Raised by the Fox

By J Walker Bell

Seven science fiction and horror tales populate this collection of stories, in addition to a true tale from Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and other extras. In the novelette, "The Net", the trust of a young boy in his father is tested to the limit when both become the target of an alien hacker. A young couple enjoying an evening stroll on a back country road in Pennsylvania discover that love can be all consuming in "The Porch." Scientist, Jason Reed, wants to save the planet from an over-population of insects, but that becomes secondary to saving a homeless woman who has been infected with a deadly infestation by the very people who are supposed to be helping her in "Dominant Species."

• Language: English
• Publisher: J Walker Bell
• Release date: Nov 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465949417

J Walker Bell

J Walker Bell has published science fiction and horror stories for small press magazines such as Parlour Papers, Heliocentric Net, and Nightside in the mid-1990s. In addition, J Walker Bell also did book reviews, worked as a story editor/reviewer for the small press magazine Neophyte, and did cover artwork for market listing magazine Scavenger's Newsletter. J Walker Bell recently returned to full time writing after a long hiatus.

Book preview

Raised by the Fox

by J Walker Bell

Copyright 2011 J Walker Bell

Smashwords Edition

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Copyright Notices

Cover design by J Walker Bell

Dominant Species copyright 1993 by J Walker Bell. Originally published in Parlour Papers, Issue #1, 1993

Outpost copyright 1992 by J Walker Bell. Originally published in Neophyte, 1992 Anthology

The Porch copyright 1991 by J Walker Bell. Originally published in Nightside: The Magazine of Amateur Horror Fiction, Volume 2, Issue #7, 1991

Gates of Delirium copyright 2011 by J Walker Bell

Infant Dawn copyright 1994 by J Walker Bell. Originally published in Neophyte, 1994 Anthology

Birth of Words copyright 1993 by J Walker Bell

Of Cactus, Castles, and Queens copyright 1989 by J Walker Bell

Testament of Faith copyright 2011 by J Walker Bell

The Net copyright 1991 by J Walker Bell. Originally published in Neophyte, Volume 1, No. 4, 1991

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Table of Contents

Introduction, Acknowledgements, Special Tribute

Dominant Species

Outpost

The Porch

Gates of Delirium (poem)

Infant Dawn

Birth of Words

Of Cactus, Castles, and Queens

Testament of Faith

The Net

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Introduction

There was a time back in the 1990's that I did a lot of fiction writing, primarily science fiction and horror. I didn't make much money at it, but I did publish a number of stories. I also did book reviews and some artwork as well, and even became a story editor/reviewer for a small press zine called Neophyte.

I distinctly remember how much I loved writing and how hard I worked at it, mostly at night after a full day's work at my real job. That's why I was so surprised when somewhere along the way I realized I had stopped writing. I couldn't recall wanting to stop writing, nor could I recall making a decision to stop writing. My life just went on without it.

I missed it, at least at an unconscious level. I think I missed it even before I realized it was gone, if that makes sense. To be honest, I never stopped writing all together, because there was that gap I felt had to be filled somehow. So I wrote. I made blogs and contributed to forums where I had interests.

I wasn't writing original stories, however. I worked at being creative and entertaining in my blogs, but the reality was that the writing was based on worlds already created by others and was more about reporting what happened instead of creating something new. These things served as a substitute, and still have their place, but my desire to write original stories never really left me. It was buried under an otherwise full and happy life.

I am writing again full time. J Walker Bell is the pseudonym I used during that earlier period of writing and I've retained the pen name for the sake of continuity. I've also resurrected an avatar called the Jaded Walker to be my logo and to help me along the way. The Jaded Walker is a real, fourteen inch statue of a shaggy troll carrying a baseball bat. It stood on my desk and glowered at me when I was shirking my writing, and remains a source of inspiration and focus.

This collection brings together much of my earlier work now long out of print, as well as introducing new stories published for the first time.

For more information about me and my creations, please go to http://www.jwalkerbell.com.

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Acknowledgements

This collection would not have been possible without the help of my wife, Judi, who undertook the titanic effort of helping me pull these stories together, including retyping, formatting, and proofing much of the original content so that it could be aggregated for eBook publication. I am also in debt to Erik Sullivan, who took time away from our shared obsession with World of Warcraft to help proof read for me.

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Special Tribute

The title of this collection, Raised by the Fox, is a tribute to an author and publisher who had a significant impact on my efforts to get published. Janet Fox was a fine author in her own right, but I knew her through the mail as the publisher of Scavenger's Newsletter. Scav was published monthly from 1984-2003 and was in my view the premier newsletter of it's time about market news for small press publishers and writers.

I remember the time I had submitted some cover art for her. She liked it and wanted to use it, but had issue with one image - a bound, nude figure that could have arguably been male or female. Her response was very encouraging and we worked together to alter the piece to both of our satisfaction, her being very careful of the sensitivities of the artist, and me being very careful to make sure I would get my cover art published. I still have that note from her, which read, Happy to accept your piece. If it helps the reason I decided your nude was female was the size of the, 'er' posterior, maybe that is a stereotype, but I think it's just a physical difference. I really hate to be 'politically correct' but sometimes the pressure is there. Anyway I like this new design, too.

