperspace and settled into orbit around the jeweled planet. At long last her wait was over.
Chapter One
2605 Day 232
The exploration vessel Ourora smoothly exited hyperspace and settled into orbit around the nearby planet. The dark haired young man sitting trance-like in the pilot’s seat, hands resting on the two glowing plates set in the console before him, stirred and opened his eyes. It was a perfect run.
Breaking his mind‑link with the starship, he stood and stretched. The Ourora was shaping up to be a sweet ship. Once the strangeness of joining his mind to the ship’s instruments and controls had worn off, he had found piloting by thought as natural as breathing. This was not really surprising, considering that his people had built the vessel. In fact, it was on this very ship that he had been found adrift in space as a child, the last survivor of his race, of his entire planetary system.
2590 Day 143
Jake Blackthorn watched as the image of a golden starship grew on his ship’s monitors. The Wanderer had been returning to Earth after a profitable trading run when they had stumbled upon the derelict. The ship’s golden skin and graceful lines were like nothing he had ever seen.
“She’s beautiful, but where did she come from? That’s no Alliance ship.”
Jake had been so engrossed in studying the alien vessel that he had not heard anyone approach. Turning, he found Dr. Nicole Wright standing at his side. “I have no idea Nikki but I intend to find out.”
“Uh oh, you have that explorer look.” She teased feeling the excitement radiating from him.
“Once an explorer always an explorer. Take us in Pete,” he instructed the pilot. “I want a good look at this lady. Any energy or life sign readings?”
“It’s hard to get a fix, some kind of energy dampener,” came the reply from the science station. “It’s scrambling our sensors.”
“Captain,” Pete called, “you’d better see this.”
Returning his attention to the view screen, Jake stared as the Wanderer approached the far side of the derelict ship. A sick feeling began in the pit of his stomach as he saw the gaping hole ripped into the golden metal of the ship.
“No survivors then.” Jake said sadly, “all right let’s get a tractor beam on her¼”
“Captain, I think I’m getting a life sign reading.”
Jake turned to the science station. “What do you mean you think you’re getting a reading?”
“Well, it’s faint and it keeps drifting in and out. The dampener field is playing hell with the sensors, but there is something over there.”
After a heated debate, which Jake naturally won, he and Dr. Wright boarded the damaged ship. As they explored the craft Jake felt his excitement grow, much of the vessel’s interior appeared to be intact. The bridge, engine room, and cargo holds seemed untouched. It was only as they explored the damaged area of the ship that his excitement waned. As they entered what appeared to be crew quarters Jake froze, nausea rising in his throat. “Oh, my God, they’re children.” Jake barely heard Nikki’s anguished whisper. He was staring at the rows of bunks crammed into the room. The ship’s passenger and crew cabins were filled with children, children of diverse races, some of which he had never seen before. They were all dead. Their lifeless bodies still strapped to their bunks.
“They never had a chance.” He whispered. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Wait,” Nikki grabbed his arm and pointed to the scanner she held clutched in her hand. “I’m getting that phantom signal again.”
“Can you get a fix?”
“Yes! One deck down and to the rear.”
Following the faint signal, they made their way to the rear of the ship. Rounding a corner, they froze. Standing in what appeared to be a galley, surrounded by a golden glow, was a raven haired, golden eyed boy about ten years old.
“Hello,” Jake spoke softly and held out his hands in what he hoped was a friendly gesture. “We’re here to help.”
The boy studied the two space-suited figures intently, but made no move. Encouraged, Jake slowly approached the still youth. Suddenly, the glow surrounding the boy intensified and a strong forced hurled him back.
“Please,” Nikki begged. “We only want to help you. You’re all alone now. Let us help. We mean you no harm.”
“Nikki, we have to go,” Jake whispered. “I think I cracked something, my suit’s losing air. I can’t stay much longer.”
“We can’t just leave him.”
Keen golden eyes seemed to bore into Nikki’s soul as the boy studied her intently. She almost gasped in relief when he turned to scrutinize Jake in turn. Whatever he saw must have reassured him. Indicating that they should follow, he led them into the next compartment. Nestled in the chamber was a large golden sphere. Jake and Nikki watched as the boy placed his hand against the side of the globe. A portal suddenly appeared. Motioning for them to follow, he entered the sphere. Once inside, the portal closed, leaving no sign it had ever existed. Gazing around in amazement, Jake turned to find the boy, minus the golden glow, sitting on a plush looking couch against the far wall watching them curiously.
“A life pod. Jake, I read a breathable atmosphere, constant temperature… the works. This is how he survived.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain how he can walk around out there with no suit, and what about that glow?”
“That doesn’t matter now, the main thing is getting him, and us, back to the ship.”
A sound of rustling caused them both to turn. The boy was standing a few feet away holding a silvery suit in one hand and a metallic capsule in the other. Seeing he had the adults’ attention, he offered the suit to Jake.
Taking the offered garment, Jake examined the delicate material. “I think it’s a spacesuit.”
“You’re right, “Nikki examined the now open storage cabinet, “there’s a whole rack of them in here, but they’re all for adults. What do we do about him?”
“The capsule must be some kind of carrier. We put him in there and carry him across.”
With the boy’s help, Jake removed his damaged suit and donned the alien garment. The suit molded itself to his body and Jake marveled at the freedom that it gave him. Excitement stirred in him, what other marvels did this ship and its lone occupant hold?
After checking to make sure Jake’s suit was working properly, the boy opened the life support capsule and stepped inside. Once more he studied the two adults, then calmly closed the carrier, entrusting himself to the strangers’ care.
Returning to the Wanderer without incident, Jake ordered the derelict ship taken in tow and set course for his most secure research center. This was too important a find; he was taking no chances. Leaving the boy in the doctor’s capable hands, he wasted no time in staking his claim to the alien derelict.
