A little humor and some book links for you

A little humor…

Okay. Well, today is Saturday and it is time for the test results from last weeks test. As you don’t know, because my secretary didn’t send it out, I have been doing a test to prove or disprove the theory that you can think yourself thin. Of course my secretary is Houdini, a cat, and so he can neither type or send emails, nor does he have any inclination to do anything other than sleep his eighteen hours a day and fart occasionally, so that’s why you didn’t get the notices.
Anyhoo… Last week I began bright and early on Monday morning with the negative thoughts. I am fat, I eat too much, put that doughnut down, those pants fit last week, etcetera. Throughout the next three days every time I ate a snack or a meal I told myself that I was too fat. Doughnuts were not the food of the gods. Calories did mean something, and then dark and late Wednesday evening I weighed myself and lo and behold I was still fat. In fact, according to my metric system scale I had actually gained .001 weight. So there you go. If you understand the metric system, good for you, you paid attention in school while I was outside smoking a cigarette.
So first thing Thursday morning I started my new plan. Every time I ate something I thought thin thoughts. I told my self, “Geo, you lookin’ fine.” I pictured Richard Simmons dancing carefree in a field of daisies. Not because it helped me, but because I’m pretty sure he does things like that all of the time. I reminded myself I was skinny at least a dozen times a day… At least.
Sunday morning I decided to check my results so I weighed myself once more with my metric system scale and found out that yes, I had not lost any weight at all and in fact I had gained another .001 according to my scale. If anyone knows a good Canadian or two, send them my way to straighten me out on this metric system, would you? Anyhoo. Busted. Thinking yourself thin does not work. I am the same fat guy I was last week.
In other news, Donald Trump announced at a press conference this morning that if he had, had a mother he would have preferred it be a woman. That should end all those nasty questions about whether or not he likes women.

Take a look at these books to help you through your weekend…


EARTH’S SURVIVORS

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…

I-Tunes: Apocalypse, free eBook…

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-apocalypse/id963866999?mt=11


EARTH’S SURVIVORS

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…

Rising From The Ashes: I-Tunes From L.A. To Manhattan lawlessness is the rule, eBook… https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-rising-from/id595453162?mt=11


EARTH’S SURVIVORS

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.

The Nation:I-Tunes

The Nation takes shape and the people who will build it, eBook, I-Tunes

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-the-nation/id1004202828?mt=11


EARTH’S SURVIVORS

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.

Home In The Valley: I-Tunes Building the first and most important settlement, eBook… https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-home-in-valley/id1015548804?mt=11


EARTH’S SURVIVORS

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…

Plague: I-Tunes

Plague outlines the sudden rise of the dead across the country, eBook…

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-plague/id1015630497?mt=11


EARTH’S SURVIVORS

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…

Earth’s Survivors: Watertown. Fast paced action in this sixth book! Free Previews.

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-watertown/id1086227131?mt=11


EARTH’S SURVIVORS

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.

Earth’s Survivors: World Order, Book 7. The Last book in the series. Free Previews!

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-world-order/id1086393733?mt=11


EARTH’S SURVIVORS

Earth’s Survivors box set contains the entire Earth’s Survivors series in one volume. 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.

Earth’s Survivors box set contains the entire Earth’s Survivors series in one volume. Get a FREE Preview right now!

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-box-set/id1154467599?mt=11


EARTH’S SURVIVORS

L.A. Billy and Beth: March 11th Billy was up on the roof. Beth, Jamie, Winston and Scotty were standing at the edge of the building as he was, looking out over the city. Things were crazy, and they seemed to be getting worse as the days rolled by. The police precinct was still burning.No one had come to put it out. Gangs were rounding up survivors, never to be seen again: The world seemed over…

Earth’s Survivors: Knock. Take a trip across a devastated America as a small group looks for safety…

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/earths-survivors-knock/id1197933887?mt=11


