The Unknown - Part 1b
I got moving. Well, half assed hobbling was more like it. My leg and thigh, the one that had taken one too many deep penetration wounds, was numb all the way to the knee which wasn't helping. I made it to the top of the sandstone ridge after a couple of awkward hops from rock to rock. Awkward because I had seen a snake trail in the sand just before them and was trying to be careful about where I put my feet. My final jump had startled a horney toad whose quick movement had upset my timing by a hair. It was far from a graceful and quiet movement and another reminder, if I needed one, that what once was taken for granted had become a struggle.
I hadn't lost it completely. A young Navajo was sitting on a chunk of sandstone watching his handful of sheep graze about a 100 paces away from him. His bicycle was leaning against the same rock and his rifle was in its sheath across the handle bars. I grinned, and yelled, "Yatahai!"
To say he was startled would be an understatement. He literally fell off his seat and sprawled in the dirt. His dogs, two mixed breed collie types out tending the sheep, heard me and came hauling ass towards him. I saw him look to his bike and the rifle. I shook my head, smiled, held up one hand in greeting, and said "hello" again in Navajo.
He gave me a tentative smile with a hint of embarrassment. I told him in English, "Sorry about that. I would have yelled out if I knew you were here." He yelled something in Navajo at his dogs who were standing off and barking at me from about 10 paces." Inwardly I winced. Navajo was a sing song language that picked at old scabs. He was going to be out of luck if he thought I spoke Navajo. Hello was my entire vocabulary.
"You okay with me coming closer? I just want to talk."
He looked a little dubious but nodded his head and told me "Come on. I'll make the dogs behave."
I almost laughed at that but if it made him feel safer I was okay with it. I had already run it in my head. Him and his two dogs had a lifespan of, maybe, one second after I drew my guns.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The Unknown - Part 1a
The Unknown - Part 1a
I liked this part of the world even though it was as alien as the moon compared to where I had started from. You could see for a hundred miles in any direction and the air had a clarity that still amazed me. Somewhere due west of me a patch of clouds were raining on some piece of lucky dirt. Over me it was blue sky and cloudless and had been for days.
I needed to move but I was reluctant to. More and more I just didn't give a shit. I probably should be trying to analyze why and fix it. Not giving a shit was no way to go through life in the best of times and today was years down the road from those times. Once in awhile I had thought it would turn around, life would be, maybe not better for me, but better for the world around me. People had tried, hell, I had fought with them more than a few times for it, but in the end we always lost. The wheel had turned and what was once was never going to be again.
I had made a career on not caring and taking insane risks for the sheer joy of it. I had never put much of a value on anyone's life except for mine and the few people I cared about. Now, now even that was slipping away and had been for awhile. I was losing it and I didn't care. I had fought it for a long time but I was tired. Really tired. Part of me screamed "You're losing your edge!" My response? A mental shrug.
I kept going through the motions. I had to eat. I still liked to get laid once in awhile. Hell, I needed to reequip, my shit was getting ragged from the boots up. Somewhere ahead of me was supposed to be a road stop and eventually, maybe in a week, I would be in Flagstaff where the call had gone out that there was a need for people like me. Someone needed killers to put out or start fires in yet another pointless border skirmish between yet another set of wannabee warlords.
My recruiter in Utah had wanted to give me the details about how the side that was going to hire me was the righteous one. I laughed in her face and told her "Don't worry about it. I don't." She had recoiled from like I had struck her. Her partner, he just looked at me and smiled. He knew. Their crusade, her cause, well, it was just another job in a long string of them for people like me. She would learn, I didn't want her too, but she would, of that I had no doubt, if she lived long enough.
I liked this part of the world even though it was as alien as the moon compared to where I had started from. You could see for a hundred miles in any direction and the air had a clarity that still amazed me. Somewhere due west of me a patch of clouds were raining on some piece of lucky dirt. Over me it was blue sky and cloudless and had been for days.
I needed to move but I was reluctant to. More and more I just didn't give a shit. I probably should be trying to analyze why and fix it. Not giving a shit was no way to go through life in the best of times and today was years down the road from those times. Once in awhile I had thought it would turn around, life would be, maybe not better for me, but better for the world around me. People had tried, hell, I had fought with them more than a few times for it, but in the end we always lost. The wheel had turned and what was once was never going to be again.
I had made a career on not caring and taking insane risks for the sheer joy of it. I had never put much of a value on anyone's life except for mine and the few people I cared about. Now, now even that was slipping away and had been for awhile. I was losing it and I didn't care. I had fought it for a long time but I was tired. Really tired. Part of me screamed "You're losing your edge!" My response? A mental shrug.
