Gift from the Gods

Martin Gunn

Description

How do you fight the enemy within, when you don't know that the enemy exists?This is the problem facing the USA inas a Nazi cell, dormant for decades, waiting patiently for its moment to strike, conspires to forge a new Fourth Reich out of theashes of the old. Fifty years earlier, in1935, alien technology is recovered from a crashed UFO in the Black Forest, and is developed by a team of German scientists, overseenby psychopathic Waffen-SS officer, Hauptsturmfhrer Gustav von Brandt. What evil plot does this Nazi cell intend to deploy? And what is the alien technology which willhelp them achieve their ambition?This Science Fiction thriller is a rollercoaster ride of intrigue and deception involving Aliens, Gods, Dinosaurs, Nazis, the CIA and the Mafia. And in a highly original storyspanning nearly three hundred million years that culminates in an explosive climax, who would believe that the key to the destiny of our planet would be in the hands of apainfully shy, socially awkward teenage boy?With a fast pace and a collection of narratives that 'travel' from one time to the next, this novel will be a compulsive read for anyone interested in Science Fiction and Spythrillers.

Sujets

• Science fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 28 novembre 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781789012545
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2018 Martin Gunn

www.martingunnauthor.co.uk

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Credit to Bespoke Book Covers for the cover design.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.


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ISBN 978 1789012 545

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd



Everything is theoretically impossible.
Until it is done.
Robert A. Heinlein
Contents
PART ONE
Out of Space…