Jake Blackthorn was a powerful man and he now used that power. By pulling a few strings and cashing in a few favors, he obtained exclusive salvage rights to the alien vessel. The bodies of the deceased children would be turned over to the authorities, but no mention was made of the boy. Satisfied that he had taken every precaution to protect his find, Jake headed for sickbay. He couldn’t say what had made him keep the boy’s existence a secret from the authorities, but his gut told him the kid was special. There was no way he was going to let some government social worker get their hands on him. Besides the kid had trusted him, Jake shivered as he remembered the boy’s golden eyes staring into his, searching his soul. The child was as unique as his craft. Jake usually had little use for children, but there was something about this one that stirred all his protective instincts. The kid was his, by God, and nobody was taking him away.
Six months later, Jake was ready to consign both the ship and its golden- eyed master into the fiery depths of the nearest sun. After six months of intensive study, the starship was still an enigma. Even his best experts could not fathom how the strange vessel operated. There were no noticeable controls, just panels of colored crystals set into the consoles. The engines consisted of smooth sided boxes and crystal globes. No dials, switches, or knobs were to be seen. There was no sign of power, though they knew that it existed. Jake fumed; all that power, all that technology just out of reach, it was enough to drive an entrepreneur mad.
The boy was proving to be as impenetrable as his vessel. The shock of the accident had severely damaged the kid’s memory, erasing any knowledge of what had happened to him or his ship. Quiet and reserved, he cooperated fully with the scientific team examining him but volunteered nothing. Except for a few unknown factors in his DNA and body chemistry, he was remarkably similar to humans. Yet, it did not take the team studying him long to realize that he was not your typical ten- year old boy. His golden eyes held wisdom beyond his years; and he always seemed to know what was wanted of him, even before he was shown or asked. He proved to be extremely bright and learned at an amazing rate. In a very short time, he mastered enough Galactic-Standard to communicate. Yet, nothing they tried could unlock the memories buried deep in the boy’s mind. It was as if every thought concerning his home world or his flight to this system had been locked away behind an impenetrable barrier. He was a blank slate, which could soak up knowledge, but offered none in return.
Jake was not prepared to give up his discovery without a fight. Every day, their guest was becoming more relaxed and comfortable with his new home. With time, Jake hoped that his memory would start to return. It was another month before the first breakthrough occurred. Since he could not remember his name, the young castaway had been christened “Kid” by the researchers studying him. For seven months, the boy answered to the name “Kid”, so Jake was surprised when the youth fixed him with a golden eyed stare and said, “My name is Jasen, not Kid.” After that, snatches of memory began to return.
On a hunch, Jake decided to see what would happen if Jasen was reunited with his starship. Maybe the sight of the vessel and the familiar surroundings would jog the boy’s memory. At least, he might be able to show them how the ship operated.
It was soon obvious that returning to the ship was a shock for the youth. He wandered through the vessel as if in a daze. With each section of the ship revealed and explored, his face grew paler. By the time they reached the bridge, Jake was afraid the boy was going to collapse. On one side of the bridge was a large console inset with a panel composed of some type of blue crystal. Jasen went to the console, placed his hands palm down on the crystal, and closed his eyes. The panel immediately began to glow and flash. After a few minutes, the glowing stopped and Jasen opened his eyes. Removing his hands from the console, he began to tremble uncontrollably and then to cry. Rushing to him, Jake held the sobbing child as delayed trauma finally hit.
Viewing the information contained in the ship’s library computer, as the console turned out to be, and reliving past events through the psychic traces left in the ship, had broken through the mind block the boy had erected. Later, when he had calmed down and been reassured that he was safe among friends, he freely answered Jake’s questions. The ship was totally thought controlled. It had been built by a race of telepaths, from a planet in the Gamma3 planetary system. It was a type of ark, a last ditch effort to save a remnant of the people of that system. Creatures of fire and light had appeared out of nowhere and attacked their worlds. The attacks had been quick, unexpected, and vicious. Caught off guard, most planets stood no chance against the invaders. Jasen’s world was the oldest and most advanced of the system. They were able to hold out long enough to launch three ships before being destroyed by the attackers. Only Jasen’s ship had made it out of the system, but not without taking damage. An energy blast had hit the ship severely, damaging its shields and compromising a large section of the hull. The ship’s crew had been working to repair the damaged section when they had been caught in an unexpected meteor storm, most likely debris from the destroyed worlds. The ship’s compromised shielding had been unable to stop one of the huge projectiles from striking the damaged hull and ripping it open. The two adults on board had been caught in the impact zone and killed. Jasen had been attending to some minor repairs on the side of the ship farthest from the rupture. His telekinetic abilities had allowed him to protect himself long enough to reach the safety of an escape pod. The others on board had not been so gifted.
The Gamma3 system was an old system with a high level of technology. They were not novices at space travel or exploration and had even visited the Alliance worlds to observe. That they could be wiped out so quickly and completely boded ill for the Planetary Alliance. After hearing the news Jasen brought, Jake became obsessed with the attackers. Who were they? Why did they attack? Had other systems fallen? He devoted a good part of his empire to finding out the answers. Jake soon lost his heart to the courageous child. He was determined to protect the boy, and the unusual gifts he had begun to display once freed from the mind block his fear had created. In time, Jake adopted him, named him his heir, and helped train him to use his gifts and hide them from the outside world.
Adapting to his new home proved difficult for Jasen. His planetary system had been on the opposite side of the galaxy from Alliance controlled space. The people of his world had enjoyed strong, friendly ties with the other sentient races of the nearby systems. They had been respected and honored for their technology and for their roles as peacemakers and diplomats. Things were far different in this new land. The Alliance worlds had an inbred, almost manic, fear and hatred of telepaths. Jake had tried to explain it to him once.
Many generations ago the Alliance worlds had been invaded by a race called the Kryllidar. The Kryllidar were a militant, barbaric insect-like race that possessed a high level of technical skill and little regard for other sentient life forms. They were a race that lived to conquer and enslave the populations of other worlds. The Kryllidar loved order and insured that the worlds they conquered adhered to their concept of obedience. Using drugs and machines, they subverted the minds and wills of those they invaded, turning them into perfect drones fit to serve the elite Kryllidar race.
