tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61109245761973088742024-02-19T17:51:48.593-05:00THE ADVENTURES OF CHALLENGER STORMDon Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-59005743069951048832017-08-03T05:19:00.000-04:002017-08-03T06:36:49.111-04:00TALES FROM THE HANGING MONKEY, VOL 2I missed posting this when it was released yesterday (that's the problem with working a night shift: all news is old news by the time I wake up). It's not news about Challenger Storm #3 (STILL in the works), but it's writing news for me nonetheless. <br />
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Now available from Airship 27 Productions: "<b>Tales from the Hanging Monkey, Volume 2</b>"! I'm truly honored to have a story featured in this terrific collection, and it's actually one of my favorite things that I've written. For two-fisted pulp adventure fun, nothing beats having a drink in the Hanging Monkey bar!<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Tales-Hanging-Monkey-Bill-Craig/dp/1946183210/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1501756185&sr=1-2&keywords=tales+from+the+hanging+monkey" target="_blank"><img alt="https://www.amazon.com/Tales-Hanging-Monkey-Bill-Craig/dp/1946183210/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1501756185&sr=1-2&keywords=tales+from+the+hanging+monkey" border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtCEyCC46PPhDnByKP0Mn9DbraSbPXHq1TzamxvXYIIndLCXz7tw_fnKgczbWzEyo8cJkCB86AQOOOC2bI3rUhRCh3s5lQqhZXXHxyEJPxTq42JDmVqd8B0tW14bRwjkmFPi30gkrWkIY/s640/hanging+monkey.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1946183210/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1501640356&sr=1-1&keywords=Tales+From+the+Hanging+Monkey+Vol+Two" target="_blank">BUY IT NOW ON AMAZON.COM!</a></div>
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Official press release:<br />
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MORE <span class="_ pg-1_0"></span>ADVENTURES</div>
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THE SOUTH SEAS<br />
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Airship 27 Productions is happy to announce the release of our second “Tales From The<span style="color: #0000ee;"><u> </u></span>Hanging Monkey” anthology.</div>
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When Irishman Corky O’Brian opened his bar, the Hanging Monkey, on the island of Motugra he had no idea it would become a magnet for some of the most colorful rogues ever to ply their trades in the South Seas. The cast includes his lovely, but deadly Chinese waitress Miko, Khuna the powerful island warrior, sea captain Nick Fortune and pilot Jimmy Dolan.<br />
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Together these five colorful characters fight their way through one breath-taking adventure after another courtesy of writers Bill Craig, J. Walt Layne, Don Gates, Nancy Hansen and Lee Houston Jr. From chasing after a cursed diamond to uncovering the mystery of a lethal mermaid, when you stop in at the Hanging Monkey, there’s no telling what will happen next.<br />
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“Reaction to our first volume was overwhelming positive,” reports Airship 27 Productions Managing Editor Ron Fortier. “Enough so that we knew we had to whip up a second quartet of these fun adventures.” Fortier then recruited professional artist Mike Harris to do the twelve interior illustrations with Award Winning Art Director Rob Davis taking on the cover to complete the project.<br />
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These are old fashion South Seas tales as done New Pulp style with fast paced action amidst tropical sea breezes that will have readers soon clamoring for more…Tales From the Hanging Monkey.<br />
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AIRSHIP 27 PRODUCTIONS – PULP FICTION FOR A NEW GENERATION!</div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1946183210/ref=sr_1_1?%20s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1501640356&sr=1-%201&keywords=Tales+From+the+Hanging+Monkey+Vol+Two" target="_blank">A<span class="_ pg-1_2"></span>vailable now from <span class="_ pg-1_0"></span>A<span class="_ pg-1_3"></span>mazon in paperback and soon on Kindle.</a></div>
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-64194484399247908522016-04-12T00:44:00.000-04:002016-04-12T00:44:28.246-04:00NOW HEAR THIS: "THE ISLE OF BLOOD" IS NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Because this blog is the "red headed stepchild" of my online presence (i.e. the place with the lowest amount of traffic), I nearly overlooked posting some actual news here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">The first bit of news is that through Airship 27's partnership with Radio Archives, CHALLENGER STORM: THE ISLE OF BLOOD has joined the growing list of New Pulp novels to be adapted into an audiobook format! Radio Archives' own Josh Harrison has done a terrific job adapting the book, and <a href="http://www.audible.com/pd/Fiction/Isle-of-Blood-Audiobook/B01DWQ02TW/ref=a_search_c4_1_1_srTtl?qid=1460142578&sr=1-1" target="_blank">it's now available through Audible.com!</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> This was published back in December, and I'm kicking myself for not posting about it here: I have a short-story in the incredible collection LEGENDS OF NEW PULP FICTION! A</span> <span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">benefit project to aid and support writer/editor Tommy Hancock, the book has a staggering sixty (60!) short tales from the cream-of-the-crop of New Pulp writers, covering every genre from horror and adventure to romance and crime. I'm proud to have contributed a story for the book: THE MOTH - GEARS OF BLOOD is the tale of a mysterious vigilante as he stalks the streets of the dieselpunk city of New Aspiria on the hunt for an evil cult and a kidnapped little girl. I cannot urge you enough to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/0692601139" target="_blank">buy a copy of this amazing book!</a></span></div>
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-24541277850256001912015-05-17T22:47:00.001-04:002015-05-17T22:47:37.257-04:00A Last-Ditch Effort...<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm considering closing down the Challenger Storm blog. It's never generated much traffic and I never get any feedback or response to what I've been doing there, and consequently this has contributed to the infrequency of my posts. Keep in mind that I wouldn't stop writing the Storm novels, just ceasing the posting on the blog. There's more interaction and interest on Facebook than on any other platform, frankly, and it's always been that way. I wouldn't rule out doing any other writing blog in the future either, but this thing just feels dead in the water.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Thoughts? Feedback? The sound of crickets?</span>Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-54425779318023345832015-03-28T15:36:00.000-04:002015-03-28T15:45:38.301-04:00Like A Bad Penny, I Always Turn Up<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Why, hello there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Okay, so here I am again, about to apologize for disappearing once more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I'm sorry I dropped off the face of the earth again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Okay, that's out of the way. I'm done with whatever funk I was in that was hindering my productivity. While it was happening, Michael Wm. Kaluta got nominated for the Pulp Factory Awards for his cover art for THE CURSE OF POSEIDON (yayy, Mike!). I'm finally back to writing now, and although my current project isn't Challenger Storm, I will be returning to Storm's adventures soon enough. WHITE HELL is more than half complete, and I'm going to try and get that done in a more timely fashion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">In the meantime, I have enough projects in the works that I will be busy with writing even without the MARDL crew. What those projects are, I still can't discuss, but you'll hear it here first (or on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/don.gates.161" target="_blank">Facebook</a> or <a href="https://twitter.com/MARDLverse" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, whatever... but you'll still hear it here!).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Now, I'm actually asking for some participation from loyal readers and those who care:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I have two features that I've begun for the blog and I need to know which one folks would prefer first: would you be interested in reading more of the web-serial, <a href="http://challengerstorm.blogspot.ca/search/label/The%20Valley%20of%20Fear" target="_blank">THE VALLEY OF FEAR</a>, or would you rather read some behind-the-scenes tidbits in a writer's commentary for Storm #1, THE ISLE OF BLOOD? Personally, I could go either way, but I'd like to know what people would like from me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Remember: as the saying goes, art cannot exist in a vacuum (not that what I do is art, but you know what I'm saying). I don't hear a lot of interaction from people who have checked out my stuff or from a lot of those that have actually read it, so any opinion or feedback would help greatly folks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Thanks, as always!</span><br />
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<br />Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-72030997218840181882014-12-04T12:55:00.002-05:002014-12-04T12:56:26.774-05:00Reviews! We've got Reviews!A pair of CURSE OF POSEIDON reviews greeted me today (sorry I missed these when they came out)!:<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/review/R3HD9GORF5QJ5I/ref=cm_cr_dp_title?ie=UTF8&ASIN=0692266151&channel=detail-glance&nodeID=283155&store=books" target="_blank">Andrew Fix reviews on Amazon.</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.thepulp.net/pulpsuperfan/2014/12/03/challenger-storm-the-curse-of-poseidon/?fb_ref=Default&fb_source=message" target="_blank">Michael Brown's review on The Pulp Super-Fan.</a><br />
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Thanks, guys! Glad you liked the book. :) Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-81466926518185308792014-11-26T21:02:00.000-05:002014-11-26T21:02:09.128-05:00Return to THE ISLE OF BLOOD!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">After a lengthy hiatus, the first Challenger Storm adventure, THE ISLE OF BLOOD, is once again <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Challenger-Storm-Isle-Blood-Don-Gates/dp/0692340785/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1417053178&sr=1-2&keywords=challenger+storm" target="_blank">in print and available</a>! Finally, those who came in late and missed the adventure in "dead tree" format can check it out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Don't forget: THE CURSE OF POSEIDON is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Challenger-Storm-The-Curse-Poseidon-Volume/dp/0692266151" target="_blank">also available</a>. The Adventures of Challenger Storm have just started, and there is more adventure to come. Watch the skies! </span>Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-68278447687942852132014-10-06T15:39:00.003-04:002016-07-13T09:21:07.992-04:00CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 11<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Episode 11: "Escape"</span></div>
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"Man, c'mon. This is cruel and unusual punishment."<br />
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Willy Avis stood at the bars of his cell in Count Zodiac's island castle. He wasn't sure where it was located within the building: he too had been drugged at the lunch table and had woken up in the cell by himself. He had no idea where Clifton Storm or Brock Thurman were. His personal belongings had been left to him but had obviously been rifled through, and even his shoes had been removed and examined. The small wire saw he kept rolled up in his wallet was missing as was his pocket knife and a few other tools he'd kept on him, along with his silver Zippo lighter. He was left with only the wallet and his pack Lucky Strikes, which showed signs that all the cigarettes had been removed, examined, and replaced when they had been found to look normal.<br />
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Across from the barred door to Willy's cell, one of Zodiac's armed guards stood with an impassive face and stared at the captive. He acted like Willy hadn't even addressed him.<br />
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"They left me cigarettes but no lighter or no matches. I know this is a captive situation, but come <i>on</i>..." Willy continued. "I can at least smoke in here, can't I? Whether we get out of this or not, I know that a firing squad might be waiting for me, and at least <i>they</i> let you have a last smoke before they perforate you. So why not now, why not here?"<br />
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The guard shifted his stance against the wall and cleared his throat, looking down the hallway to his left. Willy hoped the shift meant he was chipping away at the guard's patience.<br />
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"Look, I know you can't let me have my lighter in here because you guys are all paranoid that we've got gadgets up our sleeves. And I can also tell that the gadgets I <i>did</i> have have been taken from me. But you left me with my smokes and no way to light up. And I could <i>really</i> use a cigarette right now."<br />
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The guard shifted again and looked the other way, to his right. Willy decided to play up his common bond with the guard.<br />
