Don't Cross This Line (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 14)

by Michael Anderle

  She turned the doorknob and stepped out, "I'm sure I'll have a suitable story about how brave you were by that time, as well."

  The door closed softly behind her as she made her way to the fence.

  By now, this whole snippet thing is going CRAZY - You have to read the responses in the snippet posts because fans (I think Earl started this) are writing small STORIES to go w/ the intro stories that are supposed to introduce the snippets… I mean, we are so meta at the moment, I’ve lost all control of this situation.

  Not that I ever had control…but still.

  Now, before I release Snippet 09, my beloved wife (in real life) goes on a business trip to California. Which leaves me as the only parental unit in the house. We have three children (one lives out of the house, two are still in high school). The two high schoolers (Seniors) join in the snippets…Not that they had a clue at the time I wrote this, they found out later.

  Intro to Snippet #09:

  “Dad, does Mom know what you are wanting to do?” The Author’s youngest twin asked. He and his two sons were sitting in front of a huge … contraption.

  The Author waved both hands towards his two teenage sons, “Now, let’s not bother Mom’s delicate psyche with this idea. She’s traveling for work and it wouldn’t be good for her to have to deal with this while she is so far away from home.”

  “Really?” the older of the twins asked, “Because I remember her warning us about your efforts to put your snippets over the fence.”

  “They aren’t … efforts… exactly,” the Author says.

  “Right,” the younger twin agreed, “Mom describes them as P.E.R.F.E.C.T.”

  The Author’s Eye light up in delight, “See! She completely gets me! The ability to overcome the physical and mental challenges that snippets represent…” The older twin interrupts.

  He eyes his father, “Dad, it stands for Pitiful Efforts Real Females Eventually Can’t Take.”

  The Author waits for a moment for his brain to realize it was an acronym. then makes a face of disgust.

  “That’s because she doesn’t understand the difficult and challenging profession of writing. Of taking my blood, sweat and tears…”

  “Dad,” the older interrupts again, “Mom says she has lots of tears from your snippet efforts.”

  “Really?” The Author replies, confused.

  “Oh yes,” the younger agrees, “she cries in frustration every time you hurt yourself doing something, uh…uh…,” the brother looks over to his older twin. “A little help?”

  He nods his head then shrugs, “Insane?”

  “Not…helping,” his brother replies.

  “Look you two,” the Author points to the large contraption put together from old tinker-toys found in the attack and duct tape, “This is bound to get the snippet over the walls of rejection to the ravenous hordes on the other side.”

  “You mean, the nice people over the normal wooden fence having a bit of Coke together out there?” the oldest asks, confusion evident on his face.

  “And the dog,” the younger agrees, “don’t forget the dog.”

  “Yes!” the eyes of the Author light up, “Cerberus himself is out there!”

  The two teenagers look to each other, communicating as somehow twins can do and both turn towards their father. “So,” the older one starts, “let’s see this snippet,” he asks as he holds his hand out, eyeing the contraption behind the Author.

  “I’ll see if the coast is clear,” the younger stands up.

  Caught by surprise with the sudden acceptance and obvious understanding for the need of Herculean strength and the mental effort to dig deep to bring up the latent heroic desire in all men to …

  The older twin snags the snippet out of his hand and tosses it to his brother, who was already streaking for the back door! The Author watches in horror as the beloved snippet flips end over end, past his contraption to be snagged out of the air by the second son with his teenager reflexes.

  The Author, not quite so fast as his son heaves his aging body to one side, then the other to get momentum so he can try to stand up, but too late! The younger is already out the back door as the

  Author tries to stand up, his legs not quite enough and find’s out he miscalculated. He falls backwards right into his contraption.

  The older twin winces and closes his eyes, the tinker-toys falling down like a James Cameron scene, bouncing everywhere with his Dad underneath, his hands covering his eyes.

  By the time their Dad finally moves, the younger twin is coming back in the back door, “You know? That dog was really nice. He likes to get scratched behind his ears.”

  “C’mon, let’s get Dad out from underneath this mess,” his older brother tells him.

  The younger pulls out his iPhone, “Not before we get evidence.” He snaps a picture.

  From beneath the tinker-toy mess, their father moans, “YouTube?”

  “No,” they both respond, “Mom!”

  The younger finishes, “We get ten bucks if we save you from disaster…”

  So, that time, I figured I would pull The Author’s Wife out of the snippets, and her rocketing fame will decrease…Not so, she hires two snitch’s to tell on me and now both The Author’s Wife AND The Author’s Son’s are now fan favorites.

  The Author never catches a break.

  FINE!

  The Author decides to make his next effort without ANYONE at home. That will teach them all a lesson…

  So, The Author waits until the kids are at school, and his lovely wife is still out of town to effectuate his next effort to get the snippet over the fence to the fans on the other side.

