Gerald Dean Rice's Blog, page 92

Dead Right, ep II

They pulled up to a security gate. Wenton looked around and Dell suddenly felt a wave of guilt crash down on him. He wasn't sure he was about to do the right thing, but it was honestly the best idea he could come up with.

The driver handed over some paperwork to the security guard. Dell heard him speak, but couldn't make out the words, then a voice squawked over his radio. He handed the paperwork back to the driver and the window rolled up.

"Have a safe one," the guard said and the gate lifted. They pulled inside, the tires of the limo giving a staccato rap as they passed over speed bumps. Dell looked over the half dozen or so cars in the parking lot, looking for Nibor's BMW. There it was. He relaxed just a tiny bit. They parked on the far end, the limo spreading across two parking spaces.

The driver cut the engine and got out. Wenton reached for his door.

"Hold on a sec." Dell pushed his brother's hand away. "Enjoy the full experience." He eyed the glass still half full in Wenton's hand. "Kill that." He put the jack and coke up to his lips and turned it upside down and was just swallowing the last of it when the door opened.

Dell turned his knees to the door and looked back at his brother. "After you."

Wenton's brother always knew how to pique a guy's interest. Anyone else and he would have bailed long before now. But the limo had been impressive and the way Dell set it up had been hard to turn down.

He climbed past him on his hands and knees past Dell and out the limo. Wenton didn't know why he that. Maybe that was how he'd gotten out of cars when they were kids and it just stuck. He thought to ponder it later, knowing he would probably forget about it in the next sixty seconds. Dell swatted him on the ass and he looked back at his brother who had a, 'Hey, I had no choice but to do that,' look on his face.

"Come with me," Dell had said back at the apartment. "I want to take you somewhere." He'd looked his brother up and down, not certain if he was joking or not before going back to the dishes. He knew Dell had gotten a fancy new job with the mayor's office a few months back, but didn't know what he did.

"What, now?" he asked putting a wine glass in the cabinet above the sink.

"Daddy, can I have that cup? My sippy cup?" He'd turned to Todd.

"No, Toddy, you're too big for those. You're a big boy now."

"But you have one." He pointed and Wenton looked.

"Where?"

"Right there." Wenton picked up his coffee mug, drying upside down in the dish rack.

"No, son. This is a coffee mug. I drink my coffee out of here."

Dell laughed. "I think he's got you, man."

"What do you mean?"

"How does Daddy drink out of there, Toddy? He sips, right?" Todd had nodded. "See? Kid's smart."

Wenton opened his mouth to explain how it was different, but found himself unable to come up with anything. His son had been right and wrong. He reached up and grabbed the sippy cup down and handed it to Todd. So many things in his life could be summed up in so many words over the last year-and-a-half. Right and wrong. Two opposing ideals co-existing in a weird, quasi-harmony.

Dead Right

"Okay, so you got me here," his brother said. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," Dell said. "You'll see." He knew there was no way he could get Wenton here without a degree of subterfuge. He filled the other half of the glass with diet Coke and passed it over.

"Here, have a little somethin'."

Wenton took a sip from the glass and made a face like he'd just licked the underside of a turd.

"Gah—you put any Coke in this?" Dell flashed a smile to avoid answering the question. Wenton took another sip and he knew his brother would finish it. He'd always been respectful that way. It was weird.

"So where we going?" he asked again after a few minutes.

"Place I wanna show you." Dell looked out the window of the limo, trying to stretch the time. "It's sort of a surprise."

Dell desperately wanted to get his brother's life on track. He was the younger brother, but for as long as Dell could remember—way back to fourth grade, at least—he'd been self-sufficient. Dell never could say it out loud, but his brother was smarter than him. He'd just known how to do things that Dell didn't until he'd seen his brother do them. Wenton had kept him out of trouble after they were orphaned and the neighborhood kids picked on them. He was in debt to his brother.

Now Dell felt like he could pay a little of that back.

"Surprise, huh?" Wenton mumbled. "You're not taking me to an intervention, are you? Because I could stop shootin' H whenever I want."

