GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 6

 

At that last shack, a burly man with a thick beard sat on a chair of branches and logs. His beard hid his mouth completely but that didn’t stop him from spitting some tobacco as Percival and Vicki approached.

“Can I do fer ya?” The man said with a tone that indicated he had little interest in doing anything for them.

“We’d like to use a pirogue to go out to an old sugar plantation. Can you help us?” Vicki asked.

The man stood up with a solemn expression. “That place ain’t right.” He said it with a tone that was cold and flat. It made Vicki’s heart skip a beat.

“It’s very important,” Percival said.

“Folks come sometimes to rent my pirogues. If you want one, it’ll be a hunnert dollars.”

“That’s really expensive to rent a pirogue,” Vicki said.

“So’s replacin’ ‘em when they don’t come back.”

“Why don’t they come back?” Vicki wondered more and more what she got herself into, but was too stubborn to do anything else.

“You got the money?” The man didn’t flinch at her question.

Percival handed him a gold Civil War coin. “It’s authentic and worth enough to buy ten of your pirogues.”

The man raised an eyebrow as he studied the coin. He nodded, put the coin in his pocket and gestured to the dock.

“But why don’t they come back?” Vicki pressed the question again.

“Jus’ you remember it’s his swamp.” The man went into his shack and abruptly shut the door.

Percival walked to the small dock and selected a pole and pirogue. He opened the blanket and put on his gun belt. As Vicki stepped into the pirogue, Percival took her by the arm.

“This is where we part company,” Percival said.

Vicki jerked her arm away. “Heck no! I’m coming with you. I’ve come this far after all.”

“I can’t guarantee your safety. Furthermore, I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine! Like it or not, you’re stuck me Captain Louis Percival, and I won’t take no for an answer!” Vicki sat down in the pirogue and refused to move.

Percival sighed in defeat and grasped the pole to push them out on the water. It was no use arguing. He just hoped he could keep her alive. He stabbed the pole into the muddy bottom of the swamp and with a heavy shove, they were on their way.

Drifting into the swamp was fairly open at first, but soon they had to navigate between the wide trunks of the cypress trees. Once they were well out of view of the shack community, Percival paused to set his pistol on the bottom of the pirogue. As it did back at the bar, the pistol spun and finally pointed a direction further south. He holstered his weapon and returned to pushing them across the water. The sun shone through the branches in cascades of bright light that enhanced the natural green beauty of their surroundings. Life teemed around them. Small turtles jumped off floating logs with splashing echoes. Tree frogs watched them go by from tree trunks and reeds. Even the spider webs shined in the scattered beams of sunlight. Vicki flinched as a Copperhead snake gracefully glided by on the water. Percival ignored it, focused on the mission ahead.

They lost track of time as they drifted. It could have been an hour or two when they could see a decrepit rooftop just over some high foliage about a hundred yards ahead. No clear path to it could be seen for land yet. Percival could tell, they would have to circle around in the swamp to find their way.

“You’ve been pushing us a long time,” Vicki said. “Would you like me to take over?”

“I would never put man’s job on a woman,” Percival said, believing he was being chivalrous.

“Oh you really are from the Civil War!”

“What?”

“You have a lot to learn about the ways of women today! I’ll have you know…”

She was interrupted by a loud splash and the pirogue flipping into the air. Percival and Vicki were tossed opposite directions into the murky water. Even with his head submerged, Percival could hear Vicki’s screams of terror. He struggled to get his head above water and stand on the slick mud below. Percival managed to cling to a tree trunk and pull himself up. He wiped the muck away from his eyes frantically.

Seeing the massive body towering over them, Percival instinctively drew his pistol. As his eyes started focus, he stared in disbelief. It had arms and legs like a man, if any man stood 14 feet tall. It was green and scaled with moss hanging from prehistoric plates going down its back. Its head was that of a giant alligator; big enough to snap an average alligator in half. Its mouth was open to show off rows of dagger sharp teeth.

GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 5

 

In a world where everything was so big and loud, the museum was smaller than Percival expected. It reminded him of a Town Hall he had seen once. When they went through the double doors, Percival paused at yet another bewildering view. Glass cases with relics of the war filled the single room building from corner to corner. Uniforms, sabers, and guns were all on display from both sides of the conflict. In the middle of the room sat a cannon. Seeing it like that, was eerie in its silence. Percival wondered how many men it cut down on its journey to this resting place. For the Captain, it was literally yesterday that these things were active and in use. Now they were displayed with the wear, fading and rust of generations. Percival gazed at the ring on his finger and realized that, he too, was a relic. He wondered if soon he would show his age like these items around him.

“Welcome to the Civil War Museum,” said the heavy man behind the counter. He had a bushy mustache that hid his upper lip and thick glasses that made his eyes look bulged. “I’m Reginald. Is there anything I can show you?”

“Actually, there might be,” Vicki said. “Do you have information on officers who were in the war?”

“I have info on the major historical figures. If you aren’t looking for that, I have some files on soldiers who fought here in Louisiana. What’s the name?”

“Colonel Amon Le Fey,” Percival piped in.

“Le Fey, Le Fey,” Reginald repeated as he moved towards a filing cabinet. “Union or Confederate?”

“Confederate.”

Reginald pulled a thick book from the top of the filing cabinet and opened it on the counter. He leafed through several pages.

“Aha, there is a Colonel Amon Le Fey listed in here.”

“Great!” Vicki said. “What does it say about him?”

“It says; he led a regiment of soldiers away from the Battle of Irish Bend to engage incoming Union reinforcements led by Captain Louis Percival.”

Vicki shot a look of surprise to Percival who shrugged.

“It goes on to say it was a bloody fight that ended with the disappearance of both leading officers.” Reginald adjusted his glasses. “That’s easy enough to believe. A lot of soldiers went to unmarked graves back then; even officers.”

“Does it say anything else about Le Fey?” Percival pressed.

“Yes. It says he owned a sugar plantation a bit south of the battle site. That would all be dangerous swampland now.”

“That’s where I have to go. Thank you, Reginald!” Percival turned and walked out of the building.

“What?” Reginald looked after him dumfounded.

