Carl Alves's Blog, page 44

Movie Review: Guardians of the Galaxy

Marvel Studios has been on fire of late. Based on the movies they have put out lately and the buzz surrounding Guardians of the Galaxy, my expectations were pretty high. The concept of the movie is that a misfit band of people of different races, including a talking raccoon and a tree that walks and talks, escape from prison and band together to capture an orb that contains an infinity stone, a weapon so powerful that it can destroy all of the life on a planet. Star Lord, played by Chris Pratt, is ostensibly the leader of this band of misfits. Trying to get the orb is Ronan the Accuser, a super-powerful alien being. Ronan’s intention is to destroy the planet of Xander, whose peace treaty he blames for killing his family and people.
This movie works in many ways. What I liked most about it is that the movie is very funny. Rocket the Raccoon, whose voice is played by Bradley Cooper, had a number of hilarious lines. The character of Groot, the big tree, only said one thing in the entire movie, but he did so very effectively. Star Lord’s numerous eighties and nineties music references were also hilarious. The story was intelligent and well-crafted. There were tons of actions and effects. I watched the movie with my two sons, and the movie worked at different levels for the whole family. This is a movie that I recommend watching.

Scavenger by David Morrell

Scavenger, the sequel to David Morrell’s Bram Stoker winning novel Creepers, features Frank Balenger, still trying to recover from his ordeal from the previous novel, where he had been looking for his wife only to find her dead. He and Amanda, who he had saved in the previous novel, are now a couple and are trying to heal together. They go to a lecture on time capsules, which is a set up for an elaborate game. Amanda is kidnapped and thrust into a virtual reality game with others who have been kidnapped as well. They must find the Sepulcher of Worldly Desires, an infamous time capsule. Frank, meanwhile, is trying to piece together clues to find Amanda and rescue her, getting himself thrust into the game as well.

Scavenger is a thrilling novel with a great high concept. I enjoyed the way Morrell incorporated both the ideas of time capsules and virtual reality games as well. It’s obvious from reading this novel that he did a ton of research. As a fellow writer I appreciate the painstaking way he tackles the research in his novels. He does it better than any novelist I can think of. The story plays out in a logical manner. The only thing I didn’t care for is that I thought the way the Game Master, the story’s villain, brings together the contestants, stretched the realm of believability. Even though Creepers had more acclaim, I thought Scavenger is a much better novel, the best Morrell has written. This is a fast-paced novel that I highly recommend.


I've had the opportunity to meet David Morrell a couple of times at the World Horror Convention. For a writer as accomplished as David, I found him to be as nice a person as you can meet and very generous with both his time and advice. Although I am sure he had a busy schedule at these conventions, he took time out to speak with me and other younger writers, patiently answering questions and offering writing tips. I have long been an admirer of David Morrell's writing and consider him to be the premier thriller writer of this generation.

Reconquest: Mother Earth Chapter 3

For a couple more weeks you can get my post-apocalyptic thriller Reconquest: Mother Earth for 99 cents on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Reconquest-Moth...

