Karl was right, a war was inevitable.
Christine snuggled closer to Jason, her eyes scanning the heavens, imagining a time when Man would be as numerous as the stars above.
It will happen, she warned herself, just not today.
•••
Days crawled into weeks, and weeks dragged into months. The FBI put Earl up in a ritzy Concord hotel — every morning, a fully stocked mini-fridge, every night, chocolates on his pillow. They let him workout in the gym, swim in the pool, and eat the finest carryout, but he couldn’t make a single phone call, nor could he leave without armed escort. Those fieldtrips were few and far between, reserved solely for his testimony.
He’d told the story so many times now that he could recite it in a dead slumber; who knows, as often as he had the nightmares, maybe he did. But it was always just that: a story. Even when his hand was pressed against the Bible, his words never told the whole and complete truth. But his answers were consistent, and that was all anyone seemed to care about.
The door opened and Earl sat bolt upright on his bed, his hand reaching for a holster that wasn’t there.
A white man in a black business suit entered, but different from the other business-suited men before him; he was older, silver-haired, an American flag pinned to his lapel. Under his arm, he carried a thick manila envelope.
“My name is Patrick Tate,” the man said. “I’m with Homeland Security, and I served with your father in the Gulf.”
Earl said nothing; he didn’t know if it was true or not, but he’d grown tired of these suits trying to be his buddy.
Tate slid a chair over and sat down. “To get right to the point, Officer Preston, we’re concerned about a possible threat to our national security.”
Earl snickered. “Aren’t you always?”
Tate frowned. “Let me be blunt. These creatures you fought...they were quite extraordinary, but there’s more, isn’t there? Something you’re unwilling to put on record? Afraid the truth might make you sound crazy, am I right?”
They locked eyes for a moment; Earl said nothing.
“Let’s just say that we might have the same concerns.” Tate opened the folder in his hands; he pulled out an 8x10 glossy and passed it to Earl. “This is one of the drawings you found.”
Earl gave the photo a cursory glance, it was the bloody wall of the FantaSea.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of crop circles?”
Earl frowned, remembering Miyagi’s alien theories. “What about ’em?”
Tate pulled out a second photo. “This shape appeared near a British military instillation one week before the Colonial Bay incident.”
Earl took this new picture, compared it to the first; the symbols — one scrawled in blood, the other grain — were identical.
Tate took another 8x10 from his folder. “Now this shape appeared in an Indiana cornfield, not far from where the Hays boy attended college.”
Earl studied it. Stalks had been twisted, flattened, creating the negative shape of a lightning bolt in the green field; like the tridents, it was imprisoned by a thin hoop.
“The local media thought that one was the work of high school kids, there’s a football team called ‘The Flashes.’” Tate brought out yet another photo. “But, one week later, the same design appeared in a Kansas wheatfield, ten miles from one of our nuclear silos, identical in size and shape.”
Earl returned the photos to Tate. “You think these are signals? To who? For what?”
Tate slid the materials back into his folder. “We don’t know. But, given their proximity to military targets, not knowing is...troublesome.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“You followed the trident symbol to Colonial Bay and Roger Hays.” Tate stood and tucked the folder back under his arm. “Now, I’d like you to put those detective skills to work for me.”
Earl sighed; he glanced around his hotel room, the same four walls he’d stared at for months, then returned his eyes to Tate. “If it means getting out of this cell, you got yourself a deal.”
•••
Some said the “D” in D Block stood for Damnation. The guards led Dante “The Horror Show” Vianello toward his new home; a hole that New Hampshire had dug for its worst offenders. One of the officers unlocked his manacles, and the other gave him a forceful push into the cell.
“Here’s your new roomy, Preacher,” said the guard with the keys.
The bars slid closed with a loud metallic clang.
