Review of the horror fiction novel, Sunset as posted on Amazon.com.
Official homepage http://www.jjritonya.com
By mkwdm (Des Moines, IA USA)
I am not a regular reader of horror fiction and would start by saying this is not what I expected from a horror fiction novel. It is set in a world where 98% of the population has been turned into flesh-craving zombies. I expected the book to focus on the survivor's battle against this enemy like so many other zombie-based books or movies do. But, in fact, the author takes this story in a pleasingly different direction. Although the nightly appearance of the zombies plays a significant role throught the story, the zombies become a much less menacing foe to the survivors as the survivors in the story begrudgingly face the reality that they need to turn their energies to protecting themselves from their true antagonist, other survivors. It becomes a story about the struggle of "good" survivors against the brutal tactics of other non-zombified humans who were also spared by the apocalyptic catastrophe that occurred. The story is written from the persective of 3 different survivors and takes you into their approach to living day-to-day in this new world. The author presents two opposing ideas about survival when facing the aftermath of an apocalyptic event and what living in a world without law and order means to different types of people all of whom are facing an uncertain future. Very descriptive with an astute attention to details. The ending left me hoping that a sequel will soon follow.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Sunset E-Book available in PDF format!
Sunset E-Book now available in PDF format. Click the link below for more infomation.
Sunset E-Book on Tradebit.
Sunset E-Book on Tradebit.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
Hubbert's Peak
Hubbert's Peak Prologue will be out soon with the complete novel to follow. Check back for details.
JJ
JJ
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Sunset is coming!
You can run but you can't hide. Sunset is inevitable. Stay tuned for release notes and how to buy.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
My Mind’s Eye: Memories of the Post Oil War Era
Carnival
I walk among the rusted machinery of years past and wonder what it meant to be a child. The color long faded and the laughter of children, now ghosts of the past, long forgotten. If I knew no better, the machines could be torture devices used to create terror and fear. My father told stories of days filled with joy; his family spent hours riding and laughing on the antique metal foreign devices.
Silenced forever, the contraptions know no other purpose but that of a museum. What will future generation believe of the carnival? My mind wanders and I imagine a child walking through the midway, eyes open wide in wonder. A corroded, orange rollercoaster rises to the sky in the distance. Rails roll and curve in circles. Faded gray horses sneer and buck against tarnished brass poles of a silent merry go round. Clown faces stare back from a once colorful fun house front, eye full of terror where bliss was danced.
Laughter will never again grace the presence of this place. The sounds of happiness have been replaced by weeping and gunfire. I stand where carnival barkers once stood; they called to the masses in search of contestants to try their luck at games of chance. Their prize a fluffy animal or candy. I stand as guard against the unwanted; their prize is lead and death.
My orders are that no man shall pass lest I be on the receiving end of the rifle. I do my job with no remorse. I have a family to feed and protect and the ones who wish to pass threaten our safety. I have had the opportunity to kill three times and have taken the opportunity on each occasion. One such intruder still lies motionless on the black floor of a covered building. Long ago, riders would steer the small vehicles around the black surface and collide with one another. I fail to see what joy could come from this and know when I look at the dead man that no joy will ever come to the building again.
The cold wind blows against my face. I pull my collar tight around my neck to ward off the chill as I make my rounds. Grass and weeds grow from the cracks in the concrete. I cannot imagine a time when pavement was the norm and not the exception.
My relief arrives and I nod as he resumes my place as sentry. I am given leave for the night and I walk slowly back to camp as I think about the time when I can see my family again. Three months in this cold and desolate place can turn a man’s mind to thoughts not wanted. A fine line separates vigilance and insanity, especially when one is left alone in a place such as this.
I enter my tent and lie down on my bunk. Hopefully sleep will come quickly and be without dreams. The carnival rules my dreams and the ghosts that dwell there terrorize my slumber. Less than thirty days remain until I can return home and shake off the cold embrace of this place. I can only hope that our replacements arrive before I go insane.
I walk among the rusted machinery of years past and wonder what it meant to be a child. The color long faded and the laughter of children, now ghosts of the past, long forgotten. If I knew no better, the machines could be torture devices used to create terror and fear. My father told stories of days filled with joy; his family spent hours riding and laughing on the antique metal foreign devices.
Silenced forever, the contraptions know no other purpose but that of a museum. What will future generation believe of the carnival? My mind wanders and I imagine a child walking through the midway, eyes open wide in wonder. A corroded, orange rollercoaster rises to the sky in the distance. Rails roll and curve in circles. Faded gray horses sneer and buck against tarnished brass poles of a silent merry go round. Clown faces stare back from a once colorful fun house front, eye full of terror where bliss was danced.