Chapter III

Mitch took a deep breath as he followed Amato out of the conference room. He was in a no win situation. Since he was only temporarily in charge, whatever actions he took would be heavily scrutinized. He did not know how to deal with aliens. Up until an hour ago, he did not believe they existed.
Wearing his naval uniform with his tightly cropped brown hair, Amato was stone-faced as they left the building. Mitch coughed as soon as he stepped outside. The atmosphere had changed. The air was both darker and denser.
As they walked past the training facility and firing ranges, Mitch said in-between coughs, “So tell me about the visitor, Amato.”
“This one’s very different from the first two, sir.”
Mitch waited for him to elaborate. “How different? Size, color, appearance, smell? Give me some specifics.”
“Physically this one is smaller than the others, and it is different in the aspects that you mentioned, sir. But it’s more than just that.”
Extracting information from Amato was like pulling weeds. “Be specific.”
“This one actually talks, sir.”
Mitch raised his brows.
“I guess the other two speak in their own language, but the new alien can communicate in English.”
“Hmm. Did you speak to it?”
“Briefly, sir. I think it was trying to gain information from me. I told it that I would be right back. I couldn’t get myself to talk to the alien.”
“That’s all right, Amato. If it’s any consolation, I’m not sure what I’m going to say to it. So, how did it get here?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“From one moment to the next it just appeared, sir.”
“It materialized out of thin air?”
“That’s affirmative, sir.”
As they rounded a corner, Mitch spotted a small, floating fur ball behind the fence. His heart beat rapidly and sweat dripped from his forehead. He could hardly believe that he was about to speak with an extra-terrestrial being.
Mitch had never seen anything so peculiar as this third alien. Even the first two looked normal in comparison. It was less than three feet in height and was suspended in the air. It did not have wings, but kept itself afloat. It had two narrow, raccoon eyes that were deep black with white circles around them. Dark gray fur covered its body from head to toe. Mitch had a hard time discerning its facial features, which were masked by fur. It had four short limbs with long, razor-sharp claws attached to them.
Mitch jumped back when it moved like a lightning bolt from one side of the motor pool to the other. It moved so quickly that it seemed to disappear from its original spot and reappear in its new location.
Mitch stood at the fence, not sure of what he should say or do.
“Greetings, my friend from Earth.” The alien spoke in a low and monotonous tone as if it were concentrating on getting every word right.
“Hello, I am Lieutenant Mitch Grace of the naval branch of the military of the United States of America of the planet Earth.” Mitch felt foolish going through this lengthy introduction. He figured the alien had knowledge of the planet. The fact that it knew the language was proof enough. “As a representative of both my country and my planet, I welcome you.”
The alien tilted its head slightly. “Thank you for your welcome. My name would be imperceptible to your tongue so I will not burden you with trying to remember it. My position is that of the Minister of Science of the Acantalinia System. I come as a representative, the first of my kind to visit your fine planet.”
Mitch paused. General McDermott had told him about alien visitations in the past, and that these current visitors were likely linked to the previous ones. If McDermott was right, then the Minister of Science lied. “What brings you to my planet?”
“As part of my responsibilities as the Minister of Science, I travel to uncharted galaxies to begin the process of incorporation into the intergalactic community. It has been decided by the governing council that it is time for the planet Earth to join our community. I am here as an emissary of a world more vast than you can imagine.”
Mitch felt small and inadequate. “There are representatives of my government who would be more appropriate for you to speak with, but until those individuals arrive, I am the senior most representative of my government’s military forces.”
“Lieutenant Mitch Grace, there is much about the universe that you need to learn. I would like to share this information with you, Lieutenant Mitch Grace. In turn there is much that I would like to ask you.”
Minister of Science. If this alien truly held this position then its objectives should include exploration and learning, not war and colonization. Still, Mitch felt uneasy because of its peculiar voice and appearance. “I will help you in whatever manner I can.”
“That is the spirit of cooperation, Lieutenant Mitch Grace. Please allow me to leave this barrier, so that we can talk up close.”
Mitch stroked his chin. “I can hear you just fine where you are.”
“You live on a primitive planet. There is much that your people can learn in areas such as space travel, mathematics, medicine, and transportation. I have studied your planet for some time and although you have made great strides in technological advancements over the last two hundred of your Earth years, you remain far behind.”
“I like my planet the way it is.”
“You should. However, improvements can be made. If you would let me out of this cage and invite me to speak with you, then you will be positively enlightened. I would like to be inside of one of your buildings.”
Mitch hesitated. The Minister of Science was not in a cage. The vehicle storage area was fenced in, but there was nothing covering the top. Based on the way the Minister bolted from one place to another, it should have no problem getting out, so why was it asking to be let out? “Why are you asking for my permission? You could escape at your own will.”
The Minister’s facial expression become softer, but Mitch could not tell if it was a smile or an expression of anger. “I would not go somewhere that I am not wanted. I can only help you if you want help.”
Mitch frowned. That sounded like an evasive answer, something a politician might say. “I really am not a person of great importance. You should be speaking to a more suitable representative of my nation. If you wait here, I will go back and make phone calls to see if I can find someone more appropriate.”
“I would like to speak with you, Lieutenant Mitch Grace. You have well above average intelligence, and it is you that I choose to give my message.”
“With all due respect, I am not worthy of this information.”
Mitch’s head turned in a zigzag motion as the Minister of Science shot like a projectile across the vehicle storage area. The alien moved with frightening velocity, but Mitch could not determine its source of propulsion.
For the first time since they had been talking, Mitch noticed the original alien visitors. Initially, they had been moving around and making considerable noise. Since the Minister of Science arrived they had been sitting silently on the ground.
The Minister stopped moving. “Please return quickly, Lieutenant Mitch Grace.”
As Mitch walked away, he tried not to show his fear. Although the aliens had not made any overtly hostile moves, he feared what they were capable of doing.
Before leaving, Mitch gathered Charles Amato and the other SEALs guarding the vehicle storage area. He spoke in hushed tones. “Listen to me. Under no circumstances whatsoever are you to let out the aliens.”
“But, sir, there is nothing preventing them from leaving,” Amato said. “They can just lift the latch and pull the gate open or climb out.”
“I understand that. Just follow these instructions. I want absolutely no deviations. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” they collectively responded.
“The Minister of Science, the small alien that hovers in the air, may try to engage you in conversation and ask you to let him out, but you are not to do so. If anything unusual, and I realize this entire ordeal is beyond unusual, but if anything odd happens, contact me immediately.”
Mitch could hardly explain his own actions. He was operating on gut instinct. He returned to the building where he and the other officers had been meeting. Thoughts buzzed in his head. Amato had told him earlier the Minister of Science had just appeared. But how? Extraterrestrials landing on this planet should require elaborate space vessels. These three apparently teleported.
When he entered the Quarter Deck, Deborah was walking toward him. Without thinking, he hugged and kissed her. He knew this type of behavior would be highly frowned upon, even reprimanded, but he didn’t care. He felt this horrible foreboding, and wanted Deborah to make sure she knew how he felt about her. She always made him feel better, despite the circumstances.
“What’s going on, Mitch?”
He told her about his conversation with the Minister of Science and his concerns about the alien asking to leave the cage.
“So what are we going to do? You know the general I was talking to on the phone?”
Deborah nodded.
“He wants me to kill the aliens.”
"What?"
Mitch grinned. "And you think I'm paranoid."
“Why is it that you men are so distrustful of these aliens? Estabrook sounded like he wanted to kill them, too. You guys watch too many movies. I’m sure not all aliens have the intention of taking over our planet.”
“But what if this one does?” Mitch asked.
“So you think we should kill the rest of them?”
“No, but I think we should be prepared. I’m going to tell Estabrook to get some high powered weaponry, just in case.”
Deborah followed Mitch into the elevator. Neither spoke. Inside of the conference room small groups had converged with scientists on one side, public relations and communications people huddled in another group, and intelligence officers off to another corner. Estabrook and the SEALs stood front and center. Mitch could tell by the perpetual scowl that he wore, that Estrabrook wanted to be in the middle of the action.
“Pete, come with me for a second.” Mitch briefed him on the arrival of the third alien. “I think we should be prepared in case of hostile actions by the extraterrestrials. I want you to gather men and heavy artillery. Get grenades, rocket launchers, automatic weapons. If something happens, on my order, I want you to launch a counter assault. Hopefully it won’t come down to that. But, just in case…”
Estabrook nodded. “We’ll be ready.”
“Good.”
Once he returned to the conference room, he resumed the meeting. Sam Mapp asked to be given the opportunity to talk to the Minister of Science. Mitch saw a crazy gleam in his eye, and he would bet that Mapp would give his first born just to talk to the alien. Mitch denied his request. He could picture Mapp letting the Minister out.
Mitch fielded questions while watching the clock. Each tick brought him closer to the freedom from making decisions. He only hoped his superiors had the wisdom to make sound judgments.
Mitch had an ominous feeling when he received a call on the radio. Under the current circumstances, any call would either be bad news or additional complications.
Mitch recognized the panicked voice of First Class Torpedoman Charles Amato. Loud roars sounded in the background. “Sir, we have a critical situation at ground zero.”
“What’s going on, Amato?”
“A new batch of aliens have appeared and are still materializing. They’re overrunning us. We're trying to hold them back, but there are too many and they’re too powerful. Holy shit!” What sounded like an airplane roared on the radio, followed by machine gun fire in the background. “This situation is out of control.”
“Are they attacking?” Mitch thumped his foot furiously.
“What the hell…aahh.”
That was the last he heard from Amato.
Mitch yelled, “We need reinforcements immediately! We are under attack.”
Mitch ran out of the room, pulling out the service pistol he had taken from the weapons locker in the Quarter Deck. Based on what he heard, it would do little good. He called Estabrook on the radio as he ran down the stairs. “Pete, whatever you got, we need it now.”
“What’s the situation?” Estabrook asked.
“The aliens are attacking.”
“Okay, we’re coming. Try to hold them off.”
“My understanding is that there are many more now.”
“Oh, Christ,” said Estabrook. “All right, we’ll be there.”
By the time he finished talking to Estabrook, he was outside. A mammoth winged creature flew overhead. It was dark blue and had two sets of wings. Mitch ducked as it shot out streaming blue jets from its eyes. The shot obliterated a parked military vehicle.
Mitch ran toward the motor pool. Before he got there, the blue alien with four arms and four legs was hovering over a guard whose face was covered with blood. The alien hammered its fists into the defenseless man. Mitch fired several shots from his pistol. The first shot hit the alien in the shoulder, causing it to turn around. The next shot hit it in the throat and the final two went into the alien’s head. It fell to the ground.
Mitch ran toward what he believed was the source of the alien entrance onto the planet. Acrid smoke and the heat of flames covered the air. Nearby, a shed was on fire. Two more dark blue, winged aliens flew past him like fighter jets.
He stopped in revulsion at the sight of a giant slug, twelve feet in length with light green skin, which had the overall appearance of a mass of fatty tissue, swallowing a soldier whole. The man’s entire upper torso was inside the slug. His legs, which were immobile, hung outside.
Mitch was going to shoot, but decided against it. The man was certainly already dead and he did not have the time or the bullets to waste.
Near the storage area, a number of SEALs and other Navy personnel were engaged in a firefight with the aliens. The humans were losing badly.
A winged alien deftly avoided machine gun fire and picked up a soldier with its talons. Mitch watched in horror as it tore the man’s head off. The head dropped to the street and rolled along the asphalt.
Not far away, a Jeep was driving with two men in the back firing machine guns. A dark blue winged alien soared from above with high speed and shot out a blast from its eyes. The Jeep exploded upon impact, killing its passengers.
Mitch cried out. His morning had started off so well. He was finally going to propose to Deborah, and now this.
He continued moving, his head clouded with confusion. What could he do to counter this massacre?
When he finally reached the fenced in area, it was as if the gates of hell were opening. Every few seconds, a new alien appeared at the opposite end of the fence. They were coming from a milky, semi-translucent square about ten feet in height and twelve feet in length. Different species of aliens appeared, all looking capable of inflicting considerable damage. Some aliens came out in land or air vehicles. Others flew or traveled on foot. One alien had the appearance of a moving plant. Its skin was the color of grass and it appeared to have a long stem with tendrils that swirled in the air.
A group of aliens working in concert overtook three soldiers firing machine guns. He still had not seen Estabrook and his men. What difference would it make? They wouldn't be able to stop the aliens. They had to regroup.
The best thing that Mitch could do was contact others in the Navy and other branches of the military so they could mobilize against the aliens.
An alien with the appearance of an armor-plated elephant without a trunk charged at Mitch. It was bronze and had massive hoofed feet. It gave a deafening roar.
“Christ almighty,” Mitch muttered. It would trample him if he did not do something soon. He took a shot at the elephantine alien, but the bullet bounced off. He turned and ran as fast as he could, hoping he could outrun the large predator.
The elephant alien emitted another loud roar. The ground trembled as the creature followed him. He glanced back. It was going to overtake him. As he turned to make a final effort to evade it, he collided with one of the alien’s large legs. Time slowed as he spiraled in the air. He did a seven hundred twenty degree rotation. Chaos surrounded him in every direction. He had no control over his body as he tumbled to the ground.
Mitch landed on his hip with a crunching thud. He let out a cry of agony as searing pain crippled his body. His instinct was to get up and move out of the alien’s path, but he could not move.
He screamed. He saw what was about to happen, but was powerless to stop it. His entire body lifted off of the ground as the alien’s massive leg connected with the surface. One more step and it would crush him. Desperately, he tried to turn his body, but could not evade the armor-plated ET. Its hoofed foot connected full force with his shoulders and the back of his head. Spinning all around him. His face slammed against the asphalt. Gravel filled his mouth. His eyes closed as darkness enveloped him.

