Saturday, August 15, 2020

Battle for the WestSide - Original Fiction

 

Battle for the WestSide

Adventure fiction by Peter Welmerink

Part One: Defense Down

Mayor Ondesen had brought all his men and women in and gained a foothold on the east side of the Grand. Downtown GR was theirs and the rumors of brainwashing the populace over there, with drugged food and water, making most lethargic slugs: all confirmed.

The men and women of Bravo Company and the few thousand straggling holdouts along the west side of Grand Rapids were all that survived with sound mind and body.

“I want those civilians off the street and under cover,” I yelled, not needing to do so with the sensitivity of the throat microphone encircling my neck. Hugging the wall of the old paint store at Bridge and Broadway, I waved my team back along with the WestSiders who scampered for shelter.

A rain of hot lead spat vertically from the 131 overpass over Bridge, pocking pavement and building as far down as the boarded-up Anchor Bar and GRFD Station 3.

Gruss, one of my Recon team, hunkered behind an old rusted Durango, filled my earbud: “They’re launching drones. They’re going to swoop in and ping us then send AP rockets.”

Ondesen’s hired goons--soldiers of fortune, mercenaries, the majority of them--had pulled this stunt before. Keep us on the down-low with gun fire while sneaking SOMETHING into our domain. Drones were the most common and most pesky.

“That’s why everyone needs to stay off the streets,” I replied as the enemy gunfire died giving me an eyeblink moment to peer around the corner and up at the expressway overpass.

There came a metallic groan from down Broadway, past St. Mary’s Church. We had set up heavy metal barricades on all entrances to the west side of town. Bridge Street. Pearl Street. Fulton Street. All had thick welded metal “gates” reaching the top girders of the expressway underpass in each area. I surely did not like anyone from the opposite side messing with our work.

“Drones launched. I have one in my sights,” Gruss said.

A squeal, then a metallic clang, like someone dropping a metal trash can lid onto the ground. I tried to peer beyond the trees and buildings at the Broadway barricade.

“Someone or something has gotten through the 196 barricade. I can’t see movement though. I can’t ID who or what has come through,” I yelled over the comm as more bullets buzzed in from the 131 overpass.

“Captain, you’re out in the open,” Gruss reminded me. “The drones…”

Even over the rap of machine gun fire and bullets cracking off the asphalt, I could hear the steady hum of the multi-propped aerial drones overhead. I glanced up, seeing a white-bodied aerial hum above and by my location.

A heavy assault rifle boom. Gruss’s shot dead-on. Plastic and metal fragments of the downed drone clattered onto Bridge Street.

Unable to re-load and nail the second drone, it zipped away west down Bridge. It assuredly was snapping pictures, capturing video and marking anyone on the street and their hiding spot.

“We need to get back to HQ, gather everyone. Whatever compromised the Broadway barricade…”

I saw movement behind me. It came up quickly around the corner of the paint store building, on the Broadway side. Soldiers. Mercenaries, dressed in Ondesen’s dark navy vestments.

“Shiii…” I started to say as the lead man, assault rifle drawn and aimed at me, stepped up.

A metallic groan emit from the Bridge Street-131 barricade. The ground rumbled. Something big was coming.

“I didn’t know there were big corn-fed girls on this side of the river,” the soldier said with gun aimed at me. A red beret on his head. Dark goggles covering eyes though I could feel his gaze running me up and down. A skull-face bandana covering his nose, mouth, chin. “I figured we’d have starved you out by this time.”

“Captain, SITREP?” Gruss called in my earbud.

“Name?” the merc said to me as his other cronies lined up behind him.

The machine gun fire from the 131 overpass had subsided though the heavy metal groaning of the Bridge Street barricade continued. Out of the corner of my eye, above, I could see the remaining drone hovering.

“Name!” the merc barked at me again, irritated, anxious.

I dropped my arms, lowering my own machine gun.

“Captain Rachelle Gibson, Bravo Company.”

The merc lowered his weapon as the others behind him had theirs still raised. He pulled down his bandana, letting it hang at his stubbled neck. A big toothy grin split his face. “Dang, gents, we’ve just caught the leader of the WestSide Rebellion.”

“Captain, answer me!” Gruss yelled again in my earbud.