All the Earth’s Survivors books on iTunes

A free short story and a small amount of yackity

Slowing down and a free short Zombie story from Geo Dell and Dell Sweet

Posted by Geo Dell

Life in The Slow lane…
I don’t like the fast lane. It isn’t that I can’t see the advantage of the fast lane and getting wherever the hell it is you need to get in the fastest  possible time. I can. I just don’t agree with it anymore.
When I was seventeen, just back from the Navy, I couldn’t wait to get on with what I considered real life. My wheels were spinning. I needed a girlfriend, a job, a life and I needed it right then. It needed to be immediate. And so I went looking for all that stuff and that is the last time I remember life being slow. After that life sped up and I lived it full tilt. I thought that was the way you do it. Burn it up. No regrets. Don’t look back. Hurry up and get a little older so I can drink legally, so we don’t have to sneak around and see each other only in the back seat of my Chevy. So we can get married, have children, get a place of our own, raise our children, oh, I can’t wait until the terrible twos are over with, and… What do you mean you don’t love me anymore? Hurry to get past that pain. Think about slowing down but that just makes the pain worse so I hurried right into another relationship. Another Marriage. More children.
Drink a little more because sometimes when things started to slow down I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand it because I could see things clearly when I slowed down. See the mistakes, feel the pain of failure and I didn’t want to see it because it damn well wasn’t turning out the way I thought it would. So I sped it back up…
Now I’m here. I’m here and I’m slowed up. And I can clearly see all of the things that I rushed past. The time I didn’t get with my children. The lovers that I shared something with and then they were gone. The two relationships that did mean something and I still didn’t’ slow down for. Time. Only time. But time can not be purchased only spent. And thinking about what has passed is no good at all. It can not solve a single heartache. It will not bring some one you love back. It can only keep you in a place where you are not dealing with reality. Where you overlook the ends because not only do the means not justify them they are not even the same ends you were looking for.
I deal with real time now. I stay in the slow lane. In a hurry? Drive around me. All the things I could not wait to get to in the future I had right there in my past. Did you read that? Those things were never to be attained, they were already attained. Free of charge from life. Right there. And I hurried right past them. We all do sometimes.
I was a little too young to be a hippie I wonder sometimes if i would have made a good one though. I have always wanted to drop out of society… As long as I can have my electricity… And a computer… And a truck to drive into town… Okay, maybe not. And, I could never smoke pot it made me sick. So, maybe I would have made a piss poor hippie after all. But, the ideal. The live life on life’s terms philosophy I could definitely have embraced wholeheartedly. Didn’t though. I joined the rat race. And, I didn’t like the rat race so I stayed on the fringe of the rat race waiting… Where is my great life? What the hell is this? This is not what I wanted at all.
But it was. Maybe it’s only maturity that makes us look at things differently. If so, thank God for it. It’s okay to hate the rat race. We have to live it anyway unless you are really going to fill a knapsack with energy bars and walk off into the forest. No. You’re not and neither am I. So where is the solution?
The slow lane. No bull. The slow lane is the answer, but you will have to change your attitude to really appreciate it. But if you can you will find all of the things that you thought your were running that rat race for are right there.
Right there is your child that you love and keep not spending time with. Right there is the man or the woman you love. The job you can be happy with. The life that can mean something.
There was a time in my life when I made on average twenty grand a week. No. That is not a misprint. And, do you know how happy I was? … I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you because every fiber of my being was caught up in making that nut every week. Every bit. There was nothing left over. And there were men and women who knew me that wanted to be in my place. Truly.
I have done nothing but spend money and have not made a nickle in six months. Scary. It is when you have faith in yourself and you go for it. But, what I do not do is put all of me that there is into  things that are only really designed to pay the bills. I don’t.
I breath the air every day. I tell the people I love that I love them. If someone needs my time I give it. Yes, I work a lot of hours but it does not own me anymore and it is not the reason I’m living… Can you see that?
Here are some words from a song I wrote called A Minor

“I was never fixed in this world anyway… I was just sitting here waiting on a bus for the next.”
And that was true. I lived here in this world. Worked here. But it was not in my blood. I didn’t enjoy it. See it as good, or fulfilling, or enough… I just didn’t. So I just waited for it to end.
I don’t do that anymore. I live. I live for real. One of the things I have noticed is that people will make time for you, love you, and even tell you if you give them the time. So I do. I do but I have noticed that a lot of people just smile and hurry past me on their way to… Well, I really don’t know, and I’m not sure they do either. But I know that if you slow down there’s some space for you right here in the slow lane. You can ride shot gun with me. We’ll just take our time and enjoy the view…


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This material has NOT been edited for content


Rapid City Three

Rapid City Cowboys and Zombies Three

By Wendell Sweet

PUBLISHED BY: Wendell Sweet – Blog Edition

Rapid City Cowboys and Zombies Three

Copyright © 2013 by Wendell Sweet All Rights Reserved


This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please point them to this blog entry. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This 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

To the Tuesday night Guys.


Rapid City

The streets of Rapid City were deserted, but I paid that no mind. It could appear empty and would make no difference in reality. In my world reality did not have much of a place, being mostly a notion.

I suspected that the dead were long gone, but that did not mean they hadn’t left some for me to deal with. They were known to do that, had on more’n one occasion that I could recall. I was not about to get myself caught that easy. I had no wish to be dead for ever and ever.

There was bodies ’bout every ten feet or so. Slaughtered. They wasn’t lookin’ to turn these men the way they was some you saw, no, they had meant to murder and murder is what they had done.

In the last six months I had already begun to wear a reputation as a murderer myself. It was a hard jacket to wear at times. Some men understood it, some men were downright uncomfortable with it, some had to know if they could take me. I had gone hunting the dead. Killing the dead. And it was ironic to me that after just six months I had a reputation of killing more of the living than the dead. Wasn’t true, of course, but like I say you got to wear the jacket. It aint a world where there is always time for questions at all. It was, in n only six months, a world where it was best to kill immediate like. Fast. No thought. If not it would be you that was dead.