The Kryllidar invaders swept across the galaxy like a plague, leaving worlds of mind-controlled zombies in their wake. Almost half the galaxy had fallen before the Alliance armada had been able to rally. Joined by ships from the outer fringes, they had been able to turn and repel the attackers. Once freed from the invaders’ mind-controlling apparatus, the enraged Alliance inhabitants had hunted down and exterminated every Kryllidar they could find, then followed up with an all-out attack on the Kryllidar home world. The Kryllidar race was totally wiped out, along with a number of neighboring planets that possessed similar life forms. The drugs and machines used to enslave the conquered worlds were rounded up and destroyed. The Alliance vowed never again to allow their people to be controlled in such a manner. A deep phobia of mind-control in any form sprung up among the sentient races within the Alliance systems, which was carefully passed down and instilled in each succeeding generation. From this phobia, a dread of telepaths emerged, which grew in strength with each retelling of the past atrocities. Telepaths were viewed as the ultimate masters of mind-control. Machines could be broken, drugs could be neutralized, but the only way to stop a telepath was to kill him. Also, unlike the Kryllidar, a telepath could blend in with the populace of a given world. They could lurk unknown and undetected among the citizens of the Alliance. One could never be sure if his thoughts were his own or being manipulated by another.
Soon the slogan, “The only good telepath is a dead one,” became common. It was into this climate of hate that the young Jasen had been thrown. He was the last surviving telepath in the galaxy. He lived in constant fear of exposure and death. He was looked upon as a monster, a demon; he was fair game for all. No one would hesitate to destroy him if he were discovered.
There were few people in his life that he dared trust implicitly. Fortunately for the young telepath, it was Jake who discovered him. Jake was a shelter of love in an otherwise dark and hate filled universe. The explorer did not share the rest of the Alliance’s loathing and terror of telepaths. He had been born in a remote sector far from the alien invasion. When that cluster’s sun went nova, Jake had brought his thriving corporation to the Alliance worlds. Most of those on Jake’s personal staff were refugees from his home system. Like Jake, they viewed Jasen as different but not horrible. He was a bright and charming boy and they soon grew to love and admire him as Jake did. They vowed to protect the vulnerable youth and his secret. Jake raised the boy as a son and taught him how to survive in his new home.
2605 Day 232
With a shake of his head, Jasen shook off the thoughts of the past. He was no longer a frightened boy of ten, but a man of twenty-five and he had work to do. Jake was dead and it was up to him to finish what his adopted father had begun. He gave the instruments another quick metal scan to assure that everything was as it should be then left the bridge and headed for the ship’s lounge. Hawk. He wished his friend had not insisted on coming, but nothing he had said had dented Hawk’s resolve to accompany him.
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Monday, 12 September 2016
Book Spotlight: Ashia by L.E. Thomas
Science Fiction/Fantasy
Date Published: August 13, 2016
Plagued by nightmarish visions of apocalyptic battles and burning victims crawling across the desert sands, the slave girl known as Shanda has been trying to keep her growing gift hidden from her abusive master as she knows being able to see images of the future is a cursed gift carrying the King’s ultimate punishment.
But as her tribe seeks solace from the deadly raids by the Mazomi Clan in their magical airships by moving toward the legendary Spire of Ashia, Shanda discovers her past will soon clash with a dangerous future.
A new epic tale full of adventure and discovery by the author of Star Runners, Ashia brings you a story of a world mired in secrets, oppression and a decades-old cover up that could alter the course of events for the entire planet.
This book is a sci-fantasy novel.
Excerpt
The Royal Guard surged forward like a living wave. Grev cut through the men, his sword slashing through their flesh like a rabid animal. He ignored his tiring muscles. He couldn’t feel the wounds from counter attacks, his blood igniting like the fires of the stars.
Spinning, he hurled guards into their comrades, using the close quarters of the hall to his advantage. He yelled as a knife penetrated his bicep. Without stopping, he yanked the weapon from his body and hurled it through the face of an attacker.
A force hit him from behind—an arrow piercing his back. He fell to his knees, swinging his sword with his remaining strength. A blade hit his forehead, splitting his skin. Warm blood spilled into his eyes. Strong hands clasped his shoulders, preventing him from falling into darkness.
“At least, you cannot have my wife,” Grev breathed, his muscles failing as the guards restrained him to the floor. “She has fled beyond your reach.”
The Baron stepped forward, a torch in his hand.
“Oh, no, my dear Captain, we already have her.” He held the fire close to Grev’s face and laughed. “The Captain of his Royal Guard. Bah!”
Blunt force thumped into the back of his head and darkness took him.
About the Author
L.E. Thomas lives in Georgia with his wife and rescued dog where he is currently working on his next novel.
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Thursday, 14 July 2016
Book Spotlight: The Black Guard by C.R. Daems
Science Fiction
Publisher: Talon Novels
ISBN: 978-1497558687
ASIN: B00JGF7XIC
Pages: 273
As the least favored child, it was no surprise when Rivka's father selects her, at age six, to comply with the country's conscript law. Sent away to the military to be raised and trained, she struggles to keep from falling into an abyss of despair. Only when she adopts a new friend's dream of becoming a member of the elite Black Guard does she find a new reason to live.
Few make it into the Black Guard, but Rivka is determined. Yet when she makes it and is sent on her first mission, to protect a ruling family during a revolution, she discovers to her dismay that the Black Guard may not be as perfect as she had believed. Thus Rivka begins a journey that will change her and the Black Guard forever.
Other Books in the Series:
Publisher: Talon Novels
Published: December 2015
ISBN: 978-1519424655
ASIN: B018UGBMMA
Pages: 245
Dragon Sapir is back, and the Jax Military will never be the same.
The Jax Contract Committee has released Rivka to take assignments, and her first involves her in a plot by several Systems within the Helix collection of systems to destroy the Jax. As the plot spreads, she is given assignments to combat the threat. Soon she becomes the JCC's problem solver for ill-advised and potentially ruinous contracts the JCC is forced to accept, including one by the United Freelands who is seeking revenge on her for their embarrassing defeat on Suryah.