Dell choked out a laugh. Wenton was always joking like that. At least he hoped he was joking this time.

"We got you calendared for an intervention next Thursday." Dell hated working in the mayor's office had gotten him using words like 'calendared'. It had never been him, but now it was like this whole other personality he'd had to adapt for work was infiltrating who he really was.

He watched the street. They passed several people milling about, maybe prostitutes, maybe drug dealers, maybe homeless, certainly at least a few of them were dead. He really did feel something for them, but he wondered if he was the right person for the job the mayor wanted done. Dell sighed.

"You're doing it again." He looked at his brother and made a face. "I asked where you were taking me and you looked out the window. You're stalling." They hadn't seen each other for a few months and it was so easy to forget there was another human being who knew him as well as he knew himself despite all the layers of bullshit he dressed himself in. He stole another glance out the window, not sure what street they were on until they passed a sign. Almost there.

"Really. Can't tell you. But you'll know everything soon enough. For real."

"Okay."

And just like that he knew it was okay. There wasn't another person in the world he could have been this circumspect with who would have trusted him like this. The truth of it was, had he told his brother what they were about to see he would probably slug him and jump out the limo the first opportunity he got, bad neighborhood or no. And Wenton would be absolutely right to do so.

Fleshbags is #4 on Google

I did a search today and my Fleshbags is already the fourth result when you search for 'fleshbags'.  It's the interview I did with Zombiephiles and it comes after the entry for 'flesh bags' with the Urban Dictionary, 'Fleshbag Marauder', 'Grime and Punishment 018'.

Free Press Releases

Just found a place that lists many, many websites to send press releases.  I did mine through PR Log and went to Avangate.com where I found a list of places that accept press releases.  If you have an upcoming novel I'd suggest you give it a try.

 

My Brains!!! ep 11

At some point I realized I was alone. I don't remember losing consciousness, but there was a lapse of time at some point. I came to, standing in a parking lot. It took a moment to orient myself, especially with the declining sunlight, but it came to me that I was at work.

The edge of my hand hurt like I'd been karate-chopping something. I rubbed it, heading to the rear entrance. The handle was broken off, tossed on top of a bush over where the smokers normally congregated. No problem, though—the door was slightly open.

I nudged it open with my foot, not wanting to touch anything police might dust for fingerprints. I didn't know why, but I had a bad feeling. Something had happened and I had been there, but couldn't remember what my part had been.

My mind drifted back to Oscar-the-Cat.

The smell was the first thing to hit me. It was heavy, earthen, wrong. It was like a blend of several different familiar smells into one big stew of a scent I couldn't place.

It was dark in here. I flicked on a light and immediately wished I could turn it off. I mean, I could have, but the image couldn't be turned off in my head. It was as stained as the streaked walls.

Guts in all varieties were splattered from floor to ceiling, from wall to wall. It was a four-thousand square foot office. Over thirty employees. I couldn't help but hope someone had survived; I checked the cubicle nearest and found the goo that had been Bill. It still had the remnants of his shirt with his signature, tight-knotted tie around the collar.

I guess I didn't need to call in for today.

They had to have missed someone, but a picture began to form in my mind of the man in the hat and the three others with him scanning the thoughts of each person before they made them explode.

Why did you think that? I wondered, stepping over Amy Winsted's leftovers (I recognized her wavy brown hair) on my way to the kitchen to get a drink.

Because I had been here.

My brain was ironically silent.

Someone, maybe Hugo Reyes or Chris Jones, dripped off the refrigerator as I opened it. I grabbed somebody's Mountain Dew, popped the can open, and chugged the whole thing.

The thoughts kept coming to me. I belched. They had been searching… for everyone… who knew… about me. I belched again and realized I needed to go. Names, addresses, families. They'd systematically scoured everyone's brain and then popped them like balloons once they knew what they needed. Somebody's skin was stuck to the rectangular metal plate on the door of the men's room. I reached above it and pushed my way in.

It was like they were erasing me. The thought was amazingly self-centered, but it made sense if you didn't take into account that I had credit cards, a social security number, a mortgage, a relatively recent criminal record, and a driver's license with my picture on it.

