You will also notice if you look through my site new covers for many of my old books. My wife found a YouTube video that taught me how to make pretty decent covers using Microsoft Word. I'm hoping they will be more appealing to readers and soon folks will actually stop judging the books before giving them a try. I'll keep you posted on how that works.
Some news: A few of my books can now be found on many new platforms from Kobo to the apple store; Life Among the Dead 4, Fortune Cookie, and Never Say No (written under my pen name F. Bomb Fitzgerald)
You will also notice if you look through my site new covers for many of my old books. My wife found a YouTube video that taught me how to make pretty decent covers using Microsoft Word. I'm hoping they will be more appealing to readers and soon folks will actually stop judging the books before giving them a try. I'll keep you posted on how that works.
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Putting book 4 of the Life Among the Dead series out as an independent release meant I would have to make the cover myself. I tried to make it fit in with the other three put out by Permuted Press. Back when book 1 was a free agent I was very happy with my design, I fought the publisher a bit when they decided to change it. The bloody handprint wasn't exactly original, they certainly didn't want to use my cover since they had another title coming out with a similar idea. They sent me a cover to consider that was awful, it featured a quartet of zombies that I just didn't like.
In my opinion, using actual photos of people with crisp clear resolution makes a book look cheap, like a movie shot with a camcorder rather than on film. I much prefer abstract covers, or covers that contain an object of significance. Permuted showed me the red cover for book 1 and I accepted it. I still would have liked to have had my original but I had to compromise, take the one we know now over the awful one. I actually shouldn't refer to it as 'the awful one', someone worked hard to make it and a Permuted writer did use a modified version of that exact image for one of their books. It just wasn't this book. The books that followed matched the first, abstract smudges on canvas. But, they too were not what I had intended. My cover for book 2 when I had released it indy wasn't the best. I'll admit I now do prefer what the series looks like. The sandcastle idea was the best I could do at the time and I liked. I never released book three, but had an idea. Those of you that have read it can weigh in on how good this concept was. Picture a black background, from the bottom of the cover up, a large pile of spent brass casings. So, this bring us to book 4. I made it myself. It matches, perhaps not perfectly, but it's mine and I get my bloody handprint. I had to search for a font that looked similar to the Permuted release. You will understand my original concept for this book once you read it, I wanted it to look like a two-toned flyer, more than likely black and green. It would have had a roller derby girl, instead of the text saying where and when the event is would be the title and my name of course. This will make sense once you read the book and meet Rocky Roadkill of Man's Ruin. Get it on Kindle: http://getbook.at/LATD4 A while back I made a paper skull out of old editions of my book, Life Among the Dead. It went to a very nice home when a fan contacted me and claimed it. I have similar skulls that I made out of comic strips, and another out of Wolverine comics. I also constructed a plaster skull candle holder that turned out awesome, a fortunate artistic accident caused cracks while it dried. These cracks hardened and make the skull look fossilized after coloring it. These are up for grabs, let’s start the bidding for the paper skulls at $25 and the plaster one at $35. Let me know if you’re interested and get me your address. As far as shipping just figure an extra $3 on top of whatever we agree upon.
When I first published Life Among the Dead I had many copies of it printed in paperback... only to find they were severely flawed. In my excitement I had rushed the process and spent a lot of money on these editions that needed many more proof readings. Until now these volumes have been collecting dust in my attic, a reminder and cautionary tale not to jump the gun, now I am turning them into art.
Stress induced writer's block has me searching for ways to relax so I can complete book 4, this is one of my most recent projects, a paper mache skull made out of one of my editorially substandard first editions. It's signed, dated, and finished with a bloody print of my hand. I have lacquered this skull to protect it for years of enjoyment. And this skull can be yours. Anyone interested in this just has to let me know, contact me through this site or e-mail me at [email protected] How does $20 sound? we can work out payment via Paypal or a check, I'll e-mail you my address then send you the piece. The first person to call dibs gets the very first LATD skull. Although I have only the one, I can make more if more interested parties come forward. This will look great on your bookshelf, right next to copies of my book. (Copies of my book are not included) Ready to vie for signed copies of Life Among the Dead 1, 2, & 3 by Daniel Cotton (Permuted Press)? Great! If you need a little inspiration check out my Pinterest profile.
E-mail me a JPEG of your art or photo to [email protected] with picture contest in the subject line. It will also help to let me know where you discovered my contest and give me a link to your profile. Include your name as you would like it shown when I post your entry and where you are from if you want that included. Also, include a link to your work if you want some free promotion. Enter as many times as you wish but each contestant can receive only one set of books. Fair warning, I will be sharing submissions on; Google+, Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Pinterest, and here on my website before and after the contest for promotional reasons. I want to give everyone plenty of time to work on their submissions so let’s say September 1st will be the deadline and the winner, or winners, will be announced a week or two later. I have three sets to give out, but it will depend on the number of entrants of course. All I ask is that after you receive your books send me a few pics of you enjoying them. You could become the official spokes model for my apocalypse! Permuted Press editor Felicia A. Sullivan asks me a few questions.
AUTHOR INTERVIEW: Permuted Press Author Daniel Cotton has a sit down with me: 1. The first question is, are you tired of answering the same old questions in interviews? This is my first interview. 2. Have you always wanted to be a writer, or did you just kind of fall into it? I wouldn’t say I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but I’ve always been interested in finding new creative outlets. 3. What’s your process? Do you have a set writing schedule, or do you wing it? Everything I have written begins as notes and a rough draft, mostly done at work. I am a CNC operator in a factory, it doesn’t lend much time so this phase takes a while, scribbling between machine cycles, but I’m able to daydream. Pen doesn’t touch paper until I’ve worked out the story start to finish in my head and played it like a movie only I can see, over and over. Then, once I feel ready, I start waking even earlier so I can type the rough draft before work. This gets printed and brought back to the factory with a red pen so I can read through it and edit. I don’t have a lot of time after work to do much, I have two energetic boys keeping me busy, but I do what I can during the weekends when I have them off. 4. What is your favorite genre to read? To write? I don’t have a favorite genre for either. I love end of the world stories, dystopias, science fiction, dark humor, anything unconventional with unique characters. 5. What was the first book you wrote, and how successful was it? Life Among the Dead is the first book I have ever written. It wasn’t originally intended to be a book. LATD is actually based on a screenplay I wrote that I had signed an option with a producer but ultimately it went nowhere. I took some of the principal characters and scenes and turned it into my book. After that it took on a life of its own and continued to grow in my head leading into the sequels. Life Among the Dead was released independently and I’d say it was pretty successful, there were months where it was earning me more than my day job. 6. How do you spend your time when you are not writing? Do you have any interesting hobbies? Writing is my hobby, and most of it is done while at work. I try to fill what limited downtime I have with my wife and kids. 7. Does your family support your writing dreams/career/goals? They are very supportive. If not for them I would have given up by now. 8. How many books have you written, and which one is your absolute favorite? Eight official books. The three Life Among the Deads and 5 indies. My self released books are admittedly in rough shape editorially speaking but I love them all the same. They have simple, handmade covers that probably deter most readers but I feel if someone judges my book by their covers they are the ones missing out. I don’t have one particular favorite, each is special to me. My most recent is Fortune Cookie. It’s a coming of age, devilishly funny tale about a kid and Chinese vampires known as jiang-shi. 9. Do you read reviews of your books? How do they affect you, whether positive or negative? A good review will have me walking on air for days. The bad ones pull the rug out from under me. 10. You know the last question always is: Do you have any advice for aspiring authors? So yeah, answer that, but then tell us (whether you write in the genre or not) your plan for riding out the zombie apocalypse. Anyone wanting to write should just do it. All you need is a pen and some paper to get started and the world is yours. As far as the zom-poc I have no real plan other than getting to my wife and kids. This question reminds me of a guy I had to train at work once who asked “if you could have three items in the event of a zombie apocalypse what would they be?” I instantly looked around me since a wish list can’t help anyone, I decided step one would be to use items at hand. “All I need are my car keys, that hammer, and that roll of duct tape.” I told him. He understood the need for the keys and the hammer, but why the duct tape? “Body armor” I said simply. “Applied properly, and liberally, it’ll protect my exposed forearms.” Some may debate the truth behind whether a zombie can bite through thick layers of duct tape or not, I stand behind it since I wouldn’t plan on letting one use me as a rawhide bone. Point is, plan all you want, you have to be able to get to those bunkers and bug-out bags. What you really need is to know how to handle yourself where ever you are. In Life Among the Dead I have a character that uses the tape trick, and my main character is always having to improvise in order to survive. I found myself writing him into a corner just to see how he’d get out of a sticky situation. --Check out Life Among the Dead on Kindle-- This is a story included with my book the Gifted as bonus material. It revolves around the sci-fi staple of time loops. We've all seen them on Star Trek, Buffy, and the X-Files, this is my take on it. I wrote this a while ago, please disregard any typos you may find. Enjoy!