I kept going through the motions. I had to eat. I still liked to get laid once in awhile. Hell, I needed to reequip, my shit was getting ragged from the boots up. Somewhere ahead of me was supposed to be a road stop and eventually, maybe in a week, I would be in Flagstaff where the call had gone out that there was a need for people like me. Someone needed killers to put out or start fires in yet another pointless border skirmish between yet another set of wannabee warlords.
My recruiter in Utah had wanted to give me the details about how the side that was going to hire me was the righteous one. I laughed in her face and told her "Don't worry about it. I don't." She had recoiled from like I had struck her. Her partner, he just looked at me and smiled. He knew. Their crusade, her cause, well, it was just another job in a long string of them for people like me. She would learn, I didn't want her too, but she would, of that I had no doubt, if she lived long enough.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The Unknown - Part 1
The Unknown - Part 1
I came the side of the hill the hard way. I walked. It had been awhile since I had walked any distance and it took me all of six steps to remember why. My boot leather was in sad shape but the soles were even worse. I probably would have tossed them out of anger and frustration but common sense, something that is not a natural thing with me prevailed. The little voice in my head whispered “Hey dumb shit...that's your only pair.” Tough to argue with logic like that. Though when the left heel came off the second time it was a close call. The third time I stopped, picked up the heal, and sat down. I pulled my boot off and stared at where it was supposed to have stayed attached and laughed. I sat there, laughed, stopped and stared off into the distance, looked at the heel and laughed again. Life is a bitch. You take it too seriously and you'll end up fighting for a cause or worse – dying for one.
Lord knows I knew about that the hard way. I was a veteran in a world where everyone nowadays was a veteran of something. I wore a uniform for awhile. I liked wearing a uniform. It eliminated another problem in my life at the time – having decent clothes to wear. I had to get rid of of most of it. When your side loses it helps not to identify yourself as a recent participant, let alone former member of a unit that was regarded as an elite by the losers and as a band of terrorists by the winners. I held on to my boots long after I should have dumped them and bought another pair. Why? Because they were from back then, the time when I believed, the time when defeat was never an option and victory was still a possibility. In the moments when I was honest with myself, I knew even if we had won I had still lost. Another reason I was sitting out here in the middle of nowhere, thirsty, broke, and hungry.
I had come a long way in an even longer time. Since I had no where specific I was going it shouldn't bother me but it did. I had gotten use to goals, plans, and making shit happen. So I dealt with it the same way I did a lot of thing now -- I just locked it away and kept going. Memories are a bitch too. I got up and began walking with only one working boot heel. Hell, some-days everything was a bitch.
I may have been sitting but I had sat next to a clump of grass. Always look for concealment despite how piss poor it was. Grass here grew in clumps. Not like real grass. I was in the high desert somewhere, if I done it right, just inside what had once been Northern Arizona according to the tattered paper map I had found awhile back. I scanned the sky. I always scanned the sky even though any reason to had been long ago left behind. Looking for the glint, the shadow, the feel of evil.
We had a guy with us somewhere back in the beginning who said his old units motto was “Death from Above.” Most of us thought he meant he was a drone jockey. He hated that and I grew to really dislike his rants about what the difference was and how special by implication he was. He wasn't. He died like all the rest. Fucking drones don't care how well you were trained or what a bad ass you were. They killed you as dead as a fourteen year old kid who didn't know his left from his right for shit.
I came the side of the hill the hard way. I walked. It had been awhile since I had walked any distance and it took me all of six steps to remember why. My boot leather was in sad shape but the soles were even worse. I probably would have tossed them out of anger and frustration but common sense, something that is not a natural thing with me prevailed. The little voice in my head whispered “Hey dumb shit...that's your only pair.” Tough to argue with logic like that. Though when the left heel came off the second time it was a close call. The third time I stopped, picked up the heal, and sat down. I pulled my boot off and stared at where it was supposed to have stayed attached and laughed. I sat there, laughed, stopped and stared off into the distance, looked at the heel and laughed again. Life is a bitch. You take it too seriously and you'll end up fighting for a cause or worse – dying for one.
Lord knows I knew about that the hard way. I was a veteran in a world where everyone nowadays was a veteran of something. I wore a uniform for awhile. I liked wearing a uniform. It eliminated another problem in my life at the time – having decent clothes to wear. I had to get rid of of most of it. When your side loses it helps not to identify yourself as a recent participant, let alone former member of a unit that was regarded as an elite by the losers and as a band of terrorists by the winners. I held on to my boots long after I should have dumped them and bought another pair. Why? Because they were from back then, the time when I believed, the time when defeat was never an option and victory was still a possibility. In the moments when I was honest with myself, I knew even if we had won I had still lost. Another reason I was sitting out here in the middle of nowhere, thirsty, broke, and hungry.