Rivka has become the agent of change, an essential evolution if the Jax is to survive.
About the Author
Clem Daems is a native of Chicago, Illinois and a graduate of the University of Arizona. He served twenty-two years in the US Air Force. Since then, he has worked as a software engineer, course developer, and adjunct professor, teaching mathematics and Computer Science.
He has always been an avid reader of Science Fiction/Fantasy but never had an interest in writing or being an author. So, it was surprising when he began his first novel, several years after his retirement, at age seventy. His first novel, co-authored with Jeanne Tomlin, "The Talon of the Raptor Clan"--recently reissued as the "Talon of the Unnamed Goddess"--was a 2010 EPPIE finalist in Fiction/Fantasy.
Clem is an award winning author and an active member of the Science Fiction Writers of America.
His hobby--a life-long one--has been Kung Fu and Tai Chi. Clem is currently retired and living in Tucson, Arizona with his lovely wife of fifty-plus years.
He would enjoy hearing from you on any topic: his books, the characters, writing with a co-author, Kung Fu, his website (crdaems.com) or (talonnovels.com), life after retirement, or...
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Wednesday, 8 June 2016
Book Spotlight: Dark Moon by C.W. Holcomb
Sci-fi Thriller, Science Fiction, Post-Apocalyptic
Date Published: April 2016
Dark Moon is a Sci-fi suspense thriller about a time in the near future when creatures from ancient legends emerge from hiding to help the surviving humans fight sinister alien invaders who have begun a ground invasion of New York City and cut down all in their path with lethal energy weapons. The story centers heavily on Raziel, the last remaining Werewolf as he is forced to begin turning the human soldiers that fall in battle in order to save their lives and rekindles his kind after centuries of near extinction.
The storyline follows his ancient mind back, to bittersweet memories of his distant youth more than a thousand years before, where he had met his counterpart and soulmate Lupea, a Pure Born Werewolf like himself that he had lost to the savagery of the Wars of the Moon. As he turns an elite squad of soldiers, one by one into newborn Werewolves, his memories of her are rekindled and he is forced to feel the loss of her all over again.
About the Author
C.W. Holcomb's writing style and major influences include a wide variety of well known novelists that came before him including, J.R.R Tolkien, Mary Stewart, Raymond E. Feist, C.S. Lewis, Robert Jordan, Elizabeth Hayden and Frank Herbert. The biggest influences on his style were Terry Brooks and Terry Goodkind. He has drawn inspiration for his novels from other areas as well including, animated shows and video games.
His debut novel, Dark Moon Book one of the Brotherhood of the Moon, is inspired by ancient Celtic legends about Werebeasts that stalked the forests of the Scottish Highlands on the full moon. His newly released novel, Chaos:Worlds Beyond Book one of the Reflections of Infinity Saga is deeply inspired by Ancient Greek Mythology and Lore. His works contain endearing characters that always have something special and unique that helps them survive in the brutal and unrelenting Worlds that he creates.
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Tuesday, 3 May 2016
Book Spotlight: Apocalypse Orphan by Tim Allen
Sci-Fi / Alternative History
Date Published: January 2016
Commander Orlando Iron Wolf is aboard the International Space Station when a blinking light on his computer console alerts him to a fast moving comet headed for a collision with planet Earth.
With no way to stop the impending doomsday, the world descends into panic and anarchy. Massive transport ships are built to colonize the moon, and evacuation of a chosen few begins.
After a shuttle mission to study the approaching comet goes awry, Wolf is forced into cryogenic deep sleep, and the onboard computer assumes control of the ship.
Wolf awakens 50,000 years later to a wildly different earth. Endowed with incredible strength, he finds himself caught in a war between primitive tribes, and his survival depends on Syn, an advanced computer intelligence who has fallen in love with him.
Will Wolf be able to help restore Earth to its past glory or is civilization doomed to fail?
About the Author
Tim Allen is a twenty seven year veteran Fire Captain for the City of Peoria (Illinois) Fire Department. His writing career began when he had to write a report about a fire incident and he was told to be more descriptive. In his next report, he was more descriptive and reflected about what he had seen and felt during the two minutes of hell. His superiors found no humor in this report and disciplined him. Once several other fire fighters read the report, they were intrigued with his writing and wanted to read more stories.
Allen caught the writing bug. He loves writing science fiction, but currently is working on a murder mystery entitled, "Tethered." With several novels in development, spanning everything from planetary colonization to aliens to time travel, he is also considering writing a few horror stories based on actual past events that have been well documented.
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Saturday, 12 September 2015
SF & Fantasy Sale 41 books at 99 cents each
41 books, all 99c for the weekend of 12-13 September.
There is a great range of books, from science fiction to urban fantasy to young adult and epic fantasy. We also have four entire box sets for 99c.
FIND ALL SALE BOOKS HERE
Here is just a small selection:
Shifting Realities by Patty Jansen
A few years ago, a military doctor walking the corridors of New Jakarta Space Station saved Melati's life. She signed up for the International Space Force to pay back her moral debt to him. But her family thinks she has betrayed her people. It was ISF who forcefully removed their grandmothers and grandfathers from the crowded slums of Jakarta to work in interstellar space stations.
It is Melati's job to teach six-year old construct soldiers, artificial humans grown in labs and activated with programmed minds to serve in an interstellar war. Her latest cohort has one student who claims that he is not a little boy, but a mindbase traveller whose swap partner took off with his body. It soon becomes clear that a lot of people are scouring the space station for this fugitive, a scientist with dangerous knowledge about interstellar space.
The best place to hide in the space station is amongst the many cultures and subcultures of the expat Indonesian B-sector. Looking for him brings Melati into direct conflict with her people. She does not want to be seen as one of the enemy, but if the scientist's knowledge falls in the wrong hands, war will come to the station.
