Ghosts of Dreamland

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Summary

In the Estrada...Bizzaro Multiverse...with hopes to expand and Rebrand Amazing Fantasy as a home for Bizzaro...with all respect to Gary Friedrich Mike Ploog and Roy Thomas I have worked Ghost Rider... In the Estrada Multiverse...with hopes to expand and rebrand: Amazing Fantasy as a home for Bizzaro...with all respect to Gary Friedrich, Mike Ploog and Roy Thomas, I have worked Ghost Rider into my Multiverse. As one of the David Estrada Clones who is given a symbiote created in the vortex of a gravity generator...Tezcatlipoca or the Aztec god the Smoking Mirror is the Spirit of Vengeance. and along with five other Ghosts or Aztec gods travel through space/time...and so is this a series? is this fan fiction?

Genre:
Scifi / Fantasy
Author:
David Estrada
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
38
Rating:
n/a
Age Rating:
18+

Hell's Bells

Or Building a Space/Time Machine Based on Gravity Generator Technology and the McGill Device our Best Hope for a Good Night’s Sleep.

Part One:

Hell’s Bells

Chapter One Misri Loves Company

Remember, remember the Fifth of November…I was the American Guy Fawkes…My name is Mesi Ali al Misri. My Father goes by the name George Misri and he managed several gas stations in Southern California. In the Arab world the most popular last name is Ali and the most popular first name is Muhamad. My Grandfather was Muhamad Ali al Misri, he was born in Jordan and his family was from Egypt. My Dad was Ali Muhamad al Misri. George moved to California in his twenties. Like every good immigrant he sent money home to my Grandfather and married a Mexican woman he met in his Citizenship classes who sent money home to her family. My Dad had come to California to attend University of California, Los Angeles. My Mom worked at a restaurant nearby. My Dad’s part time job was a teacher at the university. He is very smart…my Mom was no one to be trifled with either. My Dad and Mom obtained student visas and they worked their asses off before they met in the citizenship classes at the Los Angeles Public Library in West LA.

The border of the U.S. was reworked and as of January 20, 2010, the military in cooperation with the Zombies created the Zombie Protected Zone. I escaped the bomb by tinkering with the trigger, Joe’s suit of armor, and my cell phone. There was enough electronics to create a remote trigger based on WiFi technology. I placed the bomb that morning and drove out of the Event radius. I sat at a Starbucks used the free WiFi to trigger the Event. I put the device inside a trashcan at the National Mall…The Washington Memorial. I put the McGill Device inside a garbage can and put more trash over it. The sun rose at 6:40 am. I placed the device at 6 am and by the time the sun rose over the National Mall I was in Germantown at a Starbucks off Frederick Road.

What many people will mistakenly call a blast radius, is really the limits of the McGill device’s chain reaction, a 3-mile radius about the center which is the device. As the two Kings shook hands at 9:23 am after making an accord and a speech foreshadowing a coming invasion of the People’s Republic of Asia.

Many zombies waited in the wings to assume control and turned over the government’s power back to the people. Back to a more democratic form of government. The Starbucks had a television and it was live as the McGill Device caused the chain reaction that broke the bonds of the water molecule. Two hydrogen atoms broke away from the oxygen atom and once where there was life there was death. And when the water came back together iron from the red blood cells made the rain turn to red. Pops of pink mist and then a blood storm for about an hour for the 3-mile radius.

The world began to move on and in the power vacuum many of the countries came under Zombie Protection. Control is a dirty word and the people of the Earth need something better than a power struggle when fascism and an impending World War were avoided by the use of the McGill Device. I killed people that day in November, yes, I did. Was if murder or an act of a Soldier in a War for the freedom of the Planet? My Mom, Rosa or Rose but never Rosie, depending on who you asked became a Professor and a restaurateur. She didn’t like being called Rosie because of the children’s song that was really about the Plague. And Rosie is so cutsie that it took the thorn off the Rose. She got lucky and my Dad was already Catholic, so she didn’t have to force him to convert.