Horror Show rubbed his wrists, then turned and blew his jailers a kiss. The guard who pushed him flipped the bird as they walked away, leaving the hitman to his dimly lit accommodations. He took a step toward the bunks, his eyes never leaving the cinder-block walls and the artwork that covered them.
There were drawings of mountains, of pyramids, of people marching toward the bright light of dawn. Writing framed each sketch, volumes of it, as if an author were composing a novel upon the brick, then illustrating it. Horror Show moved closer to the mural, tried to read what had been etched there; he didn’t recognize the language.
“Gibberish,” he told the wall.
“Sanskrit,” a voice corrected.
Horror Show turned. A silhouette stood in the gloom; the man had been so silent, so still, that he hadn’t even registered. “Preacher?”
“That’s what they call me,” the man murmured. “And you must be the one they call The Horror Show.”
“You draw this crap?”
“That ‘crap’ is The Return, The Second Coming.”
Great! I’m trapped in here with a born again wacko.
“You blew up a town,” Preacher said. “You killed thousands of people.”
“Save your sermon, padre. I’ve killed plenty, but there were no people in that town.”
“No.” The man was still in shadow, but there was a smile in his voice. “They were sea monsters, am I right?”
“Is that how I got this cell assignment? Bunk the crazies together?”
“It’s fate that brought you here to me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Reverend. It was a nigger, the damn Patriot Act, and a federal judge that got me here. There was nothing miraculous about it.”
“Lights out,” guards trumpeted from somewhere down the cellblock.
The hitman walked over to the metal gate and gave it a shake. “Anybody ever bust outta here?”
“Have faith.” Preacher reached out to clutch his shoulder, offering consolation. “When the time comes, we’ll leave together.”
Horror Show moved his eyes to the man’s hand and found the hairy claw of an animal; he spun around, flattened himself against the bars, his eyes wide with shock and revulsion.
“The gods brought you to me.” Preacher came into the light, a snarling beast that was neither wolf nor man. “And when the time comes, you will help me do their work.”
The lights went out on D Block.
For the first time in his life, Horror Show screamed.
NOTES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I believe that even Fantasy and Horror need a foundation in reality. To bring as much realism as possible to this project, I drew on the education and talents of many marine scientists and biologists — particularly the writings of Jeffrey S. Levinton, Menico Torchio, and Charles Darwin; as well as conversations with Bruce Robinson, of the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute in California; A. Peter Klimley, of the University of California at Davis; Dr. John Music and Ken Goldman, of the Virginia Institute of Marine Science; and the staff of the Waters Pavilion at the Indianapolis Zoo. It was through my discussions with them that I was able to breathe life into Poseidon’s children.
•••
And thanks to: my family, especially my wife, Stephanie, and my sons, fellow Horror movie fans Kyle and Ryan, for their never-ending love and support; Susan Christophersen, for editing my first draft; Amanda DeBord, for whipping the final version into shape; Stephen Zimmer and the entire staff at Seventh St
ar Press, for making this series a reality; Matthew Perry for his always amazing cover art and illustrations; the United States Coast Guard, the New Hampshire Fish and Game Department, and the Indianapolis Fire and Police Departments (particularly Video Technician Doug Baker), for their vital knowledge, advice, and input; my pre-readers: Dione Ashwill, Maurice Broaddus, Rodney Carlstrom, Nikki Howard, Sara Larson, David Lichty, Marlys Pearson, Natalie Phillips, Glenn Sheldon, Melinda Thielbar, and Chris Vygmont, for putting up with all my emails and for giving me their honest opinions; all the Indiana Horror Writers; and, of course, my faithful readers everywhere.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael West is the critically-acclaimed author of Cinema of Shadows, Skull Full of Kisses, and The Wide Game. He lives and works in the Indianapolis area with his wife, their two children, their bird, Rodan, and turtle, Gamera.
He loves to walk on the beach, but he still doesn’t think it’s safe to go back in the water.