***
The Chosen by Annette Gisby
he neighbouring kingdoms of Oscia and Arcathia have been at a tentative peace for three years after centuries of warfare. Prince Severin of Arcathia has been brought up to put duty before all else and as the only son of the King and Queen, it is his duty to marry and produce an heir. His parents want him to marry an Oscian princess to cement that tentative peace. Unfortunately Severin isn't interested in princesses. Now, if he had his pick of princes that would be another matter.
Havyn has been a slave all his life. When his aptitude for wizardry is discovered, he finds himself purchased and freed by Prince Severin and apprenticed to the royal wizard, Ildar. His duty is to stay chaste to keep his powers strong, but his feelings for Severin sorely test his resolve.
With kingdoms at war, the throne hanging in the balance, magic in the air, and outside forces trying to keep them apart, can the two men find happiness together, or is duty more important than love?
***
Dark Legion by Paul Kleynhans
The Empire made him a slave. They should have killed him when they had the chance.
Saul and his allies plot to steal the crown of Ubrain from the Emperor's vault. In the crown, he sees the means to unify his enslaved people and bring them to freedom. But their road is not a straight one and brings them face to face with the Inquisition. Beyond that, they get caught in the middle of an unseen war as older powers work to twist the world to their own design. Saul has never been one to set easy tasks for himself, but he is determined to break the Empire's grip on his people, no matter the cost.
It was a mistake to let him live. One the Empire will pay for with blood.
Dark Legion is the exciting series starter for the Blood of Blood trilogy. Get it today.
***
Wyrd Calling by Shen Hart
In the streets of the city, someone or something is killing sirens, and the Wyrd Sisters want it stopped.
They send their bound creation Thalia, the wild-child shifter, to track the killer down. Thalia would much rather be making a quick buck or playing with the fae, but bound is bound and Thalia must turn her new pack of shifters into an effective team to try and stop the killings. Time is as short as Thalia's temper. Can she make her pack work together and find the killer, or will the killer find her first?
Wyrd Calling: Dark urban fantasy just shifted.
Tuesday, 18 August 2015
Book Spotlight & Giveaway: House of the Last Man on Earth by Robert B Marcus and Ryan B Marcus
Science Fiction
Date Published: April 2015
Richard Johnson, an average college student, just spent his last dime on food, lost his wealthy girlfriend, and had his bike stolen. To add to his misery, he returns to his apartment where he runs into his strange neighbor, nicknamed The Ghoul. Convinced that this bizarre man is more than he seems, Richard and his land lady's bull dog, Khan, sneak into The Ghoul's apartment where they find a timegate to the future. Along with his set theory teacher and her brother, they embark upon a soaring and treacherous journey through space and time to discover a terrible truth--mankind is being slowly and systematically exterminated.
Mild Violence, No profanity, No sex
EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
I’ve had better Wednesdays.
On Wednesdays, I’m supposed to awaken with the blaring of my alarm clock at seven. I get up, dress quickly, dash to campus, stare at Mrs. Jacklyn in set theory class, fall asleep in Mechanics 1, eat lunch, and study in the afternoon, before ending the day at band practice. For me, that was enough excitement on Wednesdays.
On the seventh Wednesday of the fall term my alarm clock didn’t go off, probably because I had thrown it across the room the day before in a fit of anger.
I was late to my first class. Ordinarily, being late to set theory would not have posed much of a problem, but when I arrived Mrs. Jacklyn was collecting a pop quiz. I hadn’t done very well on her last quiz and I wasn’t likely to do much better on this one.
I slunk into the class. With nothing important to do for a few seconds after finishing the quiz, everyone had time to turn and gawk at me. I wanted to whirl and run, but somehow I found the courage to shrivel into a seat in the back row. What continually cycled through my mind as I tried to disappear was how embarrassing it would be to flunk math, since it was the class in which I wanted to do well. Not because I liked set theory. I hated it, and it wasn’t even required for my major. No, I was in the class for one reason: I was mesmerized by Mrs. Jacklyn, and I had no trouble explaining why. Since reaching puberty, I had always adored tall women, and Mrs. Jacklyn was tall; she’d played volleyball in college, according to rumor, and was an expert in martial arts and weapons. Her slender body, lithe and graceful as a pine tree, was at least an inch taller than my six feet two inches. Her hair was black, as were her eyes, and every time she looked at me with those bottomless eyes I was captured. All she had to do was ask and I would give her anything. Unfortunately, the only thing she ever asked for were my tests, and I was too intimidated to ever speak to her.
Most of the students in the class were afraid of her, but I was both afraid of and in love with her, at least in a theoretical way. After all, I did have a girlfriend, so my dreams of love were tempered by that and Mrs. Jacklyn’s attitude toward me. She was remote and unapproachable, as difficult a goal to achieve as the set theory she was trying to teach me. The look she gave me when I slid into my seat late was cold enough to freeze fire. The look she gave me when I darted out of the class at the end of the period was even colder.
I had an hour between classes, so I rode my bike home to retrieve my Mechanics 1 textbook, which I had forgotten in my rush to find a clean pair of socks that morning. In times like these I was glad I didn’t have a car, since parking on campus was impossible, and I lived too far away to walk home and back even with an hour off. My bike was an old Schwinn five-speed, but it served me well.
Home was a slightly renovated old house a couple of blocks south of Arapahoe and a few blocks west of Broadway, close to a mile from the University of Colorado campus in Boulder. My landlady, Mrs. Lafferty, who was over ninety, had turned her family home into eight apartments. Only two of the apartments had bathrooms; the rest were just bedrooms that shared a common bath.
Two sizes smaller than the other apartments was my closet of a room. Mrs. Lafferty kept telling me it had been her children’s playroom sixty years before, but I wasn’t convinced. It was too small to be anything but a closet. But it was cheap, and with the discount I received for walking Genghis Khan each day, I could almost afford it.
The mail had already come as I panted by; I snatched it off the foyer table, tripped over Khan, regained my footing, and glanced behind me with some anxiety.
