The Misadventures of Jack and Jill

grandmother hubbard, to keep food in her cupbord

and pay the rent
on her shoe

sent little jill moffet and her cousin jack

to find some work to do

young jack horner found a secure corner

with jill in the royal kitchen

it was really quite modern
-- it had 'running water'

their job was, 'run', do the fetch'n

the the royal well was up a hill

at a distance of about one mile

a precarious climb, took lots of time

but the water in the moat was vile

said jack to jill, 'to climb that hill

with the well, we must move faster'

but jill nudged jack, he nudged her back,

they broke into a peal of laughter

so into the slop the bucket did drop

and came up black as a blotter

now, with time to kill, and their bucket of swill,

to pass off as kitchen water

they sat on the wall, but had a great fall

and the pail came splashing after

all the kings horses and all the kings men

went up the hill with the bucket again

they too, fell down, broke the king's crown

and the king came screaming after

jill and jack were given the sack

and meanwhile
back at their shoe...

old mother hubbard went to the cupboard

to open a tin of stew

but her little dog laughed, 'old woman, you're daft!

the cupboard
you'll find so bare!

why, even the spoon, with an amorous dish has eloped to las vegas, so there!

'the cat was ask'n

for the fiddle for busk'n

and since, he hasn't been seen

he said his first act is

in london -- must practice

he hopes to play for the queen'

said hubbard, 'well, now, we've still got our cow'

'you forget so soon! the bean

and the commodities trader, who wiped jack clean

he turned around and made a killing

he sold it to NASA for many a shilling

who sent it into orbit in search of the moon'

laughed the dog, 'funnier than loony toons!'

finally jack and jill returned to their shoe

with their severance pay, and feeling quite blue

'oh granny dear, we sadly fear,

our royal job we've lost!'

'you naughty kids! you've lost your lids!

do you know how much food costs?

I'll whip you both soundly and send you to bed

and feed you broth...'

'not me!' jack said

and out he did hurry to the neighbour, mary

and jill came running after

now teacher mary, could be quite contrary

-- intolerant of laughter

contrary mary had a lamb,
his fleece was white as snow

he accompanied her to her class, and he helped her garden grow

'teacher mary, quite contrary,

what grows upon your land?'

'what grows? I wouldn't know

you'll have to ask the lamb'

'...so, lamb?'

'(call me sam)

er -- that bean you bought with your cow'

'the magic bean? it hasn't been seen

since the day we had that row!'

'it's really quite grand, it

grew where it landed

look out back, you'll see it right now!'

jack looked up, couldn't see the top

and turned to say to jill,

'shall we climb? i think it's time

it would be quite a thrill

then, who (diddle diddle) should arrive with his fiddle?

but the cat, who was looking quite ill

'pussy cat, pussy cat,
where have you been?'

'i've been to london
to play for the queen.'

'pussy cat, pussy cat,
how much did you earn there?'

'hardly enough to cover the bus fair'

'but why (diddle diddle) did they pay you so little?

their budget is over the moon!'

'...and her corgis laughed
and gave me a fright...'

'...and why are you home so soon?'

'a diller a euro, a ten 'o clock bureau-

crat said i must be out by noon

plus, old king cole, being a merry old soul,

already employs fiddlers, three

they play for their supper of white bread and butter

but the rest they do for free

but you, master jack, why are you back

so soon from the royal court?'

'alas,' said jill, 'they said, "you will

bake a pie", but jack miss-heard

instead of "berries" numbering four and twenty

jack thought that they said "bird"

(what he heard as "bird",
was a reference to his brain

but hear the rest, it's quite insane)

so off he went to catch the winged critters

to bake inside the pie

bought the lard for a song and sixpence

and a pocket full of rye

but when the pie was open

jack's birds began to sing

songs of euros and sixpence

and all that sort of thing

so both of us were unceremoniously ejected

from the royal kitchen

and demoted to the job of royal water fetch'n'

now the little cat laughed to hear such a tail

that his spirits went over the moon

he no longer looked ill, so jack and jill

said, 'c'mon, let's have some fun'

teacher mary,

being quite contrary

warned, jack, 'be nimble, jack be quick

when jumping over my bean pole stick'

so doing, jack and jill went up the beans talk

and the cat came climbing after

and so did the lamb, whose name was sam

while mary was none the dafter

they reached the top, and had to stop

the beanstalk went no higher

said jack to jill, the cat and sam

'what now? you know, i am no flyer'

said sam, 'let's eat. i've found a treat --

these beans, along the way

in kurdistan, i understand,

they eat the beans this way.'

so, little jill moffet, used a leaf for a tuffet,

sat, eating the kurdish way

while little jack horner found a leafy corner

and frightened the spiders away

but the beans they ate made them flatulate

so strongly, it propelled them upward

so did they begin, from the gas within,

to fly, though they felt awkward

up-up they went, by gas they were sent

with beans for rocket fuel

up to a home, where the giants roam

and other things most cruel

they came to a road, and down it they strode

across the cloudy floor

at mile post two jack buckled his shoe

at mile post four they came to a door

its height was six (in meters). 'oh styx!

my watch says eight, let's lay this this straight'

said the cat. 'it's much too late to be home by ten.'

so they knocked at the door, and a big fat hen

invited them into the kitchen, and then

jack asked, 'pray tell, who your master?'

'a tinker, a tailor, a soldier, a sailor,

a rich man, a poor man and a beggar man,'

was her clucking answer.

'a greedy lot are they; can you take me away?

I've had it up to here!'

she took a look out the window and shook,

and with a cackle, said, 'oh dear!'

to the window ran jack, jill, sam and the cat

outside were seven bearded men

tall they were, yes, but almost as fat

they saw fear in the eyes of the hen

'hi ho, hi ho, and a fi fie fo fum

to home from our various occupations we've come

we've dillied and dallied throughout the day

done crosswords and twittled our thumbs'

at the sight of the men, jack grabbed the hen

and into the great oven they hid

on the count of four, they shut the door

it's just as well that they did

announced the tinker,
'dear tailor, brave soldier, swaggering sailor,

gentle rich man,
humble poor man,

fine beggar-man,
amongst us there dwells a thief.'

spake the tailor, 'you stinker!

though crafty, you're no thinker.

your occupation as a tinker

makes you suspect of giving us grief!

Said the poor man, 'you pig!

your a racist and a prig!

I say, it's the bigwig:

what's made him rich beyond belief?'

cried the rich man, 'I'm all a flutter!

who pays the rent?
buys bread and butter?

who, but for me,
you'd be still in the gutter?'

'not you,' did the beggar-man utter.

'it's our gold laying hen who's brought us relief.

'our gold laying hen, she's fled for the hill,

go now, you lot, you may catch her still!'

he looked towards the oven and winked.

the other six strode to their horses and rode;

said the beggar-man, 'in here, I think.'

said the beggar-man to jack and sam,

don't worry yourselves, just a beggar I am

a beggar I was, a beggar I'll be

life in the gutter is no hardship for me

I'd just as soon they learned their lesson

for me, outdoor life will be a bless'n

said jack to the man, 'how flustered I am!

this story's all wrong!'
'and I,' said the lamb

'feel much the same.

I recognise that but for your size

you're the 7 dwarves of snow white fame!'

spake the beggar-man,
'you're not to blame.

you guessed 7 dwarves,
we're one and the same

but if you think that we're a sight

you should see the size of snow white!