Movie Review: Hurcules

Hercules is an epic fantasy tale loaded with action and fight scenes. In the middle of all of the fighting there is a story. Hercules, played by Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson, having completed eleven of his twelve labors required of him by the goddess Hera to prove his worth and join the gods in Olympus, is now a mercenary after his family was slaughtered. He has been hired by Lord Cotys, the ruler of Thrace, to defeat a warlord who is believed to be a sorcerer and have centaurs. Hercules and his group of followers have to whip Thrace’s army, composed of farmers, into shape and defeat the enemy. The victory comes fairly easily, but not all is as it appears in Thrace and Hercules begins to wonder who the true enemy is.

Dwayne Johnson is well cast in the lead role of Hercules. He will never be mistaken for Robert DeNiro, but he is well suited as an action hero. Already a large fellow, he bulked up considerably to take on the role. The movie was entertaining and there was certainly a great deal of action. The plot was also well thought out with some twists along the way. What the movie lacks is Greek mythology. There is a brief scene ( I mean like three seconds) with a hydra and the movie hints of other mythological creatures. Spoiler alert: The movie promises centaurs and teases all throughout about a confrontation with Cerberus, but never delivers. When I watch a movie set in an Ancient Greek mythological setting, I expect to see some mythological characters, and the movie fails woefully in that regard. As I said, the movie is entertaining and if you want mindless summer entertainment, then this is the movie for you.

The Story Behind the Story: How Far Will You Go

I wrote a trilogy of short stories featuring extreme reality television programs. How Far Will You Go was the first of these stories that I wrote, but it was the final one to get published, oddly enough. The host of each of the shows in the stories is Brad Billington, a former quarterback at USC who career ended with a catastrophic injury. Brad is the type of guy who is so consumed with fame and fortune, that there is nothing he won’t do, no level that he won’t descend to, in order to attain it.



The premise of the television show that I created, How Far Will You Go, features contestants on a reality game show who have to go through extreme, and I mean really extreme challenges (nothing like what you might see on current television shows) in order to win the million dollar grand prize. Before each challenge, Brad asks the contestant if they are willing to go through with it, or how far will they go. Each challenge gets more absurd and ridiculous and life threatening.



When I wrote this story, this was at the advent of when these reality shows were inundating the television world. I intended it as a commentary on what people are willing to do for money or for fifteen minutes of fame. I find most of these shows to be a form of dumbing down the population, and it often seems like they are trying to top each other in terms of sheer level of stupidity. Needless to say, things don’t go so well for my contestants on this show, but it makes for a fun read. You can read How Far Will You Go in issue 15 of SQ Magazine at SQ Mag.

Reconquest: Mother Earth Chapter 2

On my blog tonight for your reading pleasure is the second chapter of my novel Reconquest: Mother Earth, now on sale on Amazon for less than a buck at http://www.carlalves.com/blog-post/re...