I had come across the Gulf Coast from Texas and taken some time in this town or that town. Mostly killin’ what should have been already dead. It was in a little pine board town just west of what had been Natchitoches that I began to see a livin’ in this. Purely by accident, but that was when I got fitted for that jacket and I been wearin’ it ever since. Was a woman in that pine town that got herself bit. Her man got to thinkin’ it would pass, or the federal boys had a fix up their sleeves they’d be along with right quick, so he chained her up inside their shack and waited. Love will make you do things like that. Not the only time I seen it.

The dead came for her. Ever night they came for her, and ever night he kept them from getting’ her. Drove them off, but the others in that town wanted something done about those dead that kept comin’ around ever night and killin’ some of their own. They didn’t know what the man had done.

There was a sheriff in that town, mostly scared of his own shadow, and it was him that come to me with the offer. I had just killed a man the day before in a gunfight. Livin’ or dead, that sheriff saw no difference. I checked the street careful as I walked.

I had taken thirteen of the dead out. Hid myself and waited for them. And then I had found the wife. Sent her on her way too. And the husband. Left me no choice. It may be that helped to fit that jacket a bit better. People get to talkiin’ and the leave a lot of the story out. Not that the truth always sounds better. But the towns I hit after that pegged me as a man killer and a gunfighter. Hired me more often than not. That’s been six months passed now. And I had worked my way to this little pine board town. Done a little better than the others maybe… Maybe someone had a care for this place, hard to tell. What was easy to tell is they seemed all to be dead now.

I stopped now and stared down at drag marks in the sandy street. They lead off to the shadows of an alley across the way from where I walked. I loosed my gun strap, stretched the leather of my gloved hands for a good grip, and stared hard at the mouth of that alley. Spots of blood dotted the trail. In this heat that blood would’ve turned to rust in no time and then been picked apart by the wind what seemed to favor this street. No sir. That was fresh. It didn’t take no special sense or ability to see that.

A second after I loosed my strap they came for me. Six from the shadows direct in front of me, and the real threat from the sides. I had my second pistol out fast and threw myself down into the dust and rolled hard to the left, firing as I went. Killin’ shots, what I could see. I was up and runnin’ a second after the roll began when the dead were still trying to find their asses, and when I turned around and sighted I got four more, but missed one who was on me before I could get a head shot in. I put a knee in her guts fast like, crumpled her up, and put one in her head as she lay wondering what had happened. It was over that fast, but it was not the end.

I counted them up, nine; drug them out of the little pine board town and lined them up in the sand. Took their heads to be safe. It ain’t pretty work, then went to get my horse where I had left her nearby. They had done for my horse while I was afoot in the town. Cut her throat ear to ear, left her to bleed out. A zombie don’t want no horse flesh. They will partake of it, but they will not regular. And these had been feeding fine, judging from the dead that lined the streets. They killed them and ate them. They didn’t kill them to turn them, unless there were more I had not yet seen. That is the way the dead do it when they want to send a message to you. The message says I can do this and you can not stop me from it. I have my own message system though. My message is lead. Notched to fly apart and take their heads apart. And if I had not already got the ones what done this piece of work, I would.

It took a half hour of tugging to get my saddle off’n the horse and lug it back to town. I was not sure what it was I could do with it with no horse to wear, but I was goddamned I’d leave it for the dead or time.

I come back into the town and made my way down the street slowly. Alley to alley. Building to building. I found four of them hiding under the supports for the saloon. There was maybe a two foot high crawl space there and they had wedged in tight. I backed up and they came out fightin’. Probably knowin’ they would die for sure if they did not. I checked the rest of the town, and afternoon was then comin’ on strong and I began to look for a fortress, not at all sure they was done with me, or I was done with them for that matter.

The church building set apart from the rest. The balance of the town had been slapped together, and like most pine board towns it had been done rough and slip shod. The term pine board town, or Piney as some said, had been coined to call these towns collective like. It did not mean they was pine, or even wood. It was a term only, because they was built with scavenged materials, and most of that was pre-apocalypse pine plywood. There was miles of the stuff in warehouses all over the south. There for the hurricanes that ripped through so often. The other favorite was tin roofing sheets. This town had favored chipboard. A substance that would not be long for this environment at all. A cheap alternative to the plywood. They had wrapped that with tar paper. It looked as temporary as it had turned out to be.

I carry with me some necessaries in my saddle bags, and I took them out and set up the little town before nightfall rolled all the way out.