'now, off you go, and take the hen

and return to where your journey began

and take this harp, it sings by itself.'

he gave them the instrument
from off the shelf

off they went the way they came

they reached the edge, but it looked the same

no beanstalk, no beans, no rocket fuel

said the lamb, 'what a world most cruel!'

little jill moffet, sat on her tuffet

thinking of words to say

along came a spider in a hang glider

and said, 'you folks going my way?'

they all hitched on and glided down

but the contraption began to totter

jack fell down and bunged his crown

and the hen came flapping after

jack came to, and wondered who

had brought him to his chamber

he wasn't dead, but in his bed

wrapped in vinegar and brown paper

in walked hubbard, 'there's food in the cupboard!

that hen that followed you home

was so big and fat that it filled the pot

it'll do till it's nine days old!'

... sad for the hen, and their prospects for gold

but not all was lost, for, so I am told

the cat still goes busk'n and for many a shilling

plays duets with the harp -- they make a killing!

Review of Florian Armas' Io Deceneus

We know the main character only as Deceneus. Even then, he's not quite sure of that name, nor in what sense he's “Deceneus”. There was one of that name much earlier in the history of that planet, and a belief in another yet to come. It all comes together in the course of the story.

Not that we really need a name for him; the narrative point of view is from inside his head, but it's not just a simple first person POV – it's a stream of consciousness where each two-person dialogue becomes a three-way conversation, his own thoughts interjected as the third party. It makes for a unique reading experience, though it may take some getting used to. But I like literary experiments like that.

We begin the ride on Earth, where his name isn't Deceneus, nor is there anything about him that would suggest he's to be a hero of an other-worldly scenario – except, perhaps, the dream described in the prologue. We find him wallowing in alcohol and self-pity, having recently lost his job.

Later we learn that dreams are the way that “gates” and similar beings test those who might be suitable recruits for time travel. Deceneus nick-names his “gate”, “Houston”, after NASA's Houston – as in “Houston, we have a problem”. And, there's no shortage of problems, which “Houston” has to mother him through in order to make him ready for his first contract.

Apart from the “gates”, there are many other intelligent creatures inhabiting the universe. Most of them far surpass humans in brain capacity (a refreshing change from most SF I've read), so much so that humans and other similar races are seen as experiments, or even game pieces in the “game that's not a game” (you'll come across that phrase). The “game” involves making adjustments in timelines to affect the future welfare and/or extinction of whole races. Some beings treat it as a big game, while others are more concerned about the welfare of the “small brain” races. Among the more advanced beings are the “Factions”, the ones playing the leading roles in the “game that's not a game”.

The most superior being of all is the Universe itself, who makes His presence known in our galaxy though what's know as the “Black Eye”, the giant black hole at the centre of our galaxy.

Sometime during the formation of humanity, a mistake or accident occurred that resulted in humanity becoming an unusually ambitious and warlike race. It also made them suitable candidates to be sent to other times and places to interact with local populations to manupilate their history, as in our story.

Thus, our main character accepts a contract with a “Faction” for whom Houston is acting as an agent. After receiving intensive Samurai training and gaining other skills, he is downloaded into a human-like body on a planet sometime in our distant past, that's inhabited by at least four different human-like races, as a member of one of those races. The local population has reached a level of sophistication approximating our 19th century. He has also had the local language downloaded into his brain, as well as an inner “encyclopedia” of local knowledge. Then, he's placed at just the right place at the right time to enter society as a hero. Of course, to complicate things, there's another Faction already at work there with a conflicting agenda.

That last paragraph is a vast oversimplification: he actually makes several arrivals on the planet, involving a lot of trial and error. One of those arrivals is to the even more distant past, when the local population is in their stone age. Though that story is brushed over very quickly, he spends quite a number of years of their time teaching them basic civilisation skills and saving them from extinction. Actually, they did become extinct because of a wrong choice on his part, but Houston enables an alternative time-line, and they're saved. All that is a part of the preliminary learning experience.

The book is full of creative applications of time-and-space theories and ideas about alternate time-lines. One more device I should mention is the “SAT-mine”, a giant spherical force field that has the potential of totally erasing ones existence, adjusting the time-line so as to totally exclude that person, and any effect they might have had on anything; so they were never born. They are meant to be a deterrent against destroying the fabric of space and time, but too often they're used against those altering the time-line in ways disagreeable to certain very powerful forces; which Deceneus is in constant danger of doing. If he were erased, an entire race of beings on that planet would also cease to exist because, remember, it was he who saved them from extinction back during the stone age. Deceneus still wants to save the local “small brain” races from extinction, which puts him in conflict with the Factions.

So, that's the premise and the setting of the story. Because of Florian's narrative style, it took some effort to read through parts of it without taking a rest now and then, and a few of the stretches, ones involving local politics, were so long that I began to wonder if they were going anywhere; but they were necessary to the story, which was so superb and worth the effort that I'm giving it five stars.

The Land of Bad Elves: a review of M.B. Mooney's The Living Stone

Unlike Middle Earth, the elves are the evil empire. The human lands of Erelon have been ruled for many years now by the elves of Kyrus. They've tried to wipe out traditional monotheism, and have imposed their own ways on human society. However, there are pockets of those who have held on to their belief in El. Among them are those led by one known as the Prophet.

Caleb De'Ador had been missing since he was 15, captured by the elf authorities and taken to Kryus, the centre of the elven empire. The high ranking elf that was in charge of him happened to be sympathetic towards the human nation, realising the injustice of his own kind. He had Caleb trained as a Bladeguard, something like a Samurai. Caleb returns to Erelon, intending to seek the Living Stone, which would confirm him into the ancient order of the Sohan-el. They are the true Samurai-like defenders of the faith that are now only a legend, and of which the order of the Bladeguard are a copy. To become a Sohan-el, a trained swordsman who has taken the oath must seek the living stone, an iron rock with a tree growing out of it, and lay his hand on it. If he is found worthy, the rock will released an unforged sword, the symbol of his office. The Sohan-el haven't been around for hundreds of years. As a Sohan-el, he can begin to lead humanity to stand up and fight for their freedom, and restore their glory as nations under El.

On his return to Erelon, Caleb finds that the Prophet, his uncle, has been imprisoned by the elves in a strong fortress-like prison. A local gangster introduces him to Aden, a child of the streets, who is the only one known to have escaped this prison. He offers to help under one condition, that he be allowed to accompany Caleb and the Prophet on their journeys. Caleb reluctantly agrees, and they bust the Prophet out.

Meanwhile, in the mountains to the West, a door to the underworld has opened, which happens once in 527 years. A legion of demics (a sort of small orc or troll) pour forth, led by a giant horned Demilord named Thoros. They once roamed freely on the face of the earth until they were imprisoned in the underworld by the Sohan-el. Every 527 years, when the door opens, a limited number of them escape with the goal of finding the key to the underworld, so that they can reopen the door and let the rest of them out. They begin their journey to the northern city of Ketan, devouring every living thing in their path. The demics eat human flesh, but the demilord eats their souls -- reminiscent of William Hodgeson's The Night Lands. From the first town, only Eshlyn and her infant son survive. She must make it to the walled city of Ketan, warning everyone she meets on the way, urging them to join her. The infant is a descendant of the ancient human dynasty that once ruled in Ketan. Now, Ketan is a backwater, ruled by a corrupt high elf who was sent there as punishment.