Loop 1 It’s the first day of Harry Erickson’s new promotion in the FBI. Today he will begin his position in one of the bureau’s top secret divisions. The dutiful agent had made it a point to go to bed extra early the night before, setting his alarm for 6:30, and another for 7:00 just in case. He wants to be in top form when he walks through the doors at 8:45 exactly. Instead of his well laid plan, he is awoken to a slap across his face. “Who is she?” his wife screams from the bedside. The dazed man answers in a stunned mumble a question of his own, “Who?” Another slap finds his stubbled cheek. “The slut who just called for you, that’s who!” “Probably a wrong number, Hon,” he honestly has no clue as to who ‘She’ can be. “She asked for you by name, Harry!” the woman fumes. His attempts to assure her that there is no one else in his life are futile; she is irate and refuses to believe him. He showers and shaves while she stands at the door, hurling every name in the book at him, and some that have never been written. He eats a quick breakfast and drinks his coffee while his wife throws random knick knacks at him. This is not how he wanted to start his day. 2 The agent walks through the doors of the federal building at 7:15. It’s much earlier than he had planned, but he had to get out of his apartment. Millie has gotten into these moods before. Her jealous rage would only escalate. After the insults and small accessible objects she would start reaching for the dishes. “Erickson?” a man Harry has never met greets him with a handshake. He hardly looks like an agent; he is well out of weight standards, his hair is unkempt and his suit is a cheap, wrinkled disgrace. A smile appears from under the man’s stubble. “I’m Special Agent Boone.” That is the name of the agent Harry is supposed to meet, he just didn’t picture him looking like this. He tries to keep the disbelief from his face and voice, “You’re supposed to indoctrinate me?” “Yeah,” the man ushers Harry towards a long corridor. “We actually met yesterday.” “No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Harry says. He would have remembered this man. “Trust me,” Boone pats Erickson’s shoulder. “We’ve done this before.” “I don’t understand.” “You will.” Boone stops before a large steel door, on the wall beside it is a panel that he places his hand upon. The magnetic locks click open. Beyond the door is another long hall. It looks like the rest of the building, but passing through the security door still gives Harry butterflies. “So, what do we do exactly?” Harry asks. The division is held so tight-lipped they wouldn’t divulge much about it. Erickson is just happy to get promoted. The added security clearance makes him feel like James Bond. “We can’t discuss it until we get down the stairs,” Boone replies, he halts at a bank of elevators. One of the lifts has a large screen instead of buttons. It scans Boone’s retinas and the doors open. “We’ll get you into the system in a few days.” “Cool!” Harry says involuntarily. “Why does it take so long?” “Ordinarily, it wouldn’t,” Boone holds the door in a needless gesture while Harry enters the lift. “It just won’t do much good right now.” They ride in silence three floors deeper into the Earth. The doors open to another long corridor. Erickson follows the agent to a simple door that leads them to a flight of stairs. Harry grows inpatient and has to ask as they head down, “Can you tell me about what we do now?” “Not just yet,” Boone answers as they reach the landing. He shepherds the green agent through another door adorned with a simple placard that reads: Time Division. When the offer for the new role in the FBI came to Harry, he hadn’t been told very much. His mind struggles to understand the words he has just read, they just don’t seem to go together. Beyond the door the wide-eyed man enters a blindingly white space. Suited agents mingle with folks in lab coats. Boone leads his stunned new partner deeper into the division. Harry marvels at his new stomping grounds, still unable to put it together. They pass a group of men dressed in antiquated Army uniforms. They look like GI’s straight from the battlefields of WWII. One of them locks eyes on Boone. “Carey!” he yells. “You know that dancer you’ve been drooling over at the titty bar?” “Yeah?” Boone responds. “Nailed her,” the doughboy makes an obscene gesture with his fist. “Good for you,” Boone grumbles as he continues past the soldiers. He slaps the last men on the back. “Good luck out there, Frank.” Harry watches the platoon enter a large enclosure of glass. He hears the man Boone had bid good luck ask one of his compatriots ‘who the fuck was that?’ “Those are the glory boys,” Boone stops and joins Harry who watches the GI’s gather in the space. “The Time Keepers.” “What do they do?” “They keep time,” Boone responds matter-of-factly. He turns Harry and points out a herd of grey haired men in lab coats that are grazing by a coffee pot and a box of doughnuts. “They’re the Time Lords.” “Let me guess,” Harry says. “They lord over time.” “No, they just watch it.” “So, what do we do?” Erickson asks. Before Carey Boone can utter a response a deep voice hollers the man’s name. A large black gentleman stomps his way to the pair. “Is the new guy here yet?” he asks. “This is him, Director,” Boone hitches a thumb at Erickson. “Good,” The Director responds. “You actually met him yesterday. Erickson, this is Director Xavier.” “We met yesterday?” Xavier asks. “So we’re looping? How long?” “Just one day,” Boone answers. “Could this be the Time Bandit?” “Too soon to tell,” Boone shrugs. “Erickson, welcome aboard. Boone will get your feet wet.” The director storms away, calling to them over his shoulder, “Keep me posted!” “What’s a loop?” 3 Boone and Erickson are in a room labeled Research and Development. Men in lab coats tinker with devices on stainless steel tables. Boone slips a heavy, silver band onto Harry’s wrist. “Here you go. Now, we’re going steady.” “I already have a watch,” Harry protests the bulky accessory. “It’s not a watch, it’s a doohickey. It has an official name, but I just call it that, while wearing it you won’t be affected by a loop.” “Seriously, time is actually looping?” Harry still can’t believe what Boone has told him. They are in charge of stopping time loops. “You’ve had déjà vu, been doing something and felt like you’ve done it before?” “Of course,” Harry puts the connection together. “It’s caused by looping?” “I dunno,” Boone shrugs. “Probably.” “So, what causes a loop?” Harry asks with a child’s wonder. “More often than not it’s some egghead, like these guys, in over his head, messing with shit he can’t understand. Sometimes it’s a natural occurrence.” “How many guys do we have?” Harry asks his new partner while inspecting his doohickey. “We’re it.” “You’re kidding. It seems too big a job for just two agents.” “No, I’m serious. Only two doohickeys are allowed in any one branch of the time division. The Director doesn’t even have one,” Carey explains. “Why was I selected?” Harry has been wondering. “We had an opening, you were up for advancement. There isn’t too much to selection other than trust. Someone vouched that you can keep a secret.” Erickson feels the wind leave his sails. He thought he was selected for being an exemplary agent. The hurt shows on his face. “Hey, don’t let it get you down. We do important work. Could you imagine doing the same exact thing every day and not knowing it?” “So, tomorrow will actually be today all over again,” Harry nods. “Only this time you’ll be aware,” Boone smiles. “I hope you had a good morning, it’s what you have to expect until we solve this.” Harry’s heart drops. He thinks about his morning; the slap, the insults, his wife repeatedly flushing the toilet while he showered. He wonders if he should stay at a motel. “We have until around midnight before the loop resets, by my calculations. It’s jarring at first; you’re in one place one second then in a blink you’re back where you were when the event began.” “We go back to the start even though we have our doohickeys? Why?” “Why isn’t really a question we ask about time. No one knows, all we can do is go with it,” Boone explains while guiding Harry out of the R&D department. “While in the first days of the loop we have the added duty of monitoring world events until the eggheads get us a lead.” “How do they get us our leads?” Harry asks. “They stare at their computer screens. After a few go-arounds they can deduce the epicenter by watching seismic activity. Before you ask,” Boone is sounding irritated by all of the questions. “They can see where ground zero is because their mainframe is the only place that shares the technology in our doohickeys. It lets us know if the loop is being caused in our jurisdiction.” Harry is about to make another inquiry but is halted mid-breath when Carey’s hand flies up like a traffic cop, “Our jurisdiction reaches as far and as fast as we can travel within the occurrence, and still end it within safe parameters.” Boone answers the newbie’s next obvious question, “We can’t interfere with the cause of the loop too close to the zero hour because we could offset it for the worse. Really man, there’s a handbook. Read it later. Now, we have pressing matters.” 