Chapter II

Mitch’s eyes went wide as he drove through the entrance and spotted armed guards scattered throughout the naval base. Peter Estabrook was waiting for him. After exiting the car, he and Deborah separated. She had her own briefings to attend.
Mitch followed Estabrook to the motor pool. As they walked, Estabrook briefed him.
Mitch’s jaw dropped. “Holy mother of God.” It was one thing to hear about the two creatures, and it was an entirely different thing to witness them. Despite himself, he shivered. Real live aliens, here on the base. This wasn’t a Hollywood movie set or some elaborate hoax; this was the real deal.
When Mitch reached the metal chain-link fence, the shorter, more human-looking alien with the wild mustache flew its hover vehicle toward him, stopping near Mitch as it reached the outer edge of the fence. An acrid smell emanated from the vehicle, causing Mitch to cough. He backed away and continued to cough until he was able to breathe regularly again. Mitch stared at the fenced-in area. Not sure if it was a visual trick, it seemed darker inside of the fence than outside.
The alien’s tendrils gripped the fence. Its entire body shook as it shouted at Mitch. While he maintained his position, the alien continued shouting until it appeared to tire out. Too bad he couldn’t communicate with it.
Estabrook continued briefing him, but Mitch had tuned him out as soon as he saw the aliens. He mentioned something about a meeting being held shortly to deal with the situation. They had already been in contact with senior military officials. For now, Mitch had no interest in doing anything other than staring at the aliens.
The second alien approached him. Its eight appendages appeared more like four arms and four legs than spider legs. It was more than double the size of the first alien.
“What are we going to do with you?” Mitch asked.
The mustached alien bobbed its head, its wings continuing to beat. It had to have a more advanced bio-system than a hummingbird, which had to feed constantly in order to maintain its energy as it flapped its wings.
Estabrook tugged at his arm. “Lieutenant Grace, we’re meeting in two minutes regarding the visitation.”
Mitch nodded. He told a guard, “If anything happens, let me know right away.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What kind of shit did we step into, Pete?” Mitch asked.
“I really don’t know, sir. But I think this will be the day that changes everything.”
“You might be right.”
Upon entering the Quarter Deck, they made a pit stop at the weapons locker, where they each took pistols, just in case. They entered a large conference room. Sitting inside were a number of people including his almost fiancée Deborah. Bewildered expressions and nervous murmurs permeated the room.
“Lieutenant Grace, you are the most senior officer here,” Estabrook said. “Would you like to take the lead?”
Mitch nodded. “Ensign Estabrook, please brief everybody in the room regarding the events that led to the discovery of the two alien subjects.” When he was finished, Mitch thanked him. “Ensign Gomez, can you tell us about the chain of communication regarding today’s events?”
Marisol Gomez, a public affairs officer, nodded. “The chain of command has been followed for this incident. All of the official people, up to and including POTUS, have been made aware of the extraterrestrial presence. An effort has been made to conceal any such knowledge from the press. Admiral Wilson and the Secretary of State are en route to the base.”
Mitch breathed deeply. It would not be long before higher authority figures arrived. Until then he had to make sure nothing bad happened, which was like saying he had to plug a hole in a dam with a cork. “So what do we know about our friends?”
“They seem to be able to survive in our atmosphere,” Deborah said.
Mitch nodded. “True. However, I noticed the color of the air is darker in their immediate vicinity. It’s also more difficult to breathe.”
“You get close enough to those buggers, and you start choking,” Estabrook said.
“It’s possible they're emitting a harmful vapor when they breathe,” speculated Sam Mapp, a resident scientist. “We inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide. Perhaps when they are respiring our atmosphere, they are emitting another gaseous combination. Another possibility is that hovercraft the one alien had and vapor it was emitting, possibly modifying the surrounding atmosphere. I would like to analyze the air inside the fence.”
“We’ll arrange that,” Mitch said. “But first we have to estimate the threat level of the visitors. What about transportation? I’m not an aviation expert, but it would seem impossible that they could make a journey requiring light years on the small alien’s buggy. Any guesses?”
“Perhaps they have some sort of beaming mechanism they use for long distance transport,” Lori Patton, a communications officer, said.
“Sort of like in one of those sci-fi television shows,” Mitch mused.
“Anything is possible,” Patton agreed.
“Pete, I want a complete check along the perimeter to see if we can find a device they might use for transportation. What about talking to them?”
“We have attempted several forms of communication,” Mapp said. “We tried a variety of frequencies and signals consisting of mathematical formulas and logic quotients that NASA has used on satellites and unmanned probes in case the vessel comes in contact with an alien life form. Thus far the visitors have not responded.”
“I don’t know that I want to talk to them,” Estabrook said. “I have a bad feeling about these two. Especially the little one.”
Deborah frowned. “You know nothing about them. They may be here to help us.”
“Maybe, but I would still rather see them gone. You only saw the video footage. Up close, it’s a whole different story.”
“How could you say you would like to see them gone,” Mapp protested. “We have an incredible, once in a lifetime opportunity to learn by studying these beings.”
Mitch held up his hand. “I understand your scientific interests, but right now, our primary concern is security. In what ways can they harm us? Do they pose a threat? We need data to analyze on these creatures to determine this threat level. That’s what I want you to focus on.”
“Well, they seem harmless enough,” Mapp said. “They're staying inside the fence. If they were looking to harm us, they would have escaped by now.”
Mitch sat back in his chair. “I've been thinking about that. The natural response for a person in that situation would be find a way out. Certainly if they are capable of something as sophisticated as deep space travel, then jumping the fence should be no problem. Yet they stay there, walking around, circling the perimeter. Any theories?”
“Maybe they're afraid of us,” Deborah offered.
Mitch looked into her deep brown eyes before responding. He was glad to have her here, not just because of his personal feelings for her. Deborah had great intuition and remarkable intelligence. Still, in this case, he disagreed with her. “I don’t think so. The little one went right up to the fence and stared at me. That hardly seems like something it would do if it were afraid. It's something else.”
“Like what?” Deborah asked.
Mitch pursed his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe they can’t. I’m not talking physically. The larger alien looks like it could rip apart the fence with its limbs. Maybe they aren’t allowed to, and they're waiting for us to open the gate for them.”
This opened a number of debates. Mitch excused himself. There was an urgent phone call waiting for him from General McDermott.
“Lieutenant Grace, I understand you have a very serious situation on your hands, one involving two extraterrestrial beings.” McDermott’s voice carried an authoritative tone. Without having met the man, Mitch could picture him in his mind: sharp features, eagle eyes, penetrating stare. He had met more than his share during his time in the service.
Mitch looked into the room for Deborah. She was engaged in a heated exchange with Peter Estabrook. “You understand that correctly, sir.”
“I will be leaving momentarily to join the party. What I am about to tell you is highly confidential. Do you understand that, Lieutenant Grace?”
“Yes, General. I understand.”
“Good. This isn’t the first time that we’ve been visited,” said General McDermott. “I don’t know for certain if these are related to the previous alien visitations, but I’m guessing they are. If so, they are extremely dangerous. Before the situation gets out of hand, you must exterminate the two aliens.”
Mitch’s heart was racing. He closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing. “You want me to kill them.”
McDermott’s voice began to take on a desperate quality. “You heard me right, Lieutenant. You don’t want to play games with these boys. I know them all too well. They can do serious damage to the good citizens of this country. Before anything like that happens, you have to kill them.”
Mitch shook his head in disbelief. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can't do that in good conscience. The two aliens have shown no hostility.”
“Grace, there is no discussion here. This is an order.”
“All I know about you is the voice on the phone. I don’t know who you are, or if you have the authority to make that call. If you want me to take that action, then I need to hear it from one of my commanding officers.”
“Fine, Grace. Go ahead and play the good soldier. Who's your CO?”
Mitch gave him his chain of command in the proper order.
“You’ll be getting that call soon enough.” A click sounded on the other end.
Mitch rubbed his eyes before returning to the conference room. In a matter of hours his whole life had been turned upside down. He thought he had been prepared for every eventuality. Now he was having doubts.
When he returned to the room, he addressed everybody. “Any decisions that are going to be made regarding our two friends will be out of our hands soon. The best thing to do is to sit tight and wait.”
Deborah gazed at him. She seemed to be picking up on his apprehension. “What was that all about?”
Mitch smiled. “Just a concerned general. Nothing to worry about.”
“So we’re not going to do anything?” Estabrook asked.
“Not unless or until they force us to take action,” Mitch answered. “Until then we wait for the reinforcements to arrive.”
Estabrook shook his head and turned around on his swivel chair. Mitch knew that inaction did not sit well with Estabrook. If he had received the call from the general, Mitch had no doubt he would have followed those orders.
Mitch was no pacifist. He had inflicted many casualties on various missions. Among the SEAL teams he commanded, he was known for having no fear and taking it to the enemy with ruthless aggression, but he wasn’t about to start an intergalactic war without having a damned good reason.
After more debating, the conversations came to a halt when Charles Amato entered the room. “Sir, we have company.”