Ketan is also the destination of Caleb, Aden and the Prophet, along with a growing group of companions. The Living Stone is somewhere in the mountains just beyond.

Mooney keeps the action going from both sides, Eshlyn's struggle to persuade townsfolk of the dangers only a day or so behind her; Caleb and company's journeys, barely a step ahead of elven authorities. The characterisation is good. Caleb is impulsive and sometimes insists on performing heroic acts even when they could endanger their mission. The Prophet isn't a Gandalf nor a Professor Dumbledore. While he knows how to hear the voice of El, he hasn't been a good father figure, and he regrets that. There are also good elves, such as Caleb's mentor in Kyrus, and the First General of Ketan, who must work around elven corruption. There are also good humans, as well as those who probably deserved to be eaten by the demics. Of course, there's a lot of samurai style action and swordplay, as well as good strategy. Mooney has invented his own profanity, words like “crit” and “break”, for which I'm sure, if we lived in Erelon, our mothers would wash our mouths out with soap.

It's a good read, and Mooney sets us up for the sequel.

Review: Somewhither, by John C. Wright

After reading the preview of the first chapter on Wright's blog page, I couldn't wait for this book to come out. Now, I can't wait for book two.

In the first chapter, Ilya goes to his dad with a question that must be answered, expecting the usual brush off response. He's one of those dads that seems aloof, non communicative, but demanding of obedience, with high expectations of a top notch highly disciplined fighting machine at the end of a program of rigorous training that he puts his sons through. Training for what...? That's part of his dad's secretive nature. But hidden somewhere in that dense forest of hardwood is actually a fatherly heart that cares. So, Ilya expects a brush off response, and he appear to be getting just that. He probes for more, while his dad probes him in return for the intent of the question. Then, suddenly, his dad springs to his feet, barks out a series of orders, inducts him into the order of the Knights Templar and Ilya's childhood is over. That's not a spoiler, I hope. It's only the first chapter.

I also can't wait for the last book in the series, because I want to see his dad's response to the long tale that Ilya is going to report to him.

In the course of the story, Ilya makes other discoveries about himself. I like stories where there are hidden facts about oneself that are to be discovered, like Harry Potter finding out who he really is, and Frodo realising that that old ring that's been sitting in the top drawer of the desk all this time is, in fact ... -- well, you get the picture. There are some pretty amazing things to be discovered about Ilya as well.

The premise of this story is the answer to the question Ilya went to ask his dad in the first chapter, "How many universes are there?" Some proponents of the Many Worlds Interpretation say there's one for every atomic particle that ever made a wrong turn. According to Wright, there's one for every time God changed the course of history by whatever act he did, whether it be bringing the world wide flood, confusing the languages, delivering the children of Israel from Egypt (I could go on, but some of them could be construed as spoilers) -- there's always a world that splits off in which that didn't happen.

I finished the book, thinking it was awfully short. I went to the Amazon Kindle page so as to check the size of the book, and to my surprise, it was 590 pages!

Anyway, although I did grimace at some of Ilya's boyish ways and his occasional thickheadedness, it was a page turner (or in my case, a screen swiper). Like I said, I'm waiting for the next one...

Click on the cover image above to get to the Amazon page.

Hello again.

I've been away from this blog for too long, and now I've decided to make a new half-way-through-the-year's resolution to get back on it, and try to be more regular. I do have a number of things that could have been going on it, such as some book reviews, which I'll post in a minute.

But first, let me announce that Pepe is now a free download, in return for signing up for a newsletter. Here's where you go to sign up. Just click on the cover image:

...or here: www.robbycharters.co.uk/pepe.php

The Memories of Geoffrey Hughes

I've just completed a short story, which you should be able to read here.

I suppose you could call it a cross genre Science Fiction / ghost story. It's not a horror story, not into things like seances or occult, just includes a wee ghost. I think you'll like it.

Websites and Domain Names

I've got two new websites. One isn't so new, but I just never got around to posting about hit here.

The not so new one is, www.Robbys-eBook-Formatting.co.uk, which is my business website, selling my services as an eBook formatter.

The newest one, just published with my new domain name today, is www.RobbyCharters.co.uk, which is technically also a business website, but selling my books. That also will have the list of where to find all my stuff online.

Do Christians Love Guns?

...that's the title of a recent blogpost and newsletter by Andrew Strom. Find it here.


My first comment on it was, "I agree with you 100%, but I’m afraid you’re in for an avalanche of email every bit as big as the one you got for “Tea Party”"

When I went to hit the "Post" button, the site hung. I thought that was my prediction suddenly coming true, with the sudden avalanche of comments coming in. I finally got mine in later, and proceeded to view some of the comments. It's quite clear to all that just because one receives Andrew Strom's newsletters and frequents his website, isn't an indication that one agrees with him 100%. In fact, predictably, even though "Pasivism" wasn't mentioned in Andrew's article, nor even alluded to, that quickly became a hot topic on the comment stream. Here's one:

A question for all you pacifist Christians. If you were in that grade school, there was a gun on the table next to you and you heard the screams of people and gunshots. Would you leave that gun on the table and say, “violence is not Christian!” and continue to let dozens be killed?
The way to stop a bad person with a gun is a good person with a gun

 The one just before that was a very long one, probably worth reading to get the jist of the anti-pacifist view. However, all that wasn't the point of Andrew's post.

Here was my longer post:

I posted my comment above, and THEN looked at some of the earlier responses…

I don’t think Andrew is saying that it’s wrong to stand against injustice with use of force. It’s just not the Christian mandate. The police and the military, after all, use force to do many of the same things mentioned above. They’re not in violation of God’s laws. Even a revolution might be in order at times, but don’t mistake it for the advancement of the Kingdom of God.

As for the example of David and Goliath, above: The Jewish people had (or still have — depending on your theology) the mandate of maintaining a nation in the land God had given them as a part of God’s covenant with Israel. Christians, under the New Covenant, didn’t receive such a mandate. We’re called to support those in power, especially those who enforce justice.

Now, as to the question, what should we have done during the early Nazi period in Germany, or whether to use a gun to prevent a greater disaster etc etc. …

Is having an easy answer a mark of Truth? Is any one approach automatically the right one for every situation?

I see, in the reigns of King David and King Solomon, a scriptural basis for both passivism and non-passivism. David fought many wars to establish the Kingdom of Israel all the way to the borders God had promised to Moses. He was 100% in God’s will in doing so. However, in doing this, he was a “man of blood”, and therefore wasn’t granted the privilage of building God’s Temple. King Solomon, a “man of peace”, was called to do that, and Solomon’s reign, in stark contrast to David’s, was an era of peace.
Picking up a gun to shoot someone, even to stop a school shooting spree, is a position I hope I’m never thrust into. We could, for the purpose of argument, say it’s a sin. However, the rabbis have an argument based on the degrees of sin — the breaking of a lesser commandment instead of a greater one. A destitute woman has a child who is starving to death. To allow the child to die when it’s possible to save his life, would be a sin equal to murder. The commandment prohibiting murder is one of the greater commandments, whereas the commandment against stealing is one of the lesser. Therefore, the woman would be justified in stealing food, thus committing the lesser commandment, in order to keep from committing the greater one — allowing the child to die.

We’re called to be perfect, even as He is perfect, in a world that is anything but perfect. There are, therefore, no easy answers.

So, to sum up, I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong for Christians to own guns, and engage in politics, but not as a part of the Christian mandate. Neither do I believe pacifist are out of order.