4 “This is a pressing matter?” Erickson asks while holding his nose in the men’s room. Carey is in one of the stalls. Between the man’s escaping gases and the sounds of plopping water, Harry can hear the rustle of a newspaper. “It is actually,” Boone reports with a flush of the toilet. He emerges with his paper under his arm. “We can’t prepare for the future without learning from the past. Did you know the President was coming to town today?” “Yeah.” “What if someone tried to assassinate him? Today of all days…” Boone lets his words hang, enticing his new partner to pick up the thread. “We could stop it!” Erickson says excitedly. “And, not alter the time line since it can’t be written during a loop. School shootings, serial killers, bank robberies, it is our duty to fix what we can. Pairs of agents like us are gearing up worldwide to do the same as we speak.” “Wow!” Harry says with wonder. “No shit, wow! Come on,” Boone heads for the door. “Aren’t you going to wash your hands?” Harry points to the sink. “No point. I never get sick and if I give anything to anyone else it’ll be gone once we loop again.” Yeah, everyone but me, Erickson thinks to himself as he follows his mentor through the halls, the seasoned time detective leads him back towards the entrance. Boone talks to Harry without looking at him, “It takes an average of 4-6 days to restore normality. We are pretty much getting paid right now to watch TV and wander around. Lunch?” “It’s only ten?” Harry says. “So? Lunch?” Boone tosses most of his newspaper away. He stores a few folded remnants into his back pocket. “Are those leads?” Harry asks, gesturing to the scraps of newsprint. “Yup, just a few things for us to watch out for. Anything you wish to keep has to be on you when we loop. Where were you around midnight?” “In bed with my wife. Why?” “You better be sure to be in your jammies before the loop, or you’ll appear in bed wearing what you’re wearing,” Boone warns. Erickson is about to ask why but stops himself. He remembers Boone’s rule of not asking why. He appraises his partner’s disheveled appearance and wonders if that is what happened to him. “Where were you at midnight?” “Titty bar,” Carey admits with no qualms. “I’m there most nights. It took me a second to realize we were looping. The girl onstage had transformed into a totally different chick. Jack, that douche in the old Army uniform from earlier, appeared next to me right where he had been the previous morning. Actually, a lot of us meet at the bar to unwind. You should join us.” “My wife would kill me,” Harry tries not to blush. She already has a weird notion that he’s cheating on her. “Your wife could catch you red handed in the VIP room, divorce you and take the kids, and it won’t matter because we’re only on day two,” Carey explains. “We don’t have kids,” Harry says. “Isn’t that unethical?” “Using a loop for financial gain is unethical. You’re just going out with your partner. Consider it your initiation.” “I better not…” Harry winces in protest. “C’mon,” Boone eggs. “You’ll have fun… I promise to answer all your dumb ass questions.” “Alright!” Harry caves. “You’ve talked me into it.” “That’s the boy!” Boone smiles wide. “Let’s lay the ground work: Go home and tell your wife about your new job, but no details. You can truthfully report that you are already on a big case. After the loop I’ll swing by your place and pick you up.” “Go home?” Harry asks. “Aren’t we supposed to ‘watch the world’?” “You’re new. It’s your first day,” Boone says. “I’ll watch the world.” 5 Harry Erickson returns home before noon to find his wife still mad at him for his alleged infidelity. She is able to find it in herself to ask him about his first day. “It was great!” Harry says. “I’m already on a big case. My partner is very cool. I wish it wasn’t so top secret so I could tell you what we do.” “Yeah,” she snaps. “I know your good with secrets.” Dammit, Harry thinks. I stepped on a landmine there. “I have to meet him tonight…” Harry wishes he hadn’t just said that. Boone is meeting him after the loop. He braces for the worse. “Bullshit!” she launches into a tirade of questions and accusations. She also launches whatever is heavy and handy. Harry has to escape to the bedroom. Her temper is unfounded; he has never cheated on Millie. His retreat is more than self-preservation; he fears he may do something to her. He has a dark thought of threatening her with his service piece, or worse. Loop or not, he can’t allow himself do such a thing. He vows to rectify the problem tomorrow. He sets an alarm for a quarter till five in the morning; Millie had attacked him not too long after 5:30. He will be awake to answer the phone, thus eliminating the altercation. He won’t be meddling with the timeline; just a guy answering his own phone. “A stitch in time.” Harry rests up for his night of erasable debauchery while Millie stamps around the place occasionally blowing into the room like a tropical storm, a momentary disruption in an otherwise calm atmosphere. Harry just has to wait this out. Around eleven she elbows her husband and orders him to sleep on the couch. He calmly tells her ‘no’. He doesn’t have much longer until hurricane Millie is gone. It takes his breath away when time resets. The sudden shift makes his stomach lurch like he has just experienced every twist and turn of a roller coaster in an instant. He sits up in bed. Before the loop Millie had been angrily sleeping with her back to him, she now lovingly spoons her husband. His movement wakes her. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Harry can’t answer her right away. He feels so nauseous his teeth are sweating. Millie joins him and strokes his hair. He finds the fortitude to finally answer her, “Nightmare.” “Poor baby,” Millie coos. “Do you want anything?” “No. What time is it?” “12:02” “God!” Harry tosses the covers back. “I’m supposed to meet my new partner.” “Now? I thought you started tomorrow… I mean later today.” “I do,” Harry changes into his suit from the day before; it’s back on its hanger, fresh from the cleaners. He lies to his wife, sort of. “We spoke yesterday. We already have an assignment. He wants to meet so we can go over it.” “So he can get you abreast of things, huh?” “Yeah,” Harry’s voice cracks. “Something like that.” “I can’t believe your job is so secret you can’t even tell me about it.” “I know. Yesterday, I was just another G-man. Now, I’m a Man in Black.” “I’m proud of you,” Millie smiles at her man. “You’ve worked so hard for this.” “I love you,” Harry kisses his wife. He feels bad about the dishonesty, and is tempted to call the whole night out off. It’s too late; he hears a car horn blow from the street. Boone is here. 6 “Hello, Agent Boone,” Erickson greets his partner while sliding into the passenger seat of the idling vehicle. “Call me Carey,” The driver says. “Any trouble getting out?” “Not really,” Harry is still a bit queasy, but isn’t sure if it’s from the time event, or his guilty conscious. “How was your first loop?” Carey asks while pulling onto the street. “Horrible. It gets easier, right?” “In time,” Boone nods. “Don’t worry once you lay your eyes on Meryl Strip, you’ll feel as right as rain.” “Meryl Strip?” Harry laughs his question. “You’ve never been to Holly’s Wood? All of the dancers are named after starlets.” “Is Meryl the girl Jack ‘nailed’?” “No!” Boone sounds angry. “He fucked Angelina Blowmee. He thinks I’m stuck on her. I was, until I saw Meryl. I actually got lucky with Ms. Strip last night. The luckiest part about it is that it happened during a loop. I can expect the same fortune until we solve this thing. I may just decide to drag my feet on this one.” “I can’t stay out too long,” Harry makes clear. “Of course,” Boone says. “You have a wife to go home to. Will you come out earlier tomorrow night? Being there during a loop is like two nights for one cover. Poof! A whole new line-up.” “No, I hope not to need to be elsewhere,” Erickson thinks about his plan to answer that wrong number before his wife. It should make life a lot more tolerable. “Is she hot?” “Who?” “Your wife,” Boone clarifies. “Do you have a picture?” “Not on me,” Harry says sharply, hoping his partner will catch on to drop the subject. “My wife was hot,” Carey says soberly. “We divorced.” “That’s too bad. You guys had problems you couldn’t sort out?” “She wouldn’t go down on me.” “Are you serious?” Harry can’t believe what he has just heard. “No, she never would.” “I mean, you seriously couldn’t have divorced her over that,” Erickson clears up. “Of course I could,” Boone defends. “I love getting head. What man doesn’t? Don’t you?” “Sure…” “So, your wife obviously…” “Hey, man!” Harry cuts Boone off. “What? We are just two guys heading to a strip club. It’s a perfectly legal topic,” Boone explains. “She does doesn’t she?” “Yes and no,” Erickson surrenders to the conversation. “It’s been a few months.” “Happy belated birthday,” Boone smirks. “How did you know?” Harry misses the joke. Boone parks the car laughing at his oblivious partner. “Forget it. We’re here. You’re gonna love it. I used to go to Pandora’s Box… Too many problems there.” 7 Carey excitedly hustles Erickson through the front door and pays both of their covers. The heavy set Agent is greeted by topless woman, all of whom call him by name. He hardly registers the beautiful ladies; he is preoccupied trying to figure something out in his head. “Before the loop, Angie was on stage, then she turned into Meryl. She finished her set and worked the crowd… Fuck! What time was that? Damn you, Captain Morgan…” The pair find a table near the center stage. Harry has been to only one other strip club before this night. He remembers how disappointed he was with his prior experience. It was a small establishment in his home town. Although the girls were attractive, it was nothing like he had dreamed of during adolescence, it was nothing like this. Holly’s Wood is staffed with the most gorgeous women Harry has ever seen in his life. On stage is the dancer dubbed Meryl Strip. Boone watches her in awe. Harry does see a resemblance to the award winning actress. She could be her daughter, if said daughter had undergone several skilled surgeries and enhancements. “You seriously had sex with her?” “Uh huh,” Carey says proudly. “How the fuck did that happen?” Harry doesn’t bother to keep the disbelief from his voice. On a scale of 1-10 Meryl is a 12. “It wasn’t cheap, but well worth it.” A topless girl approaches the table, “Can I get you boys a drink, or offer you a dance?” “Yes, to the drink. Bourbon neat,” Boone issues. “No, to the dance I’m afraid. I’m saving myself for Miss Strip. Harry?” “No dance for me either,” Harry finds it hard to maintain eye contact with the young beauty, his gaze keeps wandering south. “I’ll have a beer.” Erickson can’t help but watch the girl walk away. Boone slaps his arm, “Great place, huh?” “Yeah,” Harry agrees. “There’s that Jack guy?” Boone looks to where his partner points. The man who later this day will be wearing antique fatigues is chatting up a dancer. Carey groans, “She actually did it? That’s Angelina.” The man is genuinely hurt. Harry wants to