Gerald Dean Rice's Blog, page 90

Price Restructuring

I'm going to be doing some price restructuring on all my ebooks (well, at least all the ones I published myself).  All the stand-alone stories will remain $0.99, but the two anthologies, Goners and Goners 2 will go up to $2.50, I'm thinking.  But, I will also be making all short stories available as stand-alones for $0.99.  Unless it's a really short story (less than 5,000 words), then I'll probably pair it with another really short story.

But this will give readers a little more choice and make my library look a lot bigger.  I'll also be recombining all my shorts in various ways.  I'll put out an antho of just zombie stories (I've got more than I would've guessed) and an antho of general shorts.  But both should be bigger than either volume of Goners.

They're Calling for You - ep VI

Or she would just have to get used to adulation.

"I hope it's safe, Carol, but not me." With that, he slipped into the woods, the white lab coat soon enveloped by the trees.

She walked to them, her heart racing with anticipation until she heard.

"Carol… Carol… Carol…I"

Men, women, and children with adoring eyes touched her as if she were fragile. There was nothing malicious from any of them until…

"Henry?" a voice called. Someone pushed through until he reached Carol. He sniffed her, looked, long and hard before spitting at her feet.

"Henry!" he shouted. The others gasped. "Henry! Henry! Henryhenryhenry!" He punctuated each shout by stomping his foot. He punched her, knocking her into several people. The others descended on him and he screamed 'Henry' until someone smashed his head with a chunk of concrete.

That was the first day of the war.

They're Calling for You - ep V

"Me? I was just trying to be alone; you're the one playing around with people's pheromones."

"Not people's. Synthetic. That's not what this is."

"This is my fault? What—I got my peanut butter in your chocolate?"

"What?"

"Oh my gosh," Carol said. "We made a magic potion. My poem was some kind of incantation, combined with your thingy and then presto!"

"Presto, huh?" Henry slammed on the brakes. "Get out."

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"We're not making the cabin."

Carol looked and saw hundreds of them waiting, spread across and to either side of the road.

"What should we do?" she asked.

"Fight."

"Maybe they're not going to hurt us. I mean, we cast the spell, we're the witches."

"We're not witches." Henry took a crowbar from the trunk and started walking perpendicular to the road.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Anywhere they're not. Where are you going?"

"To reason with them. Isn't that what you science guys do with aliens? We probably only made some kind of adulation potion or something and it'll probably wear off or…"

They're Calling for You - ep IV

"It will."

"What if we get to your cabin and they're already waiting for us?"

"How?"

"The same way they know our names. Magic!"

"Magic," Henry mumbled. "There's no such thing." Henry weaved around a car in the middle of the road. "Buckle up."

"Maybe it's that lab experiment," Carol suggested.

"Impossible."

"Well, what was it?"

Henry chewed his lower lip. "Pheromones."

"You don't believe that."

"No."

"Then magic."

"No."

"Then what?"

"I don't know!"

They passed another car and Henry had to swerve around a man walking in the same direction. Carol watched him. He looked disoriented.

"We should go back," she said.

"What? No."

"Henry, if I knew you, I'd say you're angry."

"You shouldn't have been in there!" he exploded.

They're Calling for You - ep III

"Carol!" The man wept, crushing her hand to his face. She pushed at him, trying not to call out.

His face disappeared behind Henry's giant fist. He crumpled, still holding on, but she slipped away when Henry grabbed her by the other hand and made off.

Background conversation had ceased, but people were beginning to look like they were recognizing them.

"Keep moving," Henry said. A tall, heavyset woman in a red dress with white flowers stepped in front of them. He shouldered her aside, but as they were passing she reached out and hooked her fingers into Carol's necklace, ripping it off.

"C-Carol," the woman said. Other voices now. Saying both their names as the two made it outside- rising in volume as the other patrons closed in.

"Run!" Henry shouted, shoving her in front. The rental cars were just outside.

"Which one?" Carol shouted.

"The Taurus!" Henry said, jabbing the key fob. They jumped in and Henry reversed, distancing them from the pursuers. A man flung himself onto the windshield as he threw it in Drive.

"Henry!" he plead until he tumbled off the car going at sixty.