In fact, I’d say I’m a pacifist.

New Release: The Eurasian

A few days ago, I released my novel, The Eurasian, which I have been working on for over two years. It's my fifth full length one, and I suppose it's too early to judge if it's my best. It took the longest to write, because some parts were difficult. Some of the settings were rather daunting, so I had to take long breaks from it to let it settle, and come up with more inspiration and do research. I hope I've done a good job.

Right now, it's a free download at Smashwords.com, and $0.99 at Amazon Kindle (they don't allow me to make it free there).

What follows is the longer description:

The world of the late 21st century is divided between Greater China, the Western Block, the Islamic Block and the Southern Free States of Africa and South America. The Western Block is dominated by the multinational corporations, who have created a paradise for its citizens -- so everyone thinks.

Mickey O'Brien is the Eurasian, half Asian and half Irish. He has a problem with that, because all his friends are fully Asian. However, no one has actually met each other -- only their virtual projected images they show on their on-line classroom environment. He and his classmates meet each other for the first time as they go on a class trip to America. It turns out they all had things to hide.

In America, they accidentally discover what the Multinationals have been trying to hide. Their hover van is hijacked, and they are left trapped in the great American outback, a vast area of what was once U.S.A., now divided between countless republics. Some are Nazi, some are militant Christian and other redneck cowboy states, some Native American Nations, Mafia kingdoms, etc etc. The wild west is again wild. Once having stumbled in, can they ever find their way out again?

It's a story of finding out what's real, and discovering true faith as they become involved in an espionage war trying to prevent a Nazis takeover.

Review of J. A. Konrath's novel, "Origin"

One author who has become famous for being self-published, and yet best-selling (thus, giving hope to humble(?) authors like me), is J.A.Konrath. I found one of his books available as a freebee the other day, read it, and then reviewed it. Here is my review:

a technothriller cum horror, January 25, 2012

By robby charters

This review is from: Origin (Kindle Edition)

I found it a good read. The prologue was intriguing -- a bit of history that brought to mind the beginning of the film "My Science Project", also involving a president. This wasn't a copy of that, though. The first chapter -- the one where you're wrenched into the present -- was well done, with the presidents men knocking at the door at 3 a.m. Then, the setting opens up to us bit by bit through the eyes of Andy the linguist, before moving on to other narrative points of view.

He and eight others are the only ones, outside of the President, and possibly a few others who were sworn to secrecy (like ex-presidents, presumably), who know about the creature, allegedly the devil himself. At least he looks like the classical depiction of the devil. Through Andy's expertise, they get the creature talking. He's ancient. He knows Latin, Hebrew and Mayan, but he quickly learns English. His actual history is illusive, as we never know whether to believe the creature or not.

The other characters are a mixture. Sun, the vet, has recently been called in to check the creature's health. There's a priest and a rabbi. As one who has had exposure to both religions, I can say they're believably portrayed. Joe Konrath has also done enough reading up on things like ancient languages and DNA to at least sound believable. The narrative is spiced up by the banter between the rabbi and priest, chemistry between Andy and Sun, the secret desires of the doctor, and the hidden histories of each one (enabling the President to blackmail them into staying put), in an underground world equipped with everything only the army would think sufficient for the good life. He takes us from what seems like a science fiction techno-thriller, to what could pass as a horror story.

The story kept me glued til the "uh-oh" ending.

Robby Charters

author of Pepe

Author, in a shameless act of self promotion, review his own book

Here's a review I did of my own book, Pepe, which I just had to take down from its Amazon page because an author isn't supposed to review his/her own book:

Author, in a shameless act of self promotion, review his own book,

June 10, 2011

By

robby charters

This review is from: Pepe (Kindle Edition)

Okay, I'm the author. I understand it's probably not fair for the author to review his own book, but the Amazon environment appears to be letting me do so -- so I'll just ramble on a bit...

So, as the author, am I really an authority on whether YOU'll like it? I'll only say this. I have about about eight novels, novellas, shorts -- whatever -- available on Amazon, and in my opinion, PEPE is my best one. It's certainly better than THE WRONG TIME, which appears to be getting the most downloads right now.

It's a cyberpunk novel -- perhaps a bit of crossover to fantasy -- set in 2020. Pepe is a homeless street boy who doesn't know his true identity. In the course of the story, he lives in places you'd typically find them: before the fire, in a vast slum community named the Dockyards (which is one of the central locations); later, an abandoned multi-story construction site with other homeless kids; and then, a shelter for homeless children, Mercy House, which I've based on Mercy Centre, Bangkok, where I worked for a year. Everywhere he lives, he has his sister, Po, with him. She's two years younger, she's not his biological sister, but he knows he's gotta take care of her. I've described the life of street kids as closely as I can without making the story dreary and dismal. There's every type: Pepe's and Po's "grandma" died when their home was burnt in a slum fire; there's Jose, the drug addict, who ran away from an abusive dad; and Raquel and her six-year-old twin brothers, Pierre and Michele (don't worry -- no tiresome comedies-of-errors). Their mother abandoned them after their dad went to prison. They are French/African. Raquel is a colourful character. I loved doing her.

The story is set in the fictional Southern European nation of Cardovia, with a history that goes back thousands of years. Cardo, the founder and first king of the dynasty, once paid a visit to King Solomon and received a special gift from him. This, and the character of Atsuko, the aged Japanese mystic, give the story its fantasy edge.

...And it's Cyberpunk: The blurb above said that the General's brain had been wired to a network of computers and robots. You'll see that that can definitely have its disadvantages. Unbeknownst to his dad, Raul is a hacker. His dad is an army colonel, one of the General's top commanders. Their family is typical upper-crust -- the opposite end of the spectrum from Pepe and Po. Things get precarious when Raul hacks into the Generals computer system and realises what kind of person he really is.

Rich kid meets poor kid: We see the typical attitude of rich kids towards "low-lifers", but things happen. A relationship slowly develops until Raul, Pepe and Po are the closest of friends. He enters their world as one of them. At the same time, in front of his computer terminal and VR set, sometimes accompanied by Pepe, he makes discovery after amazing discovery. Puzzle pieces begin to fit together, until suddenly he realises the danger Pepe is in. In fact, it might be too late...I'll stop here. I'm giving too much away.

There are no superheroes. Everyone's thoroughly human. Perhaps the closest thing to a superhero is Atsuko, but even he has his limitations. But, everyone does what it takes to give the story an ending that should be thoroughly satisfying.

I think you'll like it.

Well -- (as Mr. Bean says about his videos) -- I like it anyway...

Robby Charters, author of The Zondon

The Eurasian, 7th installment: Chapters 13 & 14

This is the last installment I'll be posting for a while. It's as far as I've got so far.

For those of you who haven't looked at it yet, it's a "dystopia" (the opposite of utopia). It probably should come with a warning label: those with nationalistic feelings about the future of certain North American and Asian countries might might be offended. Or, it could be taken as a warning. Other than that, there is a lot of action and adventure.

If you haven't begun reading from the beginning, you still can. All the chapters are posted in this blog.

Chapter 13

Annie ol' Iron

'So long, Pipsqueak, I'll really miss you!' said Albert as he gave him a hug.

'I miss you too, you Hulk!'

'Just don't give away all your clothes.'

'Don't worry la!'

The rest shook hands and hugged, as the old bus revved it's diesel engine and Philip, Mickey, Yorba Linda, Yakov and the rabbi finally boarded. They took seats near the back.

