I am excited to once again welcome Kevin Henry to the Flight Deck,. If you haven't read 'Amber Gifts', don't worry, this second book is actually a 'prequel' and I can guarantee if you read it you're likely to be 'hooked' and like me, will want to read the others in the series.
Amber Prelude
Amber Gifts
Prequel
Kevin B. Henry
Genre: Fantasy, Time Travel, Science Fiction, and History
Publisher: Burst/ Champagne Books
Date of Publication: June 01, 2015
Word Count: 20,000
Formats available: eBook, PDF
Cover Artist: Ellie Smith
Mitchell didn't really believe the story the Man told him, Just take a sip and speak a year. He whimsically chose a historic event to witness. Little did he know he would become part of that history. Faster than you can say
Teithwyr Amser our man Mitchell is chasing a bona fide assassin not only across America but across time.
Amber Prelude will require Mitchell to travel from the America he knows to France and Africa. He will travel to decades and centuries he is unfamiliar with. Mitchell will chase authentic villains and make historic friends, all in an attempt to set history back the way he remembers.
Chapter One
1963: New Mexico
It had started simply. I uncapped the vial, drank the liquid, and spoke the year I had chosen aloud. The room spun. I dissolved.
I anticipated nothing happening. I began by sitting at the old wooden
table feeling numb. My expectations extended to looking for shelter the
following morning. Maybe I would move under a bridge for a short time;
maybe I would do something much worse to myself.
I’d experienced severely morbid thoughts for months. Moving often
transformed me. A nightmarish combination of a manic and depressed
person was all I had been until the vial. It continued for months, and I
expected it to continue forever. What I didn’t expect was a twisting
feeling in my chest and lower abdomen. It wasn’t painful, just an
unusual feeling. I didn’t expect the room to blur. I blinked several
times, but it wasn’t my eyes; the room was blurry. Soon the room ceased
to exist.
I had not spent long hours considering the year I would move to. I
flippantly selected 1963. It would give me almost ten years before my
birth moment and I vanished from the universe forever. The Man was
specific about not existing past my birth moment. It would give me a
chance to see some of the most tumultuous years in America, civil rights
marches, hippies, the moon landing. My choice of year would give me a
chance to stand at Dealey Plaza and personally see if there was a second
shooter. It was a shallow choice, but it was the best I could come up
with.
My first thought as the world congealed around me was that I had said
something wrong. Had I said 1863? It was night. The stars above me were
crisp and clear. Sagebrush surrounded me in all directions. Gone were
the smells of the city. My senses absorbed a clean, fresh smell. This
was how I remembered the world use to be. A scrub oak blended with the
evening shadows just a few feet to my right. To my left was a light in
the distance, a campfire. The flames created dancing shadows on the two
trees surrounding the fire. Someone sat next to the fire, stirring the
flames, sparks rising into the starry sky.
I walked toward the fire. I didn’t see that I had any choice; every
other direction was pitch-black. Halfway there he rose from his place at
the fire and raised his left hand above his head.
He sparkled. It wasn’t anything residual from the fire. His whole body twinkled and sparkled. It was disturbing.
“About time, Mitchell,” he yelled. “I’ve been waiting here for damn near
three days.” “Come on in. I’m sure you have questions, son.”
I got over my initial anxiety of the twinkle man and sat on the far side
of the fire. We had been sitting before the fire for fewer than five
minutes. I was dazed, confused, and overwhelmed. Less than an hour ago, I
was sitting in a dingy, two-bit hotel room.
Now, here I was, in some large expanse of desert in the company of
someone who looked like Ray Teal, that quintessential sheriff on so many
TV westerns and movies. He wore standard blue jeans, a simple
button-front dress shirt, and a light-gray jacket. This twinkle man had a
slouch hat, not exactly cowboy, but not a fedora either. He was half a
foot shorter than me, stockier, and a minimum of twenty-five-years
older, if I had to guess his age. There was salt and pepper stubble
covering his face. His voice was deeper than mine, but not so deep that I
envied it.
“Okay,” I began. “Where am I?”
“New Mexico,” he answered without hesitation. “You’re about three miles east of Tucumcari.”
I considered that answer. “When am I?”
“It’s November, 1963.”
“What’s the date, the day?” It concerned me I might miss my reason for picking this year.
“It’s the sixth.” A wave of relief swept over me. I wasn’t too late.
His answers were rapid-fire, no pauses or measurable moments that I
would have considered creative thinking. He was either telling the truth
or extremely well prepared for my random questions. I tried to think of
the relevant questions I should ask. The standard ones, who, what,
when, where, seemed a good place to start.
“How did I get here?”
“Well now, that’s an obvious answer to a poorly considered, ill-thought
out question.” He shook his head. “You took a drink from that vial you
have tucked away in your jacket pocket.”
A sudden gust of wind caused me to wrap my windbreaker tighter around my
body. Maybe it wasn’t the night air. I was a little hurt. It wasn’t an
attempt at sounding stupid; just understand what had happened to me.
“How did you know I was coming?” Maybe that question would seem less inept.
“Now that’s complicated.” He answered this question more slowly. He was
thinking more and not just responding. “My name is Gil, Gil Seward. I
got a letter just a few days ago. It asked me to come here and see if
you’d appear. The letter said to just wait here a while and see if you
drank from the vial or not. If you did, I’m supposed to help you out a
little. Get you started and send you on your way.”
