Friday, October 23, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Green Plastic Soldiers
The simpler days.
Playing with my buddy Mike in the alley over near his house.
Or in the sandbox over at my house. (After we picked out all the cat turd landmines from the tractor tire sandbox.)
Simpler times, simpler days.
Probably because we were in deep and wrapped around the axle with the events of the day and times. We didn't know enough about the real world, or knew just enough to not grind us down.
But we'd take our little, green plastic soldiers, and tanks, and some 2 1/2-ton plastic trucks, and have our battles in the alley.
Maybe noises that we thought might sound like a tank--BROOM BROOM CLANK CLANK--we drove up sheer vertical walls, parking on concrete slab ledges, overlooking the gravel-filled valley. Our troops would climb up behind us, falling us, keeping behind cover, though we were all easy targets out in the open, climbing up a vertical wall above a gravel-strewn floor (the alley way surface).
BROOM BROOM CLANK CLANK.
We'd make it to the very top slab of the broken concrete slab cliff, where we'd meet the neighbors lawn---an expansive field that went go on and on for scale miles. Our vehicles had a hard time making through the tall grasses, so we'd drive along the broken and bumpy slabs of concrete, rolling along, high above the gravel-filled valley.
The enemy? I don't know. Maybe we had plastic blue soldiers who would parallel our movement down below, falling us through the alley along the alley floor. If our men would look down there, those other guys would hunker under a slab of broken concrete, hug the broken rock wall, hide from our eagle eye gaze.
Maybe someone would get shot at. A guy would fall from our battalion, fall right over the edge of the cliff. If he didn't fall to the gravel floor far below, and maybe get hung up on one of the ledges we recently ascended, we'd rescue him. I don't think anyone really died. And I know we left no one behind.
Sometimes there would be no enemy. We'd just drive along, fighting more the elements, the big puddles or a worm crossing our path. A shiny trail from a slug? "Careful, men, could be poison that rubs off on you, sinks right through your boots."
My personal favorite guy to play was the green plastic flamethrower guy. I am pretty sure that was his official name in my young book--FLAMETHROWER GUY.
I am having a grand day today, and for some reason (or maybe it is more obvious than I think) I am thinking back to younger days, when I played ARMY with my buddy, outside, in the fresh air, in the dirt, making BROOM BROOM CLANK CLANK noises as we moved our tanks and trucks and green army men out along the alley way floor.
Simpler times.
Or maybe we just knew how to not get so wrapped around the axle with events of the day and times.
Playing with my buddy Mike in the alley over near his house.
Or in the sandbox over at my house. (After we picked out all the cat turd landmines from the tractor tire sandbox.)
Simpler times, simpler days.
Probably because we were in deep and wrapped around the axle with the events of the day and times. We didn't know enough about the real world, or knew just enough to not grind us down.
But we'd take our little, green plastic soldiers, and tanks, and some 2 1/2-ton plastic trucks, and have our battles in the alley.
Maybe noises that we thought might sound like a tank--BROOM BROOM CLANK CLANK--we drove up sheer vertical walls, parking on concrete slab ledges, overlooking the gravel-filled valley. Our troops would climb up behind us, falling us, keeping behind cover, though we were all easy targets out in the open, climbing up a vertical wall above a gravel-strewn floor (the alley way surface).
BROOM BROOM CLANK CLANK.
We'd make it to the very top slab of the broken concrete slab cliff, where we'd meet the neighbors lawn---an expansive field that went go on and on for scale miles. Our vehicles had a hard time making through the tall grasses, so we'd drive along the broken and bumpy slabs of concrete, rolling along, high above the gravel-filled valley.
The enemy? I don't know. Maybe we had plastic blue soldiers who would parallel our movement down below, falling us through the alley along the alley floor. If our men would look down there, those other guys would hunker under a slab of broken concrete, hug the broken rock wall, hide from our eagle eye gaze.
Maybe someone would get shot at. A guy would fall from our battalion, fall right over the edge of the cliff. If he didn't fall to the gravel floor far below, and maybe get hung up on one of the ledges we recently ascended, we'd rescue him. I don't think anyone really died. And I know we left no one behind.
Sometimes there would be no enemy. We'd just drive along, fighting more the elements, the big puddles or a worm crossing our path. A shiny trail from a slug? "Careful, men, could be poison that rubs off on you, sinks right through your boots."
My personal favorite guy to play was the green plastic flamethrower guy. I am pretty sure that was his official name in my young book--FLAMETHROWER GUY.
I am having a grand day today, and for some reason (or maybe it is more obvious than I think) I am thinking back to younger days, when I played ARMY with my buddy, outside, in the fresh air, in the dirt, making BROOM BROOM CLANK CLANK noises as we moved our tanks and trucks and green army men out along the alley way floor.
Simpler times.
Or maybe we just knew how to not get so wrapped around the axle with events of the day and times.
Sunday, October 11, 2015
..........TRANSPORT TRILOGY COMPLETE..........
The rollin', rockin', 72-tons of Military Action-Adventure Thriller, set in West Michigan, with zombies, is complete.
All three books are now available for reading consumption.
See below for details. And enjoy!
TRANSPORT (Book One)
The HURON, a 72-ton heavy transport vehicle and an army of four; tracked, racked and ready to roll, to serve and protect the walled metropolis of Grand Rapids—both her living and her undead. Captain Jacob Billet and his crew patrol the byways, ready for trouble.