It was a soft evening, and I could tell why those that still lay dead in the streets had favored it. The air rolled fine and cool off the desert working at the sweat on my brow that had risen as I had worked on the town. I sat in a wooden chair on the porch of the church and looked out at the wide sandy street and the desert that rolled away from it. Calm like. I waited for the dead that I knew would be coming for me to finish what they had started with the horse. They had cut me afoot for a purpose.

The blue moon had rose and she had begun to sail when I spied them comin’. I would love to say you could hear them, but it ain’t that way at all. They is quiet. Not like the livin’. The livin’ take noise with them wherever they go. The dead take quiet. It is goddamned unnerving. They can be where they were not just a second ago.

I had pulled both pistols and crossed them on my lap. Fingers through the guards, lightly caressing the triggers like they was a woman I favored, but I will tell you, in some ways, these were favored more and more by me over women. It seemed I got into trouble with women, out of trouble with these guns. Two of the men I had killed had been killed over women. Part of that jacket I spoke on. I believe that once you begin to kill it don’t take much to cross a border. And I have crossed borders easy.

I saw one. That one slipped just a bit out from the shadow. Another man mighta thought it was just a heat shimmer. The days heat leavin’ a buildin’ I’ve seen that too. It looks alike, but this was not that. Something told me this was not that and I took from that small look the speed of the walker and tracked slow like, and then another ripple come.. and Another. So they was there then, I told myself. They was there.

I marked that first one and began to look in earnest for the others I knew had to be there, but I could not spot them, and so I went back to trackin’ the single one, askin’ myself if it could maybe be just the one. If it could. It warn’t though.

When the one that I was trackin’ slipped up the next time I let it begin. Best to have the odds on your side than them have them. The shadow slipped I fired. I heard the impact as the body flew back into the side of that building. Cracked the wood. That started round two.

I had left that chair and took to the darkness at that first shot and I kept to it. If they like the dark and make it their tool you got to take that away from them. Make it your tool. Bring the fight to those godless bastards and stick it right down their goddamned throats too.

I crossed the sandy street and made my way into the shadows of that alley. If they had been there I mighta been done for there, but they was not there, and I had figured with close reasoning how they would not be there. It didn’t fit. It was too exposed for them. They like to sneak until they got to fight. When I mad the alley they cam out in the street, and the plan they had had to catch me flatfooted backfired. I had them in the bright moonlight and took a dozen out before they could turn and fade. Four in the street was not dead, but I taken my time and introduced them proper. Then we began to wait again, and the night wore on.

It was no more than a handful of minutes when I heard a noise over by the building where I had dropped the first one. A deep intake of air, and I knew I had lung shot a man. I could hear it. And walkers do not breath. They got no need for air in that way. I think they suck air in through their skin. I don’t know. But I do know they don’t breath, and ain’t no lung shot going to make no walker sound that away. I had shot a man. And, although that man was not dead yet, I had killed him. What remained for me was the mystery of what that man had been creeping on me for. And had I knowed it, I woulda killed him fast like, because a man will and can use a gun, unlike a walker. God forbid those bastards ever overcome their fear of fire and pick it up. We are done for then.

A minute or two after I heard the man, I saw a fast blur to my right, the other side from the church, and I blazed that whole building, dropped my clips, reloaded the ones I had emptied while I listened and waited. I listened to the lung shot man’s breathing and it was not good. I allowed my head to get lulled by that yearning to hear that man pull his breath so much that I almost missed it when they came at me.

Two sides at once, and damned if I didn’t get them all as they were comin’. All but the one that took me in the back and flattened me out right there in the street.

I managed to flip onto my back, but I was no better off. I had lost both guns and that walker knew it. She was on me hard and fast. Hissing, biting at me, clipped the end of my finger, had me scared for hours because of that. I got my sticker and drove it up hard through her chest and into her backbone. She arched hard, her back bent like a bow, mouthing wide, teeth flashing, and I was trying to pull that knife free when her head blew apart and she flew off the side. I got my eyes closed, but I still grimaced as I felt cold chunks of her head splatter against my face. I held my vomit, but barely, rolled off to my right, pulled my shirt up, buttons flying and cleaned off my face as best I could. It was then I thought to look for the lung shot man I knowed had to be there.

She was some tore up when I saw her. She had sagged to the ground just about where she had stumbled to and managed the shot.

I got my face as clean as I could and then got to my shaky feet and went to her. I was looking over that finger, worried as I went. It was bit bad, but the skin did not break.

She was most dead when I got there.

“What was it that bought you creeping on me like that,” I asked?

Her eyes were bright. The bottoms of those lids filled up to overflowin’ with tears, probably from the pain. A lung shot can hurt powerful. I seen a man or two go that way. For a woman she was holding it good. “Kin you hear me?”

She breathed it. “I… Can… Hear… You.” Spittin’ blood. A flood at the end.