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"Look, don't lie to me," he told the guard, "I can see the outline of your pack of cigarettes in your breast pocket. I know you know this feeling, when you just feel like you're gonna die if you don't have one. C'mon. Humor me, please. Gimme a light."<br />
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The guard shifted again and sighed. "Okay," he said at last, "I guess I could use a cigarette myself. But make it quick, okay?"<br />
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The guard fished a pack of matches out of his pocket along with his own pack. He checked down the hall again as he stepped forward. Willy grinned as he extracted a cigarette from his Luckies.<br />
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Willy placed the Lucky between his lips and leaned forward. The guard struck the match and held it to then end of Willy's cigarette. The paper and tobacco began to burn.<br />
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"Thanks: you are a lifesaver," Willy told him gratefully. He inhaled deeply through his nose and closed his eyes.<br />
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Then blew out forcefully through his mouth and through the cigarette.<br />
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Willy's exhaled breath forced a powder of magnesium through the faux cigarette's body and out through the burning tip at the end. The white-hot cloud engulfed the guard's head, blinding and burning him. Before the guard could cry out Willy's hands shot through the bars: one gripped the front of the guard's fatigue shirt, the other the back of the guard's head and Willy yanked the guard forward, hard. The guard's head bashed into the iron bars between them, and Willy slammed it again and again into them.<br />
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The guard's weight went slack, unconscious. Willy cracked one eye open: the fast-burning magnesium was fizzling out and the guard's head and hair were smoking. His head was bleeding and his eyes closed. He wasn't dead, but he was out cold and badly burned.<br />
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Willy didn't feel great about tricking the guard the way he did, but it was necessary: he had to get out and try to find the others. They had to take Zodiac down, or at least escape and come back with reinforcements.<br />
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The act had made a lot of noise. Willy listened for approaching footsteps: there were none. He lowered the guard to the ground through the bars, then searched for the keys to the cell. He found them and fished them out of the guard's pocket, then stood and unlocked his cell door. It swung open, creaking slightly. Willy grimaced at the noise and waited for other guards to approach. Once again, there were no others approaching.<br />
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"So far, so good," Willy muttered as he dragged the guard into the cell. He shut the cell door but didn't shut it all the way in case he needed a quicker exit. Willy then stripped the guard of his weapons and uniform.<br />
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Willy was on the thin side so even though the fatigues would be a little large on him they would still fit. The fit wasn't what worried Willy, though: the disguise would only work at a distance. Not only were the neck and shoulders of the fatigues visibly burnt by the magnesium, but Willy himself would be suspect. Simply put, Count Zodiac's home country of Altaveria - where most of his soldiers had been culled from - had little or no black people among its population. Storm's team had seen a lot of Zodiac's guards throughout the castle when they had arrived, and to Willy's memory there hadn't been a single person of color among them, just a lot of white eastern-Europeans. He would have to stay as far away from others' view as he could.<br />
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Willy rapidly dressed the guard in his own clothes and placed him on his bunk, concealing his body just enough so that a casual passerby would recognize Willy's clothes only. He checked the guard's sub machine gun and sidearm (a Finnish Suomi KP/-31 and a Walther P38 respectively, along with several spare drums and clips of ammunition) and then, shutting and locking the cell door behind him, Willy stalked down the corridor to find his friends.<br />
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The lack of windows and the low ceilings tipped Willy off that he was probably underground. He checked his watch and found it to be almost five o'clock PM, but he couldn't tell if it was the same day or not.<br />
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Willy passed cell after empty cell. Zodiac's dungeons were quite empty it seemed, at least here in this section. At the end of the low-ceilinged hall he found a door. He peered through the barred window and saw yet more cells in the hallway beyond, along with the retreating back of another uniformed guard as he made his rounds along his patrol. The guard disappeared around the corner.<br />
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Willy opened the door, holding his breath as it creaked softly in the quiet hall. He moved stealthily along the stone-walled corridor, sweat beading across his brow. As he walked, he passed more cells, this time many of them occupied. In one of them, Willy recognized the face of Billy Hartsell, the actor who was part of Jimmy Keane's ill-fated film shoot. A few of the captives looked to him and started to speak. He silenced them with a finger across his lips as he passed them. Ahead, the guard had stopped and Willy could hear him speaking as he approached the corner:<br />
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"... <i>if</i> Storm's lucky enough to reach the other end of the valley, Count Zodiac says he'll let you and the others go free."<br />
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"That's hokum and you know it," the voice of Brock Thurman retorted. "Your boss is as nutty as they come, but he's twice as crooked and he isn't stupid. There's no way in hell you're gonna let us go and you know it."<br />
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The guard laughed. "Of course: you know that and I know that but Storm doesn't, I'm sure. He's got no choice but to play along. I'll wager your leader is as gullible as you are ugly."<br />
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Brock's sneer was audible. "Tough talk for a guy with guns. Drop your gear and step in here and I'll show you how ugly I can get."<br />
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The guard laughed again. "Right. No thank you. You're good right where you are, caveman."<br />
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The guard chuckled again and turned back the way he'd come. He rounded the corner and came face to face with Willy Avis.<br />
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"Hi," Willy said, and clubbed the guard in the face with the butt of the Suomi. He reeled backward, stunned, and Willy stepped forward, tripping the man and clubbing him again with the gun when he hit the ground. After he let out a ragged groan the guard slipped into unconsciousness.<br />
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Brock looked at him. "Willy, we gotta get these people out of here. Zodiac's got Cliff out there in the jungle in some kinda crooked sick game, and he's not planning on letting anyone go even if Cliff makes it."<br />
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Willy rifled through the keys on the jailer's ring and found one that opened Brock's cell, then the big troubleshooter took the second guard's ring and the pair of them began opening the cells of the other captives.<br />
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"Where's Fay Durning?" Willy asked. "She was among this bunch too, wasn't she?"<br />
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"No, she's always been kept separate," Billy Hartsell spoke up. "We haven't seen her since we were first taken captive."<br />
<br />
The door at the other end of the hall burst open and a trio of Zodiac's guards stood there with their sub machine guns at the ready.<br />
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One of them shouted at the captives. "Surren-!"<br />
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Willy's Suomi blasted, cutting the guard off mid-shout. He went down as his companions began to fire into the group of escapees.<br />
<br />
Brock had snatched up the other guard's weapons & ammunition, and he blasted back at the guards. One of the men crumpled to the ground as he spouted blood. The third had turned and run back the way he came. After several seconds an alarm began clanging throughout the castle.<br />
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"So much for the element of surprise, Willy," Brock grunted. "Let's get these people out of here."<br />
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Willy nodded. "We're gonna need one of those troop trucks outside."<br />
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The two MARDL team members led the group through the winding corridors of the dungeon, coming at last to a narrow staircase leading up to the ground-floor level. A group of Zodiac's soldiers were charging down the steps when the escapees arrived, and Willy and Brock let loose with more gunfire. The first few guards went down but withering fire from the second line of the group sent the troubleshooters and their rescued prisoners scurrying around a corner.<br />
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Brock blindly fired a volley of covering shots around the corner, causing the approaching guards to shrink back. More were coming through the doorway, and more bullets where whining everywhere in the stone-walled hallway.<br />
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Aware of his dwindling ammo, Brock glanced at Willy who crouched next to him. "This is bad, y'know," he said between shots. He glanced upward, over the captives' heads and at a narrow air duct in the corridor's ceiling. "Get them out of here,"<br />
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Willy looked up at the air duct's cover, then at the film crew. They were all men and women of medium build: they could all fit through the duct and get outside that way, or at least get to where they could get out of the castle from there. But Brock would be too big to fit.<br />
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"What about you?"<br />
<br />
A ricochet spanged off the wall above their heads, showering them with bits of splintered rock and dust. "Forget about me," Brock told him. "I've probably got enough ammo to hold them out for a bit longer. You take them away from here and keep your own bullets to yourself, you might need them." Brock grinned his overgrown child's grin. "I'll slow them down and let' em think you've gone ahead. Don't worry, I got this."<br />
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"You playin' the hero, kid?" Willy asked him as he stood up and began loosening the duct cover from the low ceiling.<br />
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"Isn't that our job?" Brock winked back.<br />
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Willy began helping the film crew up into the air duct. It was cramped and they had to crawl along their hands and knees in the dark but they began to move in the direction Willy told them to go, a direction which hopefully would lead them closer to the outside of the castle. All the time the soldiers of Count Zodiac crept closer to the corner that Brock still held. He was running out of time and bullets.<br />
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"If we get out of here, I'm taking them to the village on the other side of the island," Willy Told him. "They won't be safe there for long-"<br />
<br />
"Which is why I'm going to where the <i>Island Girl </i>should've crash-landed," Brock cut him off. "We're gonna need to get some help on this rock, or we're all sunk. Zodiac's got us outnumbered and outgunned."<br />
<br />
"That's <i>if </i>the radio still works," Willy reminded him as he helped the last movie crewman up into the air duct. "Once they're safe at the village I'll go to the crash site myself, in case..." He didn't finish.<br />
<br />
"Don't worry, I'll meet you there!" Brock yelled over the gunfire, which was getting ever closer now. "Now get going, old man!" He fired back a burst from his sub machine gun, and then it clicked on an empty chamber. He'd run dry.<br />
<br />
A fresh drum of ammo from Willy's reserves clattered to the floor beside Brock. He scooped it up and slapped it into the Suomi, and he glanced up just in time to see the duct cover slide back into place in the ceiling over the now empty hall.<br />
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Grinning again, Brock fired another burst of covering fire then ran further down the hall, taking cover behind another corner just before a new burst of fire from his enemies ripped through the air.<br />