What else could they have wanted?

I nudged Craig in IT's lower torso off the urinal and unzipped. I wasn't sure, but there wasn't a doubt in my mind my wife and daughter were next.

I looked down at my hand. It was swinging around like any moment it would leap off my wrist.

The story. All this time my brain had been trying to write it. I didn't consciously remember it, but the little I'd looked at was familiar.

My Brains!!! ep 10

"You're invaders. You wanna drive us around like cars and crash into each other to settle some dispute? And worse, you don't even bother to show up in person—you make some kind of brain machine to do your dirty work for you?"

"Calm down."

"No! I won't accept this. I'll go to the authorities. They already want to cut this thing out of my head. I might just let them!" I was bluffing. I hoped. Anything to make her say this was all some kind of cosmic-misunderstanding; that they had gotten lost and come here. Had meant to come to some adjacent planet where giant lizards were the predominant species or something. I wished this was a hidden camera show, but I had the sinking sensation it wasn't.

"You said this war was three-sided," I said. "Who's the other guy?"

She shook her head. "We don't know. He's part of the collective, but… somehow he's able to keep himself secret from us."

"How do you know it's not the one I have in my head?"

"Because I… I don't know. Nobody knows what he wants. The disagreement is a simple one. Why would he even bother?"

Then the wall exploded. The man in the hat floated with three others behind him.

"There you are," he said, but I wasn't sure which one of us he was talking to. She made an unearthly screeching sound and leapt at him. Two of the other gripped their hatted heads, but he stood—floated—his ground, grabbing her by the wrist and holding her up like a dog by the scruff.

"I don't think he's one of us," she said. She looked in pain from how he was squeezing her wrist.

"You just will say anything to not admit you're wrong." He held up his hand like he was making the O.K. sign with his thumb and middle finger and plinked the hat off her head.

It was disgusting.

Her brain… the other one was large and sticking out of the top of her head. I saw her pretty blonde hair wreathed around the perimeter of pink and white skull surrounding it, a dark green octopus-looking thing tentacles stuffed inside at the edges.

"No matter what, don't let him take you," she said, not looking at me. "We're not all what you think. We only want to finish the argument. They want to stay. They want to—"

Splat

He'd brought his fist down on top of the octopus thing.

She went limp and slid out of his hand onto the ground. He held his hand out to me. I looked at him—all of them—and realized they all were wearing hats.

Did they all have the octopus-brain thing?

"Yes," he said as he floated to the ground. "You let her touch you?"

"No," I lied.

"Yes you did. I wasn't really asking-asking you." He tapped his temple. "I already knew. No telling the damage she did in there."

"Look, guys, I don't want to join. I'm not really interested in… this."

He made face.

"I just really want to go home."

"What a coincidence." They kept coming closer. "So do we."

I turned to run and a jolt of electricity from my brain shot my legs out from under me. I hit the ground face-first, expecting unconsciousness to envelop me any moment. But I just lay there, numb and twitching until the man in the hat and the others (also in hats) picked me up and took me away.

My Brains!!! ep 9

"Hey, got the cat," he said from outside. A moment later we saw his legs float by the window. "Where'd you go?"

"Don't go out there," she said and kissed me. I didn't kiss her back. "I could show you some boob." She reached to her shirt.

"No!" I said.

"You have to stay here with me. With us." She adjusted her fedora. "I'll level with you. There's a three-sided war. His side—" she pointed to the window—"my side, and another."

"So you're the leaders?"

"No. Yes." She put her head in her hands and all I could see was the top of her hat and her fingers. The pose was very adult-like. She looked back up. "It doesn't work like that. It's more of a… community. All our minds are… linked."

"So what—you're telepaths or something?"

"Yes. No." She shook her head and was a teenager again. "Something like that. If I could—" she put her hand up to touch my face. Her palm was warm. And tingly. "He's already done so much damage in there."

"What do you mean?"

"We have a hive consciousness. All of us. At some point there was a rift and for the most part we were split down the middle. It's really a minor disagreement that got blown way out of proportion, but we couldn't settle it. So we decided this would be our theater."