“It’s okay. He just does that. Thanks, sweetie.” Vicki followed Percival out to the car. “What are you going to do?”

“ I’m going the way my pistol pointed and Reginald said.”

“You know you can’t just go stomping through the swamp right? You’re going to need a boat or a pirogue; probably a pirogue.”

“What’s a pirogue?”

“A smaller boat for navigating narrower places in the swamps. Look, I think I know where to drive so we can get a look okay?”

“Alright.”

Percival didn’t want Vicki along too far into his dangerous mission. He didn’t want to endanger her. If anything happened to her, he doubted he could ever forgive himself.

They travelled back roads and lesser highways several miles south. The further they went, the thicker the surrounding wilderness became. They didn’t have to go far before any distant view was blocked out by tall cypress trees. Spanish moss hung long from branches and water shined between the bases of the trees. The sun barely shone through some places, making them dark and eerie. Finally, they came to a place where the only driving left was off the road. Swampland stretched out around them for miles.

Percival stepped to the edge of the road to survey his chances of passage. A small alligator splashed into the water and vanished. From where Percival stood, travel on foot was impossible. He could see he would be up to his waist in water with nothing to hold on to but cypress trunks. As he looked around, there were no paths available in any direction. Vicki stood not far behind him.

“Do you have any more of those gold coins?” Vicki asked.

“A couple, why?”

“I saw some shacks near an off road. Maybe someone there will let us use a pirogue.”

Percival nodded and they got back into the car.

The small community of shacks was built on posts over the water accessible by long elevated walkways. Vicki parked the car in a muddy lot with a couple of trucks and another car so they could walk to the wooden docks. The walkways were well built, thick and solid with heavy logs. Percival could tell right away that these were people who could live off their environment. Animal skins could be seen in one area but mostly there were crawfish traps and fishing equipment. There were several pirogues all around. Every shack had at least one and there were seven shacks in all. The shacks were made from various materials of wood and metal. Percival brought out the bundle that held his sword and pistol. Vicki had wrapped them in a small blanket.

The first man they came to eyed them suspiciously from rocking chair. He appeared as old as the swamp with leathery skin and calloused hands. He was thin and sinewy, but he didn’t look weak. When asked about a pirogue, he said nothing but pointed to a shack at the far end of the walk. As they followed his directions, they felt the eyes of the community watching them. They were watched with interest. One woman even came out of her shack to watch them. It was the kind of observation that made Percival and Vicki uncomfortable. Expressions on the people’s faces weren’t the welcoming kind.

GZ Tales: Percival's Tale part 3

 

The couple in the corner decided to leave quietly, but Vicky and Scat were too busy to notice. Percival’s mind spun as he considered all he heard so far.

“So, what can I get you?” Vicky asked.

“A pint of lager will do, thank you.”

“What kind?”

Percival’s mind spun again, “Surprise me.” As long as they thought he was an actor, Percival felt a bit safer. Finding out the rest of what he needed to know still looked tricky. The last thing he wanted now was to scare anyone. It would require him playing along with their thoughts of him and letting them do the thinking.

Vicky served up a mug of beer, “That will be six dollars.”

“Ah.” Percival dug into his pocket and pulled out an assortment of folded bills.

Vicky took them and paused on sight of them, “What is this?”

“Oh!” Percival realized that his money may not be any good in this weird world. He took the bills back with apology and dug frantically for what he hoped would work. He put a gold coin in her hand.

“Oh boy.” Vicky said, “You guys take this stuff seriously don’t you?”

“You don’t take gold?” Percival asked with a knot in his throat.

“What?” Vicky’s jaw dropped open.

“Hey! You mean that’s an authentic coin?” Scat nearly spat all over the bar, “Nowadays, those things are worth a fortune!”

“Um, great.” Vicky said as she pocketed the coin. “That will do nicely.”

“Good.” Percival took a drink of his beer. “Oh my! This is cold.” He noted the strange expressions, “And very good! Just what I was hoping for.”

“So you were saying that you’re lost?” Vicky asked, finding herself more curious with this man than before.

“Yes. I am lost. I know it will sound strange, but I don’t even know what town I’m in.”

“You’re in Franklin, Louisiana, Hon,” Vicky said.

“Is this the town you’re supposed to be in?” Scat asked, wondering if he had any more gold coins.

“Maybe,” Percival answered hesitantly.

The door to the bar opened and two policemen stepped in. One was tall and the other stout. Both appeared muscular and athletic with modern military haircuts. Percival had never seen such uniforms, but he still recognized authority figures.

“Hello, Officers!” Vicky said brightly. At that moment she noticed that the couple in the corner was gone. In the pit of her stomach, she knew why they were there.

“How are you folks doing tonight?” Officer Stone, the stout one asked. His chest was broad and his neck was thick. Vicky thought he must be a body builder.

“We’re doing great. Would you boys like some coffee?”

“We got a call about a man with a gun,” the stern looking Officer Yates informed them.

“Looks we have him right here,” Officer Stone gestured towards Percival. “Not what I expected though.”

“It’s okay, Officers,” Scat said, “He’s one of them reenactment people.”

“Is that a real gun, Sir?” Officer Stone asked.

“It’s one of them replicas,” Scat interjected again. A stern look from Yates turned the old man back to his beer quickly.

“As he said, Sir,” Percival reached for the pistol to show the officer.

“I’ll do that,” Officer Stone said as he reached out and took the pistol from its holster. He studied the gun with intense interest as Yates peered over a shoulder.

“Well, that has to be replica. I’ve never seen a black powder pistol in such good shape.” Stone put the pistol on the bar, “Now I need to see your I.D.”

“I.D.?” Percival didn’t recognize the term.

“Yes,” said Yates, “Identification.”

Percival looked at the silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand. It had his name and rank inscribed on it. Percival couldn’t help the feeling that this would not satisfy these officers. Few men in the ranks had any better to be identified by in the war, so Percival had nothing else. He could only think of one thing.

“I am Captain Louis Percival of the…”

Suddenly the pistol on the bar moved and startled everyone but Percival. It spun in place on the bar rapidly and then gradually slowed. When it stopped, the barrel aimed towards the door.