10 Questions with Mara Hodges (editor at Montag Press)

1. When you take on a project as an editor, describe your editing process.



First, I tell the author what I noticed when I first read the manuscript. These are the largest issues such as plot holes or characters that need better development. Since I read it quickly the first time, there’s usually not much I have to say initially. After I have the contract, I’ll read it a second time more slowly to catch anything I overlooked. I’ll also point out any grammar issues I notice so I don’t forget about them later, but for the second read my focus is mainly on the characters and story. On the third read, I’ll examine each sentence individually and iron out any remaining kinks. A complete fourth read is usually not necessary, but I’ll do it if I feel the manuscript really needs it.

2. If you could only read one book for the rest of your life, what would it be?



I’ve never understood the need to choose just one of anything, especially when it’s a lifelong decision. Books are like family and friends; they help us grow, and growing is a lifelong process. Ten years ago, I would have said “Dandelion Wine” by Ray Bradbury. Five years ago, it would have been “Asimov’s Mysteries” by Isaac Asimov. Today, it’s “Time Enough For Love” by Robert Heinlein. All three books contain multiple life lessons that are near and dear to my heart.



3. What about a novel will catch your interest? What will turn you away from a novel?



I look for novels that are inspiring, either personally or generally. I like dynamic characters who take charge of their own lives or work to save the world. I’ve read several manuscripts where the protagonist sits in a mental institution feeling sorry for himself through all or most of the story and rejected them all. I think it’s great for a protagonist to spend some time in an institution, but he has to learn something from it and come out ready to face whatever put him there in the first place. Sometimes the institution is a literal one, and sometimes it’s figurative. Sometimes it’s physical and sometimes it’s all in the character’s head. Whatever the case, it’s an obstacle that needs to be overcome.



A good writing style is also important. Some authors put too much detail and some don’t use enough. Some of that can be fixed, but I won’t touch a story that’s wooden all the way through. Sometimes it’s just the dialogue that’s wooden, and that’s easy to fix because it can often be translated into indirect dialogue.



I open every manuscript expecting to reject it. That may sound harsh, but if it does not captivate me, there’s no way I could dedicate a month or more of my life to it. Still, I usually give each story a fair shot by reading it all the way to the end. I feel guilty rejecting a manuscript when I have not read the whole thing.



4. Who is your all-time favorite writer?

Again, I could never pick just one. Bradbury, Asimov and Heinlein are my holy trinity, but I’m always open to making it a quaternity.



5. How does your work in the environmental arena affect you as an editor?



It gives me a well-rounded science background that is particularly helpful for hard science fiction stories. It also gives me a good general knowledge base that comes in handy for any story. I get to save authors from making embarrassing mistakes. One author (I won’t say who) confused the Richter scale with the Fujita scale.



6. What advice do you have for beginning writers?



Write every day, even if you never intend for it to be read by others. You don’t need to submit your first work for publication . . . or your second . . . or your third. Keep it fun until you have something that absolutely must be shared. Fan fiction is a great place to start and learn how to keep characters consistent. Also, get beta readers to review your work. I used to beta read fan fiction long before I became an editor. If you have writer’s block, read something. Immerse yourself in work you’d like to emulate. Now, a few words from my holy trinity:



“Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards.” ― Robert A. Heinlein



“Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations.” ― Ray Bradbury



“What lasts in the reader’s mind is not the phrase but the effect the phrase created: laughter, tears, pain, joy. If the phrase is not affecting the reader, what’s it doing there? Make it do its job or cut it without mercy or remorse.” ― Isaac Asimov



7. How did you get started with Montag Press?



I was fresh out of college and looking for work I could do without a car or moving to a different city. Unlike many people my age, I wasn’t willing to leave my significant other behind for my career. I originally wanted to get involved in urban planning or public transportation, but the economy was terrible and all of my applications were being ignored. Then, I remembered that my UWP 104E (writing in the sciences) professor told me I had earned the only A in his course for that whole year. I tried freelance writing for a while, but I was so slow and meticulous that I soon realized I would be better as an editor. I found Montag Press looking for new members on Craigslist, and luckily they were in Davis at the time. It was all a matter of timing, really.



8. What is the most satisfying aspect of being an editor for a small press?



I get to work from home and manage my time as I see fit. As an environmentally conscious person, I could never justify driving somewhere every day to do something I can do on my computer at home. I also get to drink all the tea I want without having to remember to bring a re-usable cup to a coffee shop or waiting in line. I recently got a computer program that reads text aloud to me, and I can clean the house or work on crafts while listening to manuscripts. When I find a story I love, I have no trouble dropping everything else to work with it.



9. If you could pick one author to work with on a project, alive or dead, who would you choose?

As much as I’d like to pick all three of my favorites, I have to say Ray Bradbury. He has the most beautiful writing style in my opinion. It’s easy to correct grammar, but style is another matter.



10. If you could invite five people to a dinner party (alive or dead, real or fictional) who would you invite?



With my holy trinity, that leaves room for two more. I’ll invite the man who first introduced me to Isaac Asimov. If he’s reading this, he knows who he is, but I fear embarrassing him by mentioning his name because he no longer speaks to me, though I would take any opportunity to have him back in my life. He also introduced me to Watchmen by Alan Moore well before the movie came out. The fifth space goes to Lazarus Long, one of Robert Heinlein’s characters.