reinforce the fact that these women aren’t reciprocating any feelings; it’s just a job to them. Miss Blowmee is a pretty good actress. She honestly seems interested in Jack’s inane banter. Erickson appraises the doppelganger, and compares her to her namesake. She is younger and shares similar features. However, in his opinion, she doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. “If memory serves…” Boone says, “Angie goes back on a few dances before Meryl and I enter the VIP room. She’ll finish her set, and then I’ll see Jack and her go behind the curtain. That’s when the two-timing hooker lets that weasel stick her… Meryl will be working the crowd soon. You’ll have to make them quick.” “Make what quick?” “Your questions. Shoot!” Boone snaps his fingers. Harry has a million questions about the job; one stands out among the rest. It’s more of a concern. “Do you ever get dark impulses?” “What do you mean?” Carey squints at him. “Since time resets itself do you ever… think about killing someone?” “Of course,” Boone admits. “It’s only natural. Once you take away the repercussions of the act, and add the point that the act gets erased, your brain starts to ponder the possibilities. Everything is fair game. Who were you thinking about killing?” “My wife,” Harry says softly. “That’s sick.” “You just said…” “I know, but it’s your wife.” “It was just a passing fancy. I’d never do it.” Harry decides to change the subject, “So, Jack goes back in time?” “Yeah. Sometimes someone constructs a time machine out of junk parts and tries to go back with the notion they can change the past. The Time Lords see the ripples made in the continuum, and then Jack and his band of fags head out.” “So, they weren’t heading back to kill Hitler?” “No, they were probably stopping some neo Nazi dip-shit from helping the third Reich. If someone wanted to kill Hitler, they’d go back before the war and the whole final solution thing. We’ve actually saved that asshole on several occasions.” “What? Are you kidding?” Harry is bewildered by the prospect. “It’s the age old quandary. If you could go back and kill him, would you?” Carey explains. “Of course I would. I’m half Jewish.” “What’s the other half?” “French,” Erickson says. “If there was no reason for your great-great whatevers to run to France, you would never have been born. If you were never born how would you have gone back?” Harry is stumped. Carey continues, “Although the holocaust was a horrible event, you can’t forget all of the medical advances that were made, and what those monsters learned about surgical procedures. There are agencies worldwide with the combined goal of protecting time as it is written, no matter how atrocious.” “Is that why we don’t go back and change the big terrorist attacks?” “That kills us,” Carey says soberly. “The other nations would throw a fit and take away our time capabilities.” “Wouldn’t they understand?” “No. We hold them to the same standards. If only they had occurred during a loop.” Harry is lost in thought, contemplating all of the disasters and catastrophes that could have been averted. He flinches to reality when Carey snaps his fingers again, “Time is running out, Harry. You get one last question until tomorrow.” “If Jack and his crew go back to the war, wouldn’t their presence also create ripples and changes?” Erickson asks quickly. “Good one,” Carey smiles. “Our boys may be douche bags, but they are good at what they do. Every team specializes in different events in time. Our incursion squad has both world wars. They know the languages and customs and can blend in perfectly. Need be, they can dress up as Nazis and the krauts won’t know the difference. They know every city and battlefield down to the most minute detail.” Boone pauses, trying to think of an easier way to explain himself, “Do you like video games?” “I used to,” Erickson responds. “Do you remember the old ones before they got all modern and random? Going back is like that. I used to play this one game; you’re in a mansion fighting zombies…” “I’ve played that one,” Harry reports with a nod. “Great game right? It got to the point I knew that house like the back of my hand. I knew where every rotting fuck was hiding, where I could find ammo and health, I was flawless. That is what time is like. It all occurs exactly the same whenever they go back. Our team has to be flawless so they don’t disturb the timeline. One slip can cause a chain of events that alters time.” “It’s like a play that they enter,” Harry says to show understanding. “The actors follow a script, and the Time Keepers try not to get in the way.” “You’ve got it,” Carey starts to rise from his seat. “But, if someone had gone back haven’t they…” Harry tries to sneak another question into the evening. “Ask me at the office,” Boone stops him, he takes a plastic bag from his back pocket; within it is a one hundred dollar bill. “I have only a small window of opportunity to gain favor with Meryl. I’ll see you today.” Harry finishes his beer as Boone prowls up to the stage where Angelina Blowmee gyrates. The curious man pulls the bill from his baggie and waves it at his old crush. The dancer crawls towards him like a tigress. Her eyes widen when she sees the size of the note. Benjamin Franklin’s face affords Carey special liberties with the peeler. The pudgy man takes his time sliding the bill deep down the front of her g-string. Angelina gasps as Carey’s fingers rub her where customers seldom can. Despite the intrusion she smiles at him and caresses his face. His fingers retract from her garment leaving the money behind. Harry can’t believe this is his partner-in-time. He heads out of the bar casting a glance back at the man with the answers. Carey is speaking to Meryl now. She winks at Boone and pulls him by his tie into the VIP section. Erickson shakes his head and laughs. “This will be interesting.” 1 It is the first day of Harry Erickson’s new promotion in the FBI. Today he will begin his position in one of the bureau’s top secret divisions, again. The dutiful agent had made it a point to set an alarm so he can be awake to answer the phone when it rings this morning, thus saving his marriage and allowing him to start his day out right. He wants to be in top form when he walks through the doors at 8:45 exactly. Instead of his well-laid plan he is awoken with a slap across his face, once more. “Who is she?” his wife screams from the bedside. “Meeting your partner my ass!” The man is dazed by the sense of déjà vu. He answers with a stunned groan his own question, “Who?” Another slap finds his stubbled cheek. “The slut who just called for you, that’s who!” Harry could have sworn he had set his alarm so he would be awake to answer the bizarre phone call. “Probably a wrong number, Hon.” “She asked for you by name, Harry,” the woman fumes. “You saw her last night, didn’t you? I smelled the beer on your breath when you crawled into bed.” “My partner and I were at a bar discussing the new job,” Harry says truthfully, omitting the type of bar. No assurance that she’s the only one for him could stave off the inevitable attack. She was beyond irate. His excursion out with Boone only fuels her anger. She calls him every name in the book and many that have never been written. It dawns on the agent that he had set the alarm before the loop. Time had reset and his precaution was erased. This is not how he wanted to begin his first day, again. 2 Erickson finds Boone waiting for him by the door that requires an authorized handprint to open. He leans against the wall not looking much better than the previous meeting. Harry is sure he himself looks worse for wear. “Hey, Harry. You look like shit.” “I had a rough morning,” the new Agent replies. “And, another impulse.” “The one about killing your wife?” Carey asks, not bothering to hush his tone. “Yes,” Harry looks around hoping no one has heard his partner. “No one’s around. You should remember that from last time,” Boone reassures. “What triggers this impulse?” “She’s yelling at me for something I didn’t do. I thought I had fixed the problem yesterday.” Boone is leading his haggard friend to the office. “There are millions of guys having that impulse as we speak, many will go through with it, without the luxury of a loop. You’re fine.” Inside the headquarters Harry is struck by another intense feeling of déjà vu; the ‘cast of characters’ move as rehearsed yesterday. The agents dressed as GI’s are on their way to the glass room again. Only the one named Jack acts differently. He seems angry and keeps scratching his groin. His eyes lock on Boone. “I know it’s a loop, Carey!” Jack screams. He tries to lunge at Boone, his compatriots hold him back. “I know you did this to me!” Carey walks backwards laughing, watching Jack adjust his trousers uncomfortably. The last man passes him. Boone pats this soldier on the back, “Frankie, good luck!” Like before, the one named Frank asks his fellow soldiers who ‘the fuck’ Carey is. “Boone!” the director bellows. “Is the new guy here yet?” “I’m here, Sir,” Harry answers this time around. “We met yesterday.” “So, we’re looping,” Director Xavier states. “How long?” “Day three,” Boone answers. “Could this be the Time Bandit?” “Too soon to tell,” Boone shrugs. “Erickson, welcome aboard. I see you have your doohickey and Boone is getting your feet wet. Did you see any avoidable events yesterday?” “The Prez was fine. There was a bank robbery downtown, three casualties.” Boone responds. “Stop the heist if you can. Solve this thing fast.” “We will. I’m calling a tip into the cops. It should scare off the robbers if the place is crawling with fuzz,” Carey explains. “Good.” The director storms away, calling to them over his shoulder as he had last time, “Keep me posted!” “Who’s the time bandit?” Erickson asks. Boone starts walking towards the break room, talking. Harry has no choice but to follow. “He’s kind of an urban legend around the office. We blame him for every anomaly we can’t finger a perp for.” The Agents pour themselves cups of coffee. Boone continues, “Sometimes we locate the epicenter of the occurrence and the place is abandoned.” “Any prints?” “Sometimes,” Boone says. “Sometimes there’s a self-destruct mechanism that