Most of the windows didn't have any glass. The door that once worked on a hydraulic pump, now just sat in open position so the ticket collector could run and jump on as the bus started moving. The seats had one time been luxurious recliners, but the buttons no longer worked. They were covered with so many patches it was hard to tell their original colour.

Soon, they were travelling through mountainous wilderness. Every time they went uphill, the diesel engine's transmission made a very loud noise, as though complaining of the hard work.

* * *

The bus stopped at every small town. In some places, it made several stops. The people's baggage consisted of baskets of produce, or chickens as often as it did backpacks or suitcases.

About one hour into their journey, they came to a bigger road, and turned left.

More up and downhill grades -- more complaints by the transmission.

* * *

After repeated warnings that it had had quite enough of this up and downhill nonsense, the engine finally made good on its threat, and stopped.

The passengers got off, stretched their legs, or stood, or sat beneath the shade of a large tree that conveniently grew by that stretch of highway while the driver, with the help of the ticket collector, tinkered with the engine.

'It happens,' said Rabbi Solomon.

About an hour later, they were back on the road again.

* * *

They made a lunch stop at a village along the highway. Most of the passengers got something from a small shop that sold fry bread and things to go with it. However, Mrs. Kanter had packed something kosher for their lunch, so they had that.

* * *

The bus broke down a second time about an hour's walk from Globe. However, it took one hour to realise that it was going to take longer to fix this time, and to realise that had they walked, they'd be there by now. So, the second hour was spent in walking.

It was mid afternoon, but too late to think of travelling onward that day, so they found lodging at a bed and breakfast.

The rabbi bought a large bag of eggs, and the landlady was kind enough to hard-boil them. They would be a good source of protein during the journey when kosher food would be hard to find.

Over a supper of boiled eggs and toast, the rabbi said, 'There are two ways to go from here. The way South leads near Tuscan, which is in the Multinational Zone. Because of the garbage recycling industry, there are two or three Mafia families vying for control, so there are risks. I suggest taking the way through Safford.'

'There are Mafia controlled areas there as well,' said Yakov.

'They are easier to avoid.'

* * *

There wasn't even standing room on the bus, not so much as to get a toe hold while clinging to the door.

That didn't matter, as there were other forms of transport, mostly consisting of converted pick-up trucks. They each had two wooden benches running down both sides of the covered bed, so that the passengers sat facing one another, with the baggage stacked in between. The drivers ranged from old men to grannies to people who would have been considered too young to drive in any civilised part of the world. Some of them sported outlandish paint jobs, often a spray painted mural, or fancy graffiti, such as used to adorn the back sides of public buildings and underpasses of the cities of yesteryear.

The first few to pass were quickly filled by those who had failed to gain a toe-hold on the bus. Finally, there was a car with room for five more. The rabbi had a few words with the driver, a girl who couldn't have been a day older than twelve. Two younger boys sat with her in the front. The spray painted lettering on the side read, 'annie ol' iron'. Underneath were the subtitles: 'scattered shower', and 'light breeze'.

Mickey thought he remembered his Grandpa Abe singing a song with a title like that. He couldn't imagine what the weather conditions had to do with it.

There was, indeed, room for five, but not by standards back at home. Philip had to sit on top of Yorba Linda, Yakov, on the tail gate, while Mickey sat on some of the luggage in the middle. The rest of the passengers found hardly enough room to put their feet on the floor.

Besides the three children up front, there was one grown up passenger occupying the window seat.

Once everyone was securely on, the truck took off.

'Damn kid driver,' muttered a man with a few days growth on his chin.

As soon as Mickey took notice of him, he went on, 'What do ya think of this place? Weird huh? Let kids like that drive for a living! And who in hell would name their kid Annie ol' Iron?'

Before Mickey could ask for clarification, he had broken out into the song:

Any ol' iron, any ol' iron

Any, any any ol' iron

You look neat, talk about a treat

You look so dapper from your napper to your feet

Dressed in style, brand new tile

And your dad's old green tie on

But I wouldn't give you tuppence for your ol' watch and chain

Ol' iron, ol' iron

Nya ny-ny-nya nya nya, nya ny-ny-nya nya nya,

Nya ny-ny-nya nya nya, ol' iron!

'Where are you from?' asked the rabbi.

'Albuquerque,' said the man.

'New Mexico Albuquerque?'

'Only one there is!'

'Okay, maybe you're from there. Where do you live now?'

'I live in Albuquerque! I'm on my way home right now!'

'How do you propose to get in?'

'Same way I came out! A little known secret. I could tell ya, but then, I'd have to kill you! Ha ha!'

The rabbi responded with uplifted eyebrows and a slight nod, but had no more questions. The other passengers kept to themselves. Some acted like they didn't understand English.

They were speeding through dry wilderness, not slowing down for the bumps.

The strange young man kept muttering, 'Damn kid driver!'

At one point, the man grabbed a bar that ran along the ceiling. His sleeve slipped down, and Mickey noticed, pushed as far up his arm as it would go, an ID bracelet.

About an hour into the journey, they passed a small town. Two people got off, including the one sitting in the front. Annie ol' Iron came around to collect the fare from the one who got out from the back and invited the rabbi to sit in the front. Mickey sat down next to Yorba Linda and Philip, where the rabbi had sat, and Yakov took the seat vacated by the other passenger.

Yorba Linda said, 'Philip, could you move over onto Mickey? My legs are getting numb.'

He moved over.

After they got going again, the strange man grabbed the ceiling bar again.

Mickey whispered just loud enough for Yorba Linda and Philip to hear, 'Take a look at the man's wrist.'

Yorba Linda whispered, 'Oh my god! He was right!'

* * *

Now that Mickey wasn't blocking his view of the passengers across from him, the man seemed to take in interest in Philip.

'Where you from, kid?'

'Huh?'

'Where are you from?'

'Er -- Dinetah.'

Good answer, though Mickey.

'Dinetah? Where's that?'

'Across the desert.'

'Oh. Where you going?'

'A visit.' Mickey could tell Philip was trying to put him off with clipped answers.

'A visit? To who?'

'Er -- uncle.'

Philip looked outside at the passing scenery, at an angle that was as far off from the strangers face as he could.

'Can we be friends?'

Philip turned to Mickey and said in Thai, 'Kit yang ngai khon ni?' ('What do you think of this man?')

'Plaek.' ('Strange,') answered Mickey.

They kept up a conversation, alternating between Thai and Chinese until the man lost interest.

* * *

About noon, the car pulled off the road by a stream. There was enough flat ground to drive just a little bit upstream. There they parked the car, and everyone got out and sat down with whatever food they had brought.

The five chose a spot just slightly upstream from the car, away from the road, overlooking the stream. The car blocked the view from the highway. Not far from them, but closer to the bank of the stream, the driver and her two young brothers also settled down. Not far from them, again, was the man from Albuquerque.

Rabbi Solomon had the bag of eggs, another of fruit and a loaf of bread. He passed everyone an egg and let them help themselves to the bread. They ate them as sandwiches.

'Normally they go only to Silver City, but I've persuaded our young driver to take us all the way to Las Cruces.'

'She's willing to go there?' said Yakov.

'She knows how to get around. Look at that fire-arm the boy has.'

They looked. The older boy, probably about nine, had a revolver sitting next to him.