Reconquest: Mother Earth Chapter 1

My post-apocalyptic Sci Fi thriller Reconquest: Mother Earth is now on sale for the Kindle for 99 cents at http://www.amazon.com/Reconquest-Moth.... You can read the first chapter below.

Chapter I

Charles Amato stared at the enclosed area. His three years of Navy SEAL training and ops could hardly prepare him for what he was witnessing.
Charles closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them, the impossible scene had not changed. He fought his instincts to run away. He had to take responsibility and do something.
Clutching his gun, he did not take it out. The threat wasn’t immediate, and he did not want to appear hostile to the alien life forms fenced inside the motor pool storing military vehicles.
The alien nearest him was a large, stocky light-blue skinned creature whose spiky head looked oddly small in comparison to its tall, wide frame, which was over three meters in height. Its long tongue darted in and out from its sharp teeth. Four short and stocky legs supported the alien’s hairless body. Its four spindly arms, each with six thin fingers, shot out in all directions.
The alien looked like it was jumping rope as it bobbed its head and shifted its weight to each of its four feet. It gazed at Charles, but did not move toward him.
The second alien had a tall, angular body with a dark brown face and wide, oval eyes that looked almost human. Its pupils were the size of a quarter. Wiry tendrils just below its nose had the appearance of a long mustache except that the tendrils shifted and moved like appendages. Short, matted hair covered its head. Its mouth was located just above its neck. Two sets of short, mosquito-like wings from its back flapped continuously, creating a buzzing sound.
The second alien stood on an open-air vehicle that resembled a train, except that it hovered in the air and was not supported by tracks. A trail of smoke emanated from the rear of the vehicle. The alien’s upper torso stuck out, and it drove in a circle, not paying any attention to Amato.
Charles slowly stepped backward, hardly believing what he was seeing. Perhaps this was a hologram created by a computer wiz on a SEAL team, but these creatures occupied physical space and had mass.
Mentally retracing his tracks, he had returned from the base’s infirmary after receiving treatment on his sprained ankle. He had injured it on a jump during HALO training when he had been trying a maneuver while falling through the air.
After getting his ankle evaluated and rewrapped, his mind had been locked in on rest and relaxation during the upcoming weekend until he had encountered this situation. First, he had heard a buzzing sound. Then, he had spotted the vehicle moving, before getting a full view of the two aliens.
Other than the sprained ankle, Charles felt fine. He was not sick, hallucinating or delirious.
He considered his options. If they were hostile, he did not want to attract their attention. Although he was armed, he had no idea of their capabilities and did not want to find out.
He looked around, but could not see anyone nearby. He felt alone and isolated, wishing there was an officer to advise him.
The two aliens continued to ignore him. How the hell did they get here? Not just to the planet Earth, but within the Navy SEAL base on Coronado Island. They did not have a ship adequate for transport from a location thousands or millions of miles away. What did they want? They were not wearing any suits, which meant they were capable of breathing the Earth’s air. They probably came from an environment similar to this one. What did it all mean? Were these two a precursor of what was to come or had they arrived here accidentally?
The light blue alien chirped something incomprehensible. The second more human-looking alien did not reply. It tilted its head back and forth in a swaying motion. He wanted to call out and announce his presence, but the words stuck in his throat.
Charles had to do something. He was not a helpless civilian. He was a member of the most elite naval special warfare unit on the planet. It was time for him to get past his fear and act.
The second alien drove its hover-train towards the edge of the fence. The alien shook violently and screeched as its tendrils grabbed the fence.
The light blue alien began to jump up and down on its four legs and shrieked in unison with the other alien.
“What the hell?” Charles shook his head. He had to get help.
***

Navy SEAL Ensign Peter Estabrook sat behind his desk listening to the sob story of First Class SEAL trainee Pappalardo.
He had no time for this nonsense. Not everybody was cut out to be in the SEALs. Peter had discovered that firsthand when more than three quarters of his training class dropped out. They only wanted the very best, and not everybody could cut it. He had known many good men who did not make it through training, but to whine and complain on your way out like Pappalardo was pathetic. According to Pappalardo, it was everybody else’s fault but his own.
“The instructors aren’t giving me a fair shake, sir,” Pappalardo said. “I mean I could do this stuff. They just aren’t being fair.”
Peter tried to hold back his anger. He felt like grabbing the kid by his throat. If Pappalardo couldn’t make it through this stage of the training, there was no way he would make it through Hell Week, where many strong men folded under the pressure.
“I can assure you that none of the trainers have treated you unfairly,” Peter said. “We only accept the best and don’t make apologies for our high standards. I am sure that there are other careers within the US Navy that would be more suitable for you.”
“Hey, I can be a SEAL, sir,” insisted Pappalardo. “I’m better than a lot of these other guys. They ain’t got nothin’ on me.”
Peter gritted his teeth. “You have some kind of nerve, Pappalardo. You come into my office making all kinds of demands. I was trying to let you off easy, but you want to push it. Do you have any idea of what it means to be a SEAL? Do you?”
Pappalardo stammered but did not reply.
“Let me tell you, son, I have served as a Navy SEAL in two wars and more combat missions than I can remember. It means sitting in a lake for hours hoping you don’t get discovered, waiting to ambush your enemy. It means diving off of a plane four miles up in the air and trying to land on a moving target. It means going into enemy territory in the middle of a firefight and rescuing a POW. Do you have any idea what it would be to have an Al Qaeda officer interrogate you? You make me sick. Do the right thing and drop out, because I can assure you that things will get worse, and you’ll experience hell unlike anything you’ve ever known. I’ll start the paperwork to get you transferred. Go pack your bags.”
Pappalardo started to argue, but Peter ushered him out of his office. He shut the door and returned to his desk.
Thinking of Pappalardo made his stomach turn. Being treated like dirt was the norm in the Navy SEAL program. That had been going on since JFK had first commissioned the teams. It was necessary because battlefield conditions were worse than training conditions. In his day, nobody complained to the officers unless they lost a limb.
A knock on the door caused Peter to groan. If that was Pappalardo again, he was going to strangle the kid.
“Come in.”
First Class Torpedoman Charles Amato stood at the door. His face was flushed and he was perspiring heavily. He shook as he spoke. “Sir, I have a situation that requires your immediate attention.”
Peter sighed. “What’s the problem?”
“Sir, I need you to come with me immediately.” Amato’s voice wavered.
Peter’s face tightened. “Gain control of yourself. What’s the problem?”
“Sir, I can’t even begin to describe what I witnessed by the vehicle storage area. Please follow me.”
“This better be good,” Peter said.
“Sir, this is a matter of national security.”
Peter put on a light jacket and walked out of the building. His senses were immediately alerted to a change in the air as they walked through the base. It was nothing tangible. It felt like the onset of a major storm, except that the skies were cloudless and it was a perfectly sunny day. The base looked like any ordinary college campuses, save for the drab buildings and lack of color.
Amato breathed heavily as they walked. He had known Charles Amato for three years and had always found the kid to be mentally and emotionally stable. He had seen Amato perform quite admirably in training when they went to Nova Scotia in the depths of the Canadian winter.
An eerie buzzing noise grew louder. “What’s that?”
Amato had a tremor in his voice. “You’ll see.”
They turned around the bend and approached the motor pool. When he first saw them, Peter was too stunned to speak. It took him a minute to finally say, “What the hell is this?”
“Sir, I have no idea. My guess is that they are alien life forms.”
Alien life forms. The words hung in the air as if frozen by liquid nitrogen. Of course they’re alien life forms, dummy, Peter felt like saying. Do they look like they came from the San Diego Zoo? “This is insane,” Peter muttered. The air around him seemed to tighten.
“I agree, sir.” Amato approached the fence and looked closely at the alien on top of the vehicle. “They don’t seem to be trying to communicate with us?”
Peter stood next to Amato as the two aliens chirped. The large, squatty alien with the eight limbs had a shrill, high-pitched voice, while the alien with the tendrils that resembled a mustache spoke in a flat, monotone voice.
“Maybe they don’t know how to communicate with us,” Peter replied in a low voice. “Perhaps they’re as confused about the situation as we are.”
The large, light blue alien jumped up and down on its many legs. The earth shook underneath it. It tilted its spiky head and issued a loud cry as its tongue swirled in the air. It then looked at the alien in the vehicle, who appeared to be nodding.
After observing for some time, Peter asked, “Amato, have you tried to initiate contact with the alien subjects?”
Amato shook his head. “I didn’t know what to do, sir, so I observed their actions, much like we are doing now. Instead of trying to initiate communication, I went to find you. Should I have tried to talk to them?”
Peter shook his head. “What you did was fine.” Peter stepped forward. “I am Ensign Peter Estabrook of the United States Navy. You have landed in Coronado, California at a US naval facility. We would like to help you in any way possible, but we need to know your intentions.”
Still inside of his vehicle, the smaller alien approached the fence. He spoke something incomprehensible as his mustache flailed wildly.
“I guess we don’t speak the same language,” Peter said.
“So what do you think they want?”
Peter’s face tightened. “How should I know? I’m as lost as you are.” He continued to watch in lurid fascination. “You know what I’ve been wondering since I got here?”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Why are these two alien creatures staying within the fence? It should not be difficult to leave, especially for the one in the vehicle.”
Amato frowned. “I don’t know, sir. Perhaps they feel the barrier is more impenetrable than it actually is.”
“If I landed on a foreign planet and found myself in a cage or an enclosed area, I would try to find a way out. Thus far, these two haven’t shown any inclination to escape.
“Well, we can’t stand here all day waiting for something to happen. This is going to be big, Amato. Real big.”
Peter took out his cell phone and called Lieutenant Mitch Grace. He had more confidence in Mitch than any man alive, but what would Mitch do when he saw these aliens?
***