I had come a long way in an even longer time. Since I had no where specific I was going it shouldn't bother me but it did. I had gotten use to goals, plans, and making shit happen. So I dealt with it the same way I did a lot of thing now -- I just locked it away and kept going. Memories are a bitch too. I got up and began walking with only one working boot heel. Hell, some-days everything was a bitch.
I may have been sitting but I had sat next to a clump of grass. Always look for concealment despite how piss poor it was. Grass here grew in clumps. Not like real grass. I was in the high desert somewhere, if I done it right, just inside what had once been Northern Arizona according to the tattered paper map I had found awhile back. I scanned the sky. I always scanned the sky even though any reason to had been long ago left behind. Looking for the glint, the shadow, the feel of evil.
We had a guy with us somewhere back in the beginning who said his old units motto was “Death from Above.” Most of us thought he meant he was a drone jockey. He hated that and I grew to really dislike his rants about what the difference was and how special by implication he was. He wasn't. He died like all the rest. Fucking drones don't care how well you were trained or what a bad ass you were. They killed you as dead as a fourteen year old kid who didn't know his left from his right for shit.
Two Books on the Way
"Gardener Summer" with "The Lion" should be showing up on Amazon in paper by early next week.
"The Chosen" should be out in paper and ebook format by early August.
Then I will be all caught up and be able to start writing again.
"The Chosen" should be out in paper and ebook format by early August.
Then I will be all caught up and be able to start writing again.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
On Writing - Or My Lack of It
I am reformatting Gardener Summer for paper release. I am going to add "The Lion," a short story I wrote a while back to it.
AA V will be the final AA book in the series. I am thinking of writing spin offs from that.
I am also thinking of writing the story of Gardeners grandson. That will be set 60 years or so further in the future.
The Chosen II needs to be written. Chosen: Part One will be coming out in a month or two in paper and ebook.
I read all my reviews and I understand the dislike of Freya and the Norse thing. Well, I'm sorry it wasn't to everyone's liking but that is the way the story came to me.
I will probably write about Gardeners grandson next. I like that for some reason. Probably because it will be another world. I am also drawn to the western gunslinger myth and world.
AA V will be the final AA book in the series. I am thinking of writing spin offs from that.
I am also thinking of writing the story of Gardeners grandson. That will be set 60 years or so further in the future.
The Chosen II needs to be written. Chosen: Part One will be coming out in a month or two in paper and ebook.
I read all my reviews and I understand the dislike of Freya and the Norse thing. Well, I'm sorry it wasn't to everyone's liking but that is the way the story came to me.
I will probably write about Gardeners grandson next. I like that for some reason. Probably because it will be another world. I am also drawn to the western gunslinger myth and world.
Hello
Rottenclam got me to thinking. That, and what I have been reading over at the Bison blog. Which is the ludicrousness of most survival plans an ideas.
The stronghold idea. I thought about that and I think, given a .270 with a scope, a decent sidekick, and some muscle, I could crack any stronghold. All it would take is the ability to wound a human being regardless of age or sex.
It will take a community to survive. Even then you might have to pay off the local warlord. The local warlord will probably be wearing a US Army or LE uniform. You would still be paying. Most people assume the feds would quietly go away. Not.Going. To. Happen. Even if a collapse happened tomorrow the fed's would still be major players three generations from now. They have the manufacturing base, the resources, and the weapons to make sure of that.
I would suggest studying the Russian collapse. Soon we will have Greece. Perhaps China and other European countries.
The stronghold idea. I thought about that and I think, given a .270 with a scope, a decent sidekick, and some muscle, I could crack any stronghold. All it would take is the ability to wound a human being regardless of age or sex.
It will take a community to survive. Even then you might have to pay off the local warlord. The local warlord will probably be wearing a US Army or LE uniform. You would still be paying. Most people assume the feds would quietly go away. Not.Going. To. Happen. Even if a collapse happened tomorrow the fed's would still be major players three generations from now. They have the manufacturing base, the resources, and the weapons to make sure of that.
I would suggest studying the Russian collapse. Soon we will have Greece. Perhaps China and other European countries.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Okay. That Didn't Last Long...Sort Of.
I am rewriting "The Chosen." It is easier to rewrite an almost finished story than create a new one. Plus I am finding I really like this story and have already changed it a lot.
Instead of publishing it here I have asked Jim at the Bison Survival Blog if he would run it as a guest post. I don't know if you have been to his blog but I find him very funny and realistic about what may happen. He is a lot better at actual survival knowledge and gear than I ever will be too.
The story should be showing up tomorrow or the next day.
Instead of publishing it here I have asked Jim at the Bison Survival Blog if he would run it as a guest post. I don't know if you have been to his blog but I find him very funny and realistic about what may happen. He is a lot better at actual survival knowledge and gear than I ever will be too.
The story should be showing up tomorrow or the next day.
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