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-61681188930553843322014-09-23T11:39:00.000-04:002014-09-23T11:40:50.439-04:00A New Review, and Challenger Storm goes 2 Warps to Neptune<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's nice to see folks are still getting acquainted with Challenger Storm. Without reviews and articles and such, it's hard to see how many people are reading the books or even showing interest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Over on <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>, a new review of THE ISLE OF BLOOD was posted by <a href="http://mannysway.blogspot.ca/" target="_blank">Manny DeJesus</a>. In the spirit of full disclosure, Manny <i>is</i> a friend of mine, but he is a straight-shooter and wouldn't B.S. his way through a review just because of our friendship.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Also of note is a cool little write-up on THE CURSE OF POSEIDON and the resurgence of pulps over at the website <a href="http://2warpstoneptune.wordpress.com/2014/09/19/challenger-storm-the-curse-of-poseidon-by-don-gates-airship-27-productions-2014/" target="_blank">2 Warps to Neptune</a>. This is a great blog, especially if you're of my generation and remember what it was like to "grow up a geek" during the late 70's and the 80's. 2 Warps to Neptune is totally on my wavelength, and is exactly the same kind of blog I would do if I had the time.</span>Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-669067891741441062014-09-10T12:51:00.000-04:002014-09-10T12:51:05.884-04:00I Kicked the Willy Bobo, and Had a Good Time While Doing It<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Greetings: haven't done a blog post in a while, but the writing continues. The road goes ever on and on...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A few days ago I participated in an interview with one of my favorite New Pulp authors, Derrick Ferguson. You can read the interview <a href="http://dlferguson-bloodandink.blogspot.ca/2014/09/kickin-willy-bobo-with-don-gates.html" target="_blank">over here at his blog</a>. When you're done, I urge you to check out Derrick's own writing, especially his <i>incredibly</i> fun Dillon series. Every book is like a summer blockbuster.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And now back to writing...</span>Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-43978857823816661532014-07-31T21:36:00.000-04:002014-11-27T20:09:06.272-05:00THE CURSE OF POSEIDON STRIKES!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">CHALLENGER STORM</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">THE CURSE OF POSEIDON </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Airship 27 Productions is thrilled to announce the release </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">of the second Challenger Storm adventure as written by </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">creator Don Gates and illustrated by award winning artist </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Michael Kaluta.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Challenger Storm’s debut novel, “The Isle of Blood,” was </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">a delight to all pulp fans everywhere,” says Airship 27 </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Managing Editor Ron Fortier. “In Storm, Don Gates has </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">given us a classic pulp hero in the grand tradition of Doc </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Savage, Jim Anthony and Captain Hazzard. Add </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">illustrations and covers by one of the finest artists in </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">the world today and you have a recipe for excellence. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">With “Curse of Poseidon,” Gates and Kaluta have amped up </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">the action and thrills that is sure to thrill our </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">readers.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When several cargo ships begin disappearing on the waters </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">of the Aegean Sea rumors begin to spread about black-</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">armored demons rising up out of the deep. For Challenger </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Storm and his MARDL team, these events hold no particular </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">interest until one of Storm’s troubleshooters, Diana </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">St.Clair, informs him that her former lover, and one-time </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">MARDL scientist, Herbert Chambers is among the missing. </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Later a freakish wave wipes out a small Greek fishing </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">village leaving only a handful of survivors. Is it </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">possible someone has learned how to control the seas to do </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">their bidding? When Storm and his companions arrive at a </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">mid-ocean refueling station, they are attacked by </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">saboteurs wielding bizarre rifles that fire sea-water.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Who is the mysterious figure calling himself Poseidon and </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">what is the secret of his ability to create monstrous </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">tidal waves? Can Challenger Storm find his underwater </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">base in time to stop this mad genius before he rains down </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">more watery destruction upon unsuspecting coastal </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">populations? Is mankind is doomed to be ruled by a new </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">King of the Seas! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here is high-octane pulp adventure on…and below the waves!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Curse of Poseidon” was edited by Fortier with book design </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">by Airship 27 Art Director Rob Davis and is now available </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">in both hard copy and on Kindle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">AIRSHIP 27 PRODUCTIONS – PULP FICTION FOR A NEW </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">GENERATION!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Challenger-Storm-The-Curse-%20%20Poseidon-Volume/dp/0692266151/ref=sr_1_1?%20%20ie=UTF8&qid=1406853164&sr=8-1&keywords=challenger+storm%20%20+don+gates" target="_blank">Available now from Amazon!</a></span>Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-84250022712887713292014-07-29T15:36:00.002-04:002014-07-29T15:36:43.576-04:00A Final Sneak Peek Before The Release...<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Want to see some more of Michael Wm. Kaluta's interior art from the forthcoming "The Curse of Poseidon"? You don't have to wait much longer, but here's a sketch to tide you over. Keep watching for news, coming soon...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-66586738838001676382014-07-22T15:56:00.002-04:002014-07-22T16:00:47.263-04:00Actively Inactive<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">YES, this blog is still active! And <i>I</i> am still active!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I've been busy with Real Life Stuff that's had me drained of a lot of creative drive. Writing has been slow, but it hasn't been non-existant:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Since the last post here, I've written some non-Challenger Storm stuff: I finished one short story to be published in the (hopefully) near future (more info on it when I can give it), I've completed the rough draft of another short story that (I hope) gets picked up for publication... it's very different from the stuff I've written previously and was a lot of fun. I've agreed to work on another project that's far enough down the road I really don't have to worry about it yet. And I've begun work on a dream project that I wouldn't DARE even hint at right now, but trust me: if I can pull this off, it should be a good one. Just reading my outline notes gets me excited to write it. And yes, work on Challenger Storm #3 has been continuing, albeit REALLY slowly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In fact, the branching-out of my writing is making me wonder if I should change this blog from "The Adventures of Challenger Storm" to something more appropriate to all of my writing as a whole. But what would I change it to?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Anyway...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><a href="http://challengerstorm.blogspot.ca/search/label/The%20Valley%20of%20Fear" target="_blank">The web serial</a> will return to this blog soon. I just wish I could get some feedback on it, since so far I don't know if it's going anywhere good for the readers. I've considered stopping it, but I don't really want to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">"And what about THE CURSE OF POSEIDON?" you might be asking. "Shouldn't that be out by now?" Well, yes it probably should but there have been a few delays that were unavoidable and completely valid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Those delays are now far behind us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">For the faithful who still have patience and want to see more Challenger Storm, I say this: watch this space, and/or <a href="https://www.facebook.com/don.gates.161?ref=tn_tnmn" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/MARDLverse" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, or <a href="http://planesdamesandautomatons.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Tumblr</a>... you will see news soon, I promise, hopefully in a few weeks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Trust me: Challenger Storm is far from dead, and will not be a One-Shot Wonder.</span><br />
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-23541050376263691122014-03-03T18:09:00.000-05:002014-03-03T18:09:29.103-05:00It's Coming...<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's been a while since I last posted, and this won't be anything of substance apart from this message:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-67486822563059990092014-01-06T17:01:00.000-05:002014-01-06T17:01:03.426-05:00THE ISLE OF BLOOD, to go!The first Challenger Storm adventure, "The Isle of Blood", is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Challenger-Storm-Blood-Don-Gates-ebook/dp/B00HPZP5TE/ref=sr_1_2_title_0_main?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1389044598&sr=1-2&keywords=challenger+storm" target="_blank">now available on Kindle</a>! Relive the adventure while "The Curse of Poseidon" prepares to be unleashed!Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-22748612888544258292013-12-09T13:04:00.001-05:002016-07-13T09:01:06.151-04:00CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 10<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Episode 10: "Ramming Speed"</span></div>
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The drone of the cicadas was deafening. The jungle was alive with the sound, and it pressed into Storm and Fay's ears like an irritating liquid.</div>
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"I wish those heat-bugs would shut up," Fay murmured. It was the first words she had spoken since they had escaped the Pisces Pool. She and Storm had been walking through the jungle for almost an hour, following the trail along the bottom of the valley. Their clothes had rapidly dried in the heat, but the temperature and humidity soon brought sweat to their skin, soaking their clothes yet again.<br />
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Storm looked at her and smiled a little. He had been worried about her since they had nearly been killed for the second time that day. Fay was a headstrong woman, maybe even stubborn in her toughness, but she wasn't used to having her life threatened like this. The return of her ornery attitude gave him some hope that she was holding her own.<br />
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"Look at this one," Storm said to Fay as he held up a silver bicycle horn with a black rubber bulb. He squeezed it lightly and it gave a soft honk. Storm grinned.<br />
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Fay giggled a little bit. "What're you, Harpo Marx?" She smiled back.<br />
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They had been going through the contents of Storm's utility harness as they walked. Ever since Storm had discovered a rock in its pouches instead of one of his concussion grenades he'd been discovering that it didn't just end there: all of his gadgets and weaponry had been removed from the harness and replaced with random items. He had found several more rocks, along with a salt shaker, a small statue of a deer, golf balls, an ash tray, a heavy spoon, the bicycle horn, and various other odds and ends. Beside his missing gadgetry, Storm's trusty Mauser was gone as well as the ammunition and his pair of knives. Everything that Storm could use as a weapon had been taken and replaced with other items of approximate size and weight.<br />
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The pair was silent for a while longer as they trudged along the valley floor. The jungle was thickening, and there was no choice for them other than following the trail. Storm wished he had a machete to hack away at the growth around them. Following the path made him nervous: there was no way they could avoid whatever traps Count Zodiac had waiting for them, and they had to make it to the other end of the valley as part of the villain's sick "game".<br />
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The path rose up from the jungle, following the left side of the valley. They had no canopy of leaves over their heads now, and the sunlight blazed down upon them. The jungle dropped away to their right and they were able to look out over the tops of the trees below. The drop was at least a hundred feet down to the bottom of the valley.<br />