Laughter will never again grace the presence of this place. The sounds of happiness have been replaced by weeping and gunfire. I stand where carnival barkers once stood; they called to the masses in search of contestants to try their luck at games of chance. Their prize a fluffy animal or candy. I stand as guard against the unwanted; their prize is lead and death.
My orders are that no man shall pass lest I be on the receiving end of the rifle. I do my job with no remorse. I have a family to feed and protect and the ones who wish to pass threaten our safety. I have had the opportunity to kill three times and have taken the opportunity on each occasion. One such intruder still lies motionless on the black floor of a covered building. Long ago, riders would steer the small vehicles around the black surface and collide with one another. I fail to see what joy could come from this and know when I look at the dead man that no joy will ever come to the building again.
The cold wind blows against my face. I pull my collar tight around my neck to ward off the chill as I make my rounds. Grass and weeds grow from the cracks in the concrete. I cannot imagine a time when pavement was the norm and not the exception.
My relief arrives and I nod as he resumes my place as sentry. I am given leave for the night and I walk slowly back to camp as I think about the time when I can see my family again. Three months in this cold and desolate place can turn a man’s mind to thoughts not wanted. A fine line separates vigilance and insanity, especially when one is left alone in a place such as this.
I enter my tent and lie down on my bunk. Hopefully sleep will come quickly and be without dreams. The carnival rules my dreams and the ghosts that dwell there terrorize my slumber. Less than thirty days remain until I can return home and shake off the cold embrace of this place. I can only hope that our replacements arrive before I go insane.
Friday, August 22, 2008
My Mind’s Eye: Memories of the Post Oil War Era
A New Middle Age
I was ten years old and not able to comprehend the situation. During the day I would play with the other children. At night we would have to return to the safety within the city walls. Gunfire and explosions were the soundtrack of my childhood. They were nothing more than fading noises barely heard by someone who was used to them. Like a person who has lived near train tracks for years barely registers the sounds of a passing locomotive.
We lived on the outskirts of Chicago. The useless skyscrapers were the backdrop of many days spent roaming the fields and exploring abandoned towns. Many of the buildings were torn down; the materials used to build the wall that separated us from our enemies beyond.
Prisoners of war would be brought into the city on occasion. I asked my father what would become of them and he would reply that they would be interrogated then hung. I asked him why and he said that ammunition was too valuable to waste on executions. No, I said, why must he die? Because he is starving just like us, he would reply.
I didn’t understand until I grew into manhood but it soon became clear. Food and water was gold. Cities were fighting other cities for crops and fertile land. I grew up knowing nothing else but my father told me tales of cars and planes and concrete highways stretching from coast to coast. It was all because the oil ran out he would say. We thought it would last forever but when it ran out we were like children without their mothers. We were lost and confused without our Sport Utility Vehicles.
I asked him what a Sport Utility Vehicle was but he said it didn’t matter. What mattered was that we learn to live without luxury. He said if we could survive with what we had inside a five mile radius we would be just fine. I didn’t understand at the time but I do now.
My family was one of the lucky ones. My father was a farmer. We were treated like kings. I never went hungry and wanted for nothing in my younger years. Other children would ask me why my face and clothes were clean and why I didn’t have to work. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t know.
Other families were starving. Children of six and seven years old had to work in the fields all day harvesting or planting crops. Their pay was a meager meal at the end of their work day, almost always at dusk. To them it was a feast; to me it would have been a snack.
The winters were harsh but my family was warm and fed well to keep us safe for the next growing season. My father taught me the trade as I grew. He taught me how to spot a good field, how to rotate crops for the best return, how to spot disease and insect damage. He showed me the ways of cultivation, plowing and growing until it was time for the harvest. He said this knowledge would ensure my children’s survival. He was right.
I was ten years old and not able to comprehend the situation. During the day I would play with the other children. At night we would have to return to the safety within the city walls. Gunfire and explosions were the soundtrack of my childhood. They were nothing more than fading noises barely heard by someone who was used to them. Like a person who has lived near train tracks for years barely registers the sounds of a passing locomotive.
We lived on the outskirts of Chicago. The useless skyscrapers were the backdrop of many days spent roaming the fields and exploring abandoned towns. Many of the buildings were torn down; the materials used to build the wall that separated us from our enemies beyond.