"What do we do?" Carol asked.

"I've got a month's supplies," he said. "This is a chemically induced hysteria. It'll wear off by then."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"It will."

"But what if it doesn't?"

They're Calling for You - ep II

She'd snuck away from the group tour guide and into what looked like a private room. Clean and cold, Carol was sure this was what she'd needed. She'd shouted the words that came to mind with the sheer joy of discovery. In the middle of writing them down a large hulk slunk in with oatmeal sprinkled in his beard. His eyes were on her, sapping away her creativity.

"Who're you?" he'd asked. Before she could answer he brushed passed her to an apparatus. He turned beet red, but his voice remained calm.

"What did you do?"

Whatever it was had bubbled over and it smelled like mint and leather.

It must not have been a HazMat situation; he didn't even bother to put on gloves before he touched it.

She was about to slip out when another lab coat came in, bumping into her. He smiled.

"Carol?" he'd said.

"Do I know you?" she'd asked.

She shuddered at the semi-bloody blur that followed. Henry had been so quick on his feet she hadn't had time to think. Complete strangers attacking them. Why? They'd taken a real chance by getting on that plane and it had barely worked. The puddle-jumper only had one other passenger and the pilot. By the time they had landed Henry had had to press on two points in the man's neck and make him pass out. And now he was getting them a rental car to some cabin in the woods until this was over.

"Carol?" a man with a pencil mustache said. He grabbed her hand and began stroking it. She tried to pull away but he held it firmly.

"Carol!" he cried. She looked around. People were starting to watch.

"Look, I don't know what you people want," she said. "Let me go!"

They're Calling for You- ep I

"Henry? Henry?"

"Henry, they already see us," Carol said.

"Keep calm," Henry roughed past the man who had called him. "It's just one guy and so far he's only noticed me." For a big guy he could move. Carol ran four miles a day and she struggled to keep up with him as he dragged her by the arm.

They stopped at the rental desk and he hid her behind his bulk, giving a light shove and letting her go. Stay near, look inconspicuous, that shove said. Whatever this weirdness was, it seemed to be a longer process the farther they were away from each other.

With Henry's size, deep voice and wily hair the only thing keeping him from looking like a man crossed with a bear were his glasses and lab coat. Carol wondered why he still had that on. He'd torn it in the middle almost to his back in their fight to get out the lab.

They couldn't be more opposite. Carol wore her leopard print skirt, high heels, and gold jacket and had platinum blonde hair. Henry stuck out like a forest fire by his size alone. She was a poet, he was a scientist. Well, struggling, not-successful-so-far poet.

She had lived the city streets but needed something new. She'd been guided to Unity Labs in the Yellow Pages and the name told her enough.

Unextpected TGT Review

I found this by chance on http://www.thefreelibrary.com/Logan&#...

When ghosts are a reality, the reality that come with it can be quite frightening. "The Ghost Toucher" is set in such a world, as author Gerald Rice tells a story of the disappearance of Ghost based Reality television host Stout Roost and the plight of Kelly Greene, assistant to the detective charged to find him, Israel. Faced with ghosts who hate their former state and seeking to end all life, "The Ghost Toucher" is a riveting blend of mystery, paranormal, and thriller, making for a delightful blend of fiction, highly recommended.

I'll have to add this!

Dead Right, ep VIII

"Well, that's not really how these things are done," Dell said, still holding Nibor's hand. "Maybe he can give you a blush sometime this morning. I can give him your card." He let go of Nibor's hand and turned to his brother. "You ready to go?"

"I want her," Wenton mumbled. He still had a look of dull shock on his face.

"What?"

"I want her." Wenton looked at him. Dell knew that look. He remembered the tantrums when they were kids and Dell got something and he didn't. Wenton had put up a fuss then and looked like he was about to now. If Dell didn't think of something right now to placate both men this would turn south in a very bad way.

"Excuse me, what did he say?" Nibor asked.

"He said," Dell slowly turned back, "he wants to take it with us. To examine it in a more natural environment."

"That's absolutely out of the question."

"Look, the mayor has a few million federal dollars of his own to ferret through this undead business. Maybe your grant falls through, maybe it doesn't. It might be nice to have a safety net, don't you think?"