levels the place before our CSI can comb the scene. Makes me think there isn’t a bandit and it’s just several different wack jobs.” “What do we do on the third day of a loop?” Harry asks choosing a cherry danish out of a vending machine. “I’ve got to get to a pay phone to alert the cops to the robbery. Why don’t you head over to the Lords? By now they should know if this is in our ball field.” Harry is heading out the door when Boone calls to him, “Hey, I’m thinking of trying a new tactic with Meryl. Perhaps I can pull a freebie. Do you think peelers like flowers?” “That has to be unethical,” Harry says biting open his wrapped pastry. “No it isn’t,” the seasoned Agent defends. “Sure it is,” Erickson states. “You are manipulating the situation for your own gain.” “It isn’t any more unethical than your danish there,” Carey explains. “Huh?” Harry is baffled. “You didn’t have that yesterday, or that coffee,” Boone says. “Pretty greedy.” “This is different. It’s a danish, not a person.” “That was the last one in the machine. What if someone else got it last loop?” Boone chides. “You’ve robbed someone of their destiny.” “You’re just wrong, man,” Harry points a scornful finger at his partner while leaving. On his way to the Time Lords Harry can’t help but laugh at his incorrigible associate. Grey haired men in lab coats look away from their computers when Harry approaches. “Hello, gentlemen. I’m Agent Erickson the new… Looper.” He isn’t sure if he and Boone have a special nickname for what they do. If there is one he hopes it’s less lame that the one he coined on the spot. “We were told we had a new recruit,” one of the techs greets him with a warm handshake. “Hope Boone isn’t too much for you. He goes through a lot of partners. I’m Carl.” “No, he’s… Interesting,” Harry chuckles. “Is this event happening in our backyard?” “It certainly appears to be,” Carl declares. “Why does Boone go through so many partners?” Harry has to ask. “They say it’s because they can’t handle the loop, but we all think it’s because they can’t handle Carey. He drives them away,” all of the other techs nod and laugh in agreement with Carl. “Well, I think I can handle both,” Harry assures. “So, any complications acclimating to your first re-run?” Carl asks. “A bit nauseating… Actually, it was the most disorienting feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. Boone says it gets better.” “Hot Carl!” Boone announces to the tech as he sidles next to Harry. The tech’s welcoming smile fades. “Is it us?” “Yes,” Carl reports simply and turns back to his work. “So, what’s the agenda for third day?” Harry asks his partner. “I have to show you something,” Carey explains stoically and walks off. Erickson follows; his mind tries to figure out what it can be. Boone’s demeanor had turned so serious it has him worried. In a dirty cramped office Carey sits behind a desk. Harry stands at the door. “What’s up?” “Huh? Oh nothing. I just wanted to save you from those drags,” Boone admits. “You had me worried,” relief washes over the new agent. “No worries. Just enjoy third day,” Boone sits back in his seat with his arms behind his head. “We avert the robbery, make sure it sticks. If so, we just do it again the day we solve this.” “There’s nothing else to do today? No other avoidables?” “Nope,” Boone pulls folded papers out of his back pocket. Harry recalls these from the day they met. His partner had taken them from the newspaper. Upon the man’s desk is a copy of today’s edition, fresh and untouched. “So, what now?” Harry asks. “Lunch?” “I can’t eat during a loop. It seems so redundant,” Carey confesses. “Just eat something else then.” “Perhaps,” Boone says. “Maybe it’s the hang over. I tend to lubricate my brain with lots of alcohol during a re-run, even more so than usual. It must really suck to be you. I bet your wife is making the same damn dinner she did last night, and will again each night until we intervene.” “I didn’t eat dinner last night,” Harry admits. “I’ll be lucky if she lets me in the door when I go home.” “What the hell is going on at your place, man?” Boone pries. “She’s pissed at you. You’re contemplating killing her.” “I’m not contemplating killing her,” Harry defends. “It was a passing thought, because of the situation.” “Just do it,” Boone says. “Go home, off her, and get it out of your system.” “No!” Harry adamantly refuses. “Then, let’s go to lunch,” Boone stands. “You just said you don’t eat during a loop.” “Where we’re going it isn’t about the food, but the ambiance.” “Let me guess,” Harry cocks his head. “Holly’s?” “They put out the best lunch buffet of all the strip joints in town,” Boone assures. “I don’t know…” Harry shakes his head. “If your wife is mad, you shouldn’t go home right away, and I know your pansy ass won’t come out tonight.” “Fine, but this is the last time,” Harry agrees. “Sure it is,” Boone leads him out. “Until next loop.” Harry knows the man is right. He probably will go out next loop. He can feel Boone’s influence, the lure of the loop. He can get away with anything. Harry feels a sense of power and entitlement that boosts his confidence. It feels good. It feels Godlike. 3 If Holly’s Wood offers the best food any club in town has to offer, Harry makes a note to himself to avoid the others at all cost. The ladies that work the day shift aren’t as impressive either. Harry forces himself to choke down a rubbery version of a hamburger while Carey gets a few dances from Sandra Ballick and Winona Rideher. They leave the establishment, Boone with a wide smirk on his face, Erickson feeling queasy. The burger just sits in his gut, not wanting to be digested. Boone said they are heading back to the office, but he takes an unexpected detour passing the First National bank on 8th. A few police cars are parked on the curb. Several officers stand outside the front doors, watching pedestrians and traffic. The cops hold the door for the people coming in and out of the bank, eyeing everyone suspiciously. “Your tip worked,” Harry says. “The robbers will be too scared to hit here.” “I’ll have to watch the news to see if they try elsewhere,” Boone explains. “I doubt it though. Tomorrow we can stop it ourselves. Be heroes.” “No, I’d rather leave it to the cops,” Harry says cautiously. “No sense dying if the scare tactic works.” “It’s fun actually. You get your picture in the paper and a sound bite ‘I was just in the right place at the right time.’ You're a local celeb for about a week. Your money is no good anywhere. I bet your wife would be impressed. May even give you a non-B day BJ.” “That’s unethical,” Harry says. “Not in a loop,” Boone says. “Time is like clay. The past is hardened, but the future is soft. We sculpt the future with the present.” “You’ve practiced that line haven’t you?” Erickson scoffs. “A bit, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Let’s say I run into a girl I went to school with, who back then was awkward, but has bloomed into a complete fox. I then go back in time and tell my past self to become her friend and stay in touch with her so that in the present I can possibly nail her. That would be unethical.” “I stand corrected,” Harry surrenders. “I wouldn’t do that. I’d never go through all that just to fuck a bitch, you know why? I’m a gentleman.” “You are at that,” Harry says sarcastically. “We’ll have a pin pointed location tomorrow? Then what?” “We recon. Probably solve it on day five. That reminds me. If you die while wearing your doohickey, and the loop occurs, you stay dead. If one of us goes down, the other must retrieve the device. The deceased will start fresh, but at least they’ll be alive.” Harry is worried, “Have you ever lost a partner that way?” “No, and I don’t plan to,” Boone says. “Actually, I do most of this alone. It takes a special type of person to loop, most can’t handle it. Going solo just means spending more time on reconnaissance since there is no one to grab my doohickey should I kick it.” 4 Harry walks through his door that night and his wife just glares at him. She doesn’t ask about his day this time around, her husband’s night out had compounded her mistrust and anger. He opts to forgo trying to smooth things out and just go to bed. Millie doesn’t come in this night, elbowing him awake as she had previously, telling him to sleep on the couch. She is far too mad. Harry awakes himself at midnight, lurching from the time occurrence. His wife is lovingly snuggled against him until his movement stirs her from her slumber. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Harry can’t answer her right away. He feels so nauseous his teeth are sweating. Millie joins him in his seated position and strokes his hair. He once again has to find the fortitude to answer her, “I just feel a little sick.” “Poor baby,” Millie coos. “Do you want anything?” Harry glances at the clock, it reads 12:02. “Maybe some Pepto from the bathroom.” Millie gets up to retrieve the medicine for her infirmed husband. “You’re probably just nervous about tomorrow,” she calls to him. “Yeah,” he says knowing it isn’t that at all. “I can’t believe your job is so secret you can’t even tell me about it,” Millie says. Items rustle in the medicine cabinet. Harry can hear something fall. He dives across the bed and yanks the phone cord out of the wall. “I know. Yesterday I was just another G-man. Now I’m a Man in Black,” Harry recites his line from the script written last loop. “I’m proud of you,” Millie smiles at her man. “You’ve worked so hard for this.” Millie emerges from the bathroom empty handed. “I think we’re out of the stuff, Babe.” “That’s ok,” Harry smiles at the woman he married. How could I ever have a dark thought about her? “Just come back to bed.” 1 It is the first day of Harry Erickson’s new promotion in the FBI. Today he will once again begin his position in one of the bureau’s top secret divisions. The dutiful agent has assured himself a good awakening. He wants to be in top form when he walks through the doors at 8:45 exactly. His victory is robbed from him when he awakes to a slap across his face. “Who is she?” his wife screams from the bedside. The dazed man answers in a stunned groan his usual question, “Who?” Another slap finds his stubbled