“You know, Officers,” Vicky piped up with desperate earnest, “He’s with me. He’s a friend of the family and, Lord, we’ve been looking out for him since he was a kid. He’s always gotten so lost in anything he does,” Vicky tapped the side of her forehead, “that it’s hard to get him out. It was a mistake to let him bring that here. He just wanted to show us. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

“Ookay,” Stone said slowly as he stared at the gun. “That might have been good to know when we first got here.”

“Yeah,” Yates nodded, also staring.

“I’m so sorry, Officers. But, you know, I take full responsibility for Louis. Do you need my I.D.?”

“You know what?” Stone stepped backwards. “I don’t know what we just saw here, but I don’t think it’s illegal. I think we can go now.”

“I agree.” Yates started heading for the door. “You folks have a good night.”

The officers left without another word and an awkward silence fell over the three left behind.

Once the officers were gone, Vicky couldn’t contain herself, “What in the world was that?” She pointed at the gun. “You know what? Never mind. Bar’s closed. Scat go home. Mr. Percival, you stay right there.”

“That’s not fair!” Scat protested, “And hey, Frank’ll fire ya for closing early!”

“Scat,” Vicky looked the old man dead in the eye, “Scat!”

“Well, you don’t have to be like that about it,” Scat muttered as he made for the door. “No tip for you.”

“You never tip!” Vicky  followed Scat and locked the door behind him. She turned off the neon signs in the windows and turned off the main room lights. She glanced out the windows a couple of directions twice and then walked back to Percival.

By this time, Percival had holstered his pistol. He watched Vicky’s bustle of activity with curious interest.

“Okay.” Vicky held both hands in front of her as if trying to catch an invisible ball or at least his attention. “What is the real story with you?”

“You may find that hard to believe.” Percival couldn’t help but fear how she may react.

“Your gun going poltergeist on my bar was hard to believe. Try me.”

GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 2

 

“Weirdo,” said a man in leather and chains passing in the opposite direction of the business woman.

Percival only knew of mohawks on native Indians. The short purple one on the man in leather was ghastly. Percival blinked several times, but all the sights remained. It was so much to take in that he quickly felt dizzy. He didn’t even realize he had holstered his pistol, but had his hand on the handle.

“Must be one of those reenactors,” said another man walking by.

“Reenactors,” Percival muttered.

“Hey, is that gun real?” another woman asked.

Captain Percival moved his hand away from his pistol and realized that he was the one who didn’t belong here. He had to find someplace to think. He had to find someplace to learn about where he was. With several nervous glances around himself, Percival turned and walked quickly down a street less busy.

Not far away, down that same street, Vicky washed down the bar in bored slow motion. Only 3 people were in Frank’s Bar that late afternoon and Vicky didn’t expect many more. She tied back her reddish blonde hair as she gazed at the loving couple in the far corner. It would be nice just to have someone to talk to. Sadly, the only person who wanted to talk to her was old Scat. Vicky wanted nothing to do with Scat and usually tried to avoid eye contact. Inevitably, this never worked, and Scat would always wind up at the bar. Just the lint in his beard made her wonder if he ever looked in a mirror. Scat drank too much, smelled terrible and was always far too interested in Vicky for her comfort. He reminded her of some bad cheese she found behind her refrigerator once.

“Hey, Doll,” Scat said with a toothy grin as he sat at the bar. He rubbed his grimy fingers on the beer mug, smearing it. Vicky never looked forward to touching anything Scat touched.

“Doesn’t look like you need a refill yet,” Vicky looked away hoping for someone new to come in the door.

“Aw, you know I love talking to you, Doll. You know, we should go out sometime.”

“You’re really killing me, Scat,” Vicky moved a few feet down the bar and pretended to see something out the window.

“Well, I’ve warned you before; I am a lady killer.”

Vicky tried to ignore Scat. Seeing the man outside seemed like a sudden dream come true. Even with the man’s Civil War attire, she thought he had to be safer company than the old coot. Vicky couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked lost and kept staring at the bar. Vicky thought he was gathering courage to come in. Maybe he’d never been in a bar before; Vicky had no idea. As he finally came toward the building, Vicky felt elation that someone, anyone, was coming in.

Captain Percival couldn’t steady his nerves as he put a hand on the door latch. All the strange lights were like no tavern he had ever known. Still, he always learned about new places at taverns and pubs. It seemed like the safest idea, or he hoped it was. With a deep breath, Percival opened the door and stepped inside.

At first, he found relief in the fact that the place was not crowded. Then he felt their eyes on him and knew he still stood out as odd in this strange new land. The couple in the corner shrugged and went back to their conversation. Vicky and Scat still stared at him in wonder.

“Can I help you?” Vicky finally found her voice as Percival approached the bar.

“I hope so. I’m afraid I’m lost.”

“Well, I don’t know where they are doing any Civil War reenactments right now.”

“Reenactment,” Percival said slowly, “I’ve been hearing that a lot today.”

“Well sure!” Scat said, “That’s what they call it when you fellers get all dressed up and act out your battles and stuff. Can’t say it’s real popular around here though.”

“Act out,” Percival repeated again, “Do you mean like a play?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Scat said, “I’m sure you would know better than me.”

“A very loud play,” Vicky interjected, wondering about Percival’s state of mind. “Maybe you should have a drink?”

Percival stepped closer to the bar, thinking that would be a fine idea. That’s when Vicky noticed the pistol on his hip.

“Uh, we don’t allow guns in here.”

Percival paused, “Oh. I’m sorry.” To the surprise of everyone in the bar, Percival drew the pistol and offered it to Vicky handle first. Vicky had no idea what to do or say.

“You know,” Scat said, “It’s probably just a replica. All them fellers have ‘em. I’m sure it wouldn’t be any problem.”

“Yeah. Right.” Vicky said, “Why don’t you just leave it in the holster?”

“Okay,” Percival holstered the pistol and decided not to correct them on its status as a replica or not.

The couple in the corner decided to leave quietly, but Vicky and Scat were too busy to notice. Percival’s mind spun as he considered all he heard so far.