'He sits next to his sister in the cab, and holds that thing between his legs the whole way, with both hands, like he knows how to use it.'

'How did you persuade them?' asked Yakov.

'I offered them my old radio phone. Also, she'd rather be plying the road between Las Cruces and Albuquerque anyway. More lucrative. She just needed the excuse to make the break.'

'What about their home?'

'That car is their home. Their father, a man named Joe Iron, was bumped off by the Mafia. Their mother was forced to work in a whore house. These three got away in their dad's car and learned about life the hard way.'

'So her name really is, Annie ol' Iron?'

'That's right. Her two brothers are and Scattered Shower and Light Breeze.'

'Certainly had an imagination,' said Yakov.

The man from Albuquerque looked like he was taking an interest in the three siblings.

'Nice place, hun?' they could hear him say.

The three ignored him.

'And our friend here,' said Yakov. 'Do you think he's really from Albuquerque?'

'Of course he is,' said the rabbi. 'He's not from the Free Zone. He makes himself stick out like a sore thumb.'

'And, he's got an ID bracelet,' said Mickey.

'How does he get in or out?' asked Yakov.

'That's what I'd like to know,' said the rabbi.

The older boy had handed the gun to his sister, and was now getting undressed, keeping his sister and younger brother between him and the man -- who couldn't seem to keep his eyes off him. He got into the water and swam about for a while. And then got out.

He dressed himself, and then took the gun back from his sister.

She began undressing the younger boy. Then she undressed herself, and they went in. She began bathing her brother.

The Albuquerque man couldn't contain himself. He got up, and immediately the boy did as well, holding the gun in both hands, pointing it down with his legs spread apart -- not at all like a kid playing at cowboys.

'Is it okay if I join you?' asked the man.

'Don't you go near my sister!' ordered the boy.

Mickey started to get up.

'Relax,' said the rabbi. 'The boy has a gun.'

The girl in the water was standing up, and had grabbed hold of a switch-blade that hung around her neck. She had the look of a big sister facing up to a school yard bully.

'Hey! That's a big toy you have there!'

The boy was pointing the gun at him with both hands, arms stiff, one leg behind the other to brace himself.

'Wa-a-a,' whimpered Philip.

'Just sit still,' whispered the rabbi.

'C'mon, kid,' the man began moving towards the boy, 'you're not really going to ...'

Blam!

The smoke cleared. The boy brought the gun back down to eye level. The man lay sprawled on the ground with a hole in his chest.

The girl quickly dressed herself and her youngest brother. The older one maintained his poise, feet spread apart, gun in both hands pointed down.

The other passengers, after a brief glance, went back to their lunch.

Philip sprinted a few yards away behind some bushes, and vomited. The rabbi put the food away, including the half eaten sandwiches, for later. No one had the stomach for it now.

The older boy picked up the Albuquerque man's backpack and lay it among their own things, while Annie and the youngest went through the man's pockets.

Mickey took note that Annie found the bracelet, and worked it until it came off the man's wrist.

* * *

On the way back to the car, Philip lingered by the body. He just stood, gazing at the frozen facial expression. That moment seemed like an eternity.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and the rabbi's gentle voice.

'It is tragic when it happens like this. Indeed, a world has come to an end. But, this is the path he chose. Come.'

He walked back to the car in the embrace of the rabbi.

* * *

Now, there was room on the bench for Philip, though the thought of what it cost took away the joy.

As they drew near to Silver City, more seats became available at far less cost. Yakov took his turn sitting in the cab with the three children, while the rabbi sat in the back.

Besides the last of the passengers getting off, and Mickey taking a turn in the front, nothing memorable happened in Silver City.

From Silver City, the rabbi had said, they'd be taking mountain roads for safety, even if the straight roads through the valleys would be quicker. The latter went through more check points.

* * *

Mickey found the three not very communicative, not even among themselves. What little talk that went on revealed that the older one -- nine years old by Mickey's judgement -- was name Scattered Shower, though they called him 'Scat', and the five year old, 'Breeze'.

They were in a mountainous area, with a few curves in the road. Annie seemed to be taking extra care, not driving as fast as before, slowing down, Mickey thought, more than was necessary at each curve. Scat continued to sit very stiffly, next to Mickey, with both hands holding the gun hidden between his knees. Breeze was softly singing some local popular tune.

Being that they were moving along slowly, instead of taking the curves at a dangerous speed, Mickey took the time to admire the view.

'Scat! Hand grenade!' Annie shouted suddenly.

Before Mickey could comprehend what was happening, the car had come to a screeching halt. Scat had thrown Annie a hand grenade from the glove compartment, and had clamoured onto Mickey's lap, thrust his upper trunk out the window, and was firing the revolver, crushing Mickey's chest with his behind with every shot. Meanwhile, Annie had thrown the gear-stick into reverse, and was likewise thrusting her upper body out her window as she virtually stood on the accelerator, propelling the car backwards.

Mickey barely caught a glimpse of a large tree branch blocking the road ahead with some men standing around it. Then, that scene was obscured by the explosion of Annie's hand grenade, which cleared out both the branch and the men. Annie and Scat pulled themselves back in again, the gear was thrust into first and Annie roared on full speed ahead. All the while the five year old was bouncing up and down on the seat, shouting something unintelligible.

When Mickey finally gathered his wits, they were racing full speed down the road beyond the danger.

'Scat! Why you only fire four shots?' Annie said.

'No more bullets.'

'How many times I tell you - load it again each time you use it! Load it right now, dammit!' She was almost screaming the words out.

Scat sullenly opened the carriage, removed the empty cartridges, threw them abruptly past Mickey's face out the open window, and took six more cartridges out of the glove compartment.

'Huh! Scattered Shower -- should'a called you Scatter Brain!' Annie muttered.

Mickey began to realise that some of the bumps were not from the road but from a very flat tire on the left front side.

'Curse it! Shrapnel in the tire!' said Annie.

But she didn't so much as slow down. Probably still too dangerous to stop, Mickey presumed.

They slowed down near a wrecked pick-up similar to theirs, that had rolled off the highway. On a second look, Mickey could see the unconscious driver still in it.

'Scat, quick, help me,' said Annie.

Scat was still pouting.

Annie looked at Mickey and said, 'You and your friends help. Come Breeze. Scat, you stand guard.' She took a tire iron and some tools from under the seat.

Mickey met the others getting out the back.

'Wow!' said Yorba Linda.

'Good moves!' said Yakov.

'I told you, they know their way around,' said the rabbi.

Philip was just wide eyed and speechless.

Both the rim and the shrapnel ridden tire looked beyond repair. But Annie was already at work cranking away at the lug nuts of one that was sticking up in the air. Breeze was going through the pockets of the unconscious driver.

As each tire was removed from the axle Mickey and Yakov took them back to the car. The rabbi checked the driver for vital signs.

While Yakov helped change the tire, and Annie and Breeze, with Philip began removing other usable parts, the rabbi, Yorba Linda and Mickey moved the unconscious driver carefully out of the cab, and to a place where he could lie more comfortably.

'He won't live long, but at least he can die with dignity,' said the rabbi. He placed a bottle of drinking water in his hand.

Before leaving, he checked for vital signs once more, but there weren't any. However, he left the water where it was.

With everything that wasn't too heavy to carry now loaded in the back with the passengers, they were off again. This time, it was Yorba Linda's turn in the front.

* * *

Philip was finally encouraged to take a turn in the front. At least he was confident of not being shot himself, having observed their survival instincts at work.

