Today I have D.L. Jackson on my blog telling us about her newest Prepper Romance. Yes, you read that right, a "Prepper Romance". Read on with my guest, then you will understand...
Good morning. I’m here to tell you about my newest release, Finding
Mercy.
About four months ago my publisher mentioned she was
considering starting a Prepper line. It would be romance and about people who
incorporate disaster preparedness into their daily routines. The idea intrigued
me. In fact, it wouldn’t leave me alone. Within two days, an idea percolated
and I was on the phone with her.
And then I told her about my home town. Here’s the brief description I gave her.
Built in the 1942 to train Army pilots, Alliance Army
Airfield didn’t remain around long. It was decommissioned in 1945, but it’s
important to note that the downtown area of a small town three miles to the
north west of the airfield is built on top of a massive bomb shelter. There is
literally a shelter that takes up several square blocks under this town. The Secretary
of War authorized the building in April of 1942. The workers who came in
doubled the population of Alliance and an area on the east side of the town now
utilizes the original cheaply built houses, “chimney town”, for senior housing.
Many of the workers were Sioux from the Rosebud and Pine Ridge reservations,
Mexicans from the Southwest, and African Americans from Wichita and Kansas
City. Many of the Sioux remained in Alliance. A common family sir-name is
Warbonnet.
The best way I can describe the town is Norman
Rockwell America. It’s white picket fences and cozy, mostly single and double
story houses from Victorian times forward.
The main street is brick and called Box Butte, the
rest of the streets are poured concrete and extremely tidy. The kids in the
town like to drive up and down the main drag on the weekend. This is called cruising
the Butte. The sidewalks are poured concrete. Every so many feet you will find
thick glass blocks, in grids about four by four each, making up windows that
are about two foot by two foot. This lets light into the shelter below. A donut
shop called Daylight Donuts, sits in the middle of main street and is a common
gathering spot for locals to have morning coffee and a cream-filled pastry the
coffee shop has named a Long John. The
older ranchers and farmers hang out there every morning and “shoot the bull.” A
block up from that is the library, where kids often hang out front. Across the
street is the Courthouse, a large white building with a stucco exterior. Behind
it is the local police station and fire department.
In August for a week, the street is blocked off in
an area that takes up about two blocks. A carnival and rides are set up.
Western dances are common at this time with live outdoor bands. These events
are most common during Frontier Days. They also have sidewalk sales, famer’s
markets and outhouse races and other events around town, including mud
volleyball at the old airfield, where the fire trucks come out and make the
mud. The county fairground is out of town to the north. The fair takes place
around the same time—beginning of August.
So, that being said, she was sold. From this brick and
mortar foundation of the real town of Alliance Nebraska, I spun the world of
Evans Point Wyoming, where survival is a priority and love blooms among a
community of preppers.
This shelter led me to several what ifs. What if tornados
level a small community, one like Alliance with an old shelter, mostly
forgotten until disaster strikes. What if those that stay and rebuild, decide
to refurbish the old shelter, so that they will be better prepared for future
disasters.
About some of the
characters in the Evans Point Mini-series:
Jake
North—Sheriff. (I’m currently writing a story about
this intriguing character)
Will
Evans—A local rancher, whose family founded Evans Point.
He is in his 80s and a Veteran of WWII
Anne
Bessett—Runs the hydroponic greenhouse in the shelter.
Justin
Redway—Missing hero hiding from the media outside of Evans
Point. (Finding Mercy) Was a Combat Medic with the 10th Mountain Division and
awarded the Medal of Honor.
Mercy
Evans—Anchorwoman for Cheyenne News station and Will
Evans’s granddaughter. (Finding Mercy)
Grant
T. Houston—Survivalist and author who lives outside Evans
Point (Princess and the Prepper)
Princess
Liliane Johanna Charlotte Helene zu Saxe-Melckenburghausen
(Princess and the Prepper) Think the title says it all.
Maggie
Farrell—Owner of a guest house in Evans Point
Orla
Houston—Grant Houston’s mother.
James
Houston—Grant’s brother.
Cassi
Smith—Environmental purist who gets caught in the middle
of a deal gone bad. (Falling For Water)
Ray
Harris—FBI agent tracking down illegal gun smugglers.