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Now Available from Seventh Star Press, Michael West’s newest Harmony, Indiana novel, featuring illustrations and cover art by acclaimed artist Matthew Perry!
Trade Paperback ISBN: 9780983740209
eBook ISBN: 9780983740216
Welcome to the Woodfield Movie Palace.
The night the Titanic sank, it opened for business...and its builder died in his chair. In the 1950s, there was a fire; a balcony full of people burned to death. And years later, when it became the scene of one of Harmony, Indiana’s most notorious murders, it closed for good. Abandoned, sealed, locked up tight...until now.
Tonight, Professor Geoffrey Burke and his Parapsychology students have come to the Woodfield in search of evidence, hoping to find irrefutable proof of a haunting. Instead, they will discover that, in this theater, the terrors are not confined to the screen.
Now Available from Seventh Star Press, H. David Blalock’s
newest urban fantasy, featuring illustrations and cover
art by fantasy artist Matthew Perry!
Trade Paperback ISBN: 9780983740230
eBook ISBN: 9780983740285
Why do bad things happen to good people? Simple. In the ancient war between the Angels of Light and Darkness, the Dark won. Now it is the job of an undercover force simply known as The Army to rectify that.
Using every tool available, The Army has worked to liberate our world from The Enemy for thousands of years, slowly and painfully lifting Mankind out of the dark. On the front of the great Conflict are the Angelkillers, veterans of the fight with centuries of experience.
Jonah Mason is an Angelkiller, and his cell is targeted as part of plot to unseat a very powerful Minion of The Enemy. Mason and his troop are drawn into a battle that stretches from real-time to virtual reality and back. The Conflict is about to expand into cyberspace, and if Mason is unable to stop it, The Enemy will have gained dominion over yet another realm.
Epic Urban Fantasy-The Rising Dawn Saga
A shadow falls across the world, and realms beyond, as a war that has raged since the dawn of time itself draws closer to a decisive clash. As groups aligned with a movement called The Convergence speed up their efforts to bring about a global economic and legal order, resistance mounts after the host of a syndicated radio show, Benedict Darwin, discovers the true nature of a virtual reality device that has come into his possession. The Rising Dawn Saga will take you into mythical, supernatural realms as it unfolds, as the most unlikely of individuals rise to confront powers that have existed since before the world began.
Book One: The Exodus Gate
ISBN: 978-0615267470
“With The Exodus Gate author Stephen Zimmer sets the stage for an adventurous new science fiction fantasy series that is sure to entertain the reader from beginning to end. Zimmer has weaved a tale of fantastic realms populated with exotic creatures. Keep a sharp eye out for this new series.”
-Mark Randell, Yellow30 Sci-Fi
“…a book that Fantasy Book Review recommends for lovers of thoughtful-fantasy. It is also a book with an ending that is near-prophetic, written as it was before the world’s economic meltdown.”
-Fantasy Book Review
Book Two: The Storm Guardians
ISBN: 978-0982565636
“This novel transports me from my bedroom to the edge of an upcoming storm — a battle to be fought by incredible villains and noble heroes of all forms. I love Zimmer’s imagination, as each of his creatures play a pivotal role in the bigger picture. Unfortunately, for every auspicious being there is an ominous beast lurking in the shadows. Zimmer’s weave of fantasy and religious fables leaves the reader sated”
-Bitten By Books
“The scope of The Storm Guardians is massive, opening up and expanding on the conflict only hinted at in The Exodus Gate. The intrigue and action promised in the first book is fully developed and mercilessly exhibited. The Storm Guardians is a non-stop thriller that lives up to the promise of The Exodus Gate and points at an even more amazing denouement in the final book of the series. Once again, Zimmer has used his command of cinematic imagery to give us a spectacular vision of war both heavenly and hellish. Two thumbs up on this one.”
-Pure Reason Book Review
Book Three: The Seventh Throne
ISBN: 978-0983740247
NOW AVAILABLE!
Poseidon's Children Page 30