He sat in the middle, with Scat sitting by the window on his right, and Breeze on his left. Scat was still in a bad mood, ever since being scolded for not fully loading the gun, and from subsequent browbeatings by his sister.

However, Philip being more their size, Annie was surprisingly conversant. They knew nothing of the world beyond a few of the neighbouring republics, and just a little bit about the MCZ. It was like a different planet.

Philip thought it was probably okay to think of the MCZ as a different planet, as he was almost of that opinion himself. However, Annie and Breeze seemed eager to hear about China and other parts of the world, so Philip had been giving them a geography lesson. It was hard to tell whether Scat was taking any of it in or not, as he just sat sullenly at his post.

It was evening. The traffic had been becoming heaver the closer they came to Caballo Lake. Now they were almost at a stand still.

Annie had seemed to lose interest in the geography lesson, as her attention appeared to be on whatever was ahead. They were approaching a bend.

'Oh my god! Mafia check point!'

Not many cars ahead, just around the bend, were steel oil drums set up. Men with automatic weapons were standing guard, and were stopping cars, one by one, as they passed.

'Scat, look in the man's bag and see if there's anything they might take.'

Scat didn't move. Neither did the traffic.

Suddenly, Scat said, 'That's Ito! He killed Papa!'

Philip had never heard a kid's voice exude so much hate.

'He'll kill us too if you don't hide the gun!'

'I kill him first,' shouted Scat.

'No!' Screamed Annie. 'You can only shoot six times! His friends got Kalashnikovs -- they'll kill us all!'

The screaming attracted the attention of an important looking man with a pistol in his holster. He began walking slowly towards them.

'Give me the gun Scat!' Annie made a lung for Scat.

'You're not tell'n me what to do! I've got the gun now! I'll kill Ito!'

At that he lunged his body out the window and held the gun up.

'Die Ito!'

Bang!

Now everything happened at once. Ito fell against a car with a hole in his chest. People with machine guns took positions behind other cars and oil drums. Annie dragged Breeze out the driver's door. Philip followed.

He saw his backpack and thought he'd better take it.

Annie and Breeze went straight across several rows of traffic to the other side. Philip went around to the back to meet the others.

His back pack was heavier than he expected.

He met the others, and they ran up the road in the direction they had come.

Mickey said, 'Don't worry, I got your back pack right here, Philip.'

'Huh?'

They could hear Scat's revolver fire and that of the bigger guns.

Up ahead, more men with guns got off a covered lorry.

'This way!' shouted Yakov, signalling them towards the ditch at the side of the road.

The men with guns ran past them and began shooting at those at the checkpoint.

The five got down into the ditch, and began moving back towards the checkpoint.

Philip took a peep above the top.

'For goodness sake, get down!' said Yakov.

It was too late. Philip had seen it -- the limp body of Scat draped through the open window of the cab, riddled with bullets holes, a big man dragging Annie and Breeze, both kicking and screaming, and throwing them into a van.

The moment he brought his head down, the sky above filled with a bright yellow cloud, and the ground below hit him in the face. The bang was so loud he couldn't hear much else for a while.

* * *

Yakov judged it safe to emerge. They did, and sure enough, the battle seemed to be over. The blast had eliminated most of the resistance.

'Annie's in that van,' shouted Philip. There were two vans parked together.

The van seemed in tac but the big man that Philip had seen lay sprawled near the driver door.

Annie and breeze were inside, safe and sound.

The men from the lorry seemed to have taken control of the checkpoint, but were ignoring them.

Philip approached Annie. 'Really sorry about Scat,' he said.

Annie was close to tears, but she kept a stoic face. 'Yeah -- he was so stupid!' Then she broke down as Philip embraced her.

'So, what to do now?' said Yorba Linda.

'These vans seem to be vacant,' said Yakov.

'Good idea,' said the rabbi.

After some consultation, the five took one van, while Annie and Breeze took the other.

* * *

Yakov drove, the rabbi sat beside him, and the others sat in seats near the front, as the rear had no windows.

'Here's your backpack,' Mickey said to Philip.

'But I have my backpack -- wait -- this isn't mine.'

'Where did you get it?'

'From the front of Annie's pickup.'

They looked inside.

'This is that man's backpack. Here's his ID bracelet!' said Mickey.

'Oh my God!' exclaimed Philip.

'And a My Own World headset, and look, an e-tablet!'

'Oh good,' said Yorba Linda. 'We could use an extra e-tablet.'

* * *

The van was petrol powered. Before they left town, Yakov drove into a filling station and got a full tank, but only after enquiring where the local oil was refined, and sniffing a sample of it that the attendant had on hand. Likewise, the attendant weighed the coins Yakov gave him to make sure that they had the proper amount of gold embedded in the centre.

It was getting late. The rabbi knew of a park where people could safely park their motor homes for a small fee. They decided to make for that.

Even though he had checked all the fluid levels, after driving a while, Yakov began having doubts about the state of the motor.

* * *

Mickey had copied the Bible from one e-tablet to the other, so both he and Yorba Linda were reading.

Philip slipped into the seat behind the rabbi.

'Rabbi, did you see what happened to Scat?'

'Indeed, I did. Another tragedy -- two the same day.'

After a pause, Philip asked, 'Was that the path he chose?'

The rabbi thought a while.

'Some have more liberty to choose their path than others. I'd say the man this morning had more paths to choose from. Scattered Shower had only a few, if any. Each one will be rewarded in the world to come by what choices they had, and which path they chose. The Holy One, blessed be He, shines the light of His Shechinah down the path that leads to Himself. The one who glimpses that light however faintly it filters down to him, if he follows, has taken the right path -- however far that path will take him. He or she will be rewarded in the world to come. If it leads him all the way to the Shechinah in the person of His Messiah, then blessed is that person both in this life and in the world to come.'

* * *

They reached the caravan park, paid the fee for one night, and parked. The rabbi and Yorba Linda occupied the two front seats, which reclined all the way for sleeping. The others laid out their bedding on the carpeted back end of the van. They were off again at morning light.

Chapter 14

Uncle Rodrigo

A few hours into the journey, Yakov's doubts concerning the state of the motor were confirmed. It had stopped for the second time, and this time, it wouldn't start, no matter what they did.

'Even if I manage to fix it, it won't go far,' said Yakov. 'There's a fundamental problem inside the engine.'

They gathered their backpacks and were off. Mickey carried the two, one in front and one in back.

Fortunately, they weren't far from sources of water. A river ran not far from the highway.

They walked on for three hours.

* * *

On the other side of the wire fence running along the highway, was an old air strip. A small two engine transport plane sat next to a hanger.

'See if that plane is available,' suggested the rabbi. 'If he could take us all the way, it would save us untold hassle with border crossings and Mafia checkpoints.'

'Hmmm,' responded Yakov. 'Not to mention, time.'

They looked for a way in.

The gate was further down, but it was locked. The place looked deserted. Further on, they found a gully that left a gap under the fence. There were bits of barbed wire hanging down, intended for discouraging intruders, but they were easily pulled out of the way. They all crawled under and made for the hanger and control tower.

They found a man sleeping in a hammock strung between a landing gear and a hatch under the fuselage.

'Sir,' shouted Yakov. 'Are you the owner of this plane?'

'Yeah,' said the man, sleepily. 'What of it?'

'Can you take us to Texas?'