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Fay spoke up finally and broke the silence between them. "So I guess we're in for more horoscope-themed traps, huh? It's like something from a bad serial."<br />
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"Ha, yeah, I'm afraid so." Storm thought a moment. "He started us with Aquarius and that led us to Pisces. I don't know if that was an isolated case or not, but he might be doing them in order. If that's the case, Aries is next."<br />
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"What's that, a ram?"<br />
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Storm nodded. "That's right. I'm an Aries, myself, and Zodiac knows it. I'm hoping he's not planning something extra-special for that one." Storm lowered his voice in the possible presence of Zodiac's microphones listening in. "What he doesn't know is that I was born right on the cusp, during the vernal equinox." He chuckled. "He's so hung up on astrology that it'd drive him nuts if he knew."<br />
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Fay laughed. "I'm a Virgo," she told him. "That's 'the virgin', of course... can't wait to see how he works <i>that</i> into a deathtrap."<br />
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The two of them laughed again. Their laughter died at the sound of approaching growl. The sound grew into the roar of an engine; it was ahead and off to the left, through a gap in the valley wall that was overgrown with vines and branches. There was a tunnel there, camouflaged by the foliage.<br />
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Suddenly a weird vehicle burst out of the tunnel, a heavy truck of some kind with armored sides, thick wheels adorned with spiked hubcaps, and a shuttered pilot's cabin. Mounted on the front of this monstrous truck was a huge metallic ram's-head.<br />
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As soon as the Aries truck hit the trail ahead of them, it charged straight for Storm and Fay. It was tremendously fast as it bore down on them.<br />
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Storm grabbed Fay and flung the two of them to the ground, just as the ram's-head shot forward on a hydraulic piston. If he had hesitated a microsecond, the ram would have brutally collided with one or both of them.<br />
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Springing to his feet as the Aries truck sped by them, Storm yanked Fay Durning to her feet. The truck was already turning again toward them: on the narrow path along the valley, the vehicle had a remarkably tight turning radius. The battering-ram was retracting, coiling for another strike.<br />
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A noise from the tunnel caught Storm's ear. Glancing to the side he saw heavy steel doors sliding into position behind what was left of the camouflaging vegetation. They were down by an exit option, still on Zodiac's playing field.<br />
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The menacing vehicle was speeding toward them now. "When I give the word," Storm told Fay, "you jump right, toward those rocks. Climb as high as you can up on top of them."<br />
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The Aries truck bore down on them, almost within the battering-ram's reach.<br />
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"<i>Now!</i>"<br />
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Storm leaped to the left, ensuring that the driver would be able to see his jump through the slit opening in the truck's windshield armor. Fay jumped to the right and scrambled up the rocks against the hillside. She climbed up the stones as best as she could.<br />
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The Aries truck turned right to follow Storm when he jumped, as he knew it would: when given a choice, the driver would have chosen Storm as the prime target.<br />
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Inside the vehicle, the driver spun the vehicle and glared out the thin viewport before him. Storm had disappeared. He drove the Aries in angry circles, frantically searching for Storm or the actress. His eyes caught the green of Fay's dress against the rocks of the hillside. The driver grinned and spun the Aries toward the spot she was perched upon. The ram wouldn't be able to hit her, but it would make short work of the rocks she was crouching on. The driver stamped on the accelerator, and the actresses eyes widened in fear.<br />
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Suddenly the driver's vision was blotted out.<br />
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Storm had climbed onto the Aries truck after leaping out of the way and had scrambled up onto the roof of the vehicle. As it had begun its charge toward Fay Durning, the vehicle had passed under some low-hanging branches. Storm had broken two of these branches free and wedged them into the slit-opening the driver used to see out of. The leaves were thick and full, and they obscured the driver's vision completely. The driver was blinded, but he didn't turn his vehicle.<br />
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"Jump!" Storm yelled to Fay, and she threw herself off the pile of rocks just before the battering-ram pistoned out and struck them. The rocks shattered into bits of debris and dust as Storm dropped flat onto the truck's roof and held on with his hands and legs. The armored truck itself struck the hillside wall right after, and Storm was nearly thrown forward off the roof. The collision jolted the truck to a stop.<br />
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Fay had managed to land in some scrub bushes that had broken her fall a little, and she stood up as the Aries truck's driver threw the vehicle into reverse. The blonde woman hid herself behind the bushes as the it began to spin wildly, trying to throw Storm off the roof. Storm clung to the truck as it spun crazily in circles. The driver's efforts were throwing it in random directions, widening rings. Dust clouds were rising into the air.<br />
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Suddenly Storm saw the vehicle's trajectory was heading right for the lip of the valley. From there, a drop of at least 200 feet was waiting. Releasing his hold, Storm rolled off the roof of the truck as it headed in the opposite direction, toward certain doom.<br />
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Storm hit the ground and sprang to his feet as the Aries hit the edge of the drop-off. At the last second, the driver spun the wheel to the right and the left side tires slid out, over the edge.<br />
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The truck stopped. It teetered on the edge of the valley, rocking gently, more and more toward the empty space below it. Storm and Fay watched and held their breath.<br />
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Then, just as the truck began to slowly tip into the fall that would take it down into the valley, the armored passenger door flew open. The helmeted form of Zodiac's lieutenant, Taurus, jumped from the Aries truck as it fell from the edge of the valley.<br />
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Taurus' feet hit the ground, and he brought up his war mace. Electricity raced along the mace's striking surfaces. From inside the helmet, Taurus' eyes flashed hatefully at Storm through the narrow slit. There was a few seconds of silence as the two faced off.<br />
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Then, as if it was a signal, the sound of a tremendous crash as the dead Aries truck hit the valley floor and rolled to a stop.<br />
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With a battle cry, Taurus brandished his weapon and charged toward Storm...<br />
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-8315813831618904592013-10-10T19:47:00.000-04:002013-10-10T19:47:52.075-04:00An excerpt from "Challenger Storm: The Curse of Poseidon"<div style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It was now well past midnight. Most of the crew of the <i>Independence</i> had settled into bed, leaving the ship’s nighttime skeleton-crew to their posts. The after-hours radio man, Horton, sat at his post with earphones clamped to his head. He repeatedly tossed a baseball into the air with his right hand and caught it with the catcher’s mitt on his left, all the while staring at the ceiling. The night was, as usual, dull and uneventful. The only sound in his headphones was the soft static of the quiet sea as his advanced radio-set automatically scanned through the frequencies.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Suddenly a noise blasted through the static: a staccato burst of rapidly-tapped Morse code beeps, beginning with the repeated pattern“… --- …”: “S.O.S.”. Hurriedly, Horton ripped off his catcher’s mitt and left the baseball bouncing forgotten on the floor, and he began to jot down the distress message pouring through the aether…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sometime later, the massive doors on the <i>Independence</i> rolled open to reveal the ship’s flooded and ready docking-bay. A floatplane was the first to emerge from inside the huge vessel: the aircraft was a small and fast two-person plane armed with a machine-gun turret. After taxiing out into open-water, it picked up speed before lifting off from the water and heading into the west. From the cockpit of the craft, a yellow scarf fluttered in the wind; the helmeted and goggled visage of Diana St. Clair watched the dark waves below as she headed off toward the rough coordinates provided by the frantic distress-call.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The plane was followed soon after by a small and swift boat bearing a boarding party. From the bow of the craft, Clifton Storm led his party of adventurers out into the black night in search of what could be the latest victims of Poseidon’s curse. In his mind, the frantic last words of the distress message replayed themselves: “They want the ship… they want us…!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">From the air, the Aegean Sea was a vast and impenetrable table of blackness. Diana and her gunner scanned the waves as they got closer to the area that the signal had originated from. Their eyes were only met with darkness until at last the tiny glimmer of lights winked at them feebly from below. It was a small cargo steamer, an old rust-bucket of a ship. Circling the craft, they peered at it through the night:it seemed to be deserted, and no motion could be seen from the ship.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“We might be too late, Cliff,” she called into the radio’s microphone after she announced their location to Storm and his party. “This tub looks deserted.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Keep circling, Diana, we’re almost there.” Storm had the boat’s pilot adjust their course accordingly and he performed a last-minute gear-check. The party was outfitted with thick pea-coats against the strangely chilly night, but it wasn’t the temperature that iced Storm’s senses on this mission. Worry gnawed at his insides, along with a tingly feeling… He wasn’t sure if it was the mystery of what they were headed toward or whether it was something else… Rather than dismiss it, he held onto that feeling: sometimes his instincts helped to keep him sharp and had kept him alive on more than one occasion. His quiet energy increased, like a jungle-cat poised to strike…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When the speedy boat arrived they could see the dim glimmer of lights and could confirm what Diana had reported: nothing moved on the ship’s deck, and it drifted on the dark waves with no direction and no hand to helm it. The MARDL craft heaved-to on the boat’s port-side and the crew attached boarding-ladders to it. Storm, Brock, and a team of five other crew-members from the <i>Independence</i> climbed aboard and began to fan out across the deck. They began a search of the craft, Tommy guns at the ready for the first sign of trouble. Meanwhile, Diana’s plane continued to circle in the dark overhead as the boarding-party scoured the drifting steamer. No identification was evident so far on board- the craft didn’t even have a name, it seemed. It was a nondescript ghost-ship.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The group split up and moved throughout the ship, checking the cabins, galley, store-rooms… nothing turned up beside more emptiness. There were very little furnishings too, as though the ship had hardly ever been occupied in the first place.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“It’s all clear up here,” Storm announced finally. “We’re going below deck.” With that, they began to file down the stairs to the next level of the small steamship…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Although she wasn't onboard the derelict with Storm, Diana St. Clair was feeling anxious for the boarding-party. The eeriness of the situation was getting to her, and the long stretch of radio-silence wasn’t helping. Impatiently, she checked her gauges for what seemed to be the hundredth time… She was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder as her gunner attempted to get her attention. He pointed, and she returned her eyes to the waves below: something odd was occurring. A strange fog was beginning to sprout up all around the ship. In moments, the strange mist thickened enough that she could just barely make out the glow of the crafts’ lights.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Diana clicked on the plane’s searchlight and swiveled it to cast its beam onto the Aegean. The strange fog blocked the light, however, and she could no longer see the boats below at all. She grabbed the radio’s mic. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Tyner,” she called to the speedboat’s pilot. “Tyner, what’s going on with all that fog?