GZ Tales: Percival's Tale Part 1

 

Mist floated across the southern battlefield like ghosts of the fallen. The horse shifted from hoof to hoof nervously under its rider, Captain Louis Percival. Captain Percival ignored his horse as he stared across the wide field toward the enemy. His Union uniform was more brown than blue, like the rest of his men. Even the brass on his hat carried the spattering of combat. Captain Percival’s men held their ground in a long arrangement of dugouts lined with debris and bodies. On the other side of that wide field in Louisiana, Captain Percival could see the forces of Colonel Amon LeFey. Those forces outnumbered the Union soldiers 2 to 1.

            For either side, the field would be a long charge to get into effective rifle range. Percival’s troops were weathered and tired. LeFey’s troops looked too comfortable for Percival’s liking.

            Captain Percival was proud of his men. None of them ever mentioned retreat and all of them wanted to end Confederate control of Louisiana. Percival was even more proud of them because they had no idea how much more risk they faced that day than any other in the whole war. They had splintered away from the command forces under Major Nathaniel Prentice Banks for something greater than any battle the Civil War had.

            Percival looked to his Sergeant who stood ready nearby, “Make sure every man’s rifle is loaded and ready to fire.”

            “Yes, Sir!” and the man with thick mustache turned to other men, “All right, you louts, have those rifles ready!” The Sergeant stomped away shouting at the other men.

            Captain Percival removed a glove and scratched away some debris from his reddish brown mustache and beard. Then he put the glove back on and drew his sword for examination. He didn’t carry the standard issue cutlass, rather a blade passed down for generations. A family crest decorated the center of the hand guard. It was a crest older the United States could ever dream. Percival wiped away some blood staining from the blade and stared at his reflection in the metal.

            “Sir!” The Sergeant had returned to snap Percival out of distant thoughts, “The men await your orders. Every last rifle is primed and ready. If I may, the men do wonder what your idea is this time; with us being out of range and all.”

            “Have I ever not had an idea?”

            “No, Sir!”

            Colonel Amon LeFey sat on his own horse with his Lieutenant on a mount next to him. LeFey’s bushy white mustache and goatee did little to hide the amused smirk on his face. Unlike Captain Percival, LeFey’s uniform was crisp and clean. Not a drop of blood or sweat showed anywhere on the man.

            “It appears there’s movement in the Union camp, Boys,” LeFey scoffed, “Maybe they think they’re ready to try again. Stand ready!”

            His men formed lines awaiting a Union charge. Their rifles were also primed and ready to fire.

            “What are they doing, Sir?” Lieutenant Levar asked as he mused over the situation.

            “It appears they aim their rifles into the air,” LeFey answered. “They must know they are out of range.”

            “Perhaps they’ve lost their minds?”

            “That would be nice, but don’t underestimate Captain Percival. He always has a reason for everything he does.”

            “A distraction then?”

            “Perhaps.”

            Rifle fire echoed across the field as Percival’s men fired at a high angle. LeFey could see them rushing to reload. He considered ordering a charge, but then the first of the metal balls came down. From the high angle of fire the heavy metal balls from the black powder rifles fell like hail stones. They didn’t hurt but a few men, but it did force them to move.

            “Charge and fire!” LeFey shouted, but the Union soldiers were already doing the same.

            All either side needed was a 30 yard advance to be in better firing range. Percival’s men made it first. The first row of men dropped to one knee while the second aimed over their shoulders.

            “Fire!” the Sergeant shouted, and they did.

            This time more shots found their marks as Confederate soldiers fell while preparing to aim. The Union troops charged with their bayonets, hoping to close the gap before taking too much return fire. They didn’t quite make it, but close quarters combat joined next anyway. Bayonets, knives, and swords clashed with the occasional sound of gunfire, painting the field with blood.  Lieutenant Levar took a bullet to the skull and fell from his horse. LeFey stayed ridged in saddle. He glared at the Captain, fighting through the crowd from horseback.

            “Die! Come on! Die in the crossfire!” LeFey growled as he peered through the mist and smoke.

            Captain Percival charged through the bodies on his horse with sword held high. Any enemy within swinging distance caught a mean slash as Percival went by. Through the smoke, Percival could just see the outline of his target. Percival wanted more than just an outline. He wanted the face of LeFey within fingers grasp. His horse gave a cry of pain as it suddenly crashed to the ground. Percival rolled clear and fended off another Confederate soldier quickly.

            LeFey could see Percival clearly now, emerging from the battle with an expression of fury.

            “Kill him, damn it! Kill him!” LeFey growled.

            Percival would not be stopped. Any who got in his way were dispatched by sword with ridiculous ease. It was as if Percival had training above that of the common soldier.

            Colonel LeFey drew his pistol, more than willing to shoot through his own men. A rifle shot sounded and the pistol flew from the Colonel’s grip. Percival’s Sergeant stood nearby, ready to charge with his bayonet to finish the job. Colonel LeFey glared at the Sergeant with eyes that shimmered. Without any strength to stop himself, the Sergeant brought his bayonet up under his own jaw and thrust it clear into his brain.

            Colonel LeFey turned his attention back to Percival who now stood only ten feet away.

            “You’re going to pay for that!” Percival shouted, “You and me, LeFey!”

            “You’ll never have the sword, Percival!” LeFey shouted back, “Never!”

            Colonel LeFey raised a hand as Percival drew the revolver and aimed it. As the weapon fired, there was a great flash of light that blinded all who were nearby.

            As the bright flare faded, it was replaced by a blaring noise. Captain Percival rolled across the ground as the speeding car nearly hit him. From the curb, Percival stood up slowly as he took in the impossible sight around him.

            Buildings of brick and mortar surrounded him on the city street. Roaring carriages without horses went past him in various colors. Tall metal poles loomed overhead with light fixtures that he didn’t understand. People walking past wore the strangest clothing he had ever seen. There were so many styles of odd clothing; Percival thought there must be a costume ball.

            “Is he drunk?” A woman in a business suit asked as she passed him by.

A woman not wearing a dress was a confounding sight, and there were many of them.

“Weirdo,” said a man in leather and chains passing in the opposite direction of the business woman.

