“No, but we can rest a little. Bind up our wounds,” said Stavros quietly, indicating Jasper.
Lauryn nodded absently. “As best we can bind them with almost nothing, yes.”
And grieve a little, she thought, looking at Megan. She was petting Jasper with a reverent hand, her chest hitching as she tried to be brave. And bind those wounds too, as best we can.
Afterword
In chapter 8, there’s an announcement from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration following Glenn and Helen, the fictional hurricanes in my story. What you read is actually—for the most part, anyway—the real NOAA announcement that went out prior to Hurricane Katrina hitting New Orleans in 2005. I’ve changed the verbs to past tense and fictionalized a handful of other things in the announcement to make it fit the story, but most of the content is real.
Can you imagine hearing that come over your radio before the bad weather hit? Or maybe you don’t have to imagine it. Maybe you were there. As a lifelong resident of the Texas Gulf Coast, I’ve made it through multiple hurricanes in my lifetime, but nothing like Katrina. I was spared that particular hell of an experience. Hearing those words spoken in the dry, lifeless tones of an automated announcer must’ve been absolutely terrifying for listeners. Sometimes, life hands us events far more horrific than anything the most creative of fiction writers could ever come up with.
And speaking of the relationship between reality and fiction—while the Serenity Virus itself doesn’t exist, most of the other science mentioned by Stavros in his blog at the beginning of the novel is very real. Discovery of the “impulse control center,” the French and Finnish researchers’ work with the HTR2B gene, the work of the Chinese … even MAGE, the MIT-developed “multiplex automated genome engineering” technology used for cutting and pasting genetic sequences, actually exists. As Stavros suggests, the promise for science eradicating illness and behavioral issues from humanity has never been greater than it is today. Likewise, the danger from tinkering with the inner workings of the body’s clock, the most miraculous (and delicately balanced) of machines ever created, is equally great. Ah, for the days when our greatest worries were simpler: less about a genetic genie escaping a laboratory bottle and more about how best we could avoid Mother Nature’s wrath. Maybe, when you think about it, hurricanes aren’t so bad after all.
If you liked Stormbreak, consider checking out the sequel, The Serenity Strain: Ironheart.
Acknowledgments
My wife Alison, as always, is my Alpha Reader. She experienced The Serenity Strain: Stormbreak one chapter at a time. The original production schedule was an aggressive one, and it challenged me to write a lot and write it fast (by my typically slowpoke standards, anyway). But Ali made that so much easier when she basically demanded, at one point, a chapter a day because she wanted to see what happened next. That enthusiastic encouragement, more than anything else, kept me charging toward my deadline. Without her support, this novel wouldn’t be as good as it is. So, on your behalf, I’ll thank her for all of us.
My beta-readers were Carrie Bartkowiak, Stefan Bolz, Jennifer Ellis, Hank Garner, Deanna Johnston, Lyn Perry, Catherine Violando, Kim Wells, and Bridget Young. Every one of them provided valuable feedback at the macro and micro levels to help me make this story better. Many of these folks were fellow AW novelists trying to crank out their own contributions to the cause, so for them to take time away from that busy schedule—and, you know, life—to read my drafty manuscript is very much appreciated.
Another of my beta-readers deserves special recognition. Elena E. Giorgi happens to be a full-fledged scientist at Los Alamos National Laboratory. She gave me the benefit of her real-world expertise and helped me figure out how the Serenity Virus, and the gene therapy it delivers, might actually work (if they were real). I’d only known her for a few days (the way you “know people” on Facebook), and despite that fact, she was very generous with her time and insights. In fact, Elena loves to share her day-job expertise with her fellow writers through her blog at http://chimerasthebooks.blogspot.com/search/label/virus. Check it out, ye budding writers of apocalyptic tales wherein pandemics run rampant! There’s lots of wisdom and practical knowledge there, and you don’t even need Google to find it.