(Falling For Water)
Blurb for Finding
Mercy:
You’ll die in three
minutes without oxygen, three hours without shelter, three days without water
and three weeks without food. But could you survive a lifetime with a broken
heart?
Mercy Evans has come
to Evans Point hoping to collect herself and find a way to resurrect her career
as an anchorwoman for Cheyenne’s news station. Sergeant Justin Redway has come
to Evans Point to try to forget his past and survive what he’s done.
When two worlds
collide, one of a battle damaged veteran, the other of a desperate woman who
will go to any extreme to get his story, sparks fly and old wounds open. When
the chasm between the fated lovers widens, it just might be too big to cross.
One town, two lovers
and a second chance at finding mercy.
Excerpt:
Evans Point, Wyoming
June 28th, 2010
It looked like the end of the world. Will Evans tightened
his grip on Bear’s and Sadie’s leashes and tuned in for any cries for help. The
fresh smell of rain mixed with the industrial stink of spilled fuel and the
ozone from a nearby lightning strike pounded reality home.
Even though they’d merely begun, his bones ached. Fifteen
years before, he would’ve torn through the wreckage and pulled out survivors
without hesitation. Now, he could only look over the destruction and fight the
tears that tugged on his eyes. The scene brought back another time he couldn’t
stomach, when he’d seen the Grim Reaper rip a hole between life and death, as
he’d done this day.
The storms had hit with ferocity, in the middle of the
night, without warning. The roaring of the beast had woken some, but not all.
Those alerted had rushed for cover in their basements and cellars and now
searched for those who were not as lucky. This was all that remained of the
downtown after six tornadoes had torn through Evans Point. In all his eighty-four
years, Will had seen only one other battlefield like it.
He swallowed and searched his soul for courage. There would
be bodies among the rubble, but hopefully, there would also be living. He had
to believe to continue, even though he found his faith tested.
So much carnage. Scanning the brightening horizon, he took
in the destruction. Brick buildings were blown apart. Vehicles lay on their rooftops,
dripping gasoline and other fluids. Even a pickup had been skewered on a
flagpole like one of the carousel horses he’d ridden as a child at the
fairground. A toy truck lay at his feet,
its red paint bright and clean like it was fresh from the box.
His gaze shifted to the left. Someone’s farm equipment sat
on top of a local bridal shop. The five-hundred-thousand-dollar harvester would
have to come down in pieces, which meant it would remain there for a while. No
one would be able to get a crane into the area for months. It all seemed so
overwhelming, and he didn’t have a clue where to start.
But his dogs did.
“All right, we got work to do.” Will squeezed the hooks with
his gnarled fingers, unclipping Bear and Sadie, letting them do what they did
best. Since he’d retired, he’d taken up breeding, raising, and training the
Caucasian Shepherds. The dogs originally belonged to a friend who had worked
search and rescue in Alaska, but when
he’d retired and moved to Florida, he hadn’t wanted to drag the double-coated
dogs to Miami, where they’d suffer from the heat.
Not that Wyoming didn’t have hot summers; it did, but they
were shorter. When Will had taken the pair on, he’d discovered they made great
cattle dogs, and why not? The Caucasian Mountain Shepherds were herding dogs,
highly intelligent, possessing giant personalities to go with their enormous
size. And the bonus? Mountain lions and wolves thought twice about going after
his stock.
Bear barked and dug at a pile of debris that led to a
basement entrance of an old bomb shelter under the downtown area. Will picked
his way around the rubble, careful where he stepped.
The glass blocks embedded in the sidewalk, part of the old
reinforced structure the Army had left behind in the forties, were still intact,
and the structure below hadn’t collapsed. An idea woke in his head. Why hadn’t
they used it before?
“Hey, over here,” he called out to a couple of firefighters
as he tossed a two-by-four to the side. He wouldn’t be much help lifting the
wreckage away, but he’d do what he could, and what he could do was get everyone
together and make sure this didn’t happen again. Those who lost their lives
here would be the last to die because they hadn’t been prepared.
***
So, the day after doomsday, I hope you’ll check out my
newest release. I’ll have the buy links up on my website
www.authordljackson.com. If you’re interested in writing in the Prepper line
for Decadent, please check out their site and submission requirements.
Thanks for stopping by,
D L Jackson
