Chicago Down, chapter 1 – excerpt

Chicago Down, chapter 1 – an excerpt

He wanted Salbatora to take care of business in the end. He trusted her and only her to do it. After all, she owed him, and she believed in payment of debts. Yet, he was her friend. And she, his. Despite the world’s perception of Al Capone, he was honestly kind to her and never asked anything in return for all he had done for her over the years. Nothing at all. He never put the moves on her, or asked for any sort of sexual favors, or payment in some other shady way. When she had nothing, he had it all, and he offered some to her, Salbatora, a lost Texan looking for her family. Salbatora, who lost her family, found it, and then lost it all over again for the good of humankind.

Al, he admired her. No doubt that her tenaciousness, bluntness, bravery, and the way she accepted success and defeat, life and death, with sophistication was a few of the many reasons why he thought she was worth something.

 She wandered past everyone, barely aware of them. She imagined the blood of her friend being upon her hands and she broke down out on the veranda. All alone. It took only an instant though, for the valiant, solid Salbatora to regain her warrior stature. Not as young as she used to be, and having so many responsibilities these days, she pushed that grief aside. Now was not a good time.

“Salbatora,” Mae Capone was behind her, holding a small box. Only middle aged, Mae was still as kind as ever, even after all she had been through. “Al left this for you. He boxed up these things a long time ago. I don’t really know what’s in here. And I never tried to look.”

She approached Sal and gestured for her to take the box. Sal started to reach for the box, but hesitated.

“Really, Sal, take it.”

 She took the box. “I don’t know why Al would give me anything else. I’ve taken way too much already.”

“He left it for you because he knew that you’d come,” Mae took a deep breath and turned away from
Salbatora, almost as if she was ashamed to admit what is. “He knew you’d come here and do what the rest of us could not. What his family, friends, or employees could not do.” She shook her head and turned around to face Salbatora.

 “I…I don’t know…I…” Salbatora could only stammer. She was at a loss for words and actions.    

“He knew you’d end it for him. Put a stop to it. Do what even his doctor wouldn’t. What I wouldn’t…couldn’t. He never wanted to become like that.”

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Storm Dwellers, chapter 7-excerpt

Storm Dwellers, chapter 7 – excerpt

“Hold on, y’all,” Lasso said. “I’ll get us some gloves.”

Lasso headed for his truck just as other South Padre Island police vehicles pulled up along with Texas State Police.

Covered with sand and grime a couple centimeters thick and caked with a sticky substance which had been splattered all over it, Terry’s car looked as if it had been driven through a slaughterhouse and out into a sandstorm.

“You can’t even tell by this car that it rained,” Hill said as she took a closer look at the hood and then the roof. “This gunk…how odd.”

“I…I think there’s some blood, for sure.” Lasso handed everyone a pair of gloves. “Here, just in case. Y’all be careful.”

Hill pulled on the gloves then touched the gooey substance on the car, rubbing it between her fingers. She held it to her nose and took a whiff.

“Yes, blood and…this stuff looks like…”

She stepped back from the vehicle.

“Like what?” Rob prodded.

The answer hit him, and he turned away from the car for a moment to gather himself then turned back.

“Awe, God.” Rob rubbed his forehead, fighting his emotions.

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Chicago Down- Cover Blurb

Greetings all,

Here’s a peek at what I’ve been working on for the Chicago Down back cover blurb. I’m still working on it.

*****

Salbatora vows to honor her father’s last request: find Eliot Ness to help free her brother who was wrongly arrested for Prohibition violations. She abandons her Texas home leaving behind memories, and the living dead.

Ness isn’t the only thing Sal finds. Chicago struggles under Prohibition. While its citizens covertly indulge in spirits, a sinister darkness grows. Born of greed, it’s more disturbing than a lust for alcohol. While gangsters battle over territories, the undead have no preference as they run amok, and the Illinois governor has lost his mind to a madcap plot to corral Chicago’s mounting zombie populace.

An unlikely team, Salbatora Guerrera, Eliot Ness, and Al Capone form an unusual camaraderie as they fight the Screamin’ Mimis, as Al calls them. They develop a strategy to deter the governor’s plan which will collapse the weakened city. But can they end the evil’s terrorizing hold? When they learn how the dead sprang to life, they must strike at the source to set Chicago free. And they may not survive alive.

Chicago, are you ready for your unsung heroes? (Note: this line is slated for the front cover, as opposed to the back blurb. We’ll see.)

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Storm Dwellers, chapter 6 – an excerpt

STORM DWELLERS, chapter 6 – excerpt.

Lynn stretched out on the couch to rest. As she drifted off, she heard her mom’s side of a phone conversation with Lynn’s father, Rob.

“Y’all get there without any trouble?” Angela asked. Then there was silence. “Uh-huh. I hope you can find those kids. It’s terrible, babe. Lynn told me a horrific story and I’m worried those kids might not be found.”

Lynn’s eyes fell on the grandfather clock in the corner. It was already noon. She watched the pendulum swing back and forth as her mother’s voice faded.