Khan had not moved even one drooping lip. I was grateful. The last thing I needed right now was a spoiled brat of a bulldog wanting his walk. Technically, I was supposed to walk him twice a day. Mrs. Lafferty’s right knee had been replaced the month before, and she was still too sore to walk him herself. Even though in general we didn’t get along too well, Khan and I had quickly come to an understanding—most of the time: I would only walk him in the afternoons and he wouldn’t complain about it to his owner. Not that he wanted to; Khan was a fat, ugly registered purebred bulldog who was over seventeen years old. Mrs. Lafferty’s family tree had primarily grown in Hungary and she’d named him after one of her heroes: Genghis Khan, the invader of Hungary. Khan’s belly bounced along the floor as he waddled (he no longer ran) and his lower lip often dragged the ground as he went. It seemed as though I was always pulling a sandspur out of that lip after one of our walks. Because of cataracts he could barely see where he was going, but there was nothing wrong with his nose: he could smell dead food eight blocks away. The deader the better. Four-day-old-squirrel roadkill (still stuck to the road, of course) was his idea of gourmet dining. It was almost impossible for me to pull him away from it even when a truck was rumbling straight at us. Once I had to scrape the squirrel off the road with my fingers and throw it onto the sidewalk to save our lives.
Still, unless Khan smelled some particularly ripe, tasty feast lying somewhere in the neighborhood, he was no more enthusiastic about his walks than I was. Our unspoken arrangement suited both of us just fine.
I examined my mail. The only mail not an ad was a notice from the campus credit union that the check I had written to The Food Market had bounced, and loudly, I presumed. That was my second bouncing to The Food Market. From now on it would be cash only for me at that store.
No money in the account! I couldn’t believe it! I should have had twenty dollars left over after that check. Now, with the bounced-check fee, I apparently was overdrawn thirty dollars and twenty cents. How could I have fouled up my checkbook so badly? It wasn’t as though I wrote a lot of checks to keep up with. It didn’t make sense.
Food was definitely going to be a problem for the next few days, until my GI Bill check came in. And worst of all, I had a date for lunch with Rosalyn. Sometimes she paid for our lunch; hopefully this would be one of those times. Otherwise I was going to be in trouble.
As it turned out, my money problem was the least of my worries.
Depressed, staring at the ground, afraid to wonder what else could possibly go wrong on this day that had hardly begun, I ran right into the Ghoul from the End of the Hall. It was like hitting a steel I-beam, and I went careening across the hall into the wall. The Ghoul just glared at me and left.
Dreamy Isle Apartments was a three-story building. Mrs. Lafferty lived on the first floor with Genghis Khan; there were four apartments on the second floor and four more on the third, five if you counted mine. While mine was certainly the smallest, the Ghoul’s was the largest, with a sitting room as well as a bedroom and a private bath. I had no proper excuse for knowing this except that I’d been in it chasing Khan. This was one thing Khan and I agreed on. Neither of us liked the Ghoul. If anything, Khan disliked him more than I did. I had no idea why, but whenever the Ghoul was around, Khan continually emitted a low-pitched growl and stayed as far away from him as possible. But when the Ghoul was out of the building, Khan often spent hours trying to break into his apartment. At least one time he was successful and I found him staring into the bathroom, his head slightly cocked to the right, lip and stomach rubbing the floor, a puddle of drool in front of him. Pulling him away from that bathroom was harder than dragging him away from one of his favorite dead squirrels, but I finally extracted him from the Ghoul’s apartment. My first inclination was to leave Khan in the hallway while I wiped up the trail of drool, but ultimately I decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. Let the Ghoul puzzle over the river of spit.
Of course, he really wasn’t a Ghoul, not that I was aware of, anyway. His name was Thaddeus K. Rumpkin. I had some difficulty prying this from Mrs. Lafferty, but kept asking her day after day until it slipped out of her sometimes addled mind. I don’t know why it was so important for me to find this out, but it was.
All the tenants called him the Ghoul because in some indescribable way he reminded us of one. It was hard to say why. He was thick and stubby, at least four inches shorter than me. His face was entirely without wrinkles, yet gave the appearance of being old. His expression was always neutral, never laughing, smiling, frowning, or looking puzzled. Yet a feeling of hostility always emanated from him. And his eyes … they were ancient, deep in knowledge … frightening … inhuman. I couldn’t look at them without a cold sweat breaking out on my back and my knees wobbling.
Once I had tried to be friendly. I offered to help him carry a load of groceries to his apartment since he was struggling with four obviously heavy bags, two in each arm. He stared at me, almost through me, and shook his head.
“Why?” he muttered. “I’m several times stronger than you.”
With that he bounded up the steps faster than I ever could, leaving me to shrug at Mrs. Lafferty in the foyer.
“Strange bird,” she said, staring up at him. “Pays good money, though. Never late with his rent.” With that, she turned and hobbled into her kitchen. It was the only unsolicited comment about him I ever heard from her.
I often asked her what he did for a living. She shook her head. I asked her why he didn’t come to the weekend breakfasts she fixed for all her tenants. She shook her head. I asked her if she knew why we didn’t see him for days at a time. Was he gone or in his apartment? She shook her head. She didn’t know, of course. No more than the rest of us.
As I now staggered around the hallway watching the Ghoul’s back disappear down the stairs I thought about the one time I had followed Khan into the Ghoul’s apartment. My mind couldn’t remember all the details, but what still struck me was that it was virtually bare. There was a desk or table in the sitting room, with a computer on it—at least something that was square and metallic—but the rest of the room was empty, and there was only a pad on the floor in the bedroom. I couldn’t remember anything about the bathroom except for Khan drooling in the doorway, but there was a strange presence coming from the room; perhaps that was the reason I needed so much strength to pull him away. It took me several days to admit it, but I was scared in that apartment. Terrified, actually.
Rushing away from the Ghoul, I made it back to campus for my Mechanics I class. The day had been going so badly that I had temporarily buried deep in my mind the fact that I was facing a midterm here. I had studied at least thirty hours for this test, and felt that I knew the material backwards and forwards, but the moment the test was placed in front of me, my mind went blank. The test questions appeared to be written in Sanskrit. Not one of them made any sense whatsoever.