Mitch Grace worked the grill in his kitchen like a seasoned professional, whipping up hash browns, sausage and eggs on his cast-iron skillet. Normally he would not cook such an elaborate breakfast, but this morning he was not dining alone.
The scent wafted through the small apartment. Wearing her powder blue bathrobe, Deborah kissed him lightly on the back of his neck. Her long brown hair was still damp from taking a shower. “What did I do to deserve you, Mr. Grace?” She peeked over his shoulder. “You’re too good to me.”
“That’s Lieutenant Grace to you. I’d like to refute your statement, but as the forefather of our great nation once said, I cannot tell a lie.” He turned and gave her a kiss.
“Smells great.”
“I’m using a special recipe I learned when I was out in Guam, lots of exotic spices. In a few minutes this bountiful feast will be all yours. Well yours and mine.” Mitch lowered the flame on the burner and began setting the table. “In that case, you’ll get nothing. This was a test and you failed miserably.”
“What are you going to do, take a stripe away from me?”
“I just might,” Mitch replied. “I know people in the Navy.”
“Fortunately the rest of the Navy doesn’t take the SEALs seriously. We think you’re a bunch of yahoos.”
They sat down to eat on the cozy wooden kitchen table. Mitch savored every bite, much better than anything he had eaten in Afghanistan. It felt strange being home after completing his second tour of duty. He had arrived in San Diego last night. Deborah had picked him up at the airport. They spent so much time away from each other, it was hardly ideal for a successful relationship. Deborah, a naval intelligence officer, had recently spent time in the Persian Gulf. Besides being his significant other, her high level of clearance in the navy allowed her to be privy to his missions.
Their time apart had been torture. In the middle of the war zone, no matter how tough things got, thinking of Deborah always pulled him through.
Upon his return, all Mitch wanted was a good meal and a good bottle of wine. He and Deborah had gone out to eat at one of their favorite restaurants in Little Italy. It felt so good to be back home, certainly better than wearing heavy gear in sweltering heat.
As they were doing dishes, he said, “Maybe we should do it. You know, tie the knot, make it official. I wouldn’t make you change your name if you didn’t want to.”
Deborah put down the wet dishrag. “We’ve been down this road before. What kind of marriage can we have if each of us is going to be in Timbuktu for God knows how long? You know I love you. I absolutely do, but being in a relationship with you is trying. There are nights when I can’t sleep because I’m worried sick that some terrorist is going to ignite a bomb and kill you.”
Deborah had been married and divorced once. Her ex-husband was a car salesman who had not been able to handle her being away so often, finding solace with another woman. She had explained to Mitch that she had been young and naïve, thinking her ex-husband would love her enough to stick with her even when her schedule got difficult. To her credit, she made the divorce quick and painless, and moved on with her life.
“If that happened would you be any less heartbroken if we weren’t married?”
“No.” Deborah closed her eyes. “But my idea of getting married would mean to raise a family and have a house with a white picket fence. When I made my career choice, I knew that would be difficult. I’ve already tried once unsuccessfully. If we’re going to be married, I don’t want to be away from you for so long.”
“Then I’ll quit.”
“I don’t want you to quit. You’re the best of the best. It would be selfish for me to let you quit just so that I could have you at home. What you do is more valuable than anything you could do in the private sector or in another branch of the military.”
“And all this time I thought you hated us SEALs. What did you say the first time we met? All we do is smash and bash everything in front of us?”
Deborah smiled. “But you do it so well.”
“Maybe I don’t have to quit. I just finished my second tour. They won’t send me back again unless I petition for a third tour, not to mention the war efforts are winding down. I could become a full-time instructor. If now isn’t a good time to get married, then when is?”
Deborah shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Mitch sensed he had struck a nerve. “You have to concede that the timing is good.”
“You know the statistics. Most SEAL marriages don’t last more than a few years.”
“We’ll make it work. I love you.”
“Yeah, but who knows what the future will bring?” Deborah asked.
Mitch gestured wildly with his hands. “We’ll deal with the future later. Let’s deal with the here and now. So, are we going to do this?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? I just argued a great case, counselor, and all you could give me is a maybe.”
Deborah asked questions about the logistics of a wedding, and Mitch had an answer for each of her concerns.
“So is this a proposal?”
Mitch pulled out a one carat diamond ring from his pants pocket. Just then his phone rang. Only important calls came in on this cell phone.
Mitch felt torn between love and duty. He searched Deborah’s eyes.
“Answer it,” she said after the second ring.
He answered. For nearly a minute he did not say anything. “Okay…Can you tell me what it is? It’s happening right now…I’ll be there.” Mitch frowned and turned to Deborah. “This isn’t happening the way I planned it.”
She chuckled. “Does it ever? So what’s the emergency?”
Mitch shrugged. “I don’t know. It was Peter Estabrook. He said that it was an extreme emergency involving national security. Whatever’s going on has to be huge. Estabrook sounded…scared.”
“Huh. That’s not reassuring.”
Deborah’s cell phone rang, and she answered. After thirty seconds she hung up. “Well, it looks like whatever this emergency is, I’m involved too.”
“Let’s go to the base. I’ll drive.” He put the diamond ring back in his pocket. It would have to wait.
After putting on their uniforms, Mitch and Deborah hardly spoke on the drive to the naval base. Estabrook had not given much detail on the phone, which meant the situation was grave.
He put on a news station. The governor of California was giving a speech on his plan to fix California’s economy.
As they pulled into the base, he asked Deborah, “Are you ready for this?”
“I certainly hope so.”

