Dime Novels From Oblivion

  The tall stiff-backed white-haired President Ian Bakersfield sat in his commander's chair with clasped hands. He was in a war council with Secretary of defense Ted Bloomington, the Under Secretary of Defense Linda Coach, the joint chiefs chairman, Major General Arnold Lewis. Also, a few other advisors and cabinet members whose names the aged President couldn't remember for the life of him. The walls were covered with computer monitors manned by anonymous officers whispering coded jargon into their headsets. Secret service agents with cords dangling from their ears in perfectly pressed suits periodically scanned the room with cellphone cameras. "All clear!" they announced "Alright, send in the doctor," Bakersfield ordered. Doctor Elroy Lightplane entered the room flanked by secret service personnel. The young, relatively young, clean-cut physicist appeared dressed in much more casual attire than the President, his retinue of representatives from the militar

 At 12:04 am EST, Deputy Sherrif Warran Baker responded to a call nearby a local cell tower. Initial reporting went a large man was seen climbing the structure to something about giant cranes flying headfirst into its blinking red lights.  The Deputy arrived on the scene by 12:13. The sky was dark but clear. In the pale illuminance of the full moon, the Deputy could see through the cluster of narrow pine trees the shadowy outline of someone holding on near the top of the tower. "Woah, that son of a bitch is big," marveled Warran. "Sir, this is the Cherylsburg sheriff's department. You are trespassing on private property. Immediately climb down from the tower and put your hands above your head." Warran sternly ordered from his car's megaphone. The figure pushed off from the tower, and a pair of tattered wings quickly unfolded from its back and spasmodically flapped to save it from the free fall. The motion slowed to an uneasy fluttering, and the creature hove

 41-year-old software designer Jarred Ingram was, on the whole, an average sort of guy. He was about average height, just a little over average weight, his politics were middle of the road. He believed everything in moderation. His life was steady but not slow, and he often summed it all up with the phrase "I'm just happy to be here." Sitting on his couch one night dividing his attention between work and Netflix, he heard his doorbell ring. Thinking it was a delivery driver, he grabbed his wallet off the coffee table and went to the door.  The door's chime was the call of destiny itself. The moment Jarred opened the door, he became the intersection of time and space, instead of someone holding a carryout bag, a tall older man with neatly trimmed white hair and deep-set jade eyes. He stood tall and proper wearing a suit perfectly tailored to his long frame. "Jarred?" the man asked.  "Yeah," Jarred said with polite suspicion. The stranger flashed a s

 At 10:03 AM, senate proceedings were interrupted by one Colonel Henderson of the marine corps. He politely apologized for the intrusion and explained there was actionable intelligence on a specific threat, and every senator was to be rushed by armed escorts to a secure location. The legislators and their staff breathed a collective sigh of relief when they were informed this undisclosed and very secure location has WIFI. Tyer Sheppard, the press secretary for Senator Duncan, remained dutiful under duress and documented the strategic retreat with his phone.  “Never let a crisis go to waste!” was the young political professional’s mantra. Tyler snapped pictures of marines clutching assault weapons and donning gas masks as they ushered everyone out of the capitol building. He even managed to persuade one into posing for an action shot that portrayed a stiff-backed Tyler having what appeared to be a serious conversation with the armored trooper. He made sure to grab snaps of the convoy of