Scavenger's Newsletter publisher's listings and advice helped me publish my first story, The Porch, which is in this collection, and helped me find many a publisher for my work.

Janet Fox died on October 21st, 2009. I only learned about her death earlier this year when I began considering this collection and thought to look her up. Janet Fox's fine newsletter and dedicated support of the small press community was responsible for getting many great stories into print that would otherwise never have reached appreciative readers. That is one legacy that I'm sure she was proud to be remembered for.

Return to ToC

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Introduction. Dominant Species began as a chapter in another longer work. As the original story evolved, however, the chapter's bug theme did not fit and was set aside. Much later, while researching information on a different idea, I came across an article about porphryin, which has an interesting property in that it tends to look for and bond with cancer cells. When the chemical is irradiated, cancer cells marked with porphryin glow under laser or ultraviolet light. Scientists hope that this chemical marker, combined with a chemical bullet, can be used to search for and destroy cancer cells. The marker triggered an idea that fit into the shelved chapter, and that chapter grew into this story. Dominant Species was the first story I got a paycheck for.

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Dominant Species

Jason Reeder drew the black plastic shield across the doorway of his apartment with some difficulty. The overlapping safety guard at the bottom edge of the doorway was warped out of line. Pulling the shield through it was a daily trial.

Bastard thing, Reeder thought, finally getting it closed. He pressed the door seals into place. Reeder thought about complaining to the landlord, but he shrugged the thought away. He knew that the landlord would only try to force him to move into an interior apartment again, and Reeder liked having a door that opened directly on the outside.

Attached to the outside wall to the left of the door was a waist high container the size of a small mailbox. The box was half hidden by a blackish red vine clinging with fat suckers to both the wall and the box. The Savior Vine had not been there the night before. A puff of thick breeze carried the rich, over-sweet smell of the Savior Vine's flowers to Reeder. He coughed and kicked in sudden anger at the thick trunk of the vine. Reeder immediately regretted the rash act as half a dozen garish flowers dropped with wet splats to the sand and gravel strip around his door. The cloying odor of decayed pickled beets clogged the air. Ants half the size of Reeder's baby finger seemed to burst from the hand-sized flowers. Shit! Reeder jerked backward and almost lost his balance. The ants struggled to break free from the sticky mess. Reeder watched the grim battle for a moment, strangely moved to free the ants from their sweet flowery death.

He went so far as to half heartedly kick bits of gravel over the mess to give the ants additional purchase.

With his eyes still on the ants' efforts, Reeder tripped the release lever on top of the wall container with one hand and pulled the lid up quickly with his other. He lifted a repellant pack from the box and turned to spray the edges of his apartment door. He pressed the nozzle but nothing happened. It took a confused moment to realize why. The supposedly indestructible PVClastic material of the repellent pack was holed in a number of spots and was moving in quick darts in his hand. There was nothing in the pack but ants.

Reeder watched the moving bag for a moment in queasy silence. A couple of the ants ventured from the bag and crawled with interest toward the hand that held the pack nozzle. He dropped the pack in some panic. With the ants no longer threatening, Reeder felt disgust at the ineffectiveness of the repellent. He stepped carefully around the ants that were struggling out from under the gravel he had kicked over them. The fallen flowers had already devoured any ants that had failed to escape the sweet tombs. In a matter of hours the flowers would be thriving vines. Reeder made a mental note to pick up more weed killer from Stores at work. He was also going to complain to his division head at the Department of Non-Lethal Tactics. Poor products like that repellent gave the department a bad reputation. They didn't need any more reasons for other departments to siphon off funds.

Reeder walked the six blocks to work without further incident. Despite the heavy clothes he wore, Reeder enjoyed the bright sun and humid heat of the early morning. Gravel crunched under his heavy boots and the air was filled with the whirring sounds of wings. Buzzing about their daily business were flying insects of every description: ordinary houseflies, giant dragonflies, cockroaches, mosquitoes, beetles, and others. The clouds of bugs would get much worse by mid-morning and overwhelming by the afternoon, but the current activity was relatively placid. He enjoyed watching their antics.

Reeder lived in a failing neighborhood. Most of the three to five story apartment buildings in the ten block development were at least ten years old and were no longer safe from infestation. Despite being made from the most advanced material of the time - chemically enhanced PVC and specially bonded earthen panels - the buildings were no match for the endless onslaught of flying, crawling, and burrowing bugs. Savior Vine now blanketed the walls of most of the buildings. The fast growing vines undeniably reduced the insect population and offered some protection for the building. It had also become the dominant oxygen producing plant in the world since the extinction of the trees. Reeder hated them.

There were a few other walkers about getting an early start on their day. Officials from the Sporting Hill Enclave that monitored this area were encouraging inhabitants to relocate. It did not seem to matter that these people had nowhere to go. Reeder was the only employee of the Enclave who lived outside its' walls, and his supervisor continually pressured him to move out of the condemned neighborhood. One of the bundled figures raised a hand in Reeder's direction and he waved back, although he actually knew very few of his neighbors. Leaving the walkers behind, Reeder went into the foyer of the entrance to the Enclave.

"Good morning, Doctor