Dime Novels From Oblivion

This is an anecdote about the madness of war. In battle, the lines between reality and insanity are blurred terror and the haunting presence of death. Throughout the 20th century, the entire globe has played hosts to scenes of industrialized massacre. So what happens when the modern armies find themselves lost in a world trapped at the beginning of time? What happens when the modern warrior is haunted by enigmatic ghosts of an esoteric and savage world lost beyond the reaches of time? Colonel Thompson's regiment was driven from its remote outpost deep within the heart of the mysterious orient. The men were as much pioneers as they were soldiers, straddling the boundary between civilization and the vast unknown covered in impenetrable jungle. Thompson and his troops hacked their way through jungle only to find themselves lost in fields of razor sharp elephant grass that stood so high and dense; anything could have been hiding in its depths. They had abandoned an airfield in a “st

Jason Landsman had been nervous about leaving his only daughter with his wife. He had left in a hurry. After 14 years, he had reached a breaking point and was finally ready to abandon the withering relationship that had been the foundation of much of his adult life. The truth is it had been defective. That defect had cultivated a rot, a cancer that was pervasive in every aspect of his marriage, and that was exasperated by his wife's deteriorating mental state. She lived a life lost in her delusions. She inhabited a world carved out of her own insanity. She believed she was seeing the shadows being cast by whatever existed behind the smoke and mirrors of what she called the “day to day illusion.” Fantasies of big brother and digital tyranny became her obsession. Her descent into madness had been quick as if she had simply fallen over a cliff. Jason felt guilty about leaving Kate in her hands. There was a period when his daughter ceased answering his texts or his Facebook messa

We soar across the open sky over the desert without rest. I sit behind the bullet proof eye of the flying killer. The craft's electronic instruments feed in a constant stream of information for my assessment. I am a brain, the neural hub in the mechanical body. I watch the ground below, blinking only when I feel my eyes start to burn. We are in the air around the clock. Whether the sky is lit by the burning sun or the glowing moon my long shadow races ceaselessly across the desert sands and engulfs my prey as I dive on them for the kill. I live in the sky now, but not alone. I am a pack hunter. There are four of us in total. Our movements are synchronized and seamless. We move as one, we were linked to each other and to the omnipotent network that gave us our directive by an invisible chain of microwave signals and radio waves. When it struck out against its enemies, it did it with us. I could see our base in the wavy horizon. The air waves like water. “This is nemesis 3-8 reque