GZ Tales: Imaginary Enemy Part 2

 

“I have an imaginary friend, but he's not very nice. Is yours nice?” The table next to the bed shook slightly.

            “Yeah,” Larry replied, feeling a tremor in the floor, “I have a very good friend. Maybe you'd like to meet him.” He eyed the table suspiciously.

            “Oh no. No, no, no.”

            “What is it, Isa? What's wrong?”

            Her eyes welled with tears, “You should run.”

            A shadow grew and loomed in the corner of the room.

            “It's not the child!” Nyhtwulf's voice boomed in his head.

            “Ow! Too loud.”

            “It's a secondary entity.”

            “Can you tackle it?”

            “I will do my best.”

            “I'll grab the girl.” He turned his attention back to Isa, “Okay, this is very important. I need you to listen to me. You listening?”

            She nodded and sniffled.

            “This is not your friend. Friends don't hurt people. This is one of the bad guys and I'm here to help you escape. But you have to be brave for me.”

            She shook her head as the shadow grew closer, “You can't. No one can.”

            “We can. My friend is right outside. He'll help us. Now, we are going to have to run, okay?” He held out his hand.

            A tall humanoid shape manifested from the shadow. It's raspy voice filled the air, “You mustn't touch the children.”

            A savage roar echoed as Nyhtwulf flew into the room and tried a flying tackle. Since both of them were intangible it worked. The two of them went through the far wall. Blacktide snatched up the surprised girl in his arms and ran out the door.

            “Out of my way now!” he shouted as an orderly almost stepped in front of him. The rest wanted nothing to do with the situation and were glad to stay out of it.

            “He's not my friend?” Isa asked as she clutched tight to his shoulder.

            “No. He's not.”

            “Is he the Boogey man?”

            “I don't know, Isa, but we're going to find out. Did he ever mention having a name?” He raced into a stairwell to avoid being caught in the elevator.

            “Silhouette.”

            “Wow, that's a big word for a little kid. I wonder why he calls himself that?”

            At that moment, the shadowy creature came through the door behind them, but Nyhtwulf was on him again and they spun out a nearby window. As the two struggled with each other they rolled and flew through walls of patients’ rooms and doctor's offices. People fled and screamed at the sight of them. Since this place was a psychiatric hospital, matters were worse. Patients suffering anxiety disorders were in total panic. Much of the staff were too busy dodging for themselves to contain panicking patients.

            “I am having difficulty containing him. Do you have a plan?” Nyhtwulf's voice came again into Larry’s mind.

            “Get him outside. That's where I'm going.”

            Knowing that Nythwulf and Silhouette weren't far behind, he found the first door on ground level he could and burst outside. Alarms blared but they were the least of his worries. He ran across the green lawn to a small grove of trees and bushes. He set Isa down.

            “You hide in there. We'll deal with this guy now.”

            Isa didn't argue. She crawled into the thick of the bushes and curled up tight, hugging her knees. “He'll burn you.”

            “Not if I burn him first. Now close your eyes tight until I tell you to open them.” He didn't want the scene to terrify her further andcould think of nothing else to protect her.

           

Nyhtwulf and the Silhouette spun out into the air, snarling, swiping and clawing at each other. Even though they could connect somewhat, they didn't seem able to hurt each other very much. Blacktide raised the intensity of his disintegration field around his body. The ground at his feet began to smoulder. He had no idea if his power could work on such a being. He had never tried before. He raised his hand and took aim. He didn't want to hit his partner. Could his power hurt Nyhtwulf? This thought caused him to pause. He didn't want to hurt another friend with his power ever again; especially not his best friend and partner.

            “The child, the child!” it snarled as it finally broke free and lunged for Blacktide.

            “Now! Have faith my friend and strike now!” Larry  hated it when Nyhtwulf shouted in his head, but this time it was for good cause. It shook him back to reality and he fired his power just as the beast was within inches of him. Disintegration makes kind of a low coughing “whump” noise barely audible to human ears. The energy beam hit the shadowy Silhouette and actually threw the entity backwards a few yards. The Silhouette dropped to its knees, clutching what appeared to be its chest. Its red eyes opened wide as if it were as surprised. Nyhtwulf flew up behind it and ghosted a hand through its head. Nyhtwulf’s unique power to disrupt mental and life energies took effect. The entity gave a terrible shriek that rattled windows and made everyone cover their ears. Then it exploded in all directions like shadows running from rays of the sun.

As the ringing in his ears wore off, Blacktide stood back up from one knee and looked around.
            “It is gone,” Nyhtwulf said as he shook off the effect by rattling his big head back and forth. “I no longer sense it.”

            “Guess we won't know what its deal was then,” he looked back to Isa and knelt near the bushes. “Hey, you okay? Come on out and meet my friend. I promise you he's nice.”
            Isa accepted a hand to help her out of the bushes. She looked up at Nyhtwulf in wonder.

            “Are you a dog man?”

            He chuckled softly, “I look like one don't I?”

            “Do you sense any reason that thing was interested in her?” Blacktide asked.

            “I sense dormant psychic ability in her. It is possible it was drawn to that, particularly because she is a child.”

            “Will he come back?” Isa asked.

            “I don't think so. And if it does, we'll send it running,” Blacktide said. “But how would you like to go to a much nicer place than this?”

            “Is it a hospital?”

            “Kinda, but way cooler than this one. You can even have a ride on my motorcycle.” He spoke of a hospital for people with powers. It was a place that existed to study developing powers in people and help them with control if needed.

            “That would be nice,” she looked up at Nyhtwulf, “but I'd really like to fly. Will he carry me?”

            Larry smiled, “Ask him.”

            Nyhtwulf was too happy to oblige, for the joy of a child.

GZ Tales: The Bard's Apple Pie: Part 1

 

The day he strode into that dusty little town was one they wouldn't forget for generations. Dust coated his brown leather jacket. His long hair draped past his shoulders. If that wasn't enough to turn heads, the electric guitar slung across his back of red and gold certainly made up for it. He walked down the broken brick and dirt street of the little Texas town and entered the diner. On his way he passed the town barbershop, grocery, and an antique shop. It wasn’t much of a little town as you could throw a rock from end to end. It was run mostly by a few farmers and country folk so strangers stuck out like a neon sign. He took a seat at the counter and ignored the neck twisters in the room as he picked up the menu.