Prisoners of war would be brought into the city on occasion. I asked my father what would become of them and he would reply that they would be interrogated then hung. I asked him why and he said that ammunition was too valuable to waste on executions. No, I said, why must he die? Because he is starving just like us, he would reply.
I didn’t understand until I grew into manhood but it soon became clear. Food and water was gold. Cities were fighting other cities for crops and fertile land. I grew up knowing nothing else but my father told me tales of cars and planes and concrete highways stretching from coast to coast. It was all because the oil ran out he would say. We thought it would last forever but when it ran out we were like children without their mothers. We were lost and confused without our Sport Utility Vehicles.
I asked him what a Sport Utility Vehicle was but he said it didn’t matter. What mattered was that we learn to live without luxury. He said if we could survive with what we had inside a five mile radius we would be just fine. I didn’t understand at the time but I do now.
My family was one of the lucky ones. My father was a farmer. We were treated like kings. I never went hungry and wanted for nothing in my younger years. Other children would ask me why my face and clothes were clean and why I didn’t have to work. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t know.
Other families were starving. Children of six and seven years old had to work in the fields all day harvesting or planting crops. Their pay was a meager meal at the end of their work day, almost always at dusk. To them it was a feast; to me it would have been a snack.
The winters were harsh but my family was warm and fed well to keep us safe for the next growing season. My father taught me the trade as I grew. He taught me how to spot a good field, how to rotate crops for the best return, how to spot disease and insect damage. He showed me the ways of cultivation, plowing and growing until it was time for the harvest. He said this knowledge would ensure my children’s survival. He was right.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Chad Grable Wichita, KS October 5th, 1991
I made up my mind that I would go today before it gets dark. It took awhile to convince myself but I finally found the courage. I went out to the garage and set up the step ladder in the center of the floor. Above the ladder was the opening to the storage in the rafters. I climbed up to the cubby hole in the ceiling and pushed open the plywood that covered the entrance. Dust bunnies and mouse droppings fell down in my hair and on my shoulders. I did the nervous gross me out dance and shook my head and arms to get the filthy things off of me.
I climbed another rung and stuck my head up into the hole. The attic was dusty and full of cobwebs and it made me want to sneeze constantly. I felt around for the pistol I had hidden up there when we got back from camping last year.
Read more...
http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/07/sunse-survivors.html
I made up my mind that I would go today before it gets dark. It took awhile to convince myself but I finally found the courage. I went out to the garage and set up the step ladder in the center of the floor. Above the ladder was the opening to the storage in the rafters. I climbed up to the cubby hole in the ceiling and pushed open the plywood that covered the entrance. Dust bunnies and mouse droppings fell down in my hair and on my shoulders. I did the nervous gross me out dance and shook my head and arms to get the filthy things off of me.
I climbed another rung and stuck my head up into the hole. The attic was dusty and full of cobwebs and it made me want to sneeze constantly. I felt around for the pistol I had hidden up there when we got back from camping last year.
Read more...
http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/07/sunse-survivors.html
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Hubbert's Peak: Prologue
Prologue
By the year 2020, the United States was able produce 10 million barrels of oil each day in country. To sustain its economy, it had to import an additional 15 million barrels consuming 25 million barrels a day. This means that the United States consumed two thirds of the oil the world was able to produce.
Commuting from suburbia to the city for work and school is commonplace. Fruit and vegetables are trucked from farms hundreds of miles away to local grocery stores. Large sport utility vehicles make up over one third of the new vehicle market in the United States. Not only do sport utility vehicles generate higher volumes of pollution, they also typically get seven miles per gallon less than standard size vehicles.
Read more...
http://hubbertspeakcrisis.blogspot.com/2008/07/hubberts-peak-prologue.html
By the year 2020, the United States was able produce 10 million barrels of oil each day in country. To sustain its economy, it had to import an additional 15 million barrels consuming 25 million barrels a day. This means that the United States consumed two thirds of the oil the world was able to produce.
Commuting from suburbia to the city for work and school is commonplace. Fruit and vegetables are trucked from farms hundreds of miles away to local grocery stores. Large sport utility vehicles make up over one third of the new vehicle market in the United States. Not only do sport utility vehicles generate higher volumes of pollution, they also typically get seven miles per gallon less than standard size vehicles.