I pushed her shirt aside and looked at the hole. It was bad enough. Close to the heart and suckin’ air. Blowing out little bloody bubbles when it wasn’t suckin’ air. “You…” she started and that was that. Her eyes fluttered and she was gone. I caught her head as she fell back and laid her gentle into the sand. Around me was death. All around me. I couldn’t look nowhere without seeing a body. And here another one that I had also caused and had no idea about. But when a man kills for a livin’ it has it’s own answers sometimes. It does. I laid her out, stood and then bent low and said a prayer as best I could. I don’t know God. I ain’t never met him, although I know some day I’m going to. I guess it just pisses me off that the man sets up there pullin’ my strings and ever body besides me too. Never mind it though, there ain’t no one else you can say a thing like a prayer to. And, she would turn, I didn’t have the luxury of time. If she had creeped on me in life, what is it she might do in death? Maybe, I told myself she had closed those eyes for the last time thinkin’ ‘I’ll be back for you in a few minutes,. Mister.’ Maybe… May be… I mumbled the words and I wasn’t near so eloquent or flowing as I hoped a I was afraid she was on her way back. I stepped back and put one in her head and damn if she didn’t jump and hiss at me when I did.

I had thought about burial, but I did not figure a burial would do much. And there was too many. Where did you stop? Did I only bury her? No, I dragged them bodies, all them bodies into the buildings. The ones the dead had killed, the dead, and the woman too.

I thought as I dragged her in, that she had to have come to be there some way. I may never know the reason she come, but I did know she had had to have got there some way.

I stepped back and then pulled a hand cloth from my pocket. Earlier I had taken a small can of lighter fluid from my saddle bags. I had located a small bottle in the church. For what it was used I could not say. I used it to hold the lighter fluid, and now I dipped the rag into it and pulled it through the hole I had jacked into the bottle with my knife.

It was all dry. The church would maybe survive, depended on the vagaries of the winds, but the balance of the town would go. Maybe the fact that I had not purpose burnt the church would set well with God. There was a hope for it. I lit the cloth and tossed the bottle into the nearest doorway. I stood, cool air at my back, heat at my face, and watched as it caught. In a minute she was burning and catching in both directions. I walked away on the road out of town.

I found her vehicle just a few miles out. I had hoped for a horse, but the truck would have to do. It would get me to a horse, and that was enough. I settled my saddlebags into the open back, flexed my aching back, and then climbed in. I had not thought to look for no keys, but a funny things about keys was that they had fallen into disuse after the world changed up. I had the truck runnin’ a minute later, and turned her away into the desert. Behind me I saw the flames lightening the skies behind me as I drove away.


You can get Rapid City from iTunes: Click Here

 More of Dell Sweet on iTunes: Click Here

Star Dancer from Dell Sweet

Star Dancer

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. Additional downloads are available at Smashwords and KOBO.

Description

Michael Watson is the captain of an inner galaxy cruiser: He Purchased Star Dancer right out of school and has spent the last twenty years running people and supplies to outposts within the confines of the Solar System and the established bases on the Moon, Mars and Saturn’s moons. The times are changing though and the big money is in the longer out of system runs. To do that he’ll need a crew and a bigger ship, but he has the ambition and the rest just might fall into place.
A new navigator, the beautiful Petra starts him thinking in a new direction and not just about Star Cruising. Maybe the next few flights for Star Dancer will be her last and he and Petra can set their sights on bigger adventures out beyond the stars…


Check out Star Dancer right now: iTunes | Smashwords | KOBO

The Earth’s Survivors series on iTunes

iTUNES EARTH’S SURVIVORS

Earth’s Survivors Box Set

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 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… Read More instantly below…

Get the Box Set: Box Set

America The Dead Survivor Stories from W G Sweet

AMERICA THE DEAD SURVIVOR STORIES

 

 

America The Dead Survivor Stories One 

Series: America The Dead Survivor Stories, Book 1. Price: $2.99 USD. Words: 127,520. Language: English. Published: September 19, 2016 by independAntwriters Publishing. Categories: Fiction » Fantasy » Epic, Fiction » Horror » Undead
These books came from requests for Earth’s Survivors books that dealt only with single groups of survivors, unlike the Earth’s Survivors books that follow many survivors. All are double books. These stories are also written so that they can stand alone… The end has come. In an effort to help the government has destroyed most of humanity. The few survivors are on their own… Free Previews…
Get it now: Smashwords | iTunes


America The Dead Survivor Stories Two

Series: America The Dead Survivor Stories, Book 2. Price: $2.99 USD. Words: 131,510. Language: English. Published: September 19, 2016 by independAntwriters Publishing. Categories: Fiction » Fantasy » Epic, Fiction » Horror » Undead
These books came from requests for Earth’s Survivors books that dealt only with single groups of survivors, unlike the Earth’s Survivors books that follow many survivors. All are double books. These stories are also written so that they can stand alone… The end has come. In an effort to help the government has destroyed most of humanity. The few survivors are on their own… Free Previews…
Get It Now: Smashwords | iTunes