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Silence was her only answer. Diana tried to hail Tyner again; far below and within the fog, her voice crackled unheard from the speakers of the boat’s radio. Tyner, a hardily-built sailor,slumped unmoving in front of the radio set. With blank and glazing eyes he sat dead, a deep and ragged wound oozing blood from his back…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Storm and his crew descended the steps and entered the boat’s engine room. The throbbing boiler and engine gave the men a little comfort: obviously it had been occupied relatively recently, and this knowledge helped alleviate some of the strange feelings of isolation and abandonment that was onboard. They hoped to find someone here, some remnants of the boat’s crew. They checked the chamber thoroughly and found yet again no sign of the ship’s inhabitants.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">After their repeated non-discoveries, they made their way at last to the final place they hadn’t yet checked: the cargo hold. The door, they found, was unlocked and they steeled themselves for what they might find inside. Stepping cautiously into the hold, they found the lights weren’t working in the room, and they had to resort to clicking their flashlights on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Yellow beams feebly pierced the dusty blackness of the hold to reveal the space to be nearly empty. At the far end of the hold sat the large humped shapes of a fewcrates. The group made their way forward, feeling the failure of what they had hoped would be a rescue mission. They hoped that at least the crates may hold some contents, some clue of what the ship had been hauling, and maybe who the crew may have been…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A sound, faint but insistent, came to Storm’s ears. He stopped, straining to hear it among the footsteps of his comrades: it was a strange, rhythmic sound: a hiss followed by an expulsion of air, accompanied by a faint gurgling. It sounded almost like… breathing. If it was breathing, then it wasn’t human, and it sounded like there was more than one source to this sound.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Suddenly from around the crates hulking black shapes appeared in the struggling beams of the crews’ flashlights. The dimly-seen forms crouched menacingly and raised their weapons at the crew from the <i>Independence</i>...</span></div>
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<strong>Below are Micheal Kaluta's sketches that accompany this scene from the book: from the original concept sketch, through refinement and completion.</strong></div>
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-74757889742137542082013-10-10T13:57:00.001-04:002013-10-10T14:16:53.198-04:00"The Curse of Poseidon": A Peek at the Artwork!Here is a sneak-peek at some of Michael Wm Kaluta's interior illustrations for the second Challenger Storm novel, "The Curse of Poseidon"! Wait until you see what else we have in store for you, folks!<br />
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Stay tuned later today for more behind the scenes artwork, plus an excerpt from the novel itself!</div>
<br />Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-60966085502941506322013-09-25T11:27:00.001-04:002014-10-01T16:54:53.802-04:00Busy busy busy...Lest I be forgotten, I'm just sending out this broadcast to let everyone know I'm still here. Rumors of Challenger Storm's demise are greatly exaggerated: book #2 ("The Curse of Poseidon") is still in the works and will be well worth the wait. The Storm serial ("The Valley of Fear") is stalled temporarily but will also return. I'm hoping that somebody is reading it and enjoying it: it's an experiment that is, so far, without results. Nobody has told me they hate it yet, but nobody has said they like it either. There's some likes on Facebook when a new episode is posted, but that's about it. Not to beat an aviation metaphor into the ground but not only am I flying by the seat of my pants with the serial, I'm also without instruments and my visibility is zero.<br />
<br />
I feel guilty about not being able to write much, largely because I spend all day in front of my computer while working. See, I work at home, in front of my home computer, with all my half-developed writings staring at me and I can't work on them. My job keeps me way too busy to develop the focus and concentration needed to write coherently, and if I <i>do</i> get a spare minute to myself, it's so short that it's usually just a comment on Facebook or a quick tweet on Twitter, whatever. Even this posting here is on borrowed time: system issues are keeping me down temporarily, and since I know it won't be for long, here I am with my hat in my hand to beg forgiveness for Don the Slowpoke.<br />
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I haven't been completely inactive during my silence however: since my last post a huge chunk of writer's block on a different project has fallen away, and since the project has been gestating so long I've felt it necessary to spend every spare minute I get to write toward completing it. Nothing official to announce yet, but it's a short story (which is a monumental task to a glacially-paced writer such as myself) that hopefully will be appearing in an anthology next year. The main characters are not mine, nor is the setting, and at first I found that to be terrifying. For a long time (too long to contemplate without embarrassment) I found myself struggling with story ideas, plot seeds, and the general task of taking on someone else's baby. I'd think about it, make some notes, then say a curse word or two and lock it away for a while because it was going nowhere. Then recently, out of nowhere, I opened a notepad file on my laptop and pounded the keys furiously. At the end of that session was a full outline of something that I <i>didn't</i> completely hate and that I thought could be workable. You know what? I've been having a blast on this thing. I've been working on it for a few hours every week since then and I guess I'm nearly finished: target word-count is 15,000, and currently I'm at 12,340. If anything, it may go <i>over</i> the targeted number of words. That would be a first for me: usually I come out under the word-count I'm shooting for. How short? The first draft of "The Isle of Blood" was short by three chapters. The parts I added (the shootout chapters at the hotel and the framing device with the government agent) are actually among my favorite parts now. There's serendipity for you (and I'm feeling good now because I got to type "serendipity"... it's one of my favorite words).<br />
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So as I wrap up this post and prepare to... er, post it, I want to thank anyone who's stuck by me and has maintained interest in what I'm doing. It means more to me than you'll ever know, and I'm looking forward to getting back in the game. I've got a good feeling that if I can pull off the next Storm novel effectively, it'll be the best one yet.<br />
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Thanks again, and watch the skies.<br />
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<br />Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-1675447739283052812013-07-18T21:54:00.001-04:002016-07-13T08:38:04.911-04:00CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 9<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">(NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Episode 9: "Gone Fishing"</span></div>
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Storm kept as still as possible, freezing as soon as he felt the large shape brush his leg beneath the surface. Across the pool, Fay Durning was treading water as she swam toward the shore. She was muttering about the fact that they yet again had to swim.<br />
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"Fay,” Storm said calmly, "Get out of the water."<br />
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"What do you think I'm doing?" Fay shot back over her shoulder. "I'm getting waterlogged." The actress reached the shallows.<br />
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Suddenly, iron bars shot out of the bottom of the pool's perimeter shallows. The bars extended seven feet above the pool's surface, and were too close together for anyone to squeeze through. They were trapped, caged in.<br />
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"Oh, come on! This guy has gone to ridiculously serious lengths to kill you... to kill us! What did you ever do to him?"<br />
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"It's a long story, and it's complicated," Storm replied. "Right now we need to worry about what's in the pool with us."<br />
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"And what is in the pool with- <i>What the hell was that?!</i>" Fay cried out. She felt it too, the same thing Storm did moments earlier, as something muscular and scaly bumped against her shin.<br />
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"Stay calm, and stay there in the shallows, as far to the edge as you can get," Storm told her. The water was deep and dark, and he peered intently at its surface, waiting to catch a glimpse of what was lurking beneath the surface of the pool...<br />
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In a control room situated off the side of his throne room within the castle, the bearded face of Count Zodiac was lit by a pale yellow-green light as he gazed down into a glass view-screen. Before him was the image of Clifton Storm and Fay Durning as they sought for a way out of the Pisces Pool.<br />
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Zodiac grinned: he had expended a lot of time and resources wiring the castle, the valley, and its death-traps with hidden television cameras and microphones in preparation of Storm's ensnarement, and he was not about to let all the planning and designing go to waste.<br />
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He removed his hand from the switch it had been resting on- the one that had released the perimeter fence around the pool- and moved it to another one nearby. His pets were merely curious now... in a moment they would be ravenous.<br />
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With his eyes glued to the monitor, Zodiac laid his finger upon the second switch...<br />
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As Storm and Fay watched the water around themselves intently, something at the corner of their eyes tugged at their vision. There had been a muted hiss, loud enough to be barely heard over the noise of the waterfall. As they looked toward the sound, their vision travelled up the waterfall until they could see the source of the noise: a wide ribbon of deep crimson was being pumped out, running from the rock behind the waterfall. It mingled with the clear falling water, paling into a pinkish hue as it tumbled into the pool at the bottom of the falls.<br />
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“What’s that?” Fay breathed, only half-wanting the answer. “Oh God, mister, what is that?”<br />
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Storm was slowly coming closer to where Fay huddled at the edge of the pool. “I’m pretty sure it’s blood,” he said evenly.<br />
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“Dammit, don’t say that!” Fay shot back.<br />
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“Well, you asked. I’m not going to sugar-coat it. Probably animal blood.”<br />
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“Why…” Fay was cut off by another bump beneath the water, more harsh this time.<br />
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“Don’t move,” Storm told her, close enough to touch her. His eyes peered at the surface of the water, attempting to bore into its depths.<br />
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There was another movement at Fay’s knees. She gasped.<br />
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Storm shot an arm out in a flat-handed strike, cleaving the water like the head of a spear. He struck something hard and muscular, scaly. The predator beneath the surface recoiled from the strike, and a flat, finned tail snapped up from the water momentarily. The webbed fin was over three feet wide at the end, and there were some kind of barbs trailing from it.<br />
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Fay shrieked. She stumbled back, and collided with another sinewy shape that had crept up behind them. A face burst from the water, sharp-fanged and goggle-eyed and framed with leathery gills. The fishy countenance lunged at the blonde actress.<br />
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Storm’s hands were in motion already, snatching the creature by the bony underside of its jaw. He pivoted and threw the creature over his shoulder and back, using the momentum of its strike to launch it through the air and past them toward the center of the pool. The creature’s long, eel-like body was adorned with spiny fins, and it thrashed as it flew through the air before landing with a splash into the blood-churned water.<br />
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Fay climbed up onto Storm’s back, her scrambling hands covering his eyes, furiously climbing over his face and trying to find something to hold onto. One of her elbows found its way around his throat and squeezed as she tried to hang on to him.<br />
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“Oh God, oh God, oh God, what was that?” she babbled as she climbed.<br />
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“Fish,” he gagged out, “Big fish. You have to get off of me.” His eyes were riveted on the pair of spiny fins that broke the water and began to head back toward them.<br />