Read more...
http://hubbertspeakcrisis.blogspot.com/2008/07/hubberts-peak-prologue.html
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Amir Baghira New York, NY October 4th, 1991
After it happened I walked the streets for hours in a daze. The cold rain continued into the evening. I was frozen and chilled to the bone. Smoke poured from some buildings while others appeared untouched by the disaster. I can’t help but think of it that way, a disaster. If I would have been responsible for the deaths of all these useless sheep it would have been a glorious triumph. Since it was some freak act of nature it is a disaster.
The city lights were still on but nothing moved. The twisted metal of automobile crashes lay in huge dripping heaps. Some smoked, some burned and others sat in silence showered by the rain and streetlights. Of course there were bodies literally everywhere. Thousands of them. I had to weave and jump to avoid them. Occasionally I had to walk on top of parked cars for half a block to avoid stepping on them.
Read more...
http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/07/sunset-survivors-5.html
After it happened I walked the streets for hours in a daze. The cold rain continued into the evening. I was frozen and chilled to the bone. Smoke poured from some buildings while others appeared untouched by the disaster. I can’t help but think of it that way, a disaster. If I would have been responsible for the deaths of all these useless sheep it would have been a glorious triumph. Since it was some freak act of nature it is a disaster.
The city lights were still on but nothing moved. The twisted metal of automobile crashes lay in huge dripping heaps. Some smoked, some burned and others sat in silence showered by the rain and streetlights. Of course there were bodies literally everywhere. Thousands of them. I had to weave and jump to avoid them. Occasionally I had to walk on top of parked cars for half a block to avoid stepping on them.
Read more...
http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/07/sunset-survivors-5.html
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Stan Howard Las Vegas, NV October 4th, 1991
After Stan made it back to his room, he sat on his bed and stared at the wall for six straight hours. The shock of what he had seen overwhelmed him. Stan drifted in and out of a conscious state for those hours. Occasionally he was aware of where he was. When in a deeper state of shock or denial, Stan’s mind went to his home town of Clear Creek, Wisconsin in the south eastern part of the state.
Clear Creek was a town of about twenty two thousand people. Stan grew up there with his brother and parents in a middle class house in a middle class neighborhood. For the first thirteen years of his life, Stan had a pretty normal childhood. On one cold Saturday in January, normal became the last word Stan would use to describe his childhood.
Read more...
http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/07/sunset-survivors-4.html
After Stan made it back to his room, he sat on his bed and stared at the wall for six straight hours. The shock of what he had seen overwhelmed him. Stan drifted in and out of a conscious state for those hours. Occasionally he was aware of where he was. When in a deeper state of shock or denial, Stan’s mind went to his home town of Clear Creek, Wisconsin in the south eastern part of the state.
Clear Creek was a town of about twenty two thousand people. Stan grew up there with his brother and parents in a middle class house in a middle class neighborhood. For the first thirteen years of his life, Stan had a pretty normal childhood. On one cold Saturday in January, normal became the last word Stan would use to describe his childhood.
Read more...
http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/07/sunset-survivors-4.html
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Hubbert's Peak: Synopsis
Oil
For such a funny and tiny word, it held so much power. It made millionaires out of some people while it starved others. It started and ended wars. It even made some countries rich while it held others hostage. When it was gone, civilization dried up with it.
We thought the oil crisis of the nineteen eighties was bad. Compared to this it was a minor inconvenience. The last two countries on Earth to have derricks producing oil were Iraq and Saudi Arabia. These two countries became the hottest properties on Earth. Millions of people died trying to hold these zones against numerous enemies. All of this occurred so someone could control the market on a gooey, sticky, black substance that took millions of years to create.
Hubbert's Peak
For such a funny and tiny word, it held so much power. It made millionaires out of some people while it starved others. It started and ended wars. It even made some countries rich while it held others hostage. When it was gone, civilization dried up with it.
We thought the oil crisis of the nineteen eighties was bad. Compared to this it was a minor inconvenience. The last two countries on Earth to have derricks producing oil were Iraq and Saudi Arabia. These two countries became the hottest properties on Earth. Millions of people died trying to hold these zones against numerous enemies. All of this occurred so someone could control the market on a gooey, sticky, black substance that took millions of years to create.
Hubbert's Peak
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Amir Baghira New York, NY October 3rd, 1991
My last day on Earth. Please let my last day on Earth please Allah. I have nothing left to live for. So I give my life for Allah and the al Qaeda. My family perished at the hands of a faceless and godless government. Now I am alone save for my new brothers.