America The Dead Survivor Stories Three

Series: America The Dead Survivor Stories, Book 3. Price: $2.99 USD. Words: 150,350. Language: English. Published: September 19, 2016 by independAntwriters Publishing. Categories: Fiction » Fantasy » Epic, Fiction » Horror » Undead
These books came from requests for Earth’s Survivors books that dealt only with single groups of survivors, unlike the Earth’s Survivors books that follow many survivors. All are double books. These stories are also written so that they can stand alone… The end has come. In an effort to help the government has destroyed most of humanity. The few survivors are on their own… Free Previews…
Get It Now: Smashwords | iTunes


America The Dead Survivor Stories Four

Series: America The Dead Survivor Stories, Book 4. Price: $2.99 USD. Words: 169,030. Language: English. Published: September 19, 2016 by independAntwriters Publishing. Categories: Fiction » Fantasy » Epic, Fiction » Horror » Undead
These books came from requests for Earth’s Survivors books that dealt only with single groups of survivors, unlike the Earth’s Survivors books that follow many survivors. All are double books. These stories are also written so that they can stand alone… The end has come. In an effort to help the government has destroyed most of humanity. The few survivors are on their own… Free Previews…
Get It Now: Smashwords | iTunes


America The Dead Survivor Stories Five

Series: America The Dead Survivor Stories, Book 5. Price: $2.99 USD. Words: 195,980. Language: English. Published: September 19, 2016 by independAntwriters Publishing. Categories: Fiction » Fantasy » Epic, Fiction » Horror » Undead
These books came from requests for Earth’s Survivors books that dealt only with single groups of survivors, unlike the Earth’s Survivors books that follow many survivors. All are double books. These stories are also written so that they can stand alone… The end has come. In an effort to help the government has destroyed most of humanity. The few survivors are on their own… Free Previews…
Get It Now: Smashwords | iTunes


New releases from Dell Sweet on iTunes: Crime Time | Necro | All

Crime Time, new crime fiction from Dell Sweet

Crime Time

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

Crime Time is a collection of nine crime stories from author Dell Sweet. From short stories to near novel length…
… When a man tells you he has the moral flexibility to include murder in his life if he deems it necessary this is probably not a man you should be hanging out with.
Jeff Johnson had reminded himself of this fact about Robert Biel more than once, yet every day he found himself hanging around, giving him lifts to do job searches, parole, where ever he needed to go: Even hanging around with him at night…
Nine stories that are hard edged, entertaining and good, fast rides into the darkness that is the criminal’s world…
… In the last few days she had decided a few things. First: Dello was a killer. She knew that. It was how he made a living. It wouldn’t be hard to kill her, she supposed. She knew that sounded unreasonable, probably was wildly unreasonable, but she couldn’t get it out of her head. What if they were over and suppose he needed her gone because she knew too much. Way too much. What would he do, tell her it’s over and show her the door? She didn’t believe it. What she did believe, what had gotten into her head, was that he would take her somewhere and kill her…
Unforgettable characters and places. A gritty world from Sweet’s mind where anything can and usually does happen…
… Too late, I thought as I realized I had left the machine pistol lying on the front seat instead of keeping it in my right hand where it should have been. I could hear the sound of a machine pistol behind me as the Mexican opened up. I did what I could. I aimed the truck at the two men; levered the door-handle and prepared to jump just as the windshield hit by several of the rounds fired by the two men was blown inward: My world faded to black…


eBook: Get a free Preview right now!  Paperback: Check out the Paperback

THE GLENNVILLE KIDS from Author Dell Sweet

THE GLENNVILLE KIDS

Two offerings that feature the kids in Glennville New York. Glennville is just a thinly disguised version of Watertown New York where I grew up. I have more of these stories I would like to publish someday, Dell…

The End Of Summer 

Series: 99 Cent Reads. Price: $0.99 USD. Words: 9,140. Language: English. Published: September 30, 2013 by independAntwriters Publishing. Categories: Fiction » Young adult or teen » Adventure,Fiction » Coming of age
The summer of 1969 was winding down. The warm air held a smell 13 year old Bobby Weston couldn’t quite identify but nevertheless acquainted with going back to school. An end of summer smell, he decided. Or maybe an end of summer feeling. He couldn’t make up his mind, and it really didn’t matter, as soon enough summer would be gone and he’d be back in school. He had permission to go camping today.
Get it now: Smashwords Also available from: iTunes or Nook

The Great Go Cart Race

Series: 99 Cent Reads. Price: $0.99 USD. Words: 6,880. Language: English. Published: September 30, 2013 by independAntwriters Publishing. Categories: Fiction » Young adult or teen » Adventure
The summer of 1969 in Glennville New York had settled in full tilt. The July morning was cool and peaceful, but the afternoon promised nothing but sticky heat. Bobby Weston and Moon Calloway worked furiously on the go-cart they had been planning to race down Sinton Park hill, in the old garage behind Bobby’s house. Both boys had grown up in Glennville…
Get it now: Smashwords Also available from: iTunes or NOOK

An interesting week and a look at Dreamers from Geo Dell and Dell Sweet

An interesting week and a look at Dreamers from Geo Dell and Dell Sweet

Posted 14-17-17

It’s been an interesting week. We have run the gamut of weather here, rain, heat, now snow. I think winter has arrived and settled in.