  By now, these damned intro’s are the size of small book scenes! LOL, fans are telling me that they don’t want me too spend too much time writing the intro’s, but they love them so much, they don’t want to tell me to stop. I guess that is a passive aggressive way to tell me to grab a bunch of No-Doz and get my ass typing.

  Intro to Snippet #10:

  The author listened to the beautiful simplicity of his empty house. He was sitting at the counter, on a bar stool, eyeing the long distance from his backdoor to the back fence.

  He licked his parched lips.

  This time, there was no wife to drug him, no teenagers to trick him. It was just him, the snippet laying in front of him, and hell’s half acre.

  The Author reached up and wiped imaginary sweat off of his eyebrows. He chewed on his upper lip and turned back to eye the three shot glasses in front of him.

  Two contained the Elixir of life… one contained Pepsi. He had two shots to make it to the fence or it was guaranteed if he failed three times, he was going to have to drink the big ‘P’.

  He considered how that sounded and decided to change that to ‘have to drink the big ‘PC’.

  Well, shit. Now it sounded like he was going to drink a personal computer. That wasn't going to work either.

  Screw it. He hitched up his pants and walked to the back door. He grabbed the handle and started rocking on his legs.

  “One, Two..” He screamed the last number, “three!” Yanking open the door, the Author ran like a man chased by a baby with a dirty diaper to the back fence.

  It was, he counted, at least thirty-two steps of torturous danger. Coming up on the fence at full speed he put on the brakes, eyeing the top of the fence as he reached into his back pocket.

  SHIT! He turned to look at the back door in dismay, he had left the snippet on the countertop!

  Dammit. He started chugging his middle-aged body back towards the back door, looking out for any nefarious insects that could be trying to ambush him.

  Making it to the back porch he went inside. Breathing hard, he grabbed the first shot glass and tossed it back, the carbonation burning the back of his throat.

  He set the glass aside and grabbed the snippet this time, sticking it in his pocket. He looked over his shoulder and the fence easily moved back another thirty steps.

  He set his sho
ulders and turned back. Grabbing the second Coke, he drank it quickly and then pushed off the counter top, racing back across the back yard, dodging the zombie disease carrying mosquitos when he arrived at the fence. Reaching into his pocket, his hands clasped on the snippet.

  Throwing the snippet over the fence, it rebounded off the fence a foot from his face and came back to hit him in his left eye, “Diddly Sock Puppet!” he screamed, grabbing his eye with his left hand. Looking around, one eye down, he finally discovered the snippet and hastily tried to grab it. Three times was the charm and he flung it back over the fence.

  It disappeared into the clouds.

  Running back to the house, he tried to look for any traps along the way, the sweat was real this time.

  Tripping on the step up onto the back porch, our intrepid Author made it to the back door and stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. Leaning back against the door, his chest heaving due to exertion,

  The Author smiled and put up his hand in VICTORY!

  “Woohoo!” he shouted for today he had beaten the evil hell’s half acre and come back alive. Perhaps wounded (he wondered if he should get a medal for his valorous efforts) he took the three steps and dropped into his chair.

  In a stupor, smile on his face and one eye still closed our beloved author reached out and grabbed the second Coke and downed it.

  Fifteen minutes later, the sons of the author came in through the garage door from school. Calling out, they didn’t hear dad reply.

  They found him on the kitchen floor, Pepsi dribbling down his shirt.

  “That…” he whispered to the first son to ask him what happened, “wasn’t…Coke…”

  So, ended Don’t Cross This Line’s pre-snippet, snippets.

  The following are the confirmed Authors who are writing in The Kurtherian Gambit Universe with me. Our first collaboration books are releasing either in December or January 2017

  Check them out ;-)

  CRAIG MARTELLE - Terry Henry “TH” Walton Chronicles

  Craig is the Author of the the best selling End Times Alaska Series, The Free Trader Series and the new Cygnus Rising series.

  He is a retired Marine, lawyer (not holding that against him) and consultant. He is taking over the science fiction and miltiary fiction genres.

  Craig is letting loose in The Kurtherian Universe with language not used in his writing since…Well, he heard it in the Marines.

  Here is the first blurb about Terry Henry.

  The Terry Henry “TH” Walton Chronicles starts with Nomad Found (January 2017)

  After the fall, strength was power, then electrical power became a force unto itself. The strong built their empires, only because of people like Terry Henry Walton. He showed a small town boss there are no limits if you planned well and built slowly.

  You just have to stay smart to be one step ahead of the next strongman.

  In a world where mechanics and engineers are the most valuable people, Terry committed to protect them with his life. Little did he know he lived because others allowed it. Little did they know, he doesn’t give a fuck what they allow.

  Because Robert told him the future was bleak, and he has an ace-in-the-hole.