cheek. “The slut who just called your cell phone!” “How did she get my cell?” he still has no clue as to who ‘she’ can be. “So, you admit it?” the woman fumes. She grabs Harry by his pajama shirt and shakes him. “Did she leave a name?” Harry tries to remain calm. “Kerry. Why? Is there more than one?” she slaps him to punctuate her question. “Kerry? I don’t know any Kerry…” Harry smiles with realization, it fades to a sneer. “That son of a bitch!” “Who is she?” Millie asks. “It’s a he. Carey! Not Kerry.” Harry gets out of their marital bed and starts putting on clothes. “My new partner Carey Boone is fucking with me. He must have gotten my numbers from my file.” Millie is asking him questions that he ignores as he heads out of the apartment. His mind is in a rage. This shit ends now! And, it’s going to hurt. 2 Boone is found leaning against the wall as he had been the time before. He looks his usual sloppy self as he waits for his partner to arrive. Erickson joins him, looking like hell himself. “Another rough morning?” “Yup,” Harry responds curtly. “I thought you had it all figured out?” Carey nudges him. “So did I,” Harry says. “I doubt it’ll happen tomorrow.” They head down to the office. The soldiers pass them once again. Jack’s eyes lock on Boone. “I know it’s a loop, Carey!” Jack screams again. He tries to lunge at Boone who just stands stoically knowing his compatriots will hold him back. “I know you did this to me!” Carey walks backwards so he can laugh at Jack’s misfortune. The last man passes, Boone pats him on the butt like a football player, “Frankie Boy! Good luck out there!” “Who the fuck was that?” Frankie boy asks, yet again. “Boone!” the director bellows. “Is the new guy here yet?” “Mostly,” Carey chuckles. “You’ve met him a few times.” “So, we’re looping,” Director Xavier states. “How long?” “Day four,” Boone answers. “Could this be the Time Bandit?” “Too soon to tell,” Boone shrugs. “Erickson, welcome aboard. I see you have your doohickey and Boone is getting your feet wet. Did you see any avoidable events yesterday?” “The president remains un-assassinated. There was a bank robbery downtown that we can avoid with an anonymous tip,” Boone responds. “And some nut tossed a couple molotovs into a titty bar early this morning,” Harry adds to Boone’s surprise. “Some place called Holly’s Wood.” The shocked look on Boone’s face is worth it. Harry struggles not to laugh. He has been lowered to Carey’s level, destroyed property and scared the hell out of some joggers. His partner can only stare at him with a look of disbelief. “Damn. I liked that place. Save it if you can,” the director says before storming away, as always calling to them over his shoulder, “Keep me posted!” Boone follows Erickson into the men’s room. “You unethical bastard!” he accuses. “Me?” Harry shoots back. “You keep giving Jack crabs, and you’ve been harassing my wife and I since before we even met. What’d you do, have Meryl call?” “Yeah,” Boone admits. “I’m actually impressed. I’d never expect this from a straight arrow like you.” Harry leans on the sink looking at himself in the mirror. “What have I done?” “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’ll stop fucking with you, you stop firebombing my home away from home. We’ll be square tomorrow. Deal?” “Deal,” Harry agrees. “So, you won’t be calling my place, right?” “The only person I mess with on last day is Jack. The eggheads will have a locale for us, and tomorrow we’ll solve this. Today is all about recon and shenanigans.” “Shenanigans?” “It’s like the last day of summer break before school starts. Anything goes.” The men leave the rest room. It is Boone’s turn to ask a question, “How did you know about Jack’s crabs?” “Besides the itching?” Harry says. “Why else would you carry a tip for a stripper in a plastic bag?” “Genius, huh?” Boone applauds himself. “Was your prank inspired by the settlers giving the Indians smallpox infected blankets?” Erickson wonders. “Sorta,” Boone admits to his partner as they head to the Time Lords. “Did you know that was just an accident? They were just handing out blankets and had no idea the natives weren’t immune to the same shit they were. It goes down in history as the first instance of biological warfare.” “Fascinating,” Harry says. “Hello, Carl.” “Agent Erickson?” Carl the Time Lord greets Harry. “We heard we had a new recruit. How are you?” “Just tell us where this is happening,” Boone interrupts before Harry says anything. “Millennium Ironworks,” Carl says mirthlessly. “It’s a foundry in the city’s industrial park.” “Today, Erickson,” Boone states. “You learn about recon.” 3 “This is recon?” Erickson asks his partner who is perusing pornographic DVDs at an adult book store. Sex toys surround the two men. Blow up dolls hang from the ceiling like a perverted FAO Swartz. “No, this is planning my evening since you wrecked my previous arrangements,” Boone picks through the racks, hoping something will catch his eye that he hasn’t yet enjoyed. “Shouldn’t we call in the bank tip?” Harry asks. “It doesn’t matter until tomorrow when we solve the loop. The bank will be safe and my only happy place on Earth will be back in business.” Harry silently watches Boone accumulate a stack of videos that range the gamut of fetishes and predilections. Carey hands the collection to Harry. “I’ll take these.” “I’m not buying all this!” Harry shouts trying to force the smut back. “Just use your credit card,” Boone encourages. “At midnight, time reverts, the transaction never took place.” “Oh, that’s right,” Harry ponders the possibilities of that. “And, as an added bonus, you get to keep whatever is on you at the time of the event,” Boone explains. “Remember my newspaper clippings?” “So, to keep something forever you just need to have it on you until the case is solved?” “Cool, huh?” Boone nudges Harry towards the registers. “C’mon we’ve got to go.” Harry reluctantly adds the $110 charge to his credit card for his partner. The two leave the store and enter their car. Boone answers the inevitable question he expects Erickson to ask, “No, it is not unethical. The objects regenerate when time starts over because they were never purchased. It’s the same as your danish, or my newspaper.” Loaded with provisions, the agents drive to the epicenter of the time disruption. They have a large thermos of coffee and a dozen doughnuts since they will be spending half their day watching the building. A portable DVD player sits on Boone’s lap emitting the moans of carnal delights that Harry had just purchased. “A special girl like this is what my Dad would call a ‘keeper,’” Carey points to the small screen. Hours pass without any suspicious activity. Boone folds up his handheld brothel. “Follow me.” Erickson follows the older agent around the building. They walk casually up to the doors where Carey peers in through a small window. “We can’t just barge in; our boy may have the place booby trapped.” “Is he in there?” “No, but I can see the device,” The lead agent reports. “Take a look.” Harry looks in through the dusty glass and follows Boone’s instructions as to where the thing is located; a small black box no bigger than a kid’s lunch pail. Red and green diodes intermittently flash upon its face. “It seems so little.” “It isn’t the size that matters,” Carey says. “It looks like a Quantum bomb. Somehow it must release Tachyons during the blast. That’s what’s knocking back the hands of time.” “What’s our move?” Harry asks, excited by the prospect of action. “I need to search public records for a schematic of this place, find the best point of entry. We go in tomorrow and finish this.” “Sounds good,” Harry concurs. “What should I do?” “Go home. Get some sleep,” Carey pats his partner’s shoulder. “I promise you’ll have a better morning. See ya today, Pal.” ***** Erickson returns home and is pleasantly surprised to find his wife in a good mood. She is trusting him and taking his word that his new partner was messing with him. She adamantly encourages him to have a word with the man. Harry assures her that it’s all in the past. Harry sits up in bed around midnight, feeling sick to his stomach. His movement wakes his wife Millie. “Baby, what’s wrong?” “My stomach…” he answers her. “Poor baby,” Millie coos. “Do you want anything?” “No thanks,” he smiles. “This one isn’t so bad.” Harry lies back down. “I wish my new job wasn’t so secret. There is so much I’d like to tell you.” “Already? You haven’t started yet.” “I’ve been getting my feet wet,” Harry says. “I’m proud of you,” Millie smiles at her man. “You’ve worked so hard for this.” 1 It is the first day of Harry Erickson’s new promotion in the FBI. Today he will once again begin his position in the bureau’s top secret Time division. The dutiful agent had made it a point to go to bed extra early the night before, setting his alarm for 6:30 and another for 7:00 just in case. He wants to be in top form when he walks through the doors at 8:45 exactly. As promised Boone hadn’t called in his prank. Harry is able to have a morning like he had planned so many loops ago. He is able to shower and shave without being bombarded with quips or cutlery. He has his morning coffee and a simple breakfast with his wife. All those other mornings he had escaped his home early trying to get away from Millie, today he leaves at a reasonable time. Boone has given up his leaning position, opting to sit on the floor while he waits for his partner. “Did you sleep in?” Boone asks rising to his feet, not bothering to brush himself off. “Yeah, it’s remarkable how much better you sleep when you don’t have some asshole wrecking your marriage.” “I should have,” Boone growls out of sorts. “Because of your overzealous revenge, I never got to give Jack his crabs.” “And, I’m afraid we’ve missed Frankie boy. Who is that by the way?” “A partner that didn’t work out,” Carey explains as the two head to the office. “He doesn’t know you?” Harry asks wondering, who could forget a guy like this? “He was assigned during a loop,” Carey explains. “Around day two he cracked. You’ve really surprised me.” It feels weird to Harry to enter this space later than he had all of his previous days. The Director is already over by the Time Lords, the