I spent today painting, I will spend tomorrow doing the same. Interior painting, it all has to get done eventually. When I used to think about being a full time writer I used to think I would actually be working at writing full time. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Sorry, but the truth is far from there. It seems, if I allow it, that there is tons of other stuff that creeps in.

Monday: I worked on repairing a leaky fitting on my hot water heater over the weekend. I finally repaired the leak only to find that the tank itself was leaking. So I shut it down and Monday I went to Lowe’s and bought a new tank. I spent Monday installing the tank. This was actually comical.

My truck is off the road, shouldn’t be, but it is, so that left the car to get the tank with. I guaranteed myself that the tank would fit in the car (A Chevy Cavalier). I wheeled the tank out to the car and it was obvious that I was wrong. But with the help of a passerby, we stripped the box off and I got the tank into the back seat. No lie, Whirlpool Short Tank, tilted it up and slid it in. The passerby offered to take the cart back in so I thanked him and headed home. That only left two dozen things to do.

I wrestled the old tank out, but only after I cut and moved all of the heat ducts that passed right in front of the old tank, put them back together, and drained most of the old tank. I used to work as a property maintenance worker. I did at least two water heater tanks a week, alone, and that meant getting the new tank into the basement, getting the old tank out, new copper pipe connections and firing the tank up at the end. But that was several years ago. I started this project and my body said… “Are you kidding me?”

That was Monday. By the end of the day the tank was in, all the heat ducting replaced and re-routed, and I wasn’t dead.

Tuesday: Yes, there was a Tuesday in my week. Tuesday I did drywall work, and then worked on an Earth’s Survivors future edition. There was a meeting of minds about Earth’s Survivors and it’s further existence, more on that later. I worked up a schedule of what I would like to be working on.

Wednesday: Mud work on the drywall and a meeting about the Rebecca Monet books. Does talking about writing get the writing done? Sadly, no it does not.

Thursday and Friday: I worked on two custom guitar builds, a Gibson and a Fender, both acoustics, and finished them. I thought about writing. Wished I had not taken on the two custom guitar builds, but I had promised them months ago when it looked like the house and my workshop would have to be done by now and I would have so much free time that a couple of guitar builds would be nothing at all. Sigh…

Today: Painting the drywall work I did earlier in the week and then mudded. Site updates, a final discussion about the Earth’s Survivors series, and a short meet and greet of the new cat to replace my old cat. The new cat is a little pissed to be moved from it’s old home to this home. This cat is the brother of the cat I had. A nice cat, for a used replacement cat. Hopefully we will hit it off.

That brings me to now. It is a blizzard outside, has been, off and on, all day long. Mel is writing a new novel, she’s been working on it for awhile. Geo is working on the next Zombie Plagues book.

Series: Earth’s Survivors Main Series – Dreamer’s Worlds – The Zombie Plagues.

The used replacement cat and the one remaining cat are sniffing each other and growling and generally attempting to out-cat each other. I had so much fun building the last two guitars that I am thinking about finally building another for myself, an 8 string acoustic, but I am torn, I started building a video game several months back and I want to get back to that too. And I have a new machine to finish it on I just have to put it together.

That is the week. Wish me luck with the cat situation and writing time. I’ll be back Wednesday.

I will leave you with an excerpt of Dreamers:


Dreamers

By Geo Dell

All Interior and Cover Art Copyright Wendell Sweet 2013

Dreamer’s Worlds

Copyright © 2013 by Geo Dell

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please direct them to this website. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

LEGAL

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

This novel is Copyright © 2010 – 2013 Geo Dell, all rights are reserved. 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 material is copyright protected

This material is NOT edited for content


ONE

On the path:

Laura and Bear;

Morning came in all of its silver glory, and we began to walk once more. As the day before, the dead were pouring out of the woods as soon as the sun was firmly established in the new sky.

Bear and I stayed close together, tried to ignore what was going on around us, and managed a little better than we had the day before. The morning wore on, the second sun lifted above the horizon, the predators showed up, and the dead began to thin out quickly.

I paid attention to those that left. They stumbled along, no better, no worse than anyone else on the path.

They didn’t seem to have more of a purpose, they didn’t seem to have a better idea of where they were going, but they did seem, just before they veered off the path and found their exit, to be listening to other voices. It was in the way their heads were cocked to one side. The way their eyes seemed to be seeing something far away. And there was more. I couldn’t put my finger on. A lot of it was subjective, maybe I saw it, maybe I didn’t. But it seemed, strangely, that they heard or saw someone or something, just before they made a beeline for their exit.