The Bridge Street barricade collapsed with a groan and loud metallic BOOM, but the ground continued to tremble.

I took a chance to move a bit, even with all the guns on me, and peek around the corner onto Bridge, and up the street towards the 131 and Bridge Street overpass. If the machine gun fire still continued I would’ve gotten my face shot off.

I almost wished it would happen.

Driving across the downed barricade, flattening it further like pancake, a giant, armored and tracked beast grumbled and snarled into the West Side.

“Surrender, Captain. The day is lost,” the merc said with a evil sneer.

“Tank!” Gruss yelled in my earbud, seeing the same giant, modified M2A4 Abrams-Sully main battle tank slowly entering our locale.

I turned back to the merc.

“It’s all lost, baby,” the merc grinned.

I looked beyond him then smiled back at him. “Not quite,” I replied, balling my fist behind my back. “And don’t call me baby.”

TO BE CONTINUED

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Interested in reading more action-adventure by Peter Welmerink, contact him at authorpeterwelmerink@gmail.com

Also visit his Patreon page for more exciting material: www.patreon.com/pwelmerink

Battle for the Westside copyright 2020 Peter J Welmerink



Sunday, August 2, 2020

Why writing West Michigan Apocalypse is fun



I am not a weirdo (yes, you are), or a doomsayer. I am not a negative person. I am not some guy that feels down, full of despair, and desiring of bringing people to the pits of fear, anguish and loathing.

I AM AN ADVENTURER, fictionally. I write ADVENTURE FICTION.

Why is it I enjoy writing post-apocalyptic tales of action and adventure based in and around my home state, and old hometown here in West Michigan? Why? WHY? Because...

Because I know THIS PLACE. I know my old hometown, and my locale here in western Michigan. I know the nooks and crannies, the towns and out-of-the-way places. The woodlands and the concrete jungle.

I do not have to go far along the roadway to get thought and inspiration on new tales of epic adventure to bring to my little warped mind, and to paper or blank writing screen. There can be a whole shite ton of adventure right where you are sitting if you ponder it long enough.

But why, you ask, why do you write that END O' THE WORLD stuff?

I don't write END OF THE WORLD stuff. If you read my material you know the stories don't end. Humankind does NOT disappear. Yeah, we get roughed up a bit, a few not make it, but the survivors keep standing up and moving onward. It's never a real END, just another opportunity to rise up and keep fighting the good fight... sometimes after a little rest from getting beaten down.

Sometimes my post-apoc material doesn't paint a pretty picture. That's reality isn't it? Sometimes it's not pretty nor smells great, looks great, feels great. But somewhere in the midst of the mud and blood, there is a spark of HOPE. The main characters might not survive their travels, but they certainly will have fought the good fight for others to live a new day and a potential brighter future.

I'm going to keep writing adventure fiction, and most likely keep venturing in the West Michigan fictional apocalyptic world.

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I carry my own stock of my books. Contact me at: authorpeterwelmerink@gmail.com if you hanker for some adventure fiction.



Thursday, July 2, 2020

The roll out of the BIG JACK Comic Book



Come this August 2020, with Skeletal Press and APW Productions, we will be kicking off a Kickstarter Campaign to help fund the completion and publication of my first TRANSPORT "Universe" comic book project entitled BIG JACK: ANIMALS. 

The script for BIG JACK: ANIMALS #1 is done. The covers, both regular and variant, are done. The first 7 PAGES of the interior story are done. The two pin-ups for this specific issue are in rough sketch phase. The launch of the digital and print copies of BIG JACK #1 will be available November 2020 (as long as we can fund this bad boy), and a physical launch party in Grand Rapids, Michigan, hosted by a local comic book store, has already been given the green light.

So, yes, we're doing this!! 

Written by the cooler-than-evah Ryan Cummins and li'l ole me, Peter Welmerink, with the main art jazz done by the also cooler-than-cool EV Cantada, BIG JACK is going to be a action-packed hardcore adventure in the alt-history post-post apoc world of TRANSPORT.

Stay tuned. MUCH more to come on this awesome illustrated book and BIG character.

Keep moving forward.

Peter


BIG JACK #1 regular cover, art by EV Cantada