PROLOGUE
Killing Time

CHAPTER ONE
Captain Hook

CHAPTER TWO
The Origin of Storms

CHAPTER THREE
Forbidden Technology

CHAPTER FOUR
The Small Things

CHAPTER FIVE
Die Glocke

CHAPTER SIX
One Small Step for Man

CHAPTER SEVEN
A Toss of a Coin

PART TWO
…Out of Time

CHAPTER EIGHT
Too Much of a Good Thing

CHAPTER NINE
Beware of False Prophets

CHAPTER TEN
The Eagle Will Rise Again

CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sins of the Father

CHAPTER TWELVE
Impossible Past

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Solar Eclipse

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
All Exits Are Final

EPILOGUE
The Origin of Storms – Reprise

Acknowledgements

PART ONE
Out of Space…
PROLOGUE
Killing Time
Ten Miles West of Devils Lake – North Dakota 15th August 1984
“Look will you stop it,” demanded an exasperated Brooke as she pulled Tyler’s hand out from between her thighs.
“What’s going on?” Tyler was confused, “I thought you were up for this.”
It was true, the very reason for them driving out to this copse overlooking a massive wheat field was to make out, and since Brooke had recently turned sixteen, she had decided that Tyler would be the one – her first. Unfortunately, nature had intervened early this month.
“I was – I am,” she corrected, hoping to reassure him, “it’s just that time of the month, that’s all. It started this morning – I’m early.”
Brooke sat up and rearranged her long spikey brown hair, then she turned to Tyler with a mischievous grin,
“We can still make out a little, can’t we?” she flirted.
Tyler looked at her, grinned mischievously, put his forefinger in his mouth and moved it back and forth.
“You’re gross,” she exclaimed, pushing his right shoulder hard.
“I’m just kidding,” he replied laughing, “for God’s sake lighten up.”
“You can be such a jerk sometimes,” Brooke complained sullenly. She really liked him and had hoped for better.
“Look I’m sorry, okay?” he implored, trying to placate her.
Tyler slumped back in the driver’s seat, sighed and became reticent. Brooke assumed he had started to sulk.
The radio was playing Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’, but the irony was completely lost on the pair.
“So, am I getting the silent treatment now?”
Tyler held his right hand up to hush her as he switched off the radio. He could hear a low rumbling sound coming from behind them. Tyler wound down the window.
“Can you hear that,” he whispered.
Brooke listened for a moment and then heard it too.
“It sounds like vehicles coming down the track,” he blurted out excitedly.
No sooner had he spoken, when two Jeep Cherokee XJ’s drove by, kicking up dust and followed by a large truck with a crane on the back, which in turn was followed by two more Cherokees. The sun had just tipped over the horizon, but even though the light was poor, they could see that the jeeps were black with dark grey tinted windows, thus making them look somewhat menacing.
About one hundred feet away, the vehicles stopped at the edge of the wheat field. The four Cherokees fanned out; two either side of the truck. Tyler opened the door and got out of the car for a better look.
Stooping to look back into the car again, he asked rhetorically, “What are they doing here? This is the middle of nowhere.”
Brooke just shrugged and gave no reply. Then in a display of disinterest, she pulled down the sun visor to check her make-up in the vanity mirror.
“I’m going for a closer look,” whispered Tyler.
“Why?” hissed Brooke, “shouldn’t we just go?”
“Wait here I won’t be long.” He moved off into the trees to get a little nearer to the vehicles, until Brooke found it difficult to make him out.
Several men had stepped out of the jeeps and were now standing at the edge of the field, surveying it. Two were wearing dark grey suits with lighter grey shirts and black tie, the other eight were simply wearing dark grey overalls and caps. Two of the men in overalls flanked the rest, each holding a submachine gun in front of them in a relaxed fashion.
“He should be here soon, Kolbeck,” commented one of the be-suited men to the other. He was heavy-set and middle-aged, with thin dark hair brushed back over his scalp. Kolbeck was much younger, tall and slim with short fair hair. He nodded and replied, “Everything is in place, Sir.”
The middle-aged man nodded his approval and looked back to the field, then up at the sky. It was a cloudless evening and most of the stars were gleaming in the twilight. As they waited, all of the men took out red bands and slid them up their left arms.
“It seems as though we have been killing time this last forty-odd years,” stated the middle-aged man.
“He also, in his own way,” replied Kolbeck nodding in the direction of the wheat field, “but then we can afford to, don’t you think?”
The middle-aged man nodded; it was true, forty years was nothing to them.
About ten minutes went by, then suddenly they began to feel a breeze which seemed to come out of nowhere. All ten men put on sunglasses despite the fact that the sun had set completely by now. Then with a sudden flash, a ball of blinding white light about twenty feet in diameter appeared, fifty feet off the ground. There was a sudden loud thunder-like crack and the ball dispersed outwards in a halo of light, until it dissipated and finally disappeared. What was left was a strange object in the sky, hovering and spinning very fast. It was bronze in colour and measured fifteen feet tall by nine feet at its widest. The shape was reminiscent of a bell.
Eventually the rotation of the object started to decrease and slowly it began to descend. The wheat was ripe and ready for harvesting and as the object touched down there was a rustling sound as it crushed the crops.
Tyler had managed to move to within twenty feet undetected; he was spellbound and dazzled by this incredible apparition. Then he watched on tenterhooks as two of the men in overalls started to open a side hatch on the strange object. There was a pause, and a short, slightly older man stepped out unsteadily. He straightened his jacket, removed his goggles and ran his fingers through his hair. Even in the darkness Tyler could see who the man was.
“Holy crap,” he muttered quietly to himself, “this is so fucked up.”
The man who had alighted from the vessel was none other than Adolf Hitler. Suddenly he was startled by movement to his left. It was Brooke, who had eventually decided to join him.
“Did you see that?” she hissed, trying to contain her excitement.
Tyler pulled her down low and put his hand over her mouth. They both squatted in the bushes listening to the men as they spoke.
“Is that German they’re speaking?” whispered Brooke in Tyler’s ear.
“This is some crazy shit,” he hissed in reply, “we need to get outta here.”
As Hitler stepped forward, two men went to work on the vessel. The other eight gave a Nazi salute and clicked their heels. Hitler responded with a casual raising of his right arm.
“It’s good to see you again, my Führer .”
“It only seems a few minutes ago when I left you, Martin,” replied Hitler with a smile.
“It has been forty years for us, Sir,” replied Bormann.
“Yet you have hardly aged at all,” observed Hitler.
Both Bormann and Kolbeck looked at each other and smiled.
“Please,” advised Bormann with a hint of urgency, “we must get you away to safety.”
Hitler nodded and began to follow Bormann to one of the jeeps, when a crack was heard coming from the bushes. Sturmbannführer Kolbeck motioned for two of the armed men to investigate. Tyler and Brooke had been squatting in the bushes for some time and Brooke felt the need to shift, and in doing so, she inadvertently stood on a twig.
“Shhh,” insisted Tyler, “they’ll hear us.” No sooner had he said this, than they found themselves looking up at two silhouettes holding machine-guns.
Without a word, the guards picked up the teenagers by the scruff of the neck and dragged them in front of Sturmbannführer Kolbeck.
“So, you were spying in the bushes, eh?” he accused, in a heavy German accent.
“No – no we didn’t see a thing,” whimpered Tyler, terrified.
Hitler and Bormann stopped and looked back at the commotion, then Hitler walked back and faced the two teenagers.
“I think we are in trouble,” cowered Brooke, with trepidation.
He looked them up and