'No fuel,' he said. 'No delivery until next week.'

'Nothing at all?'

'I could get you up in the air, and maybe a ten minute joyride, if that's all you want.'

Yakov threw his hands in the air.

They turned around to leave.

'Hang on,' said Yakov. 'Could you land this on a straight stretch of road like that out there?'

'Yeah, but then we'd be stuck. It's no place to leave a plane.'

'Where you'd be stuck would be next to a van, filled to the brim with gasoline.'

'Hmmm!'

'Then, we take off again and head for Republic of Mexas.'

'Okay...'

They settled on a price and filed on to the aeroplane. The rabbi joined them, although he had originally planned to go only as far as Las Cruces.

It was a transport plane, with just enough seats near the front for the group The rest was cargo space. They taxied, took off and banked around to follow the highway in the direction they came from.

They saw the van by the side of the road far ahead, and landed. Yakov and the pilot made several trips back and forth, siphoning fuel into a tank and returning to pour it into the aeroplane's fuel reserve. Then, they took a cue from Annie ol' Iron and removed everything else from the van that could possibly be useful, including the tires and seats.

Then, they took off again. Later, they made one more refuelling stop.

* * *

They were flying at a very low altitude.

'Are we approaching Milfred already?' asked Mickey.

'No,' said the pilot. 'That fence you see over there is the boundary line between the Free Zone and the MCZ. It's not that we're in danger, or anything, but we pilots feel that it's a good idea not to show up too brilliantly on their radar screens -- in case they get any ideas. Also, it's to avoid accidentally flying over.'

'Why?' asked Yorba Linda.

'For us, they're a no-fly zone. When we navigate near places like this, we have to know when to change course, so we don't even look like we're about to fly over. Otherwise they shoot us down before we get to their border. The rule we follow is, never go in a straight line towards MCZ territory when within fifty miles.'

"Wa!' cried Philip.

Mickey looked. Philip had on the stranger's head set, and he had managed to slip his hand into the ID bracelet.

'What is it?'

'I see lots of lines, and writing over there!' he pointed towards where the fence was visible.

'That's the MCZ, isn't it?' said Yorba Linda.

'Hondo, Texas,' said Philip.

'How did you know?' asked the pilot.

'The letters on the ground. This head set turns it into a map! Over there, Surveillance Headquarters, sector five, level three, and over there -- wait! The more I look at something, more info -- people in that house, named Smith, Alan and Hellen, children's names are ...'

'You see all that in the VR head set?' asked Yakov.

'That's more than mine ever showed me,' said Yorba Linda.

'Let me see,' said Yakov.

'Fading out now,' said Philip.

They had gone on, past the fenced in area.

'But the man this ID bracelet belong to, his name, Morton Carson.'

'Carson did you say?' said Yorba Linda.

* * *

They could see the town of Milfred before them. At Yakov's request, the pilot flew around until they spotted the communications tower. Then he made preparations to land at the small airport.

'How long will you stay around?' the rabbi asked the pilot.

'Until I can get another payload.'

'I just might have something for you, so don't go anywhere in a hurry.'

'Right.'

They landed. The five disembarked, and went off in search of the communications tower. They could see the top of it over the roofs.

* * *

The town seemed a lot like those they had been seeing -- simple tarmac road, no footpath other than hard dirt packed down by constant foot traffic, shop fronts of family run business, but here, a lot more more green in the landscape, and the houses of wood rather than adobe.

Like Cactus Head and Whiteriver, most of the people they saw were brown skinned. But the general chatter had a more familiar sound to Yorba Linda's ears. It was Spanish.

She'd never been here in her life, but the sounds, the smells, even the way people carried themselves, were somehow a part of her. It all reminded her of home -- of the way her relatives were when they were among themselves, the way she was rebuked for being when she let her guard down in public -- but here no one was ashamed of it.

She had never really been ashamed of it. She had even helped to mentor Monterey Jack into that mould, and it thrilled her when he fit in. She had appended 'Monterey' to his name as a reward. But she had been away from it too long. The sights and sounds of Milfred told her so.

They took a wrong turn somewhere. They realised it when they again glimpsed the top of the communications too far to their left, but the road was veering right.

Yorba Linda asked for directions in Spanish. She wasn't sure how they referred to the communications tower, but when she dropped the name, Rodrigo Sanchez, that brought an immediate response.

'Go back that way, and turn right, and then left.'

They followed as far as they could with that, and asked someone for the rest. Everyone knew Rodrigo Sanchez.

Yorba Linda had arrived home.

* * *

From the outside, the compound looked no different than Hambone's tower in Cactus Head. The gate was locked, there was no bell, but a helpful neighbour yelled Rodrigo's name a few times, and hurled a small pebble at a glass pane.

The door opened, and out came Uncle Rodrigo -- much older looking than Yorba Linda remembered.

'Tio Rodrigo!' called Yorba Linda.

He stopped short, a glow of recognition transformed his face, and he ran to the gate. Suddenly irritated at the wire fencing for preventing an immediate embrace, he fumbled with the key and they were in. Then, they embraced.

'How did you come here?' he asked when they got inside.

'It's a long story, Tio,' she began.

The inside was similar to Hambone's tower, but it was in a much better state of upkeep, not unlike his earlier home in San Jose.

'And who are your friends?'

Yorba Linda introduced all of them. Explaining who each one was, of course, meant telling the long story beginning with her involvement as tour guide to a group of Chinese students, the hijacking, the stay at Francis Baguette's ranch, finding out about Monterey Jack's involvement...

'Ai! That Monterey Jack! Such a handfull isn't he! He even hacks calls into my communication system. But I knew this time he was into something away out of his depth -- not his usual cocky self -- but he wouldn't tell me what. Though he told me you might be coming.'

...then explaining Yakov's presence. It was Yakov's turn:

'Your nephew, Monterey Jack, has more than made up for his mischief. Our organisation has been tracking the same group that hijacked the hovercar. Through him, we've been able to get on an inside track in monitoring their activities inside the MCZ, just in time to uncover a major plot in the making.'

'What organisation are you with?'

'Jewish Defence Association, headquarters in Springdale, New Michigan. The group we've been watching is the American Nazi Republic, which is group consisting of all the Nazi nations. Their plan is to gain access to a MCZ missile base which would give them control over the whole Free Zone -- if not the MCZ.'

'Wow!'

'Now, here's where we feel you might be able to help us...'

After a long discussion and some deep thought, Uncle Rodrigo was willing.

* * *

Yakov had put in a call to David and Joe. The rabbi wanted to be a part of the conversation.

'Has the community been able to purchase grain for Stanley Town?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Joe. 'They're still not sure how to get it there. Because it's expensive to store, they've had it shipped here to Whiteriver.'

'Very good. We have an aeroplane. We can airlift it to them,' said the rabbi.

'And after the airlift,' Yakov continued, 'we'll fly all of you here to Mexas.'

* * *

Joe, David, along with Albert and U Ta boarded the plane along with the sacks of grain. Albert and U Ta were joyfully reunited with Philip, Mickey and the rabbi.

On their first pass over Stanley Town, they dropped leaflets instructing them to clear the main highway. Some of the leaflets fell in the church compound, some in Mr. Stanley's and the rest, along the highway that needed clearing.

On the second and third passes, they flew low and dropped the sacks out the back, just close enough to the ground that most of them didn't burst open.

Then, one more pass to observe the happy residents

Then, they flew straight back to Mexas.