 

            “What can we get you?” The waitress said with indifference. He couldn't help but notice the thick invisible cloud of her perfume and how her hair was up so tight it offered migraines to onlookers. Her lipstick was on thick and red. The only thing missing from the older lady's stereotype was the loud cracking and smacking of gum.

 

            He forced himself to ignore the stench of that perfume but leaned back a little, “Joyce, it's been a long time since I had coffee or pie. So I'd like a slice of your apple pie with a nice cup of coffee, please.”

 

            With little else to do, Joyce had his order for him promptly. She almost tossed the plate down with a clatter. “Enjoy,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

 

            He was about take his first bite when the heavyset man next to him interrupted, “Actually, Mister, that's the best pie in the county.”

 

            He took his bite and chewed thoughtfully, “It is very good. I can see I came to the right place.”

 

            “So, you're a musician, huh?”

 

            “Something like that,” he paused and held the coffee cup under his nose for a moment, closing his eyes to breathe in the aroma before taking a sip.

 

            “What do you mean? You either is or you ain't.”

 

            “Man, that is good coffee. Alright, is then.”

 

            “Okay then. Are you in a rock band?”

 

            “Stop bugging the man and let him finish his business, Joe,” said a man in a hunter’s vest and hat sitting in a booth, “I'm sure he's just passing through and wants to get on his way.”

 

            The guitar-man seemed to recognize the attitude and disdain for strangers, “Not to worry, friend, as soon as I'm done, I'll be on my way.”

 

            “Rick, don't you start nothing,” Joyce warned, “You still owe Lee for a broken table.”

 

            A small man came out in an apron on cue, “Yeah, and the Sheriff said I can ban you if you break anything else!”

 

            “That's unfortunate,” the guitar-man said as he worked on another bite.

 

            “Oh, yeah?” Rick said, “How so?”

 

            “No offense, friend,” he paused on his next to last bite, “Geez, this is good pie, but as I was saying; this guitar on my back is very special. You're going to think I'm crazy, but it tells me things.”

 

            “That is crazy,” Rick sneered with egg dangling from his mustache that everyone was now noticing.

 

            “It gets better. You see, why I found you're owing this fine establishment for damages so unfortunate (if not ironic) is that, in a few minutes, you're whole town is going to need repairs.”

 

            “What the heck are you talking about?” Rick demanded.

 

            “Mister, you take your crazy talk and just be on your way,” Joyce ordered.

 

            He stood and washed down his last bite with the rest of his coffee. He turned to Joe, “Best in the county? I believe you.”

 

            “Alright now, just you go,” Joyce ordered again.

 

            An explosion rocked the place, as the guitar-man watched the townsfolk run toward the windows.

 

            To say what was coming down the road was alien would be an understatement. There were six of them carrying strange rifles with glowing barrels. They were decked out in black and silver armor, mostly black. If they had faces, they were hidden behind blank, silver masks with no features or eye holes. Their helmets reminded everyone of old samurai warriors. It would have been preferable if they were samurai warriors. They were firing beams of reddish light from those rifles at cars and the fronts of buildings. Anything they hit exploded into a ball of fiery debris.

GZ Tales: To Kill Part 2

 

“Yes! I will destroy your world, noble King! I exist to kill!”

            Maniac’s charge threw wreckage in all directions. King Falcon summoned his wings and darted into the air as a massive hand crashed to the ground. King Falcon swung his axe across the Cyborian’s shoulder. Sparks flew but little damage was done. Cyborian armor is heavily equipped with repair programs as well as weapons. Maniac responded with surprising speed and backhanded the King out of the air. King Falcon hit the ground and his body made a trench several yards long. But the King was notable for combat speed of his own, and was back into the air instantly. He hit Maniac with a beam of cosmic power, but the monster charged right through it.

            The two met head on. King Falcon swung his axe across Maniac’s chest as giant arms closed in. Maniac meant to press the hero King against another saw blade that extended from a joint in the chest. King Falcon flew out of the way just in time, and hit the monster across the head. With a jagged gash across his faceplate, Maniac grabbed the King in both hands. A massive energy surge made the whole area glow enough to be seen from space. Maniac threw King Falcon’s body through some of the starship wreckage with a crash.

            King Falcon struggle to get to his feet, “I’ve never been hit with such a surge,” he thought, “must get to my feet or…”

            A massive metal fist interrupted his thoughts and pounded him into the ground. Maniac’s laughter echoed as he followed up with one terrible blow after the other. Again and again, in rapid succession, Maniac landed energized giant fists into a forming crater. Finally, Maniac stood up over the body of King Falcon. Blood dripped from his armored hands. Maniac continued to laugh.

            “I told you, I exist to kill. My armor will repair itself soon and then I will kill your world and all its peoples. Oh, and what was that you said about distance not being a factor? Foolish pride, noble King.”

            Maniac was about to turn and leave when something caught his attention. King Falcon’s wings were extinguished and his body battered. Yet, a tiny ember of light appeared on the King’s right leg. As Maniac watched in wonder, more lights appeared. The glowing embers multiplied until the encompassed all of the King’s body. Energy readings grew fast in intensity. Maniac couldn’t figure out what they meant, but then he was blinded.

            The flash of light happened so fast and so bright that his optic sensors blinked out. A shockwave of heat turned all wreckage and the remains of the bodies to instant ashes. Maniac heard a shriek that almost made his sound sensors crackle. What he couldn’t see was the form of a great Phoenix blazing up hundreds of feet from the center of the fireball.

            When Maniac’s optics came back online, he saw an enraged King Falcon standing before him. King Falcon had his arm held back with the axe and before anything else could be done, that axe was sent for Maniac. It hit him full in the chest and spun as King Falcon held and outstretched hand to command it. A whirlwind of strikes hacked away at Maniac’s chest armor. Damage readings glared in the red.

            “I believe I said it doesn’t matter how far from home I am!” King Falcon’s voice boomed.