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“Pisces, I guess,” she stammered. “This guy doesn’t break character, huh?”<br />
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“No, not often, so there’s probably going to be only two of them if he’s being true to his astrology.” Storm peeled Fay off his shoulders and set her shivering form on her feet.<br />
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The pair of fish hadn’t struck again yet, but they were undoubtedly circling the pair in preparation. The scent of blood was driving them to hunt and feed. “Look, just grab one of those fence bars and try to climb it,” Storm told Fay as he peered at the water. He reached into one of the pouches of his utility harness: he was still surprised that Count Zodiac hadn't removed his gadgets from him when he had drugged him and thrown him into captivity with the actress.<br />
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“What are you doing?” Fay asked him as she began trying to climb the slippery iron bar nearest to her.<br />
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“I’m going to set off a concussion grenade in the water, if we can get out of it long enough to avoid the blast. It should make short work of…” He stopped speaking, eyes slowly widening.<br />
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“What? What?!” she demanded, slipping back down the bar and into the water again.<br />
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He held up an object from the pocket of his harness and turned toward her. It wasn’t a grenade.<br />
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It was a rock.<br />
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Before Fay could say anything, one of the monstrous fish leaped out of the water, its dinner-plate sized mouth closed down around Storm’s forearm. He gritted his teeth in pain as the razor teeth sliced into his flesh, and the force of the creature colliding with him knocked him down into the water. Fay’s scream muffled in Storm’s ear as he was dragged under.<br />
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Beneath the surface, the fish’s teeth held and he swam with Storm’s arm clenched in his jaws. The beast dragged the adventurer along as he swam. Storm had sucked a rapid breath into his lungs before the fish struck, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Around them, the water was turning red, this time from Storm’s own bloody wounds.<br />
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As he was being carried along by the predator, Storm could see behind the fish and through the murky water, and could barely glimpse the monstrous face of the second fish trailing them. It was following the scent of his fresh blood. There was going to be a feeding frenzy with him as the target unless he could act, and he’d have to act soon.<br />
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Reaching around the fish’s head to the other side, his fingers sought the tender flesh of the creature’s gills. He found the leathery flap that protected them, and he struggled to worm his fingers into the space behind it.<br />
The fish knew he was trying to hurt it, and it dove down deeper into the pool, over twenty feet down. Behind them, the other fish followed them, slavering for the taste of Storm’s leaking blood.<br />
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Storm’s fingers touched the soft gills of the beast that was carrying him down, and he thrust them inside, grabbing a handful of the tender flesh. He twisted and pulled hard.<br />
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The fish released Storm’s arm and struck out in pain and rage at the hand that had grabbed his gills, but Storm had already changed position. He still gripped the rock that he found in his utility pouch: Storm wrapped his wounded arm around the powerful creature’s neck and drove the rock into the beast’s eye with the other arm. He twisted it, endeavoring to mangle the vicious fish’s eye-socket as much as possible. A ribbon of blood, a twin to the bleeding trail from the torn gills, burst from the socket, and with that Storm kicked free, swimming up toward the surface as the pursuing fish closed in upon the wounded creature below.<br />
<br />
Storm broke the surface of the water and gasped deeply, but he couldn’t rest yet. Behind him the water suddenly churned with the fighting of the two water-monsters: one tried to feed on another, who in-turn lashed out violently to protect himself. The desperate clashing stirred the pool into bloody waves, and Storm stroked through the water toward Fay Durning and the iron fence at the edge. Reaching the actress, he turned and the pair of them looked toward the violent frenzy in the pool. Gore began to appear in the water, and Fay buried her face in Storm’s chest to shut out the sight. He held her tightly.<br />
<br />
After several minutes, the fight calmed and eventually ceased. Both of the strange, monstrous fish lay floating and still upon the surface of the pool. The creature that grabbed Storm had been partially eaten by his twin, but not before he had delivered mortal wounds to his attacker who ended up bleeding to death.<br />
<br />
The pool was quiet now, save for the sound of the waterfall and Fay’s quiet sobbing. Storm still held her against his chest. Rage boiled within Storm, and he tried hard to focus away from the anger as his martial arts teachers had instructed him.<br />
<br />
“Zodiac!” he shouted at last, “I know you’re watching this! We’ve won this round, this little trap of yours. The game goes on now, according to your rules. Let us out of this pool… <i>now!</i>”<br />
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Within the control room, Zodiac glared at the monitor screen. Storm, bloodied but triumphant, held the girl in the chest-high water and shouted toward the sky. He was trapped there in the pool for the moment. Zodiac could so easily just shoot Storm; end this all with a bullet in the head. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel. The pun wasn’t lost on Zodiac, of course: the second of his astrological traps had not succeeded. The fish of Pisces had failed to bring down their prey and had been maneuvered into killing each other instead. The trap had been a disaster, but there were others… the stars decreed that the zodiacal game should go on. There could be no way to stop the wheel of stars from turning, and no way to keep this fate from running its course.<br />
<br />
Trembling with rage, unable to ignore the course he had been set upon, Count Zodiac slammed his fist down upon the fence-switch. The iron bars slid down back into their housings beneath the water’s surface, and on the monitor Clifton Storm and Fay Durning turned away and climbed together from the bloody Pisces Pool.</div>
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-41548042817652238732013-06-28T11:17:00.001-04:002013-07-02T23:26:11.570-04:00Still Here<br />
<ul>
<li>Artwork for "Curse of Poseidon" nearing completion.</li>
<li>Progress on "White Hell" hit some snags, hoping to start again soon.</li>
<li>New chapter of "The Valley of Fear" coming ASAP.</li>
<li>Rode in an Avro Lancaster bomber last weekend, here's a pic:</li>
</ul>
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See you soon. Be good to yourselves.</div>
Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-878521163963041822013-03-19T09:54:00.000-04:002013-07-09T16:31:07.869-04:00Stuff, Odds, and EndsIt's been a while since I last posted anything here. There's been some scheduling changes, some things have taken a temporary backseat, while other things have taken the forefront and demanded more time. That's the way life is, though, and apart from being less productive than I'd like to be, writing-wise, I suppose I can't complain. I'm still getting adjusted to the move from Florida to Canada and all the red-tape hijinks and cultural-adjustment follies that come with such a move. Then there's this weird stuff I've been seeing here: it's white and fluffy and falls from the sky, then collects on the ground only to melt and make things icy and slippery. It's called "snow", I think. Ever heard of it?<br />
<br />
Anyway, since my last posting I've been working on the third Challenger Storm novel ("White Hell"): I'm about 10,000 words in and I've only just begun chapter 4 so I think I'm doing good so far. Maybe not: my writer friends probably read that word-count and scoffed. For me, that's pretty good, though. I've got a good feeling about this one, and shortly after finishing this post I'll be working on the book some more.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://challengerstorm.blogspot.ca/search/label/The%20Valley%20of%20Fear" target="_blank">"The Valley of Fear"</a> web serial isn't dead, just on a little hold for a while. I won't leave you (and Storm & friends) hanging for too much longer, but when I'm given the time and opportunity to work on the book I go for it.<br />
<br />
The second Storm adventure, "The Curse of Poseidon", is still in production, and once again in the awesomely skilled hands of <a href="http://www.kaluta.com/" target="_blank">Michael Kaluta</a> now. I've seen the rough sketches for the interior illustrations and I'm again blown away: not only does the artwork reflect the action and hardware in this tale, it also occasionally pauses to give a nice glimpse of the quiet moments between the bullets. I think- no, I <i>know </i>you'll love it.<br />
<br />
What else? Let's see... Oh, I've taken the plunge (again) and <a href="https://twitter.com/MARDLverse" target="_blank">I'm on Twitter now</a> (as well as still on Facebook <a href="http://www.facebook.com/don.gates.161" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/ChallengerStorm" target="_blank">here</a>, of course). If you haven't already stop by to say "hi", though I warn you that the stream-of-consciousness nature of social media often causes me to just talk about or post the most banal stuff in addition to talking about writing. In other words: I ramble and babble a bit sometimes. Like I'm doing right now, I guess.<br />
<br />
I haven't had my coffee yet today, okay?<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm going to close this post with <a href="http://www.britishfantasysociety.co.uk/reviews/challenger-storm-the-isle-of-blood-by-don-gates-book-review/" target="_blank">a new review of "The Isle of Blood"</a> over at the British Fantasy Society. David Brzeski had some really nice things to say about the book, and I'm glad to see it's being enjoyed "across the pond", too.<br />
<br />
Now, about that coffee...Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-58484116921822394532013-02-03T18:14:00.000-05:002016-07-13T08:30:06.127-04:00CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 8<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">(NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Episode 8: "The Same Deep Water as You"</span><br />
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Storm made another circuit of the room, inspecting the walls closer now. At his legs, the icy water splashed and lapped at the concrete cylinder around them.<br />
<br />
The blonde woman watched him as he walked sloshing through the room. The water was rapidly getting deeper, rising above their knees. "Well, you're awfully calm about all this," she said with panic creeping slightly into her tone.<br />
<br />
"I'm thinking," he snapped tersely. Then his voice softened. "You shouldn't be here. I'm sorry you're in this with me," he said gently.<br />
<br />
"No offense, but I am too," she said back. Then she snapped her fingers. "You!"<br />
<br />
"Huh?" He looked at her quizzically.<br />
<br />
"You! You're that guy that's in the papers sometimes, the one that helps people and has all those scientists on his payroll... whatsisname? Conqueror Strom!" She grinned.<br />
<br />
"It's actually <i>Storm</i>," Storm replied, "'Challenger' Storm is what they call me in the news. But please- <i>please</i>- call me Cliff."<br />
<br />
"Okay then, Cliff: how are we going to get out of here?" she asked him. The water was now nearly at her throat, rising faster than they originally thought it would.<br />
<br />
"I'm working on it," Storm said, looking up at the roof high above them. "Can you swim?"<br />
<br />
The blonde scoffed. "'Can you swim?', he asks me," she shook her head. "I should say so: I was part of Billy Rose's Aquacade before I went to Hollywood."<br />
<br />
It was Storm's turn to recognize her. He did a double-take, seeing her face again, but really seeing it for the first time. "You're Fay Durning," he said to the actress. <br />
<br />
She smiled for a second, the habitual response overriding her fear for a fleeting moment. "That's right. I'd shake your hand but I've begun to tread water now," she said. Indeed, the water was high enough now that the duo's feet were off the bottom of the room. The chilly water was rising, and fast.<br />
<br />
"I heard a woman screaming out there in the jungle, before Zodiac brought us to his castle," Storm remembered aloud. "That was you, Miss Durning? Are you okay?"<br />
<br />
She laughed. "You heard that too, huh? Yeah, that was me... but it wasn't <i>me</i>, it was audio that was recorded for the film we were making with that rat Jimmy Keane. Zodiac's men took it out into the jungle with them. They had a loudspeaker mounted on a truck."<br />
<br />
Storm rolled his eyes. "I knew it sounded familiar. He played us for suckers, trying to lure us with that screaming."<br />
<br />
"The movie rags say I'm the 'Queen of Scream', Fay said proudly, despite the situation around her. "My claim to fame, apparently."<br />
<br />
The water had risen to nearly half the height of the chamber by now. Storm swam down to the bottom of the room, which was now lighted as well, to ensure there was no way out they had missed. There wasn't. The cylindrical concrete walls were smooth and unbroken, apart from the nozzles for the jets of water near the floor.<br />