“What if they’re dead, Rob?” Angela worried. “For Christ’s sake. Oh, Jes-”

 The room grew dark as Lynn slipped to sleep. She floated in the darkness; her breaths kept time with the ticking of the clock.

A pounding thunder snatched Lynn from her nap. She awoke to the sound of glass vibrating, and the twinkling of the dining room chandelier as it swung. Flashing lights from outside nearly blinded her as they filled the room through the windows. She threw her arm up to shroud her eyes from the intense brightness and psychedelic colors. What is that? The police?

“Why would the cops be here?” She said to herself. “Mom!” Lynn did not get an answer. “Mom, you home? Is that the police?”

Again, no response. She ran to the window only to recoil from streaks of blinding lightning.

“Oh, God!” She cried. “No! No!”

Lightning bolts hit the ground leaving burn marks as tree limbs cracked off from their trunks and fell or were propelled away by the strong winds. The wind moaned and whistled around the doors and windows. Lynn heard the floorboards of the second floor creaking; someone was walking around up there.

“Mom, you upstairs?” Lynn shouted.

She whirled around and tripped over the coffee table, hitting her cheek on the corner as she timbered to the floor. She crawled to a corner of the room and huddled on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Mom, where are you? Help me!”

Lynn’s chest felt heavy; she sat up straighter, pinning her spine to the wall, trying to open her lungs.

“This isn’t happening. It’s just not.”

She started to hyperventilate, breathing heavily and shaking. It’s okay. It’ll be okay, she thought.

“It’s okay!” Lynn screamed, covering her own ears. “It’s…okaaay!” Her words emphasized with intent. “Stop!”

There was immediate silence. Lynn thought maybe she had suddenly fallen deaf. She heard nothing except her own heartbeat and breath sounds.

Thick, rancid air filled the shadowy, still room. Lynn saw the tree branches outside that were still swaying in the wind, but there was no sound. Her movements guarded; she reluctantly rose with her back still against the wall, then eased toward the large living room window. She peered again through the sheer curtain panel, then pulled it back a bit and peeked out. The dismal sky held no moon. She looked straight ahead, peering into the darkness.

“It’s noon, what is going-”

Something slammed against the window. Lynn gasped frozen in place. Terry?

Terry’s face frozen, eyes wide with fright, was held up by some unseen force; pressed against the glass and looking straight at Lynn, her eyes bulged from their sockets.

Lynn’s mouth opened to scream, but the sound was stuck within her. She stood paralyzed from the shock of seeing her friend, Terry, like this again. Over the sound of her own heartbeat, Lynn heard Terry screaming, but she could not be sure if it was real.

A power rose from Lynn’s fear and anger. She felt it, she shook, her muscles tightened, finally the words came.

“Stop it! Leave Terry alone! Leave her alone! I’ll get you! I swear, I will!”

Lynn’s hearing returned to normal. The image of Terry morphed into a monster, a hooded creature with melting flesh and pointy talons.

Lynn jumped back from the window and spun, scanning the room for a weapon. She grabbed a marble book end from a shelf and hurled it at the window which burst upon impact; shards of glass embedded into the creature’s flesh; it spit vulgarities at her.

“Enough!” Lynn jutted her palm outward, she felt energy flow from her, and the shards already embedded in the creature began to twist and gouge at its flesh.

The monster howled in anguish as it attempted to pluck out the glass pieces.

Lynn darted away, stumbling through the dim house, crashing into walls, and stubbing her socked toes on furniture legs. She tried light switches as she went through the house. Nope.

The rumbling thunder returned, as did the violently whipping lightning strikes which lashed around like live power cables. Rain poured down, pelting against the house and the windows, causing the windows to blur.

Lynn’s intention was to run into the kitchen, find a weapon of some sort, rolling pin, knife, anything, maybe even a flashlight. She made it to the foyer and stopped near the front door. A light seeped in from under the door; a fog wafted through the space from under the door and every other crack too…or so it seemed.

Lynn stood mortified. Slowly backing away her mental faculties slipping away – No, I can’t do this alone.

The ethereal fog crept forward and began encircling her. She regained her thoughts and continued into the kitchen. She went right for the knife set on the kitchen counter and grabbed the biggest one. She backed up against a wall as the fog filtered into the kitchen.

“This isn’t happening,” Lynn said. “Nope.”

She squeezed her eyes tightly closed for a few seconds in an attempt to will a change.

Lynn opened her eyes. “No such luck for you, Lynn. Shit.”

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Storm Dwellers, chapter 5 – an excerpt

Storm Dwellers, chapter 5 – excerpt

Joelle leaned forward, looking at Darcy in anticipation.

“Lynn told Sybil to come back to our space until we do the food offering. She took hold of Sybil’s arm, but she was like stone, feet planted firmly on the sand. Terry and I hollered at Sybil from the Circle. She wouldn’t respond. It’s like she was deaf to our words.”

Darcy rubbed her hands together, wringing them from both the memories of the cold wind, and from worry.