Movie Review: Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

The Dawn of the Planet of the Apes takes place ten years after Rise of the Planet of the Apes. The first movie was a great adaptation from the original series and set a high standard for Dawn, one that I think it met in most ways. Much of the world’s population has been wiped out by the Simian flu, which was created in a lab in the first movie. Although the humans aren’t fairing so well, cramming into a section of San Francisco, the apes are doing much better. They have created a community, have developed language skills, and some can even speak English. The apes all think the humans are gone until they go into the ape’s territory to start a hydroelectric dam. Things get off to a bad start when one of the humans kills an ape. Caesar, from the previous movie, is the head ape in charge and is the only thing holding back the other apes from going apes**t on the humans (pun fully intended). That all changes when one of his own apes shoots him with a gun, which leads to the inevitable fighting between the two sides.

In the infamous words of Rodney King, “Why can’t we all just get along?” It was obvious that things weren’t going to work out because of a few bad apples both on the ape and human side. There were too many factions within the factions that could not build any trust for the other side. The movie had deeper themes regarding trust issues and the tensions that result with people that are different from each other, and the many wars that people have had as a result. There was a lot to like about the movie. The story was well-developed and intelligent. The apes, effects, and CGI were really well done. The 3D elements were also quite cool. I didn’t like this quite as much as the first movie, but it was still very good and definitely worth watching.

10 Questions with Ed Kurtz

1. Who has been your biggest influence as a writer?

The great Texas noir author Jim Thompson, probably. I think The Killer Inside Me changed my life. Italian genre cinema of the 60s, 70s, and 80s is huge for me, as well—Fernando di Leo’s crime films, Mario Bava’s gothic horror pictures and Lucio Fulci’s gore-fests. Dan Simmon’s The Terror had a profound influence on me when it first came out, after which I wrote my first novel (still unpublished!).

2. What is your all-time favorite horror movie and why?

Without question it’s Fulci’s Zombi 2 (aka Zombie, aka Zombie Flesh Eaters). It was marketed as an unofficial sequel to the original Dawn of the Dead but has a unique style and approach all its own, including Italian horror’s tendency toward bleak hopelessness which I admit appeals to my darker instincts. Mostly, though, it’s the film that opened the door for me on my way to becoming an exploitation fanatic and all-around sleazehound, so it will always hold a special place in my heart.

3. Is there an overall theme to your writing?

If there is, the theme is the capacity in any ordinary human being for cruelty, brutality, or even downright evil if the circumstances are right—in the case, wrong—enough to permit that inherent side in all of us to bubble up to the surface. But there are also key moments of redemption in a lot of my work, in which the opposite occurs as well, so I’m not a total pessimist.

4. What made you choose to write a seventies style grindhouse era novel?

If I weren’t a writer, I’d want to go back in time to the early 1970s and make grindhouse movies for a living. The “homages” we see nowadays are nice, but I’m in love with the real thing (not the mention the scene that developed around their exhibition in places like the Deuce in NYC). Dead Trash is my homage to the period and all those great movies, a four-in-one “quadruple feature” I’d want to see playing someplace like the Harris on 42nd back in the glory days.

5. Is there any subject that is off limits for you as a writer?

There really isn’t. There are subjects that are handled poorly or exploitatively in a negative way, like all the graphic sexual assault common to the hardcore/splatter stuff from the 80s and 90s, but that doesn’t mean the same topic can’t be handled in a considerably better manner, much less make it off limits. I have a novella coming out next month that handles child sex trafficking, for example—a tough topic, without doubt, but one I felt I needed to write about and explore through the lens of the human potential for heroism. In the end, I don’t think there is anything I wouldn’t write about. Some I never will, but only due to lack of time!

6. Why do you often tackle the subject of race in your writing?

I’ve written a bit about this on my website, but I think being exposed to a lot of racial tension when I was growing up in the mid-South had a big effect on me and my worldview, which goes into my writing. I also write a good deal of historical or mid-20th century material, where racial inequality and racist attitudes were a part of the cultural fabric in this country. (They still are, it was just so much less shrouded in the past.) And the preponderance of my characters are imperfect, to say the least, and often angry, broken people either in search of redemption or downright incapable of it.

7. What current writing projects are you working on?

After DarkFuse picked up my crime novel Angel of the Abyss, I signed a three novel deal with them, so I’m hard at work on the first of that group which deals with the pre-war Nazi period in Germany. I’m also developing a new novella with my co-writer and partner in crime, as well as my usual short story output.

8. Do you like to listen to music when you write and do any bands or musical style influence your writing?

I rarely listen to music while writing, though recently I’ve found Phillip Glass to be unobtrusive and relaxing to work to, particularly his alternative score to Browning’s Dracula he recorded with the Kronos Quartet.

9. What appeals to you about writing about zombies?

Zombies are fun, and the first horror movies I ever really loved were usually zombie pictures. I haven’t written much in the sub-genre, but I do enjoy using them as a backdrop or framing device for something like Dead Trash, where the apocalypse is what links the four genre-specific parts of the book, or my story “Deathless,” which is a 17th century Imperial Russian take on the undead.

10. If you could invite five people to a dinner party (alive or dead, real or fictional) who would you invite?

Since I’m in the fiction game, let’s go with all fictional characters: Lou Ford from The Killer Inside Me, Count Dracula, Iago, Dante’s Lucifer, and Eeyore.