<br />
Swimming back to the top, his head broke the surface and as he shook the water from his face, something caught his eye near the top of the room, something he hadn't noticed before when he and Fay were at the bottom of the room.<br />
<br />
The protuberances that were jutting slightly out of the walls that they had seen were levers set almost flush with the concrete. Next to each lever was some kind of symbol carved into the wall. Now that they were closer to the top, he could almost make them out.<br />
<br />
Fay noticed him examining the walls closer. "What is it?" the actress asked him.<br />
<br />
"I don't know, but it might be a way out," Storm replied. "I'm sure that Count Zodiac has no intentions on actually letting us go. But he's going to play with us first- his ego is his downfall- and if we play along smartly enough we could just beat him at his game."<br />
<br />
The water was now about level with the bottom row of the levers, which were staggered around and up and down the wall near the top of the room. From the floor the carvings next to each lever had been almost invisible but now that they were almost on the level with the carvings, it was apparent to Storm what they were.<br />
<br />
The carvings were zodiacal symbols, and each was on its own door, set flush with the walls of the chamber.<br />
<br />
"They're doors," Fay said, and before Storm could stop her she swam to the nearest one, which was Capricorn. Bracing her feet against the wall, she pulled the lever down.<br />
<br />
The door opened smoothly on its hinges, and unleashed a torrent of water into the room. The rushing liquid hit the actress in the face, knocking her back and into Storm's arms. The water level rose now, even faster than before, magnified by the water rushing from the open door.<br />
<br />
"Well, I won't do that again," Fay said, sputtering water out along with her words, as Storm swam over to the now submerged lever next to the Capricorn hatch. He dove under and tried to pull the lever up, bracing his feet on the wall and pulling with all his strength. It was no good. The door was now in a permanently locked and open position.<br />
<br />
The water level was nearing the top of the room. Fay Durning had now clambered up onto the platform holding the Aquarius statue, which was still pouring water from its urn. She watched as Storm broke the surface again. "Sorry," she called out.<br />
<br />
"It's alright," he replied. "Just check with me first before doing something. There's a method to this, I know it. Zodiac doesn't do anything like this arbitrarily. I just need to figure out the pattern here. I'm sure that if any more wrong doors are opened we'll be in big trouble." He looked around: all the doors and levers were now submerged, and there was only a few feet of air left at the top of the room. One door had to be the right way out... but which was it?<br />
<br />
Fay was clinging to the top of the Aquarius statue's head now. "Oh no," she moaned in despair, "I almost drowned once when I was with the Aquacade during a 'Moby Dick'-themed number... it's not fun at all. This is going to be much worse... and final!"<br />
<br />
Storm's head snapped up, a look of sudden astonishment on his face. "'Moby Dick'!" he shouted, and dove underwater again.<br />
<br />
Confused, Fay asked nobody in particular, "What?"<br />
<br />
Under the water, Storm stroked down to the doors. He strained to make out the symbols on them through his water-fogged eyes. Libra, Cancer, Gemini... he was searching for one particular hatch.<br />
<br />
Fay Durning's comment about Melville's novel sparked a memory: the line "when Aquarius, or the Water-bearer, pours out his whole deluge and drowns us; and to wind up with Pisces, or the Fishes, we sleep." That line echoed the order of the western zodiac's symbols. Storm and Fay had been locked in the Aquarius room, and Storm supposed that only one of the doors led out of it. In the horoscope, the sign of Aquarius was followed by that of Pisces. This could mean that it was the way out. It was a gambit, a risk Storm was taking. If the door opened to more water, he and the kidnapped actress were surely done for.<br />
<br />
Storm found the Pisces door, its surface carved with the symbol that looked like a capital letter "H" with inwardly-curving sides. It was one of the lowest doors in the water-filled room. Above, the water was now inches away from the ceiling, Fay Durning pressed her face to it to breathe whatever air remained for her. <i>Here goes nothing</i>, Storm thought, and he gripped the door's lever. He braced, and pulled.<br />
<br />
There was a massive slurping sound underwater, and the door opened <i>inward </i>instead of outward like the Capricorn door had. A massive pump activated somewhere: the water was sucked into the tunnel beyond the door, pulling Storm and Fay with it.<br />
<br />
Lungs bursting from need of oxygen, the two captives found themselves swept at lightning speed through a long, dark, narrow conduit as the water was purged from the cylindrical room. They could drown here just as well if they didn't get any air soon. Then, up ahead through the murk a dim circle of light showed...<br />
<br />
Suddenly they were out of the tube, out in the open air and falling, water all around them as they were poured out of a tunnel set into a hillside. The water and the captives fell dozens of feet to splash down in a deep pool below.<br />
<br />
Bobbing up to the surface, they gasped air into their lungs. Fay coughed raggedly: she hadn't been ready for the purge and had sucked in some water with her last gasp of air.<br />
<br />
"Warn somebody before you do that!" she yelled at Storm between hacks.<br />
<br />
"It's my turn to say 'I'm sorry'," Storm replied. He was looking around them: they were at the head of the island's valley, in a deep, waterfall-fed pool surrounded by lush jungle. "I wasn't sure it would work. Thank God for your 'Moby Dick' experience."<br />
<br />
"What are you talking about?" she yelped, still indignant over her near-drowning and their sudden fall through space.<br />
<br />
Storm started to tell her about his "eureka" moment, when suddenly something brushed his leg. Something huge was in the water with them, and it wasn't exactly shy.<br />
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-82011819819490320562013-01-18T22:16:00.000-05:002013-01-18T22:25:34.684-05:00An Element of InspirationOne of these days I'm going to get around to discussing the influences and inspirations behind the creation of Challenger Storm: it's a long post that I've been planning for some time but have never gotten around to writing yet, but it's coming.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I wanted to share something that led to the inspiration behind a couple of characters from the first Challenger Storm novel, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Challenger-Storm-Blood-Don-Gates/dp/1613420234/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1358565293&sr=1-1&keywords=challenger+storm" target="_blank">The Isle of Blood</a></i>: J. Gordon Tolliver and his daughter, Katherine.<br />
<br />
My Mom used to like going to antique stores when I was a teenager and I used to like going with her sometimes. She still goes antiquing, but I haven't gone with her in a long time. On one such antique-shopping expedition, I came across a batch of old photographs. Old photos fascinate me: I often wonder <i>who are these people? Where did they live? What happened during their lives?</i> I bought a batch of these photos and in among them was this picture (click to enlarge):<br />
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I don't know who they were, and the only indicator which might be the year of the photo was the number "42" stamped on the back. Not sure if that was 1942, batch 42, or the meaning of life (and if you don't get that reference, I don't want to know you). As soon as I saw the photo, however, I knew somehow, someway, I was going to write a story involving them.</div>
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And so they became the inspiration behind White Heron aviation tycoon J Gordon Tolliver and his schoolteacher daughter, Katherine. Looking back at my fictional world, I like to think this picture of them was taken in the USA after the events on La Isla de Sangre. The rifts that those events caused in their lives and relationship have hopefully been mended by then.</div>
<br />Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-82527607094715209902013-01-12T14:53:00.001-05:002016-07-13T08:23:24.165-04:00CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 7<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">(NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Episode 7: "The Gauntlet Begins"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There was only darkness, warm and languid, and he floated in it comfortably. His mind was only vaguely aware of the feeling. It seemed infinite and without start or end and unbroken. There was nothing but the void and the floating.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And then there was a tapping.</span><br />
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The tapping was vague, without a source. He couldn't tell which of his senses was responding to the tapping: was it a noise or a sensation of touch? Was it even really there at all? He was lost, looking for it.<br />
<br />
The tapping stopped for a moment, and a voice spoke. It was soft and feminine. "Wake up," it said. "You have to wake up."<br />
<br />
It was hard to respond to the sound and the tapping, which was definitely a touch and it began again after the voice had ceased. His floating comfort, the dark void that surrounded him... it felt like he had returned to the womb with no cares for anything else. Did anything else exist? Had it ever existed? It didn't matter...<br />
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The tapping ceased for a moment then began again, more insistent. And with it, the voice came back.<br />
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"Please, wake up," the voice said with more urgency creeping into it. "Please."<br />
<br />
He began to wish the voice and the tapping would go away. He stirred and fought to stay under, to stay in his warm netherworld.<br />
<br />
The woman's voice spoke again.<br />
<br />
"Dammit, mister, WAKE UP!"<br />
<br />
<i>SLAP!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
The open-handed strike across Storm's face broke through the drug's barriers, thrusting him back into consciousness. He gasped as his eyes snapped open; in reflex, his hand lashed out and grasped the wrist of the hand that had struck him. He sat up, his eyes glazed and striving to focus on the world around him.<br />
<br />
A woman knelt beside him, clad in a clingy green evening dress that showed off her hourglass shape. She was honey-blonde, with a strong jaw and matching cheekbones that added a regal strength to her beauty. A pair of wide hazel eyes displayed her shock at Storm's sudden awakening. The woman's Cupid's-bow lips opened above her slightly cleft chin and she uttered a single sound.<br />
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"Ow."<br />
<br />
Storm blinked and realized he was gripping her wrist with more force than he should have been. He released it. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean to..."<br />
<br />
"It's alright," the woman said as she shook her hand a few times. "I'm sorry for the slap, but I really need you awake here with me. Something's happening."<br />
<br />
Their surroundings began to come into focus for Storm: they were in a circular room, the walls smooth and unbroken concrete. The dim light that lit them came from a ring of lights high above their heads, nearly forty feet straight up at the top of the cylindrical chamber. A thick platform stuck out from one side of the room, and there was a statue, a little over life-size, standing upon it. The statue was of a nude male figure, holding some kind of large jar or urn as if it was pouring something out of it. There were also some other kind of protuberances jutting out from the surrounding curved walls, but they were too high above to be seen clearly from the floor. A faint sound accompanied the room: a muted gurgling noise that was coming from behind the walls.<br />
<br />
Storm sprang to his feet but wavered dizzily and stumbled. The woman got up and kept him from falling over. Leaning against the wall, Storm shook his head and focused, concentrating on slicing through the drug's after-effects that fogged him.<br />
<br />
"You were way too sleepy to be just dozing," the woman explained to Storm as he breathed deeply. "Whatever you were drugged with, they got me with it too. I just woke up here shortly before you..."<br />
<br />
A loud squelch from hidden speakers above them cut her off. <br />
<br />
"I see you are both awake now," a voice said. "I was beginning to fear I'd used too much of the tranquillizer."<br />
<br />
"Sorry, Zodiac," Storm said, "I'm still here. Thanks for the nap, though."<br />
<br />
"Well, I'm glad that you're well-rested," the disembodied voice of Count Zodiac replied. "You'll want to be awake for this.<br />
<br />
"As I told you over lunch," Zodiac continued, "you are here because you stole my country- my destiny- from me. An eye for an eye, my friend. I'm sure you can understand."<br />
<br />
"This is between you and me. Let the girl go, she's got nothing to do with this." As he talked, Storm circled the room, looking for any point of exit. There was none. He still had his utility harness on, somehow, but he didn't have anything in the pouches at the time capable of blasting through the concrete. "Why don't you come out in the open and we can settle this."<br />
<br />