  VISIT CRAIG ON HIS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

  https://www.amazon.com/Craig-Martelle/e/B01AQVF3ZY/

  TS (Scott) Paul - Etheric Empire Academy Series

  Scott is the author of the bestselling science fiction YA Athena Lee Chronicles and his new best selling Urban Fantasy Federal Witch series.

  Scott is well known to my fans as he is the #1 Also-bought almost every day I look (meaning he is the most purchased author of the top 16 authors my fans read).

  When I was searching for a collaborator to do a YA series, I figured I’d ask Scott because it was a logical choice, but with his success and busy writing schedule, I hadn’t really expected him to say ‘yes’.

  I’m super happy that he signed up!

  The Etheric Empire Academy series (first book release Dec 2016) will follow those youth we know from the stories (Cheryl Lynn’s daughter and son and others) as a uniquely Bethany Anne academy is created to help them learn not only Reading, Writing and Arithmetic… But Etheric Anti-Gravity engineering, small squad tactics and alien relations 101.

  Unfortunately, just like their parents are single minded and willing to break a few rules, the children don’t fall far from that tree.

  VISIT SCOTT ON HIS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

  https://www.amazon.com/T-S-Paul/e/B01C7IPHYQ

  JUSTIN SLOAN - Reclaiming Honor Series

  Justin is the author behind such titles as Falls of Redemption Trilogy, Modern Necromancy Series (with Michael La Ron), Bringer of Light Trilogy (Allie Strom) and additional work on the Game of Thrones game as well as tv and movie scripts (his latest work with Sean Platt and others was picked up recently to be made into a movie.)

  The Reclaiming Honor (Justice is Calling out 12.15.2016) series paints the picture of the world Michael returns to one hundred and fifty years after Bethany Anne and the Etheric Empire have left to fight the Kurtherians.

  Valerie, a vampire changed by one of David’s children who was released from his cement prison by grave robbers, can’t follow her father anymore.

  She must follow the call in her heart and seeks the land of America to prepare to protect it from the effort to spread her father’s dominion.

  All while trying to figure out why some people are starting to trade in blackmarket Vampire blood in this new city-state.

  VISIT JUSTIN ON HIS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

  https://www.amazon.com/Justin-Sloan/e/B00OJPAM0K

  Justice Is Calling - A New Kurtherian Gambit Series

  Coming

  December 2016

  CHAPTER 1

  Old Angers, France (West of Paris)

  Valerie turned her head just enough to stop the rancid, oil-slicked water from flowing into her mouth. The street was filthy, even ignoring the blood and guts--not that those would disgust her. Well, not the blood anyway, her being a vampire and all.

  Something had tasted nasty in that water. Nasty enough for her to care to move her head, in spite of the piercing pain that doing so sent through her body. That's what happens when your brother breaks practically every bone in your body and leaves you on the rain-drenched street.

  Utter and unbelievable pain.

  In fact, she was ready for the sun to come up. Hoping it would hurry and get on with it, how much worse than what she was already feeling could the sun be? Death had never scared her. But pain? Even though she had always healed from it, she hated pain.

  And with this much pain, she was ready to die. All thanks to her brother, Donovan.

  She’d hoped he was gone, done with her, but she felt him next to her. She could smell his scent, even through the blood that had come streaming out of her broken nose.

  Donovan, that ass, kneeled down and moved her hair so that it wasn’t blocking her view of him.

  “See, Valerie, I can be nice when I want to.” He chuckled and cast a glance over his shoulder, where she imagined one of his goons stood but couldn’t see from this angle. Probably Jean-Pierre, his right-hand man, and the one that had delivered the sucker punch that set her up for her brother’s beat-down.

  He turned back to her, “I just never care to be nice,” he continued. He leaned a little closer, enough she could smell his breath, “That’s the difference between you and me."

  Those goons laughed, and she imagined ripping their pitiful, small brained heads from their gorilla-like bodies. They’d ambushed her as she walked down the raining street. Lost in her thoughts, she would’ve been able to take them any other time, but today something had changed. She lost focus... and direction.

  She’d seen the chaos, the death, the truth. Like a veil covering her eyes, the lies had been lifted. Now the reality of her situation didn't sit right with her. Especially not when she’d turned to see one of these goons taking the life of a child. A defenseless child, dead,
for no reason. And now… she couldn’t do anything to stop them from continuing to be ruthless fucking pricks. It sucked.

  “You. Are. A. Dick,” she managed between pained breaths and choking on the sewer runoff that flowed into her mouth.

  She coughed up and half-vomited, pleased to see the scrunched up expression on Donovan’s face when some of that sewage-spit-meets-vomit hit his shoes.

  “Yes,” he said, casually standing up and then wiping his shoe off on her pants. “But this dick isn’t the one dying in the deserted street, waiting for the clouds to break apart and have the unholy sun come down and kill her, is he?” He sneered, then laughed when she tried to talk again and failed.