Yesterday I received my final instructions. Drive the van to 26 Federal Plaza. Park as close as you can to the building. Wait for the end of the work day. (This way the streets will be full of cattle unaware of their imminent slaughter.) Detonate the explosives. Get busy with my 72 virgins. Man, they better be right about the virgins.
Read more...
http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/06/sunset-survivors-3.html
My last day on Earth. Please let my last day on Earth please Allah. I have nothing left to live for. So I give my life for Allah and the al Qaeda. My family perished at the hands of a faceless and godless government. Now I am alone save for my new brothers.
Yesterday I received my final instructions. Drive the van to 26 Federal Plaza. Park as close as you can to the building. Wait for the end of the work day. (This way the streets will be full of cattle unaware of their imminent slaughter.) Detonate the explosives. Get busy with my 72 virgins. Man, they better be right about the virgins.
Read more...
http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/06/sunset-survivors-3.html
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Two Days Earlier
Stan Howard Las Vegas, NV October 3rd, 1991
I can’t believe this is happening, Stan thought. I have never been an overly lucky guy but this is ridiculous.
Stanley Eugene Howard was the senior programmer at a prestigious software company located in Northern Phoenix. He had driven up to Las Vegas the night before. It was a long drive but Stan found it very relaxing. He could not relax at work. His boss was an asshole and was always on Stan’s back. Stan could not possibly work any harder or any more hours than he already was. This vacation was a way to blow off some steam before returning to the rat race in a few days.
Now Stan stood at a crap table in one of the biggest casinos in Las Vegas. He had held the dice for almost an hour. Twelve passes in a row. He was up almost $22,000. He could not lose. No matter where he put his money, the number would come up. $50 hard four. Hit it. $100 crap. Hit it. $500 yo. Hit it. $1,500 on the pass line. Needs a six. Rolls a thirty-three. The money was just pouring in.
Read more... http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/06/sunset-survivors_17.html
Stan Howard Las Vegas, NV October 3rd, 1991
I can’t believe this is happening, Stan thought. I have never been an overly lucky guy but this is ridiculous.
Stanley Eugene Howard was the senior programmer at a prestigious software company located in Northern Phoenix. He had driven up to Las Vegas the night before. It was a long drive but Stan found it very relaxing. He could not relax at work. His boss was an asshole and was always on Stan’s back. Stan could not possibly work any harder or any more hours than he already was. This vacation was a way to blow off some steam before returning to the rat race in a few days.
Now Stan stood at a crap table in one of the biggest casinos in Las Vegas. He had held the dice for almost an hour. Twelve passes in a row. He was up almost $22,000. He could not lose. No matter where he put his money, the number would come up. $50 hard four. Hit it. $100 crap. Hit it. $500 yo. Hit it. $1,500 on the pass line. Needs a six. Rolls a thirty-three. The money was just pouring in.
Read more... http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/06/sunset-survivors_17.html
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Chad Grable Wichita, KS October 5th, 1991
I knew this was going to happen. Well, not this exactly but I knew something was going to happen. They all laughed at me and told me to move to Montana with those militia people. Who’s laughing now? Those fucking militia guys are probably running the state up there. They were prepared. They knew something like this was going to happen. So did I. I could have been more prepared but it’s not like I was totally unprepared. I have a gun. No one knew I had a gun but I do. I was afraid to tell anyone. I figured they would rat me out to my parents or someone.
Read more... http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/06/sunset-survivors.html
I knew this was going to happen. Well, not this exactly but I knew something was going to happen. They all laughed at me and told me to move to Montana with those militia people. Who’s laughing now? Those fucking militia guys are probably running the state up there. They were prepared. They knew something like this was going to happen. So did I. I could have been more prepared but it’s not like I was totally unprepared. I have a gun. No one knew I had a gun but I do. I was afraid to tell anyone. I figured they would rat me out to my parents or someone.
Read more... http://ithappenedatsunset.blogspot.com/2008/06/sunset-survivors.html
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Sunset: Synopsis
Synopsis
Follow the path of three different men in three different cities as they deal with the end of civilization as we know it. In a matter of hours, ninety eight percent of the Earth’s population was exterminated. Forty eight hours later, the dead have disappeared.
For the survivors, existence has become a massive struggle. However, survival becomes much more difficult after……
Sunset
Follow the path of three different men in three different cities as they deal with the end of civilization as we know it. In a matter of hours, ninety eight percent of the Earth’s population was exterminated. Forty eight hours later, the dead have disappeared.
For the survivors, existence has become a massive struggle. However, survival becomes much more difficult after……
Sunset
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