The sale of this book without its cover….well, is, sort of, impossible since it really does not have a cover but let us go through the legal spray out anyways. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Hands up to you who have books like this in your collection? Now that I have put my hand down we can continue with the credits and copyright and legal and stuff that people just do not ever pay attention to unless it is pumping their own horn.
An Original Publication of BLOODWASTE BOOKS, A Bloodwaste Books book published by System*Publishing, a division of System*Productions, Melbourne, Florida. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead or living dead, is entirely and very much so in the coincidental.
Written/Edited by Brian C. Williams, Author Photo by Nancy Collins, Tin Universe Logo by Vinny Bove, Covers and all other images; logos by Brian C. Williams
The Hillbilly Jungle, Part Three
The most accurate weather satellite orbiting the planet Earth belongs to Ryan Industries. It’s a second generation design based off what satellites failed to pick up when the Florida Impact event took place.
The RI1174 GD series satellite monitors the inner and outer atmospheres of the planet and its orbit. Its sensors are hyped by the scientists that built it to be far advanced in deduction, reasoning, and problem solving than any other sensory piece of technology on the planet.
Right now it’s picking up the first signs of several strange weather patterns dancing around Smokey Mountains National Park in Tennessee, USA.
Too bad the human who is paid to be looking at the data coming from RI1174 is currently engaged in a very particular act with his co-worker Jacob.
But in complete honesty even if Tim and Jacob were not experiencing the love that must not be publically moaned, they wouldn’t have been able to decipher the data coming into their computers with the brains evolution had given them.
The computers understood wholly.
Humanity might just be screwed in the ass.
Hard.
And not in any fun way either.
The PS3, which on techno intelligence terms has a general intelligence level, sits in the break room of Ryan Industries Satellite Monitoring Systems and it also understands what going on but it’s laughing because human beings love seeing patterns in everything but can be real idiots when connecting the dots that matter.
Humans fail the technology they create in lack of planning, learning, and perception. When it comes down to it we end up with metal thingies that are more social than functional.
Just like humans.
After a lot of driving, a lot of Lithium, and a few too many inappropriate jokes… really inappropriate jokes, Jeff pulled their rental into the parking lot of their hotel.
Lithium as in the radio station, besides an occasional pain killer or muscle relaxer our travelling group are not big illegal drug users.
For the most part.
This trip from the airport to their hotel took a little longer than they had planned because they first stopped at the wrong hotel. After a smart ass front desk clerk that Karen remarked looked like she was barely old enough to drive, more less work the front desk at a busy hotel, told them they had no record of them having made a reservation and Fox having to restrain Karen after said smart ass clerk called Karen “old lay” they discovered they were at the wrong hotel.
Their actually hotel was located a few miles down the road from “Smart ass bitch hotel” as Karen would call it whenever it came back up in conversation. When getting sight of it they all remarked how much cooler it was than the following the blueprint to the letter one they had mistakenly stopped at.
The hotel sat on a hilltop at an angle as if its five floor shape was leaning forward kneeling on its knees to greet its visitors. As you walked up the incline from the parking lot you also got a feeling the place might tilt and fall on you if a small breeze of wind dusted up.
Wrapped around one side of the hotel, called The Night Stay, was a large pool with a good size twisting slide; while on the opposite side there was a bear themed miniature golf course which was one of the creepiest things you could ever imagine.
Jeff parked the rental, set the emergency brake because of the incline of the parking lot, and made a throw away joke about the huge Santa store they passed on the way putting this place on a weird year round Christmas Buzz.
They started unloading their bags from the rental.
‘How about after check in we get some food?’ Jeff
‘I’ve been craving KFC since we landed.’ Karen
‘Yes, because there isn’t a KFC in Florida.’ Jeff
‘Before this trip ends I’m going to cock ‘n ball your face for going against my grain.’ Karen
‘I know I’m standing here out of place with my dungeon tan and Vancouver influences but you two banter like bad fan fiction sometimes.’ Fox
‘And your point?’ Karen
‘I needed to ramble a bit. Warning up front, might not make any sense the times I do so. Needed a release of babbling before you two start at each other again and delay us checking in. Thus me feeding my face would be delayed even further and all of that is a bad idea.’ Fox
‘She’s trying her best to fit in with us. It’s sweet really.’ Jeff
‘You both can fuck off and when you’re finished doing that and eating shit I want me some Goddamn smashed potatoes.’ Fox
‘I’ll second the Goddamn and the smashed potatoes.’ Karen
Nature right now is in a angry churn going mainly unnoticed by all forms of human perception. The technology man has created can do its thing but it still has to hand off its information to human brains. And I think I’ve approached my opinions on that subject.
There are those who are in touch with perceiving and seeing these natural ticks but the wide and breast of society has shunted embracing these parts of its history to places of hiding without hiding so those observing or just noticing for the most part don’t really give much of a shit.
There are two who are very power and they see the stirring of the winds in every aspect of the showing but their connections to being human are small at best.
Balsam sits drinking a large glass of brewed God Life in Cintron’s undersized kitchen. The kitchen only contained one small fold up card table straight out of the 1960’s. There wasn’t anything else to even let you know this was a kitchen because there wasn’t any sink or stove but it had to be the kitchen because it did have a small refrigerator in one corner with a coffee pot sitting on top of it.
‘Why are you living like this Cintron?’ Balsam leaned back in his chair gesturing about the kitchen. ‘Being the last brewer of God Life alone should put you among kings.’
Cintron sits down with Balsam at the card table, ‘I brew very little these days. The age of kings is over.’
‘Only in name. The title isn’t there with cute little crowns but there are still kings ruling over the wrecked and stupid and cattle.’
‘I don’t have a natural place in this modern world so I stay among them to better serve them.’
‘Ragnarok took most of the Gods into a glorious death. The Left Behind is being tortured by being shunned by Death. This is death I say.’
‘But you still fight Death back. I know of your journeys.’
‘Being a trucker, a crab fisherman, working on oil rips- I may have from time to time cracked some skulls but I was avoiding their petty wars. Death has probably forgotten my c
ontinued existence.’
‘There is no being on this planet who Death doesn’t have their name on the breathe of his lips.’
Balsam snorts in anger and take a long drink from his glass.
‘Son, the Cades has awakened.’ Cintron
‘Well, let him rip. They poked existence and got someone’s attention.’ Balsam