Bear and I analyzed it separately, and ended up in agreement. He got so that we could both tell one that was in that mode, disconnected from this reality, about to cross over to what ever alternate reality existed for him or her. Another world. We watched for them. I don’t know why, but I had the idea that it could be helpful.

“There’s one,” Bear said matter-of-factly.

I followed his finger and watched a young woman staggering along to the left of the path.

At first I thought that whatever killed her didn’t seem to be obvious. It must have been something internal, I thought. Even in death she looked healthy, maybe too pale. But, then she turned toward me and I saw the neat blue hole by her temple. It sickened me. Reminded me of looking at my own body in the bathtub. The small blue hole in my forehead. Not enough power to come out of the back of my skull, just enough to get in and scramble my brains. Just enough to kill me. It must have been the same for the young woman, and I wondered if someone had done it to her, or she had done it two herself.

Her head was cocked again, almost seemed to look up into the small, silver sun. Her hands hung limply at her side. Her mouth hung slightly askew. Something moved in her hair. I didn’t want to think about what that might be. Her eyes were slightly bulged, more white than anything else. Sun faded? They looked that way. The way the sun could bleach something out. She stopped suddenly, seemed frenzied for a second.

“There she goes,” bear said.

She suddenly veered off into what seemed to be an empty field. I hurried after her.

“Where are you going,” bear asked? “Surely you’re not going to follow!”

I shook my head as I hurried after her. “I just want to see if I can see what happens.” As I spoke she winked out. There one second, gone the next. And I saw nothing at all. I walked the last twenty feet to where she had been. I walked past it. Nothing. Except… “Bear… Come here.” I waited until he got to me. “Doesn’t it seem warmer here,” I asked?

“Yes,” he agreed. “And it also smells like Ozone too.” He walked back and forth a few times. “But it’s fading fast. It’s almost back to normal.” And, it was. A few seconds later, I couldn’t be sure where it had been exactly. No temperature change. No odor.

“Mind your own business,” a voice said.

I jumped and turned to find one of the dead standing and staring at me with one eye. The other a pink spongy ruin that oozed part way out of the socket. “Mind your goddamn business,” he told me again.

“I am,” I said.

“Are you,” he asked?

I stood my ground and looked him over. Tall, ceremonial clothes that had probably been splendid at one time. Now they were grave moldy, stained, sagging, in tatters. Half the bead-work was missing. Bugs moved here and there. The odor of the grave clung to him. He fingered what looked to be a fresh scalp that hung at his waist.

” Are you,” I countered?

“Oh yes,” he said. “All of this is my business.” He lifted his arms and waved them around to encompass everything. He turned his dead eyes back to me. “Ask me,” he said.

“Ask you what,” I asked?

“Ask me how your boyfriend’s doing… Ask me who I am… Ask me anything at all… I’m like… Like a God… I can tell you anything you want to know.” He smiled, and new cracks appeared in his face. My heart staggered in my chest. This must be an Illusion, but it felt real enough.

“What do you mean ask you how Dell is… What do you mean by that?”

He giggled. “Right to the question… Write to it… Well, I mean ask me how he is. What he’s up to. How his day was. What shaking with him… Ask me… Ask me like that… Or… You do want to know, don’t you?… Maybe not? Do I see fear… Yes… I do… I do…”

“What’s wrong with him,” I asked? I seemed to have very little strength to push the words out.

“Oh!” He exclaimed. “Glad you asked,” he fingered the scalp hanging at his belt and panic leapt hard into my throat. Steely, metallic, electric, painful, from nothing to full throttle all at once.

“This,” he fingered the scalp, “used to be his… Dead… I see no need to sugarcoat it. Dead. I killed him… Let’s say that I collect souvenirs… Yes… Souvenirs.” He giggled again as he fingered the scalp.

My eyesight went fuzzy, my breathing whistling in my suddenly too tight throat.

He turned and pointed back down the trail. “Maybe a days travel back. He’s dead alright, but he’s not up walking. Just laying there… But… But he will be. Just a matter of time.” He giggled and then turned serious. “A did you a favor… You should thank me. Now you should go home or I’ll kill you too… I will give you some time to think it over.” He twisted his face, cocked his head, turning his dead eyes on me hard. “No way will I let you walk your three hands… No way… You decide, Laura, you decide.” He leaned closer. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to know who I am… Not the slightest bit curious… At all…? Well I’ll introduce myself anyway. I am the Dream Killer. Think about that. I have a great deal of experience doing just what I did to your boyfriend…”He looked from me to Bear, then turned and started to shuffle off. He turned about 30 feet away. “I won’t wait long… Just leave… It would be good for your health…”


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