Authors: Kurt Winans
Tags: #Sci-Fi, #close encounters of the third kind, #area 51, #historical science fiction, #other worlds, #alien contact, #roswell, #travel to other worlds, #Science Fiction, #space travel, #aliens
Story concept by Brian Schaber and Kurt Winans
Copyright © 2013, 2014 Kurt Winans
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act
of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Coaster’s Quill Publishing
Print edition ISBN numbers:
(Book two of the New World series)
It is the humble opinion of this author, that life could not truly have been lived without the benefit of friends and loved ones that lend a helping hand from time to time. That belief was proven to be correct during the process of writing this book, and I would like to acknowledge a few people in particular for their efforts.
There were dozens of meetings with Brian so that we could discuss and shape our collective thoughts for the content, and then arrive at a desired completion of the storyline. Karl, Renée, and Ken gave of themselves by reading through rough drafts of the text, while offering valuable insight, observations, and suggestions along the way. My wife Cathy was once again a stabilizing force, as she provided an incredible amount of faith and patience throughout the entire process.
The pages that follow, like any other book, represent an investment of significant time and effort. They would not be complete without the assistance of the kindhearted souls that have been mentioned.
Thank you all,
IT WAS ANOTHER
typical day during the spring of 1961 in the small dusty central Texas town of Rumley, as Ross Martin lifted his six year-old sister Jessica into the cab of their Grandpa Hank’s truck for the ride to school. Ross, who would turn eleven during the upcoming summer, was used to helping his sister whenever he could. In many ways he had been forced to grow up quicker than most boys his age, as some of the daily things that their mother Janet would do for Jessica became his responsibility after she had been taken by the car accident four years prior. This was not to say that Ross had to do everything, but his father Robert was still living in some level of denial about the loss of his wife and Grandpa Hank wasn’t as young as he used to be.
Robert was stationed at the nearby Fort Hood Army Base, serving out what remained of his intended thirty year career in the Army. Several years earlier he had enjoyed a promising career much like his father Henry, or Hank as most people called him, but in recent years there had been a fall from grace. There was no way around the fact that Robert needed to keep serving his time, as that was the only source of income and medical benefits for his family. It had been decided, in spite of their sometimes tumultuous relationship, that his father Hank would come live with Robert and the children. After the sudden loss of his wife Janet he needed help with the everyday events of raising two small children, and that help needed to come from someone with available time that Robert also trusted with their well-being. It became a perfect fit in a most unfortunate situation, as Hank was retired and had lost his wife a few years earlier to cancer.
Hank was a proud veteran of World War I, or “the war to end all wars”, as a few years after completing college he volunteered for service in 1917 at the age of twenty-four. Choosing to stay in the military after the conclusion of the conflict, he eventually rose to the rank of Army Major Henry Martin before retiring after twenty-five years of service in the early days of the next war. He was trustworthy and dependable to a fault, the kids loved him, and during the almost four years since his arrival, the community had all come to know him as a friendly man in his late sixties that would do whatever he could for a neighbor.
The Wright family, who lived about a half mile down the dirt road towards town, was well aware of Hank’s good intentions. Every day without fail, he would stop to pick up their daughter Patty for a ride to school with his own grandchildren. Ross would climb down from the old pickup truck to hold the door open for Patty, and help her into the cab where Jessica would be seated next to Hank. Her mother, Elizabeth, would either wave politely from the front porch, or on occasion present a plate of “thank you” cookies to Hank at the driver side door while the kids climbed into the cab.
Elizabeth Wright was a sweet and somewhat attractive lady whose husband had died during military service a few years back, and often asked how Hank’s son Robert was doing. She had offered her help with anything he might need several times over the past year or so, but was unclear as to whether Robert simply didn’t pick up on her subtle signals, or didn’t care.
Patty was about a year younger than Ross and one class behind him in the fourth grade. Her skin was sun browned by the nearly ever present Texas sun, with long straight blond hair, green eyes, a few freckles, and a smile that would light up a room. She was admittedly a miniature version of her mother Elizabeth, and what mattered the most to her was that Ross thought she was all right as far as girls go. Her look and stature were in sharp contrast to Jessica, who was seated next to her as they headed off towards school.