“Oh, I’m going to be ill,” Darcy said.

Her hand flew to her stomach as she sprung to her feet.

“I have to go the bath –“

“No, you aren’t, young lady,” Joelle threatened. “You swallow that and tell me the rest.

Darcy’s face fell. She plopped back down on the couch and breathed heavily, hyperventilating for a few seconds as she cried.

After all Darcy had been through, Joelle immediately felt sorry for her coldness.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Joelle reached for Darcy and rubbed her shoulder.

Joelle gave her daughter a minute to gather herself.

“Okay?” Joelle asked.

Darcy nodded her answer.

“Things went haywire after that,” Darcy snorted back her grief. “It was like the whole freakin’ universe went berserk. The weather changed; the sky darkened even though the sun was above the horizon when it happened. Wind picked up, extreme lightning bolts started flying, and there were swirling lights. Like…after this, it’s a blur to me, and I cannot recall every dreadful thing in order. Anyway, Sybil did become herself shortly after all hell broke loose.”

Darcy looked at her mother who was watching her wide-eyed, bottom lip trembling, fear upon her face.

“What did you all go and do?” Joelle asked.

“Nothing,” Darcy said. “We didn’t do anything on purpose. I’m being honest, Mom. I think Sybil was possessed.”

“Oh, God,” Joelle breathed.

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla

Storm Dwellers, chapter 4 – an excerpt

STORM DWELLERS

Chapter 4, excerpt

It was quiet again in the SUV. Lynn turned to check on Darcy and found dozing; her head bobbing from the motion of the vehicle.

Lynn yawned. She was sure they had been driving the same road for hours, maybe even passing a few places twice. Round and round.

Something doesn’t want us to make it home, Lynn thought to herself. Damn rooster! Again?

For the third time, Lynn soared passed by a stationary red and black rooster, rooted in place like statue with the exception of a few feathers tousled by the wind.

Immediately after, she whizzed by a welcoming sight, a sign that read: Black Willow 10 Miles. Overcome with a sense of immense relief, her heart rate slowed as her hands loosened on the steering wheel.

“Finally! We’re almost home, Darce,” she whispered as she patted Darcy’s arm.

Lynn and Darcy spent most of their lives in Cameron County, Texas. Meeting in the first grade, they hit it off immediately as if they were meant to be friends.

Darcy walked up to join the line accumulating outside to enter Miss Julie’s first-grade classroom, and her eyes landed on Lynn. She was drawn straight to her, and she crossed the grass like a boss, jumping the line as she bounded up to Lynn.

“Hello, I’m Darcy. I think I know you.”

Lynn studied Darcy; head tilted. She smiled.

“I’m Lynn. I think you’re right.”

A gust of wind blew, shaking the tree leaves. Some children, parents and teachers alike lost their grip on papers and took off chasing them around the grounds. Girls and ladies giggled or hollered out as they fought to control fluffing skirt tails.

Darcy and Lynn watched the chaotic sight on the school grounds.

“I wonder why the grownups are so frustrated and chasing papers,” Lynn said. “They just need to calm down. Let those papers fly away!”

They laughed and had been inseparable since that day.

“I saw your mommy in my dream,” Darcy told Lynn the morning they met. “She sang to me in words I never heard before.”

“Nope. That ain’t right,” Lynn said. “You didn’t even meet Mommy yet. And she doesn’t sing in anything but English, silly.”

However, when Darcy met Lynn’s mother, Angela, she told Lynn that Angela was not the lady she had seen in her dream; she did not look anything like that woman.

“I told you so,” the young Lynn stated.

“Yes, but,” Darcy persisted, “she told me that she’s your mother. I promise.”

Lynn was unable to wrap her young mind around it at the time, but she never forgot that day, and she was always curious about the woman Darcy dreamed. They talked about it a few times over the years, but never in depth and they never wholeheartedly pursued the dream woman’s identity.

When they were older, they searched Lynn’s old family photographs to see if they could find the woman among them. Lynn and Darcy made plans to save money and have an artist draw the likeness of the woman from Darcy’s memory of the dream since she had no drawing skills of her own.

One day, right before they entered the eighth grade, Darcy and Lynn took an introduction to French class at the library.

“That’s the language the woman sang to me in!” Darcy exclaimed.

***

Sybil and Terry Mendez’s mother, Adelina, claimed a lineage dating back to the Texas statesman, Jose Antonio Navarro. Their father, Richard, on the other hand, did not talk much about his ancestry, in fact, he went out of his way to avoid discussion of his ancestry so often that even it left Adelina and her daughters wondering about it. When they would inquire about their paternal ancestry to their father’s parents and other relatives, they always got jokes and snarky remarks in return.

Their father’s maternal grandmother, Paz – who was still alive and kicking at ninety-four, always told them that their father enjoyed rebuffing the ‘ooga-booga’ side of the family.

As kids Sybil and Terry would run around hollering, “ooga-booga!” which in turn made their dad, Richard, quite unnerved.

Copyright 2023 Wanda S. Paryla