When I finished the midterm, I was sure I had flunked it.
#
At lunch, Rosalyn Jennifer Rosencrantz dumped me. She had been avoiding me for two weeks, studying, she told me, so I should have been expecting something like this, but at times I’m oblivious to the emotions radiating from people around me.
Lunch started out fine. Perfect, in fact, considering my finances.
“Order whatever you want, it’s my treat,” she told me. “Daddy gave me some extra allowance.” Extra allowance for Rosalyn was usually enough to buy a Corvette. Daddy—Robert A. Rosencrantz, Jr.—had moved south thirty years before with his inherited New England fortune and developed acre after acre of beachfront condos in South Florida and square mile after square mile of mobile home parks in Central Florida, thus multiplying his already hefty fortune by several times. Having filled Florida, he then moved to Colorado to develop cheap ski areas. The lift tickets and condo prices weren’t cheap, of course, just the construction.
I was not too proud to take advantage of this opportunity for a free meal and ordered a double cheeseburger and fries, with cheese nachos as an appetizer. My goal for the moment was quantity and food with lasting power, not health.
Rosalyn ordered a small Diet Coke. That also should have tipped me off, but as I said, at times I’m not very observant.
She was quiet until the nachos came, then as I grabbed a chip and dipped my first glob of cheese with my right hand, she reached over and took my left.
“Richard, you know we’ve been dating for a long time.” Warning signal number three. I ignored it.
I nodded, my mouth full. “Since we were freshmen,” I mumbled.
She continued to hold my hand, but looked down at the table, avoiding my eyes. I was at last beginning to sense a problem and started to take interest in something other than food. But I found it hard to concentrate. Instead of blue eyes and an oval face, tanned to the color of dark sand and framed by short blonde hair, I saw the dark eyes of Mrs. Jacklyn.
“Our relationship isn’t going anywhere,” she went on, and my vision of Mrs. Jacklyn shattered, its pieces fluttering away to the far corners of my mind. “I think it’s time we both moved on and dated other people.”
She must have felt my hand flinch in shock, because she said, “It’s not just your fault—some of it is mine, too.”
I hadn’t even considered that it might be my fault. “Is there something I can do?” I asked. “Anything?” More a plea than a question. I looked at her, studied her face. She fiddled with the ends of her blonde hair nervously. Her eyes darted around, avoiding me, furtive blue orbs seeking a hiding place.
Then she withdrew her hand. “No, the thing is … well, actually … I’ve already found someone else.”
“Who?”
“John Rogers. You don’t know him. He’s a law student.”
I didn’t like the implications of her sentence. “I’m willing to share you,” I said meekly.
“Well … actually … I’ve been living with him for about two weeks.”
That finally did it. The facade of impenetrable concrete around my head crumbled away and awareness rushed in.
She was living with him! That meant … I didn’t really want to picture in my mind exactly what that meant. There was suddenly an ache deep inside and I wasn’t sure if it was in my heart or lower down.
“Why?”
She frowned. “Richard, you’re sweet, but so naive. John is much more a man of the world than you are. And he’s finished college and is in law school, even though he’s two years younger than you.”
I didn’t know what to say. My tongue wouldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe well. I was naive. I wasn’t a man of the world. Of course, with more cooperation from Rosalyn I could have qualified as more of a man of the world.
She stood up. Her Diet Coke was still full.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” she said. But her blue eyes were suddenly lacking in sympathy, or any kind of feeling whatsoever.
I was still too stunned to say much. She threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Here, this should cover lunch, since I did invite you.” Now my senses were fully alert and I could detect the trace of scorn in her voice.
I was still staring at the door when my lunch arrived. I kept picturing her and this John Rogers—a vague, faceless man in a double-breasted three-piece suit (or maybe without the suit)—and it made me too nauseated to eat a thing. My head reeling, I staggered out of the restaurant, leaving the twenty-dollar bill on the table to pay for lunch. The waitress ended up with a generous tip.
Later, I seriously regretted leaving all that money. And not eating.
#
At twenty-four, I should have completed college; instead, I was just a junior—by my criteria. By the University’s, I was officially only a sophomore, since I still had one required English course to take.
I had spent three years in the Marines prior to college. When I graduated from high school, I didn’t have the faintest idea about what I wanted to do with my life, so, thinking I was one of the “few good men,” I joined up. In boot camp I quickly discovered that I had no real talent for war. I never could quite catch on to hand-to-hand combat; using a gun or knife was usually more dangerous to me than to my opponent, and there was no way in the world I could focus my eyes on anything before nine o’clock in the morning. The Marines had this bad habit of trying to awaken me hours before that. They didn’t send me home, but my sergeant, feeling pity for either me or the Marines, managed to get me a tryout for the Marine band. I made it with ease. I could play a trumpet then and I still could play one now.
I stayed in the band during my entire tour of duty.
My late arrival to college life was not the only reason I was still here. There were at least two other reasons. For one thing, I liked college life. I liked the parties, the football games, even the classes, most of them anyway. Unfortunately, I didn’t like any of the classes enough. That was the second reason. I still couldn’t decide what I wanted to do when I finished this thing called a formal education. I had taken enough courses to graduate, but not the right ones, and only this semester had I declared a major of aerospace engineering, but that was because I had to, not because it was the unwavering ambition of my life. The truth was, if you could get me to admit it, there were two goals far stronger than my desire to pursue aerospace engineering. My first was to shack up with Mrs. Jacklyn, which tells you two more things: one, I was an unrealistic pie-in-the-sky dreamer (she never even said hello to me outside class, and besides, she apparently was married), and secondly, maybe I wasn’t as crushed at being dumped an hour before, as I first thought. Angry, yes. Embarrassed, sure. Hurt, of course. But not crushed because I’d lost the love of my life. I would have dumped Rosalyn in a second for a chance at Mrs. Jacklyn.