"The girl is there with you to give you incentive, Storm. To help raise the stakes." Zodiac paused before speaking again, and when he did, there was a new tone of menace in his voice. "We're going to play a little game, you and I. Beat my game, and I'll let you, your friends, and my other guests go free. If you lose this island becomes your grave, and the grave of all those whose lives you carry now on your shoulder, even those of the natives on the other side of the island."<br />
<br />
"What's he talking about?" the blonde asked Storm.<br />
<br />
"Who knows? He's crazy," he replied. <i>And dangerous enough to back it all up</i>, he thought to himself.<br />
<br />
"To win," Zodiac went on, "you're going to have to get from where you are now- the head of the valley at the north-eastern end of the island- to the goal, which is located at the other end of the valley to the south-west. Along the way, you're going to have to prove yourself- again and again- in tests that I've built just for you.<br />
<br />
"You are currently standing in the first of those tests: the Aquarius Room."<br />
<br />
There was a clang somewhere, behind the concrete walls of the cylindrical room, and the muted gurgling changed pitch.<br />
<br />
"The time for talk is over," Count Zodiac announced. "I'd wish you luck, Mr. Storm, but you and I both know I'd be lying to you. The gauntlet begins... <i>now!</i>"<br />
<br />
A torrent of water broke free from the statue's urn, and it poured down into the room. The blonde yelped as she jumped out of the path of the downpour, only to find jets of water spouting from the walls down near their ankles.<br />
<br />
"Oh God, he's gonna drown us," she said.<br />
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Storm nodded. "Yes, I believe he means to do just that."<br />
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6110924576197308874.post-51065071850070812012012-10-27T15:22:00.002-04:002016-07-13T08:14:31.558-04:00CHALLENGER STORM: THE VALLEY OF FEAR- Episode 6<br />
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">(NOTE: This serial takes place out of order chronologically with the Challenger Storm novels, which are being written with a definite timeline in mind. "The Valley of Fear" happens after at least book 5 or 6, but this shouldn't hinder the reading experience. I'm flying by the seat of my pants here, so I make no guarantees in regards to quality or coherence.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Episode 6: "Lunch and Treachery"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There was a moment of silence as the two men sized each other up. A wind sprang up and stirred the humid air of the island, and the trees around them sighed and whispered in the breeze. Finally, Storm ended the silence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I was blind not to see the signs. The uniforms were one, and that bull-horned fellow with the helmet... I suppose he's Taurus?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Count Zodiac nodded. "Absolutely. Taurus is my current enforcer, the strong arm of my empire."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Storm scoffed. "Empire? Seems to me I quashed your dreams of an empire back in '35. I wouldn't exactly call hiding out here in the jungle an empire."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">An ember of hot anger briefly stirred in Zodiac's black eyes, but it passed and he smiled. "I suppose this seems small-scaled when compared to the scope of my vision when we last met," he calmly said, "but I needed to get my feet under me again somewhere, and this was as good a place as any."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Yeah, the natives here don't seem too thrilled about that. I don't suppose you know anything about a girl we heard screaming in the jungle out there?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Zodiac ignored the comments and turned on his heel, motioning for his captives and their guards to follow him into the castle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"It's regrettable that your aircraft had to be destroyed to bring you here: the ornithopters were designed only to destroy your craft, not to eliminate you and your men when you bailed out. It's a shame, but necessary. I admire your fleet and the modifications that you make on your planes."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"A fleet that's now down by one seaplane, thank you. I suppose those ornithopters should have raised a flag for me too," Storm replied, shuffling along with his shackled feet. "They were a piece of work, really. I noticed that they split into two to do their dirty work once they landed on the plane. I suppose that's another zodiacal reference, too: Gemini, the twins... an 'air sign'?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Zodiac chuckled. "Right you are. You continue to be as perceptive as when we last met."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"And you continue to keep sticking to your tired horoscope-shtick," Storm countered with a lopsided grin. He remembered Count Zodiac's mania for astrology and how he disliked it being mocked. "Ever thought about getting a new gimmick, Count?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Zodiac wheeled, the spark again within his eyes. "The stars chart our fate, our course in life. It is no gimmick, no arbitrary theme that I have chosen. Fate chose me, as I told you before. It is a gift, a gift of power, and you are in no position to poke fun at it."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Storm grinned back in defiance but his eyes held anger, a rage he'd held suspended for four years. "Whatever you say, Madame Zelda."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Zodiac ignored the taunt and turned again, and the others followed in his wake into the castle. Willy and Brock exchanged a questioning glance before they started to walk with the others. The MARDL troubleshooters had heard of the villain known as Count Zodiac, and had known that Storm had encountered him once before while on a mission for a secret US government group simply called "The Eye", but they didn't know much more about the event. Neither of them had been on the mission with Storm, and their friend and leader was very reluctant to discuss the details of the encounter with them. There were some raw nerves being played upon here and it was evident that despite Storm's flippant attitude toward the strange Count, there was a seething and deep-seated anger between the two men. For now, however, they would have to wait for an answer, if one would ever come. All they could do was continue their march into Zodiac's fortress and wonder, just as Storm was wondering, exactly where and what they were being led to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The castle's structure was enormous, with soaring arched ceilings and ornate stonework at every turn. Everywhere Storm and his teammates looked, their gaze was met with a beautifully crafted tribute to a zodiacal sign in nearly every room: a statue and fountain built to honor Aquarius, a massive stone lion representing Leo, an enormous flaming chandelier designed to look like the scales of Libra... There was a grand hall, and the floor was an elaborate mosaic depicting all of the signs of the horoscope in a circular pattern, with corresponding constellations and planetary figures at the design's outer edges. The grandeur of the setting was only matched by the military-like presence of Zodiac's forces: there were uniformed guards everywhere, many of them adorned with astrological symbols that denoted their specialties within Zodiac's mad army.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, after leading his soldiers and the captive adventurers to an upper level of the castle, Zodiac paused before a closed door. He turned briefly toward his captives and said, "You're just in time for lunch," before he turned and pushed open the massive wooden door. Beyond the portal, a sunny open terrace was revealed, and beyond it was a beautiful panoramic view of the island's valley. A long wooden table was laid out with a pristine white tablecloth, and upon this were succulent-looking exotic dishes in serving bowls and platters. The odor of spices mixed with the jungle air on the breeze to bring the feeling of a tropical paradise to the newcomers, a feeling only broken by the presence of the armed soldiers of Count Zodiac's army.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sitting at the table was a man in a crisp white shirt and khaki trousers. He looked like a vacationing member of the idle rich, but on second glance Storm recognized him: he was the missing B-movie producer and director, Jimmy Keane. Keane's round face beamed in a grin at the sight of Storm and his men.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"You got him," he said in a slightly hushed and awed tone to Count Zodiac. "Geez, I can't believe you really got him."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Of course I got him," Zodiac replied imperiously as he sat at the head of the table. "There was no reason he wouldn't have come." Then to the captives: "Please, sit." He motioned them to their chairs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Storm rattled his shackles. "Oh, you're just too kind," he said sarcastically. He sat down at the other end of the table, and Willy and Brock flanked him on either side as they sat.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Servers appeared and they set about making plates for the men at the table. The dishes were hard to identify, being some kind of fusion of styles: Indian spices, Chinese vegetables, an American-style sirloin steak... the mix was heady but delicious. Several ice-buckets appeared, and the diners were served fine red wines in crystal goblets. Although they chose ice water over the wine, Storm and his team ate with surprising gusto, and they had not realized they had been so hungry until now. The first half of the meal was eaten in silence.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, after the most of his hunger was sated, Storm broke the silence. "All right, Zodiac. I know you didn't just invite us over for lunch. What's it all about?" He sipped at his glass of water.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Well, it's all about revenge," Count Zodiac said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers before him. "It's about a dream you plucked from my grasp, and the dreams I've had since of destroying you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Ah, of course it is. Spoken like a true mad villain with a thorn in his side," Storm shook his head. "And I suppose Mr. Hollywood here and his crew was just the bait?" he nodded toward Keane.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jimmy Keane dropped his gaze shamefully, and Zodiac spoke for him. "Indeed. Mr. Keane had run afoul of some bad men in America. He was already living the Hollywood high life, but it wasn't as high as others. So he borrowed money to help him live above and beyond his means and he couldn't pay it back. And then the men he borrowed money from were threatening him with torture and worse. It's a very old story."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Storm nodded, already sensing where this was going.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Mr. Keane," Zodiac continued, "sunk all of his remaining money into what he hoped would be an epic film to be shot on location in the islands of the Pacific-"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"And it stunk," interjected Keane without looking up from his plate. "I would never have been able to make back what I owed. I was a damn fool."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"And that's where you came in, I suppose?" Storm asked Zodiac.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Of course. You see, I've been watching you for some time, Mr. Storm. I see you globetrotting and travelling, and the whole time I've been biding my time and waiting for you to come near me. I knew that you cannot resist helping someone in need, and so I contacted Mr. Keane and arranged to help him if he helped me."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"In the US we say 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours'," Brock grunted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Very quaint, but nonetheless appropriate," Zodiac replied before continuing. "I helped him to arrange an 'accident' to befall his crew's chartered aircraft when it neared my island home here, made sure you heard the distress call on your return trip from Australia, and the rest, as they say, is history. The timing couldn't have been more perfect for me. The stars smiled in my favor once again."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Storm glanced over at the filmmaker, who was starting to look nauseous. "And what about the others with Keane? The crew and cast... where are they?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Safe, for now," Zodiac replied. "Although I can't guarantee how long that will last. Their livelihood is going to rest squarely on your shoulders, I'm afraid."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Finishing the last of his water, Storm swallowed. <i>Here it comes,</i> he thought. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"And why is that?" Storm asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"You'll find out, just as soon as you wake up," Zodiac smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A wave of heat washed over Storm's insides, and he felt a cold sweat spring up on his forehead. <i>The water...</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Storm stood up but his legs tottered and felt like noodles beneath him. The world was spinning around his head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I am such an idiot...," Storm mumbled aloud with a loopy grin before collapsing into unconsciousness.</span><br />
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Don Gateshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14529061746224262044noreply@blogger.com0