“Asked by whom? That guy who gave me the vial?”
“Yeah” was his only response. I hate one-word answers.
“Who was he? Why did he give me this vial?”
“He was someone I owed a favor. I haven’t seen him for a long time. He
isn’t someone you need to know. Forget him. I don’t know why he decided
to give you his vial. He just did.”
He paused for a while, stirring the fire with his stick, a small branch from one of the nearby trees.
“One last question for now,” he said. “Make it a good one.”
“Okay, Gil,” I said, using his name for the first time. “Why the hell do
you sparkle? You look like some creation by Industrial Light, a special
effect in a vampire or science fiction movie.”
“Forgot all about that,” he laughed. “You sparkle too. You just can’t
see it. You started as soon as you drank from the vial. All Amser will
sparkle.”
“What’s an Amser?”
“Sorry, Mitchell, You’ve reached your limit on questions for now. It’s my turn to ask some.”
I started to say something, but the look on his face made me stop. I
hoped that ‘for now’ meant there would be more answers in the future.
“What made you pick this year?”
“It wasn’t a rational decision. Who would believe this would really
work? I figured I’d see something special, something historic. Dallas
and the Kennedy assassination was a significant event in my life. All
the other conspiracy theories I remember while growing up could never
surpass this one event. Standing on the grassy knoll and knowing beyond a
doubt if there was or wasn’t a second shooter seemed as good an idea as
any.”
“With all of history to choose from, you wanted to watch somebody die?”
“That wasn’t my motivation.” I said “I thought of it more as watching a documentary on TV.”
“We’ll see what you think of your documentary as you watch it live. Did you have plans afterward?”
“I don’t have many concrete plans. Just live out the next decade before I die.”
“Why would you want to die?”
“The Man said I couldn’t live past my birth moment. That was another
reason I came here. That gives me several years to live before that
time.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“You have it all wrong, Mitchell. You can use that vial repeatedly. Just
refill it. You can travel to any year, any time, as often as you want,
as many times as you want. You’re not stuck in this year or decade
forever.”
I’m not sure my mouth actually fell open, but that is how I remember it.
After reading the first book in the series, 'Amber Gifts', I was looking forward to the second (which as Kevin Henry says, is really the first) and I was not disappointed,
Again this was a fast read, with each chapter a page turner, each page impelling one to keep reading. Mr Henry certainly has an original twist on time travel. Unlike many time travel stories, Mitchell, the protagonist can only travel back in time. To travel forward past the time of his own birth would be fatal. This does not stop him from confronting dangerous situations and at times fearing for his life. There are some very interesting themes running through the story and if you should wonder how there could be any possible connection between the assassination of President John Kennedy, and the death of the painter, Vincent Van Goch, I suggest you read this story - it might change your ideas about those events for ever, but I'm not going to spoil it by giving anything else away.
There were some other delightful touches in the book, like a passing reference to Douglas Adams' 'The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy' and one of my own favourite singers, Don Maclean - my only criticism is that it was over too quickly - I'm looking forward to the next book in the series, Amber Legacy!
About the Author:
From an early age, Kevin B. Henry was a voracious reader. His collection of science fiction, fantasy and mystery books bring tears of envy to the eyes of many small community libraries.
Kevin has worked as an educator, technology specialist and day laborer most of his adult life. During all that time he lived the life of a frustrated author. That it took 30 years for him to piece together the series, Amber Gifts is a testament that the best meals need slow cooking to bring out the flavor.
The Amber Gifts Series begins with
Amber Gifts. The second story, which is really the first, is Amber Prelude, and is available now. The third story,
Amber Legacy continues where
Amber Gifts left off. It will be available in November 2015. All are published by the wonderful folks at the Champagne Book Group. A fourth story is in the process of being written.
Kevin is a natural story teller, so it’s logical that he lectures occasionally. Topics range from the implementation of cutting edge technology hardware to the creation, modification and use of e-books within education. He constantly pursues research to expand his range of possible topics. His most recent research revolved around the aerodynamic properties of reindeer. He’s also been known to include little known facts and trivia within his presentations. Did you know just 146 years ago today the Union Army marched into Atlanta. It took longer than anticipated. They were delayed by a traffic jam on I-75 and the toll booth on Ga. 400
He continues to live in the Mid-West without human or domesticated mammal companionship.
Blog/Wesbite:
www.ambergifts.blogspot.com
Twitter: @Kevin_Henry
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/AmberGifts
Heartache, humour, love,
loss, betrayal - and a little Ohhhh la la! Sheryl Browne brings you edgy, sexy,
thrilling fiction. A member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and
shortlisted for Innovation in Romantic Fiction, Sheryl has recently completed
her MA in Creative Writing. She has seven books published and two short stories
in Birmingham City University Anthologies. A further short, written to script,
was performed live at the Birmingham Repertory Theatre. Sheryl was recently
signed by Choc Lit, who acquired a contemporary romance novel recommended by
the WH Smith Travel fiction buyer. When she’s not writing, Sheryl can be found
doing strange things like skydiving from 20,000 feet or abseiling down
buildings, which possibly makes her a little bit mad.