Time Keepers are already in their glass room. “Boone!” Director Xavier bellows, waving the agents to come over and see him. “The script has changed,” Harry whispers to himself as they oblige the Director. “You must be Erickson,” they shake hands. “Welcome aboard. The Time Lords’ computer says we’re looping. I trust Boone is getting your feet wet?” “Of course, Sir,” Harry says. “And, I see you have your doohickey…” “Temporal stabilizer,” Carl corrects, and is ignored. “What day are we on?” Xavier asks. “It should be the last day,” Boone says with pride. “Excellent. Any avoidables?” “A bank robbery. We’ll call in a tip and get it taken care of,” Carey assures. “Could this be our Time Bandit?” Xavier asks as usual. “We saw the site yesterday. It does look like his handiwork, possible quantum bomb. As usual he was not inside.” “Good.” The Director walks away, “Keep me posted.” Carl approaches the agents. “Agent Erickson, I presume. I’m…” “You’ve met!” Boone says irritably. “Of course,” Carl ignores Carey’s rudeness. “Then, I trust you know where you are going?” “Yes!” Carey says like a child sick of being nagged. “If anything doesn’t look right when you enter, or if…” “Fuck, Carl!” Boone snaps. “We’ve been through this. I told him about removing the doohickey.” Boone storms away. Harry shrugs an apology to Carl who just waves it off. The old Time Lord is used to the man’s abuse. “You were a bit testy back there,” Harry points out to his partner as they head for the ground floor. “I know,” Boone groans. “I didn’t get my romp with Meryl last night and I think it’s getting to me.” “If time reset, wouldn’t you just appear at Holly’s?” “Yeah, but due to my little shopping spree… I gave it all to that pile of DVDs. I had nothing left for Meryl.” “Do you want me to call in the tip to the cops?” “No, I got it,” Carey says, handing Erickson a set of keys. “Pull the car around, you’re driving today.” Before Harry can dash away Boone calls to him, “Don’t scratch it. I’ve been known to drag a case on an extra day for less.” 2 Harry drives them to ground zero. His partner hasn’t said a word since they left the lobby of the Federal building. He can’t help but think there is more going on than just an absent rendezvous with the stripper. “Cheer up,” Harry attempts. “Tomorrow is a new day.” “That’s the thing. I kinda like looping,” Boone admits. “It’s the interim between that’s hard on me. Business as usual; training scenarios and meetings about nothing.” “Well, I for one am looking forward to it. It’s awful watching everyone doing the same thing day after day.” “That’s what life is though,” Carey says. “That’s what we’re fighting to maintain. Look at all those saps out there.” Harry glances around the city at the people walking along the street. Some carry briefcases, some jog while listening to music. There is an occasional homeless person crouched in a doorway holding out his hand to those passing. “Tomorrow, when there is a tomorrow, if we should drive down this street at this time, we’ll still see the same damn people, doing the same damn shit.” “Come on,” Harry insists. “It isn’t always the ‘same old grind’. There are weekends and holidays, birthdays and weddings. There will be new loops to solve.” “You’re right,” Cary smiles. “If there were no birthdays, there would be no girls turning eighteen and taking to the pole. No new pornos being made.” “I guess you have to find your silver linings anywhere you can,” Harry shifts uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. Papers crumple below him. He leans against the door so he can dislodge whatever is bothering him. “I’ll take those,” Boone insists trying to gather the papers before his partner can see them. “Are those racing forms?” Harry asks knowing the answer, like a parent who has just caught his teenage son smoking. “Another silver lining?” “Let’s pretend you didn’t see those,” Boone suggests. “We’ll discuss this later,” Harry said sounding angry and disappointed. “We’re here.” The agents pull up to the defunct foundry. Boone pulls out a blueprint of the building. “I don’t trust any of the doors or windows down here.” “You want to go in through the second floor?” “Yeah. We’ve encountered booby traps before,” Carey explains. “There’s a catwalk that circles around inside the place. I need you to find a way in, and then you can let me in. Be sure to check the doors before opening any of them.” “You want me to go in alone?” Erickson sounds worried. “We can’t go in together,” Carey folds the schematic. “If we both die, how can we take each other’s doohickey?” “Die wearing it during the event, die for real,” Erickson remembers. “Correct. Give me yours,” Boone accepts the temporal device and examines the exterior of the building. “If you climb onto that trashcan you can reach the drainpipe.” Harry looks to where his mentor points. He says ‘ok’ but the letters come out slowly. “Don’t be scared. You’re in the FBI for God’s sake,” Boone chides. “Relax. If you die in there, you’ll get to wake up four days younger.” Harry carries out his orders. From the garbage receptacle he gains access to the pipe that is affixed to the façade. The agent climbs up to a ledge and cautiously shimmies along the building. His feet tremble with each shuffle. He has never been fond of heights. Erickson reaches a window. The glass is too filthy for him to see inside the old industrial space. He slowly crouches on the foot wide ledge only to find the window can’t be opened from the outside. He smashes out the panels with his elbow, desperate to get inside. Harry slides through the hole he has made onto the elevated walk. It’s nearly pitch black at first. Erickson lets his eyes adjust. Gradually, he begins to see details from the dim amounts of sunlight the grimy windows allow in. He uses the rail of the catwalk as a guide. Wading through shadows the agent visualizes the lay out from Boone’s print. His ears are straining to hear signs of movement, all he detects is his own footfalls on the steel surface below him. Harry feels a gap in the rail, he has found the stairs. The agent takes a step and finds himself oddly weightless. He is falling through space. His mind races in the flash of time he plummets, thinking of the concrete floor below, and the pain that is inevitably forthcoming. He hardly has enough time to scream before he hits bottom. His body bounces off of a cushioned plain. He is breathless from the adrenalin that had rushed into his bloodstream. Unscathed and on his feet, he stretches his hands out into the darkness so he can walk to the door and let his partner in. A smooth wall stands in his way; it wasn’t on the blue print. Blinding white light forces Harry to shield his eyes with his hands and look towards the floor. Little by little he wills himself to brave the light; he has to know what is happening around him. Erickson soon realizes he had fallen into a trap. He is contained in a 5 by 5 cell made of glass. Boone enters the foundry. “Oh, good. You found a way in,” Harry is relieved to see his partner. “What the hell is this?” “A fail safe,” Carey answers. “In case you got too smart.” “Huh?” Erickson is stumped for a second. The realization hits him hard, “You’re the Time Bandit?” “I’m more of a copycat, really,” Boone explains. “I use the myth so I can loop.” “Please tell me this isn’t about fucking strippers.” “Not solely. It’s also about off track betting and using credit cards. It’s about the pranks and robbing banks.” “You robbed the bank?” Harry can’t believe what he is hearing. “Just once.” “What the fuck?” Harry pounds on the transparent barrier. “I did it your first day, after I sent you home.” “You killed three people.” “They got over it. Time reset,” Carey explains. “It’s like it never happened, except I get to keep the money. I don’t have to worry about the serial numbers because they aren’t looking for them. They don’t pay us extra to loop. I figure it’s like working at a supermarket, they expect employees to take a little here and there to compensate their meager wages.” “Carey, we can make this right,” Erickson pleas. “Whatever you plan on doing, you don’t have to do it.” “I really wish you hadn’t seen those racing forms,” Boone says coldly. “I actually like you.” Harry paces the glass cage, glaring at the man who put him in there. Carey continues to talk, “You seemed like such a straight arrow at first, but you came around. We could have had fun. You really impressed me with the whole arson prank. The lure of the loop; you knew you could do it, and stick it to me, and then poof, your crime is erased. If only you didn’t see those forms.” “Hey, I’ll place bets too,” Harry hopes to sound convincing. “No, Harry, you wouldn’t. I know that tone of voice. ‘We’ll discuss this later.’ That’s what my ex used to say to me. Next, you’ll want a divorce. That means I get booted from the Division because you squealed.” Boone walks to the black box. “We were supposed to get here, I’d pretend to see a safe way in, click the device off, loop solved.” Harry raises his service pistol. “You won’t get away with this.” “The glass is bulletproof, Harry,” Boone leans on the large pane. “I can’t let it end with you thinking that I am only out for selfish gain…” “Too late,” Harry interrupts. “Think about all of the things I can prevent just by starting a loop. No more terrorist attacks, school shootings, or other horrible things. All I have to do is knock the clock back and they can be averted.” “So, now you kill me?” Harry asks in a defeated tone. “Just a little,” Carey assures. “You’ll wake up, and it’ll be as if we had never met.” Boone turns to leave the building. Harry is trying to reason with the retreating man, “Don’t do this. We can both walk away from here.” “I’m sorry, Harry…” Boone pauses at the door. “I’ll see you today.” Carey slides behind the driver’s seat of the bureau issued sedan. He pulls a small object from his pocket, the remote detonator. Red analog numbers count down to zero hour. He watches with guilt as the digits slowly click backwards. The bandit is truly going to miss Erickson. 