William Lettner, the North Shore Coalition High Commissioner, has enemies from the mainland to the lakeshore and needs to be covertly transported home after his helicopter is shot down en route to Grand Rapids. He has no love for a city that give unliving civilians the right to survive. Lettner’s venomous outbursts assaults Billet and his crew along every mile travelled as they are assigned to safely bring him through the treacherous landscape outside the city back to his hometown.
The HURON and her crew will have to face domesticated zombies and the feral undead; marauders holding strategic chokepoints hostage; barricaded villages fighting for survival, and a group of geneticists who've lost control of one of their monstrous experiments if they want to complete their mission.
The crew will need to stay strong and trust one another in order to finish the mission and bring their “precious” cargo home, even knowing, all the while, the terrible deeds Lettner has done.
Travelling through West Michigan was never so dangerous.
"Peter Welmerink’s keen ability to create atmosphere is magical." -- Jake Elliot, reviewer
Book Links
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TRANSPORT (Book Two)
HUNT FOR THE FALLEN
Captain Jacob Billet
Journal Entry - Sunday April 5, 2026
It’s raining, it’s pouring, the undead are roaring…
Amassed at the UCRA east end enclosure, the dead strain the fence line while soldiers keep watchful eyes, the survivors on the opposite side of the rising river about to lose their minds.
It’s a crazy time: nonstop precipitation; everyone's up in arms; paranoid city council members with an asshat City Treasurer. Water, water everywhere. Zees dropping into the churning drink. Troops afraid of being stitched up and thrown back into the fray as Zombie Troopers. Tank commanders getting itchy to head out on their own after drug-laden shamblers. Reganshire insurgents trying to extract our west side civvies for some unknown reason, possibly pushing the city into taking heavy-handed action against them.
Then there’s some black-haired dead dude staring at me through the fence, grinning like he’s off his meds.
And I thought Lettner was a headache.
All this sh*t might give me a heart attack.
"Zombies... The concept has become a cliche. To successfully create such a story any more, there must be unique elements to make the new tale stand out from the countless others out there. Transport succeeds in this endeavor and provides a zombie story not quite like ones you have seen previously." -- Rage Circus Book Reviews
"What a great read. There’s so much action and intrigue. And the zombies are sporting a new twist too." --laurathomas61, Book Reviewer
Book Links
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TRANSPORT (Book Three)
UNCIVIL WAR
All is not well in the big city of Grand Rapids. Anti-Zombie Loyalists, loyalists of the late William Lettner, have set the city ablaze… Or so thinks the mayor, ruling city council and the military authority. Little do they know, a snake dwells in their midst, creating this chaos, planning an overthrow of the city’s leadership, with intentions much like Lettner: eradicate the non-living nuisances, and also any of the living who get in the way.
Battle will rage from Grand Rapids streets, into the UCRA enclosure where the city’s protected undead wander, to a small train station and military encampment in the village of Lamont.
And all is not well for Captain Jacob Billet. Coming out of a 3-month coma, he finds he has changed. Not for the better. With the deceased William Lettner dogging his every move, and knowing his days are most likely numbered, Jake just wants to make it to his old homestead before his condition sets him on a different, and very much undesirable path.
"...far more compelling than most of the zombie stories you’re likely to pick up...a fascinating sign of where zombie narrative, road narrative, and narrative in general might be moving..."
-- L. Andrew Cooper's Horrific Scribblings
Book Links
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Humble Message from Author
Folks, I have to #1. thank Seventh Star Press for picking up this little project and making it all possible and come to life (or UNLIFE as it also goes LOL), and #2. thank you to all of you who have so far mentioned your joy and distain for the project. IT'S ALL GOOD.
I had a great time writing this particular series. My main goal was to write something military-esque (as I have always been interested in all things Military since a very young age), and the story taking place in my ole hometown region (Grand Rapids rocks! West Michigan rocks! There IS adventure here.), and maybe pepper some of my favorite "monsters", ie, zombies, into the mix.
It was all fun to write, and so far, from most of the comments and reviews I've received (thank you for those also), the common comment coming from readers is that IT IS FUN TO READ. Yes, yes. There are many gory, gross parts. Lots of intense action. But I have also tried to lighten it up with a human, living group of characters who are sometimes more giving each other shit (poking fun at each other) even amidst the effed-up world they are trying to survive in.
Anyway, I thank you for your interest and all comments.
Roll out! Read on!
Sincerely--
Peter Welmerink
Hiding in his bunker :)
October 2015
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Peter Welmerink (www.peterwelmerink.com) was born and raised on the west side of pre-apocalyptic Grand Rapids, Michigan. He appreciates his hometown and West Michigan, which is why he enjoys writing tales about it. He writes Fantasy, Military SciFi, and other wanderings into action-adventure. His work has been published in ye olde wood pulp (paper) print and electronic-online publications. He is the co-author of the Viking berserker novel, BEDLAM UNLEASHED, written with Steven Shrewsbury. TRANSPORT is his first solo novel series. He is married with a small barbarian tribe of three boys.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pwelmerink
Twitter: @pwelmerink
grandrapidsaltered.blogspot.com (TRANSPORT and other Alt History Michigan-related posts)
darkheroicfantasy.blogspot.com (author interviews and all things fantastical)
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Another fresh, new action-adventure available: RETURN TO STRANGE HOME, a Military-esque action-adventure, soft SciFi mini-novel, set on the lakeshore of West Michigan.
Publisher: Peninsulam Publishing.
Book Links
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