So on July 25, 1970, Rosa Betancourt married Ali ‘George’ Misri at Saint Cecilia Catholic Church. I was born in 1976…November 5, 1976. Ironically, enough or perhaps a device by the author to remind the reader that maybe I was born for what happen that day in 2009. I thought I was a good kid…at least that’s what I think my parents thought of me…as I grew up in Boyle Heights a suburb of Los Angeles. I didn’t fight too much with the other children. I became Psychiatrist and my dad got me interested in fixing things. Electronics, cars, and now other people’s lives and when the world was falling apart I met my Sunny…Sol David Druga. He was a vet who became a Police Officer and when George W. Bush declared himself king he became an outlaw. The National Guard assimilated the Police Force after martial law was declared and sooner than expected they changed their name to the Rainbow Coalition or the Royal Police of some such city. The Royals were the same as the Rainbows except they were given a bit more breathing room and a different boss. So, like the in LA and Orange County the Sherriff’s Department was Rainbow. The larger cities became the jurisdiction of both the Royals and the Rainbows but smaller cities and those with higher crime rates became Rainbow Coalition. Even after martial law crime was about the same but incidents of civil disobedience and small protests, being treated as riots, were on the rise. Some idiots actually celebrated when King George had the real Rainbow/Push Coalition hung from lamp posts like something from neo-Nazi books which soared in popularity as Jesse Jackson fled to South America.

Sure, I became a psychiatrist but out of high school I joined up and went to serve my Uncle Sam. I became a nurse in the Corps and discharged by 2000. Sunny much the same since we planned much our lives together since we were five.

“Mesi, I love you…” He would say. My mom babysat him, and she grew angry each time he said I love you in English.

“Sol, if you learn Arabic and Spanish now…you will be ahead of the game.”

“Te Quiero, Mesi…andale familia Misri, adios.” Sunny would say running out the door with his language lessons tucked in a Pee Chee folder. Sol is Polish in Boyle Heights. His given name is Sol David Druga…when his family came threw Ellis Island the name changed a bit due to a clerical error…From Droga to a misprint Druga. Some of the first Polish to become Christian were among the Droga…they were the keepers of the way. Like Jesus is the way the truth and the life. Some converts, or immigrants were to show the way to Jesus who would show you the way to the Father. Sunny told me his Jewish ancestors who converted were Rabbis and so they were curious about the Roman Catholics and soon they changed their family name to Droga. His story sounds like something a Scottish bum would tell about King Arthur and Mary Queen of Scots. Sol spoke some Polish…and being polylingual was something the Corps was very interested in nurturing this asset. And so, I was a nurse and he was a translator in Iraq and Kuwait. He also went in on some black ops shit. First teaching Arabic to special forces and then dropping into some Kurdish areas to report of Saddam’s use of chemical weapons. Saddam Hussein was into ethnic cleansing. Some children hear the phrase Ethnic Cleansing and think the immigrants were given a shower…and that is a sick ironic joke of our species. Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder why Civil Rights is a joke. And then I see Sunny step out of the shower and I see a man who would lay down is life for me…yet tell me what a coward he was the next moment.

And I left Sunny in a motel room far enough outside Washington DC so that he would see the Blood Storm only on the Television. I wasn’t just a nurse on a boat in the Gulf…like I said my dad liked to tinker with things…my dad was a teacher like my mom, yeah but he taught engineering classes and when my mom wanted her restaurant, my dad did half of the electrical work for Rosa’s Mexican Café off what’s now called Cesar Chavez Blvd. My mom still taught economics at Cal State LA part time and some of her employees found working with her a good way to get into UCLA or Cal State LA.

Today is Halloween 2013 and I live in hiding in the Zombie Protected Zone. Living in hiding is such a misleading phrase when I’m living among the Zombies. These hive mind plant things are just the tops.

On November fifth, 2009 I sat at a Starbucks in Germantown after rigging my cell phone and Sol’s cell phone as a remote trigger for the McGill device. And at 10 am a couple said they were Friends of Joe Woods and to come with us. I didn’t argue because it was a man and woman in desert fatigues with the real American Flag on their left shoulders.

“Some of the armed forces was infiltrated by the Zombies…” the woman said as we go into a black Chevy Suburban with blacked out windows and federal license plates. War was coming, and the license plates wouldn’t have mattered.

“Mesi? You are a brave woman and your sacrifice may have been the attack that helps stop a global war.” The man said as we drove out of Germantown towards the highway with New Mexico on our minds.

The woman turned around and handed me a book…a manual of how to build a time machine. It was written by David Estrada.

“David Estrada came back in time with his first Space/Time machine trying to find a cure for his son’s condition. His experiments lead to the accident that created the first Zombie, Joe Woods. Joe kept this in a safe after David left and there is a handwritten note in the back…” She paused. “It’s for you…something about a cloning effect and adjustments to a future McGill device.”

I began to read…

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