            The axe flew back to its master’s hand and King Falcon flew into the air. Maniac struggled to move but it was too late. The King came down in a glowing power dive with his axe. The blow made the ground shake for a mile in each direction. Maniac’s systems went into critical overdrive. King Falcon stood on his enemy’s chest and raised the axe high overhead. As he brought down the axe for Maniac’s head, the form of the Cyborian flickered and vanished.

            As his axe hit the ground, there was a peal of thunder. King Falcon stood alone. Maniac had retreated in defeat.

            “That’s right, run,” King Falcon said, “because if you ever come back, I’ll be the one doing the killing.”

            The Ring of Knowledge told him that Maniac wasn’t even in the same solar system anymore. Satisfied that his home was safe once again, King Falcon spread his wings and flew away.

            In another solar system, on some barren rock in space, Maniac hid himself. His systems would take days to repair. He seethed in rage at his defeat but knew that Arconia was out of his reach for the time being.

            “One day I will come for you, noble King and I will kill. I exist to kill.”

Short Fiction: It's a Blitz! (Part 1)

Metallic clanking echoed up and down the street. It took its half of the road out of the middle. New York City traffic stumbled to halt as the big machine rolled into place. The treads bit into the asphalt tearing chunks loose and leaving a trail. Worried exclamations of people sounded all around, and horns blared. Small shops lined either side with patrons filling the sidewalks. Everyone stopped to regard the tank-like vehicle and its smooth shiny surfaces. It had no hatch, or visible weaponry and it didn’t move for several minutes as people gathered.

The police arrived and an officer started knocking on the metal hull.

               “All right, come on out.”

A whirring sound responded to him and panels opened on either side of the vehicle to reveal speakers. From the front and back even larger speakers rotated out from the hull. The speakers started to blast the opening to the song ‘Ballroom Blitz’ as more panels opened on the head of the tank. Large gun barrels protruded from five sides of the upper portion. People were already running at this point. As the song reached “All right fellas, let’s goooo” the guns began firing and the top of the tank rotating. The volume of the music could easily be heard over the blasting of the cannons.

Store fronts exploded into confetti sized debris. Most cars were below the line of fire, but trucks were cut in half. Light poles fell over like fresh mowed grass. People ran, screamed, or threw themselves to the pavement. The guns fired well above their heads, but debris still threatened to kill many.

When you can move at twice the speed of light, sound means nothing. There isn’t any. Electrode could see the paths of heavy caliber bullets lined up in the air. He could see people on the verge of being trampled as they fell under the panicked crowd. He had a choice to make. He could grab bullets or grab people. At his speed, he could collect all the bullets currently airborne and remove them. If he did, he would have to compensate for the speed of the bullets or risk blowing his own hands apart in the process. Where ever he moved them, they would still have their own velocity and direction to deal with. He could cancel that velocity for some, but not all. So, people it was. He had been told to remove the people anyway. After all, he didn’t come alone.

Electrode, with care for his own velocity against human bodies, removed everyone from close proximity to the death machine. He took them to the lower level of a nearby parking garage. There were enough large buildings between the machine and the garage that it wouldn’t be hit at all. While this task seemed to be done instantly, for Electrode it was a painstaking process of care and control. He could never forgive himself if he splattered someone’s mother all over a wall.

As the firing and music continued, Electrode’s partner watched the sidewalks clear of people so he could do his part. He floated in the form of simple air, unaffected by the enhanced bullets flying through him. They called Sandstorm the most powerful elemental in the world. Even with such a title, this would not be so easy. Buildings in close quarters and a sewer system with active gas mains provided complications. He couldn’t just command the street to uproot on the machine without collateral damage and greater threats. As it were, the bullets were about to cleave through close buildings and into the ones beyond.

A loud CRACK sound told Sandstorm that Electrode was in the fight. As the nuclear electric man, Electrode had more than just speed. He struck the vehicle with a powerful strobe of nuclear lightning.

 

               “That didn’t get through the hull! It’s insulated too well!” Electrode shouted.

               “I have an idea.” Sandstorm made his voice boom through the air.

               “Well do it quick. This song and destruction combo is getting annoying.”

               Sandstorm could manifest himself as any combination or elements or weather. He even made himself a giant at times of various combinations. He flew over the top of the tank machine and manifested himself as a giant humanoid of pure iron ore. He landed on the top swivel and grappled the cannons. The barrels twisted under him and a loud screeching noise sounded. Metal within the turning apparatus ground together and snapped as the sides blew out. The music slurred and stopped.

Still in his giant form, Sandstorm gripped the top of the tank and tore it off to see who was driving. He dropped the junked lid in disgust and turned back to a normal sized human being.

               “Fry the inside of that please.” Sandstorm said.

               “Who’s in it?”

               “No one. It’s a robot and I don’t want any surprises.”

               Electrode jumped up on it and melted everything within in a bright flash of power.

               “Who made this? The Raven?” Electrode asked about one of their worst enemies.

               “I don’t know. Raven usually tries to kill us, not everyone else. This isn’t like him.”

               “Professor Zombie?”

               “Again, why? Zombie wants to turn everyone into his hench-people. This doesn’t work for him either.”

               “Terrorism?”

               “That’s a possibility. There’s definitely a psychological approach to this with that song. Whoever did this, wanted to create a presence for themselves.”

               “Showmaster.” Electrode nodded. “This would definitely be like him, but who would be paying him?”

               “That’s the million-dollar question.”

(Yep, that's where this one ends, folks! Who is behind this bizarre attack? Be sure to follow for new stories, articles, and updates.)

Do I have any characters with autism? Yes I do.

Thank you for the question, Simon Passant. Yes I do have two characters with autism and both of them will be revealed in my next novel. But I will tell you right here and right now who they are. But first I want to explain something about  diversity in GZ.

I am far far less interested in making brownie points with any one certain group or classification of people and more in making a complete and believable universe. Look around at the world we live in. GZ is a modern day universe and therefore it makes sense to have modern day people in it. I want it to be rich and diverse in every possible way. It isn't easy to fit all that together in rich character profiles with deep backgrounds.