My friend and Texas A&M Transportation Institute (TTI) colleague Bernie Fette helped me ramp up the egotism in Stavros’ blog at the beginning of the novel. Bernie is public affairs program manager for TTI and has been, in many ways, a mentor for my writing at the day job. So if you found Stavros too full of himself early on—and I hope you did—you have Bernie to thank (or blame) for that.
A buddy of mine, Eamon Ambrose, lent his first name to (as Marsten might refer to him) Herr Professor Stavros. I was looking for something unusual and exotic to complement my scientist’s last name, and Eamon’s first name fit the bill. Thanks for the loan, man. I hope you don’t regret it after the fact.
Lauryn Zepeda-Groppell, an old and dear friend, also provided a name—the first name for my heroine, in fact. Lauryn and I have been friends since 1986, when we met in a class on the history of Ancient Greece and formed a study group with two other looneys. Her name has always linguistically recalled “lion” for me—a great association for a heroine to have, by the way, particularly when you think of a lioness protecting her cubs, as Lauryn Hughes protects Megan in the novel. The way Lauryn spells her name—with the “y” rather than the more traditional “e”—gives it an old-world elegance that’s absolutely appropriate to her real-life personality (and my fictional characterization). Thanks for the loan, old friend—er, friend of long acquaintance.
Ellen Campbell (http://ellencampbell.thirdscribe.com/), the editor in chief for Apocalypse Weird, offered excellent, insightful, and timely feedback during the editing process. Without her, you’d not only have found typos, but some things that just plain didn’t make sense. Thanks, Ellen, for your eagle eyes.
Adam Hall (http://aroundthepages.com/) designed the cover for Stormbreak. He managed to capture the disparate elements of genetic research, hurricanes, and a certain otherworldly goddess to really pull you into the story. And the image of Id you see there is by none other than Illustrator-to-the-Stars Ben Adams (http://www.benjadams.com/). I’ve engaged Ben’s services for several of my books, and he always manages to bring out more from the story than is obvious from the background material I supply him. His approach is simultaneously classical and avant-garde—stark but composed, sketch-like but polished. Thanks again for really capturing the atmosphere of my writing, Ben.
And I want to take a moment and acknowledge your time in reading The Serenity Strain: Stormbreak. I believe that time—above just about anything else—is the greatest gift one person can give to another. So thank you, dear reader, for spending your time on my novel.
A Word to My Reader
If you enjoyed The Serenity Strain: Stormbreak, I’d like to ask you for one small favor before you go. Please take a moment to review it at the venue where you purchased it (as well as on Goodreads if you’re a member).
As a reader of independent authors, you’re both our market and our marketing force. Reviews are a key factor in promoting a work’s visibility—to other readers, of course, but also to critics and booksellers, who use reviews to determine, for example, what books to feature in promotions.
But reviews also help other readers just like you decide if they should spend their money—and just as importantly, their time—on a published work. Providing a review is like presenting a public service announcement to your fellow readers, something you also benefit from when they do the same for you. Please recognize that by leaving a review, you’re making a real contribution to the world—and the quality—of independent publishing.
Thank you for that.
About the Author
Chris Pourteau has been a technical writer and editor for over twenty years. He’s published technical articles, literary essays, short stories, and novels. Shadows Burned In—a contemporary, Souther
n Gothic novel—won the 2015 e-Lit Book Awards Gold Medal for Literary Fiction. His compilation of military novellas set in Michael Bunker’s Amish sci-fi world of New Pennsylvania—Tales of B-Company: The Complete Collection—has also been well received. He recently edited, curated, and contributed a story to Tails of the Apocalypse, an anthology of short stories set in various apocalyptic worlds as experienced by animal protagonists and their human companions. The collection was described by Joel Eisenberg, author of The Chronicles of Ara, as a “magnificent volume” that stands as “perhaps the most unique anthology of 2015.” It was also named a top ten anthology (out of 39 entrants) in Preditors and Editors Poll for Best Anthology of 2015.
Chris lives in College Station, Texas, with his wife, son, and dogs.
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