3 Agent Harry Erickson sits alone in a glass cell staring at the bomb. He had tried to climb out using the old mattress, but it proved to be too flimsy. He had tried his phone, but the large industrial plant has no cell reception. He had even fired the contents of his weapon into the ceiling hoping there might be someone around who could call the police. That was hours ago. He has no recourse other than to sit and wait for the bomb to go off. He knows that once it explodes, and turns back the clock, he will be alive and not remember a thing. He’s still scared. The Harry Erickson that has been looping for the past four days will be dead. 1 It is the first day of Harry Erickson’s new promotion in the FBI. Today he will begin his position in one of the bureau’s top secret divisions. The dutiful agent had made it a point to go to bed extra early the night before, setting his alarm for 6:30, and another for 7:00, just in case. He wants to be in top form when he walks through the doors at 8:45 exactly. Instead of waking to his alarms he awakes to his wife. She has found a more fitting way to rouse him this morning; a sensation he hasn’t felt in months. He feels the warm caress of Millie’s mouth. Looking down the length of his body he smiles at her. “Good morning,” she says to him in a muffled salutation. The vibration of her words brings him to climax. Harry bustles around the apartment getting ready for work, finding it difficult to maneuver. Before waking her husband, Millie had answered the door to a flower delivery. The place is wall to wall flowers now; each one bears a card from Harry. He has no recollection of ordering so many expensive bouquets, but considering his wife’s response, he isn’t about to tell her the truth. Millie happily hums in the kitchen while making their breakfast. He figures he will find out about the flowers in time. For now his wife can remain in the dark. He feels it isn’t unethical, just an omission. 2 “Boone?” Director Xavier addresses the agent who enters his office. “You’re here early.” Xavier is always the first to arrive. Carey takes the seat across from the Director’s desk; he lifts his pant legs as not to wrinkle the sharp creases in his immaculate suit. The agent is clean shaven and actually combed his hair. “Sir, we need to discuss Special Agent Erickson.” “The new guy?” Xavier is puzzled. “You haven’t even met him yet.” “I have, sir,” Boone explains. “We’re looping.” “How long?” “This makes day six.” “Did Erickson screw the pooch out there?” Xavier inquires, leaning back in his chair. “No, he acted under my orders. We entered, the place was rigged. I grabbed his doohickey and got out of there.” “So, you don’t think he’s suitable for the division,” Xavier concludes. “Not at all, Sir. He’ll be a great addition, a real straight arrow. I just don’t think looping is for him. He seemed afraid to do anything off script,” Carey lies. “I doubt he’d so much a pass wind unless he had the previous day.” “What do you recommend? He starts today?” “I’d give him to Jack and the Time Keepers. It’s the logical place for him since he is so conscientious about making ripples. He may even prove to be your top man in the field one day.” “They have a scheduled incursion today,” Xavier mulls the prospect. “We can postpone the departure so he can meet with Jack. He’ll have to be benched for the day.” “It’ll give him time to re-read the handbook.” “True. Any avoidables?” “Not much,” Carey shakes his head. “The president was fine. There was a robbery at a florist early this morning.” “Anyone hurt?” “No, they weren’t open. Just a lot of missing flowers.” “It’s negligible, solve this today,” the Director commands. “Will do,” Carey gets to his feet, about to leave. “Boone, could this be our Time Bandit?” “It certainly appears so.” 3 “Erickson?” a man greets Harry just inside the lobby of the Federal Building. “You’re late.” “I’m sorry,” Harry involuntarily blushes. His wife had snuck into the shower with him after breakfast and they lost track of time. “Special Agent Boone?” “Fuck no!” the tall slender man snaps while rudely scratching his groin. He is oddly dressed for an Agent. A baggy sweat suit is covering another set of garments. “I’m Special Agent Jack Prickson, your new team leader.” “What is it we do?” Harry asks debating if he wants to shake hands with this man. “We’ll have to wait until we get underground for an explanation. All I can tell you up here is: avoid Agent Boone. He’s an asshole. He gave me crabs.’” Harry isn’t sure how to take the advice, or the unwanted information. He lets Agent Prickson lead him down a series of long corridors. A man is coming towards them in the long hall; his expensive suit is impeccably pressed. The man smiles as he passes the two. “I know you did this to me, Carey!” Jack hollers at the dapper looking gentleman who ignores the accusation. “Good luck, Harry,” the stranger pats Erickson on the back and continues on his way. “Who the fuck was that?” END So, what did you think about Loop? If you liked it let me know here or on Facebook. Check out my other books on Kindle; Life Among the Dead, Fortune Cookie, Cloudy With a Chance of Zombies, Anthills, the Gifted, and She Hates Me. Life Among the Dead 2: A Castle Made of Sand and Life Among the Dead 3: A Bittersweet Victory will be out soon. If you haven't already done so please read the first. It never fails, no matter what genre you work in you'll watch or read something similar to one of your ideas that will make you scream "Dammit!" With the zombie milieu so jammed packed, and my books taking so long to come out, I can't watch the Walking Dead without saying it myself, or reading my fellow Permuted Press author's works. The fear is that folks will accuse one of stealing or copying though you may have written yours first. For this inevitable situation you just have to go with it, more than likely you'll feel you did it better anyway. We writers are all traipsing down well-traveled roads, we can't help stepping on one another's footprints.
I often like to reflect on what got me interested in the whole Apocalyptic/zombie subject in the first place. As a reclusive, I'll admit schizotypal, person, the idea of the end of the world as we know it really appeals to me. Non-people persons like myself are tailor made to thrive since we don't require human interaction all the time. At an early age I saw movies on the subject; the original Dawn of the Dead, Damnation Alley, and read books; I am Legend, '48, and Swan Song. I became fascinated. My imagination took off with the possibilities of the entire world being your playground with no limitations as long as you can survive. Once you add the menace to the paradise the game changes, enter zombies. There are just a few scenes that hooked me on the walking dead. Certainly the original Night of the Living Dead rubbed off on me, but what really got me was a movie from 1991 called 976-EVIL 2. This wasn't exactly a zombie movie, but in it the villain has dominion over electronics. Two girls are arguing over whether to watch a zombie flick or It's a Wonderful Life and the guy merges the two and pulls them into it. "Every time you hear a bell, a zombie takes a soul to hell." Another is a movie that I don't know the title to and have been looking for, perhaps you can help me. In this movie the characters tie bells to the trees to hear when the dead are getting close. There's a bride zombie that chases the heroes through the woods. And, when the dead are locked together in a confined space they seem to panic and devour one another. Sound Familiar at all? If so, please tell me what this movie is so I can see it again. My inspiration to write my post-apocalyptic book Anthills was simply a Beta reader telling me that she'd be interested in reading a PA by me. I took that and ran with it. In Life Among the Dead I wanted to write a great zombie book while trying to avoid the typical clichés of the genre, or use them and just turn them on their head. It doesn't matter where we get our inspiration as long as we make it ours. So, you’ve published your masterpiece, put yourself out there no matter what anybody thinks…or so you think. No matter how many glowing, gushing reviews you have received that have you walking on air, there will be that one person that just doesn’t like it and feels compelled to tell the world. The bad ones hurt, regardless of how thick skinned you think you are. They are a punch to the gut that will shake your confidence in your craft.
Some places make reviewers write a blurb before they post, others allow anonymous star ratings. I’m not sure what I prefer, is it better to hear what someone thinks is wrong with your story or wonder what it is you did to incur their negative evaluation. Sometimes you can trace the person’s library and find out they aren’t actually into the genre you’re wading in and feel better--it was an unfair assessment and shouldn’t be taken into consideration. I received one 1-star rating with a blurb ‘not a good book’ on Goodreads (of all places)posted by a fellow writer. I don’t think it’s a good idea for authors to negatively comment on the work of others. It makes them look bad, what will make you look bad is firing back. Never respond! One of my loyal Betas saw it and became irate. He posted his personal thoughts regarding the scribe’s actions. The rating remains but the man pulled his jibe. I had to be stern with my test reader, but couldn’t be prouder. I did reward him by making him a character in book 3 of Life Among the Dead. Use the bad comments as a way of becoming a stronger writer (the constructive ones) If the person mentions that you accidentally used ‘to’ when you mean ‘too’ too many times, or you wrote ‘then’ when you meant ‘than’ then go back in a fix it, make them look like the dumbass. If they point out a plot hole, fill ‘er up! The beauty of self-publishing is the ease of revising. Above all, never give up. The negative comments will still bother you. Develop a mantra. I always paraphrase the immortal words of Cypress Hill and consider them to be ‘punks just jealous cuz they can’t out-write me’. I hope this helps fledgling writers and encourages all of you to take the plunge. Now I invite any who may be reading this to play reviewer, how am I doing with this whole blog thing? Let me know. |
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