We live in an age were people point and yell "SJW" at the drop of a hat and that label carries some terrible stigma, especially online. Marvel is constantly getting lambasted for being too "sjw" in their recent story arcs. See here:

I don't want that for GZ. Every person and what makes them up are details in a massive painting of a universe. Without those aspects of those people, it just wouldn't be complete. So just who are these characters with ASD in my universe. Well, if you've been reading and you're all caught up on the story so far, you already know one of them.

Blacktide with the Parahuman Activity Commission (PAC) has Aspergers. His real name is Larry Peters and when he was just a young boy his powers manifested and killed both his parents. It can be hard to separate the trauma he has endured in life with his Aspergers but it's there. When it's revealed in the novel that I'm working on now, it won't be a big thing for him, rather a passing note. He knows what he has, but frankly has bigger fish to fry and it doesn't define him.

Next:

This is Spaz and yes he likes being called that. Spaz works with the Crazy Harry Detective Agency. He is an inventive savant meaning that he can invent bizarre contraptions out of ordinary items. Spaz has messed up eyes and never seems to be looking at anyone he's talking to, but he is a genius in a number of ways. He is also ridiculously rich. That allows him to do just about anything he wants and he seldom takes no for an answer. Sometimes unfeeling people call him retarded and he sets them straight in ways readers will love.

This is where I point out that neither of these characters are representative of all persons with autism. Autism is a spectrum disorder/condition that has broad combinations of effects that are different for each person. Only a few factors of autism are common enough to keep all the combinations on the spectrum. My son and I both have Asperger's and even for the two of us the effects are different in many ways. We have the social difficulties and sensory issues, they are just different for both of us.

So there you have it, two ASD characters getting some spotlight time along with several other distinct characters coming soon. Do you have a question about GZ? Post in comments. And if you enjoyed this post, please share it.

How many Dwarves in Galaxy Zento?

My wife works for a radio station and sometimes I go and have lunch with her. Recently during one of our lunches she asked me how many Dwarf characters I have in my universe. I realized this is a very good question. One worthy of answering right here. I even address this in one of my new short stories currently in the works.

In my universe there are two kinds of Dwarfish people. There are the racial fantasy Dwarves also called Celestials and those with actual Dwarfism.

The two communities don't like being mistaken for each other and this causes some friction between them. One side will say they aren't medical freaks and that will anger the other of course. Those of the medical side will say they aren't a bunch of barbarians to poke at the racial side.

I have more than a couple of active characters from either side of that fence and it can get slightly confusing as to who is who. The short story I'm working on has a character named, Ultrasonic. He is a man with Dwarfism who is deaf and mute. He has the power to amplify and control sound waves. He's also a telepath and an advocate for education on Dwarfish issues particularly where parahuman powers are involved.

In the GZ universe there is a connection of increase of people with powers who also have certain medical conditions, like Dwarfism. It's a matter under study and of intense interest in the society.  It's discovered that a person with Dwarfism is up to 5x more likely to have some sort of power.

I think a development like this makes my universe more believable. It gives depth and identity. As for who those Dwarves are:

Monolith's human form is a man with Dwarfism. His teammate, the Serpent is a racial Dwarf. One of my top villains, The Maker, is a racial Dwarf. I even have a reptilian Dwarf called JoJo.

So that's the answer basically. I have several Dwarves in my universe and you can read about many of them anytime!

Woo Hoo! Summer Update!

I haven't posted here in a while but boy do I have stuff to talk about! I'm working on cards for the next step in the board game series on GZ and it's coming out awesome! So today I'm going to tell you about some of the new character cards that are going to be in this game. There's going to be more action than in a ring full of wrestlers on hyper steroids.

If you want to find out more about this and other GZ products, be sure to hit the links to the right!

This edition is going to become the new core edition of the game and it's setting is good ol New York City. It will be based on the characters from then main novel series for GZ that starts with Chaos Rising. That means the heroes of PAC will be there along with villains of all sorts. The power levels will be off the charts. Here are some examples.

Sandstorm: Good Character: 
Raw Power: If Sandstorm's first attack against you is a natural 17-20, he wins the combat.

So watch out if you play evil against this character. He may just blow you away before you can do anything. But check out what you get as a bonus if you are good and recruit him!

When another player attacks you, roll 1d20 with no modifiers. On a 17-20 move that player up to 6 spaces away in any direction and end their turn.

He also gives you protection from elements so no fire, wind, ice, lightning, or other elemental cards or spells can affect you while he's your ally.

Electrode: Good Character
Fast Combat: Every time you miss Electrode he gets +1 to attack for the rest of the combat.

And he starts out with a +8 attack value so you better be having a good dice day or he will catch up with you FAST. But, he gives allies a nice bonus as well.

If you roll a 6 for movement, you may move to any location on the board.

Having trouble catching up to another player? Even if that isn't perfect he still gives you +3 to your movement.

Blacktide: Good Character:
Disintegration Aura: When you hit Blacktide in combat, you take 1 damage.

Fighting this guy is a thorny concept. If you are playing a goal on taking damage, great, you have a way to win. If not, this is going to be worth 3 damage just to beat him. Be ready to heal. But as an ally, he gives you this:

Other players cannot challenge you to combat or stop adjacent to you.

They can still ranged attack you, but full on combat is out of the question. This is a very useful protection to have since a lot of nasty tricks involve adjacency. But what if you are the one who moves adjacent, right? No problem. Nothing happens. You can move adjacent to or challenge to combat if you want. Other players just can't return the favor.

Nyhtwulf: Good Character: (I'm still working on what makes him dangerous to fight, but check out his bonus:)

When a player moves away from being adjacent to you, you may immediately move adjacent to them after they move.

This depicts the character's ability of neuro tracking from the book. Once he's met you, there is no escaping him. But what if it's Blacktide versus Nyhtwulf? What if a player with Blacktide moved adjacent to a player with Nyhtwulf and on their next turn moved away? Could Nyhtwulf follow? The answer is NO. Because Blacktide's power prevents other players from stopping adjacent to that player.

I know some language may need to be sorted out, but this is the hash out phase if you know what I mean.