Fact in Fiction - Part 3 of 5

The fiction here is that the Yellowstone Supervolcano caldera finally blows its top, devastating the North American continent. (Now, that bit I really, really hope will remain fiction - at least for another millennia, though the warnings from scientists are real).


All of a sudden—long foretold by scientists but unheeded by politicians—the earth goes mad. With a roar felt around the globe, the North American Yellowstone Supervolcano explodes.  ...   

As to the Facts: The Lyubov Orlova is a very real ghost ship [this link is still good - more on links below]. 
I am giving the old wreck a new life in

After the Cataclysm, Book 3 

of the Legends of the Winged Scarab series.

   

Everyone thinks the Russian derelict has slipped beneath the waves of the Atlantic - thus, I was free to do with her as I pleased. I even included the cannibal rats she supposedly still harbors while she's adrift in the North Atlantic Gyre. 

(The new owner's cook does wonders with his stews for the crew!)

My Bostonian scientists have barricaded themselves in Jonathan’s home in Marble Head. 

 

 [I was always fascinated just peeking through the wrought-iron fence who lived there in such splendor.]

Soon, their only hope to escape the hungry, murderous rabble pushing east is via sailboat (remember from Book 2, Jonathan is an avid sailor). The vessel here is a sturdy 34-foot Fisher Ketch.

 [I've always liked the looks of the sturdy little double-ender.]

  

Having pushed through the ash sludge in the harbor, they get a message from the former Cairo Museum director (through ham radio operators, the only link to the outside world left) that Jabari el-Masri is on a Venezuelan island; and he has the ancient Golden Tablets. They should come and work on the translation left unfinished before. 

During their perilous journey, looming above them out of the dark is an unidentified ship. It almost runs them down. On the way, they make a grateful stop at Necker Island in the Caribbean. (The real owner of this Island is none other than Sir Richard Branson – who is not in residence nor is he mentioned in the book as the owner).

Isla Margarita, a real Venezuelan prison colony. It becomes the luxurious lair of one of my "bad" guys; as well as a refuge (aka forced confinement) for my protagonists.

And they say the writing of a novelist is all make-belief.

Now, a warning to myself and other authors: 

We sometimes include links to websites of particular interest to attest to our research. In my Foreword, I had (and I say, had) included a site to the missing Russian ghost ship, the Lyubov Orlova. A friend of mine was re-reading her Kindle edition. “You may not want this link in here,” she messaged me. I pompously let her know that I did this, because blah, blah, blah... Curious, though, I pulled up the book’s Look Inside and clicked on this link.

To my shock, up came several suggested sex sites. Holy Cow! Apparently, the group had given up on their domain, and it was now available for “others.”

If you bought Book 3 and come across this link, I do apologize. As I have said in Part 1, “check and double-check.” I quickly heeded my own advice, re-uploaded the book sans this link, and also checked any other links that might have run amok with the passing of time.

 * * *

Excerpt:  

“Jonathan?”
“Hm?” He was not ready to abandon the sweet drowsiness, feeling satiated, and in love with this exquisite woman next to him. His wife. His Nefertiti. The last thing on his mind was being drawn into any conversation. But he could feel it. It was coming.
“What really happened with Edward that day?” Naunet felt him tense in her embrace.
He did not have to ask ‘what day,’ and he took his time before he answered, “I met up with him on the cliff, just before I found you.” He paused.
She waited before prompting him, “And?”

“We fought. As we struggled against the wind and with each other, we lost our footing and crashed into the shrubbery growing out over the cliff. I managed to hang on to an exposed root.”
Naunet waited some more before she whispered, “And Edward?”
“He missed.”
“And then?”
“Sweetheart, all this was a couple of years ago. What makes you bring him up now?”
“I need to know.”
Jonathan sighed. He had always known the day would come when he would have to tell her. Why today? Why now? Had his making love to her triggered some sordid comparison? Damn the blasted man. Would they ever be free of his ghost? ...

* * *

(Read more on the Excerpts Page on this Blog)