Nibor licked his lips. For the first time tonight, his cool exterior melted away. He looked nervous.

"I will need to make a few phone calls. But this is not what we were—"

"Make your phone calls, Mr. Nibor. We'll wait."

Nibor retreated into an ante-room. Dell turned to his brother.

"What the hell are you making me do?"

"I told you. I want her."

"You mean like WANT want? What are we talking?"

Wenton blinked. "No. I know she isn't my wife, but… she has her memories."

"And?" Dell shook his head, trying to understand or hoping common sense would sink into Wenton's head.

"Look, it's like I always said. Something else happened. Cara wasn't even supposed to be on that side of the city. She told me—"

"Who told you?"

"The she—it." Wenton pointed to the tank.

"So you were actually able to talk to it?"

"Yes, and—"

"Look, I set this all up for you to get peace of mind. So you could say goodbye." Dell got really close to his brother. "There was a lot of string-pulling to get you in here. What you're asking for is using good will I don't have. When Nibor comes back I'll tell him we changed our minds about taking that thing."

"No. I meant what I said. I want her."

"Are you insane?" Dell's voice was a high whisper. "Where are going to store that thing? Are you going to put it in your basement? With your son?"

"No… I—"

"You didn't think about it. I know. But call this off now and let's get home. I can take care of the report."

Wenton's eyes had been roaming around the room. They locked onto Dell. "No. I meant what I said. Something else happened to Cara. This thing can prove it. Help me piece it together."

Dead Right, ep VII

That Nibor guy was a weirdo. Dell had to wash his hands for a half hour to get the creep off after he'd met him two days ago and he'd had to resist the urge to recoil from it tonight. Wenton was pissed at him, but in the end his little brother would come around. He hoped. But Dell had to try something.

It was all because of the kid. Sure as shit Dell loved him and would take care of him if he absolutely had to, but there was no way little Toddy wasn't going to get screwed up somehow, someway. Dell didn't know anything about taking care of kids. He'd tried babysitting his nephew once and damn near killed him. By the time Wenton and Cara got back home, Dell was sobbing worse than the baby. It would have been one thing if they had never had any kids and Cara had died. He could get a nurse or something for his brother, but foster care was no way to raise a child.

No. He had to get his little brother back on track and this was the best—the only—way he saw how. He watched Nibor punch in another code after giving Wenton the same explanation he'd gotten the other day, and then the door to Tank 3 lifted.

Wenton's eyes slid over to him before going inside. He looked like he'd already seen a ghost.

Not yet, little brother, he wanted to say, but no words felt appropriate just then. Wenton went inside and Nibor closed and locked the door behind him.

"Why the lock?"

"Just a safety precaution." Nibor waved his hand through the air like he was conducting at the DSO.

You didn't lock the door when I went inside, he thought, but didn't say anything. He walked back to the entrance to this big room.

This had to work.

Even if Wenton hated him for the rest of his life.

Dell could admit, even if only to himself, this was more for him than his brother. It was selfish, but he would live with that.

He turned to the officer behind him. Duvall, his name was.

"So how was your weekend?"

The wall of a man declined his head to him, his face as unreadable as a sheet of steel, especially behind those sunglasses.

"Went to Belle Isle."

"Oh, that's cool. What was going on there?"

Another pause before answering. Dell was sure that was his subtle way of saying he didn't care for conversation. "Family reunion."

Dell gave several head pumps, nodding slow and long and folding his arms.

They stood in silence for a while, Nibor staying over by the door. There was a coffee pot over by a wall and Dell made himself a cup. Lots of cream,lots of sugar.

It was really terrible coffee and he had to sip small amounts of it for it to be tolerable. He resumed his spot a foot away from the executive protection officer.

Dell was about three-fourths of the way done with the coffee when Wenton emerged.

Dell met Nibor at the door before the man could begin questioning his brother.

"You can expect a copy of the mayor's report probably in a few days," he said, taking the man's hand and giving it a shake. Nibor tried to look over his shoulder at Wenton and Dell side-stepped to block his view.

"Okay, I'm sure that will be excellent," Nibor said. "But could I perhaps have his initial impressions?"