The Time Wars have begun!
Can you prosecute a 155 million year old murder if the victim is still alive? Peter Dance thinks he can, unless the killers get him first.
During a shady militia meeting in New Orleans, a famous scientist claims a bold discovery. The government mole in the group, known only as Gomorrah, knows he’s been tagged. He takes off with carloads of gunners on his tail.
Meanwhile, a partial skeleton turns up in a flooded Tennessee ditch, the bones brown and aged from long years buried. But something is very wrong with those bones. M.E. Sydney Hammick tries to interest D.A. Peter Dance in the mystery, but Dance now has a wife and kids and doesn’t want to play her games.
But someone nasty wants those bones, and he doesn’t care who he must kill to get them. When bullets fly, only Gomorrah can save Hammick and Dance — and the bones — from vanishing into the mists of time… or into the jaws of a long extinct killer.
Mad Max meets Bones and Jurassic Park in this explosive new time travel thriller by bestselling author William Alan Webb!
Targeted Age Group:: Ages 16-up
Heat/Violence Level: Heat Level 3 – PG-13
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I started writing this book in 1992 and loved playing with the paradoxes of time. I think I had just read Heinlein's "All You Zombies…" Unfortunately the plot was too much for me at the time. I hadn't matured enough as a writer (read as 'I was a creative writing major and hadn't forgotten enough of what they taught me') to write a fun, fast paced novel. I stopped work on it in 2002, although the title Jurassic Jail actually predates the book Jurassic Park.
Last year I found the digital copy I had stored all those years ago and realized I was ready now to write the book. In the interim my series The Last Brigade had been a big success and people liked my work, so I felt it was time to revisit what was a favorite plot of mine.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
All of my characters represent people I have met, either in person or during my studies, although embellished to a sometimes extreme degree. I want the reader to feel they know who these people are, and it's my job to flesh them out with their own hopes, dreams and agendas so they seem three dimensional.
When I read my draft from 2002 I was surprised how many female characters played important parts…good for me! I have always tried to write female characters as women I have known and admired, just as I do with males. They are always driving forces in my works, because women's place in the historical world has never been given the due it deserves.
The protagonist, Peter Dance, is an idealized version of myself. I would like to have his heroic tendencies and sense of justice, since I already have all of his flaws.
Gomorrah, Judge and Esther were inspired by characters in the Last Brigade series who are members of Task Force Zombie, a SEAL-like special ops organization where the members give up their true names and identities. They are nicknamed The Nameless. This allows them to perform missions that U.S. forces can't be caught doing. If you've read any of the Last Brigade books you'll recognize names such as Green Ghost and Vapor.
Dante Moor is a character type that I love, the ego-driven genius who thinks he is directing mankind to a better future but in reality is being used for the evil purposes of others. But far from being an archetype, I've (hopefully) given him a unique twist.
As for Justin Wimmer and the Old Guard, they represent well meaning people who are so dedicated to their cause they are easily manipulated by ultimate evil in the form of Gyorgi Rosos.
Even at nine years old Alan knew better. He stepped too near a ledge of crumbling mud and it gave way beneath his foot. Alan pitched sideways down the bank. Sliding in mud and gravel and old 7-Up cans, he clawed for a handhold. The bank wasn’t all that high, maybe eight feet, but once in it, he feared the swirling water; his mom’s warnings flashed through his mind.
His hands dug into the mud; he kicked and twisted and rolled. Something came up hard beneath his fingers and he grabbed for it. It felt like a smooth rock. With a sucking sound, it pulled free of the mud and Alan wound up in the ditch anyway. Rushing water pulled him down, but he managed to regain his footing. Soaked and cold, he braced his feet against an old log and scrambled up the opposite bank.
Tired, covered in mud from head to toe, he plopped onto the grass to catch his breath. Well, he thought, he didn’t actually go into the ditch on purpose; he fell in. It was an accident. Mom could get mad at him for getting too close, but he knew from experience that being careless was a lot better than being disobedient.
To his surprise, Alan found he was still holding the rock that had pulled free of the mud when he fell into the ditch. Not yet ready to face Mom, he examined it.
The ditch water had rinsed off most of the mud. It was an odd shape and color. Dark brown in places, lighter in others, and almost yellow somewhere else. Smooth and round on top, with little cracks on the surface. Three big holes in front and one very small, very round one, too, with another small one in back. There was a large hollow space on the bottom.
When his heart quit thumping and he could breathe a little easier, Alan realized it wasn’t a rock at all. He didn’t know why it was brown instead of white — maybe he could ask Mrs. Pickens, his homeroom teacher, about that — but Alan was old enough to know a human skull when he saw one.
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