"This?"

"Earth. We created a corporeal construct where we could settle our differences in a way we couldn't in the Channel—"

"The what?"

"Channel."

"What's that?"

"That's what we call the hive mind."

"Oh, okay."

"What we are—truly are—are creatures of pure energy. We don't die; we simply convert to other forms of energy. So we species that had something unique we could use to help settle the difference."

"Humans."

"Right. Your former kind dies all the time. Studying you gave us an appreciation for what we now understand as life because of how you so recklessly disregard it."

"So you're using our bodies to fight your war? Do you die when one of you is killed in a human body?"

"Oh no." She shook her head. "We're not the construct. It's just a physical copy of us to participate in the conflict."

"So you're just a… recording?" I felt myself drawing back from her.

"It's a little more than that. The construct actually melds with the brain of the host, creating an entirely new persona."

"So that's what's been happening to me?" My voice was a lot louder than intended. I stood.

"Keep your voice down. He'll hear."

OverDrive® Digital Library Reserve

I'm trying to get Fleshbags to these guys.  They supply ebooks to my local library and a few other communities.  I think I tried before, but I don't remember.  And they actually want continuous content.  On their submission form they ask how many titles you can produce every quarter in a 12 month period.  I put one because I can crank out a novella once every three months at least.  We'll see what they come back with.

My Brains!!! ep 8

"So what's this weirdo story you keep writing?" he said without opening the bag.

"How do you know—"

"Read your mind, remember? It's not actually reading so much as I made a copy of every thought and memory in your head up until that point. It's a lot to comb through, so why don't you just tell me what it is?"

"It's a story I wrote when I was a teenager, I think. Don't know why I wrote it." I didn't see any need to lie.

"That may be a problem. Might be in the way. We'll need to squeeze that thing out of your brain."

"What? The story?"

"I need you to put your hands on the tops of your heads and face away!" someone shouted. We both looked at a police officer with his gun pointed in our direction. His partner came from behind him, drawing his gun as well.

The man with the hat made a face. He had no intention of putting his hands up or facing away. Did I just read his mind?

"Agents from the Enemy," he mumbled and looked at me. "I'll take care of this."

He touched the brim of his hat and put his arms straight out from his sides. They began vibrating and he rose off the ground.

"Stop!" the first officer shouted. "Stop… that!" For a moment they seemed to be in doubt and their guns dropped. They looked at each other then they looked at me and pointed their guns. "Make him get down or we'll shoot!"

"I don't—" I began and clapped my hands over my ears. There was a high-pitched E-sharp cutting through the air. The officers dropped their guns and covered their ears as well. As the man in the hat floated closer to them I could take my hands away, but they seemed to be in even more agony. They began rolling back and forth on the ground and kick and punch in the air.

It might have been his arms, but I couldn't be sure. They were moving really, really fast, though.

I ran.

Before I got to the end of the block, there were two meaty pops.

Someone grabbed me and yanked me into a Baskin & Robbins.

"Shhh," a blonde girl said, kneeling and pulling me down with her.

"I didn't—" I began explaining and she covered my mouth. "I'm not—I wasn't with him."

"I know." She was really pretty. So was her voice. She looked like someone on TV, but I couldn't remember who. "He's the Enemy."

"The Enemy," I said too loud and she squeezed her little hand tight over my mouth until it hurt. She stared into my eyes until I understood. Quiet. Got it. She dropped her hand. "He said that was you."

"He mentioned me?" Her forehead creased.

"Well, no, but he said there was an enemy. If you're hiding from him, I kinda figured…" She nodded. "He wants me to be a lieutenant in his army."

"A lieutenant." She dropped her head and mouthed something. She stared at me again. "I'll make you a colonel."

I should have been flattered, I guess, but all this promotion when I hadn't even done anything was creepy. They were going to expect something at some point. She tugged my shirt until I followed her behind the counter.

DMC & Me

Just agreed to do a free story for DMC in anticipation of Fleshbags coming out August 23rd. In the next few days or so, look for my story My Brains!!! to appear exclusively at Dark Media City.