My other goal was to play the trumpet. I did, of course, play in the University of Colorado band, but that was for fun, not for money. Given a choice, playing a trumpet for money would be my choice for a profession, not engineering, but I didn’t have the confidence, nor did I have the courage to go against my father’s wishes that I graduate from college with some kind of useful degree.
I had to admit that my father had been extremely understanding throughout this school process. He was becoming a bit frustrated, but still sent a little money each month. I was wondering whether to call and ask for it early when I noticed that my feet had taken me to the mathematics building.
What did I have to lose? I was afraid that the answer to that question was “my manhood,” but I went in anyhow.
Mrs. Jacklyn was in her office on the third floor. Since she was a graduate student, it was no more of an office than my room was an apartment. A small metal desk, a metal chair, and a bookcase, all crammed into a six-foot-by-six-foot space. She was leaning back in that metal chair, a fancy new electronic pad on her lap, her long legs propped up on the desk, where her laptop was open. Her short skirt was above her knees, and I had trouble remembering why I had come.
She looked up and my heart stopped. In the dim light of her cubicle, her pale face framed by black hair looked like a wraith.
“Can I help you?” she asked. She was probably younger than I was, but the difference in our achievement levels was immense. She was a graduate assistant working on her Ph.D. in theoretical mathematics, with a thesis having something to do with topography. She was also married. I was a junior (at best), and I was … well, you know.
“I-I’m Richard Johnson.”
“Yes, I know. I hope you have a more worthwhile purpose for your visit than telling me your name.”
“I-I wanted to f-find out if there’s any way for m-me to make up the pop quiz you gave this morning.”
“No.” The answer I feared. And expected.
“My alarm was broken—it didn’t go off.”
“I wake up every morning without an alarm.”
“I don’t need a zero on that quiz.”
“You certainly don’t.”
“Then …?”
She lowered her feet to the floor, staring at me scornfully with her luminous black eyes that perfectly matched her long hair. I didn’t know how she could manage to convey a look of utter disgust and seduction at the same time—though I suspected that the latter was only in my imagination.
“Mr. Johnson,” she said slowly. “Class starts at 8:30, does it not?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“How long has it started at 8:30?”
“Well … I guess since the semester began.”
“Then it hardly was a surprise to you that it started at 8:30 this morning?”
“Not exactly.”
“Everyone else was there at 8:30. What was I supposed to do—ask them to sit and read the newspaper until you blessed us with your presence?”
At this point, my only wish was to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. I would rather be trapped in a room with Thaddeus Rumpkin than be here with Mrs. Jacklyn.
“Then, I—”
“I suggest you buy a new alarm clock so that you’re not late for the next test.”
I took that as a dismissal and left. Rapidly. Without looking back.
My bike had been parked right outside the math building, chained to the bike rack with a lock worth three times the bike itself. It evidently wasn’t strong enough, though why anyone would bother with my old heap in a sea of glistening new fifteen-speeds is a question without an obvious answer. But someone did. It was gone, the lock cut in half and lying on the ground.
The way the day had gone, I knew it was time to give up. There wasn’t any point in reporting the loss to the cops. Bicycle thefts were hard to solve. In fact, I had never heard of a stolen bike being recovered in usable condition, though I’m sure it had happened somewhere in the world at some time in history.
I walked home slowly. My mind was busy as I walked, none of the thoughts happy ones. This morning I had missed a math quiz, flunked my Mechanics I midterm, and bounced my grocery check. At lunch I was dumped. A few minutes before, I had been thrown out of Mrs. Jacklyn’s office, and now my bike was gone. And the thirty-dollar lock was worthless. I threw it in a trash can at the corner of University Avenue and Bernard Street. What had the thief used to cut my lock? A giant metal cutter from the hardware store? Not an easy thing to hide under your shirt.
I was tired, sweaty, and irritable when I reached the Dreamy Isle Apartments. My only dream was to start the day over. Instead, what I had to look forward to was walking Genghis Khan. I couldn’t avoid it this time. I had to stay on Mrs. Lafferty’s good side.
As I walked into the foyer, Khan was bobbing up the stairs toward the second floor. It could only mean one thing. He was heading for the Ghoul’s room. I dropped my books on the foyer table and gave chase.
He appeared to be moving slowly, but appearances are often deceiving. I was no match for the old bulldog in stair climbing. He reached the second floor before I was halfway up, then made the turn and headed for the stairs to the third floor. Here, on a level surface, I almost caught him, but he found a burst of energy from somewhere and left me behind. Given how the rest of the day had gone, I shouldn’t have been surprised when Khan hit the door of the Ghoul’s apartment with his head and it bounced open. Mrs. Lafferty had not spent a great deal of money on door latches and locks when she renovated; they were all from the late eighteen hundreds, when the house was built. Most were rusted and barely latched. The Ghoul’s was no exception.
When I finally staggered to the open door, panting heavily, I found Khan staring into the bathroom again.
I caught up with him and grabbed for his collar. He bolted straight ahead … for the shower. I leaped after him, realizing subconsciously that there was something wrong with it; it was shimmering, out of focus, the back wall just a blur
.
.
Khan jumped into the shower … and vanished.
A second later, before my mind could cope with that fact, I lost my balance and tumbled after him.
The day had died in the endless spaces, and it was impossible to tell whether time was passing.
—Mykhailo Kotsiubynsky
About the Author
Robert B. Marcus Jr. is a practicing radiation oncology physician. He has been a Professor at two major medical schools, and is listed in U.S. News and World Reports Best Doctors in America, as well as Castle Connolly's Top Cancer Doctors and Castle Connolly's Top Doctors in America. He has been president of FLASCO, the society of all the oncologists in Florida, and has authored or co-authored almost 200 medical journal articles and chapters. He has been selling fiction since he was in college. Since then he has published a number of novelettes and short stories and three novels, with two forthcoming novels, one a paranormal romance (The Haunting of Scott Remington) and another political thriller novel (Yesterday's Tears). He is a lifetime active member of Science Fiction Writers of America and recently became a member of the International Thriller Writers, Inc.
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