Tuesday's Treasured & Tipsy Timeslip: This Weeks Traveller is Ann Gimpel
This week's Treasured & Tipsy Time Traveller is a mountaineer at heart. Ann Gimpel prefers solitude and wilderness photography which is why she lives in Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It was during one of her long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Please join us as she takes us on A Wanderer’s Life.
At least in modern times, I’ve been fortunate to travel the globe and see fascinating things. I spent two months of 2014 in Antarctica, and wish I could go back. There’s something wild and untamed about what truly is one of the last frontiers on our planet.
Mystery lends itself to storytelling, and Antarctica is one
mysterious place. The single celled organisms, archaea, that play a starring
role in Icy Passage, are real, as is
everything I said about them in the book. One of the hallmarks of science
fiction is the science parts have to be spot on. When I submitted the book to a
well-known science fiction webzine for review, I held my breath because Icy Passage has paranormal elements in
it too. The review turned out fine. More than fine, actually! 
Other places that appeal to me are mountainous areas. I
adore the seclusion and necessity of pitting myself against whatever nature
throws my way. I’m lucky to live with the Sierras in my backyard. So
backpacking trips are a mainstay every summer. Or they were until one of our
wolf hybrids grew old. We’ll still backpack this summer, but Nikki-man will
have to stay home. He can’t walk very far anymore.
Here are a few Sierra photos from my collection of
thousands. Photography was my first art. I’ve been taking pictures for years.
Long before I started writing. Some of my books, like Alpine Attraction and Destiny’s
Shadow, take place in the backcountry. And many of my other books rely
heavily on my survivalist knowledge base.
Come August, we’ll head for the NW Passage and I have hopes
we’ll get some great polar bear shots, as well as other wildlife unique to the
Arctic.
I feel blessed and fortunate to have seen so much of our
amazing world. Travel’s taught me so much about other people and their
cultures, and about flexibility and adaptability. My husband would love to have
been born two hundred years ago, during the age of the great explorers. That
would’ve held its own set of interesting challenges, but women were terribly
repressed then. I enjoy the freedom offered by the twenty-first century, and
I’m not so sure I’d be quick to swap it out.
Thanks for inviting me to your blog and for an intriguing
guest post topic.
Winning
Glory
GenTech
Rebellion, Book 1
Ann
Gimpel
Dream Shadow Press
Release Date: 4/21/15
Genre: Military Romantic Suspense
The line between hunter and
hunted thins, blurs, and finally shatters.
Series
Backstory:
Sometime between the interminable
wars in the Middle East and 9/11, the United States moved forward breeding a
race of super humans. Clandestine labs formed, armed with eager scientists
who’d always yearned to manipulate human DNA. At first the clones looked
promising, growing to fighting size in as little as a dozen years, but V1 had
design flaws.
Seven years ago, a rogue group
turned on their creators, blew up the lab, and hit all the other breeding
farms, freeing whomever they could find. In the intervening time, they’ve retreated
to hidden compounds and created a society run by men. Women are kept on a tight
leash because the men fear if they discover their innate power, they’d launch
their own rebellion.
Book
Description:
Being a genetically altered human
without a name grew old, so Glory named herself. Surrounded by a maze of
unpleasant alternatives, she makes a bold choice and ends up a fugitive in the
midst of a Minnesota winter. Once she’s on the run, she discovers how
unprepared she is for life outside her protected compound.
CIA agent, Roy Kincaid, devoted
his career to hunting super humans who staged a rebellion seven years before.
He’s not making much headway, so he goes deep undercover. One blustery night, a
striking woman staggers into the café where he’s catching a late meal. Part
waif, part runway model, the half-frozen woman arrows straight into his heart.
Glory’s flat out of alternatives,
but death in the storm might be preferable to telling the tall stranger looming
over her anything. Sensing Roy is dangerous, she pushes into his head seeking
clues and discovers he hunts those like her. Maybe she can fool him, just for
tonight. Get a hot meal and dry motel room out of the deal. If she’s lucky,
he’ll never find out she’s on the run from the same group he’s targeted for
death.
The thing she didn’t count on was
falling in love.
Excerpt:
…“Dessert, hon?”
The waitress sidled back over to him, and Roy realized he was her only
customer.
“Sure. What do
you have?”
She rattled off
a series of pies and cakes. He chose apple pie with a scoop of ice cream, and
she left with his dinner plate. Roy slumped against the chair. He had to keep
going. No choice. Not really. A good night’s sleep, coupled with the first
adequate meal he’d had in a couple days might make a big difference in his
attitude. At least he hoped they would.
He’d just begun
on the pie, which had a surprisingly flaky crust, when a rush of cold air
yanked his attention toward the door. A tall woman walked in. Long, dark hair
caked with snow swirled around her, and she held her body tightly as if she
were really cold. Roy glanced at her feet and was shocked to see a pair of
tennis shoes with holes in them. Good God, had she been outside with such
inadequate footwear? Didn’t she understand she could freeze to death? Even his
stout boots didn’t do much to divert the cold.
Keeping her gaze
downcast, she made her way to the counter and sat.
“Coffee, hon?”
The waitress asked.
“How much is
it?” the woman inquired.
“Two bucks.”
“Oh.” The
woman’s shoulders drooped, and she swiveled the stool around, getting ready to
go back out into the storm.
“No, you don’t.”
The waitress’s voice sharpened. “I’ll stand you a coffee. You look about done
in.”
The woman’s even
features melted into what looked like relief before she turned back to face the
counter. “Thank you. That’s really kind and I appreciate it. My wallet was
stolen, and—”
“Never you
mind.” The waitress patted the woman’s shoulder. “Bet you’re hungry too.” She
poured hot coffee into a mug and handed it to the woman, who drew the steaming
liquid to her lips.
“Maybe a little,” the woman ventured. She
clasped the cup with fingers white from cold.
By now, Roy knew
he was staring, but he couldn’t make himself turn away. There was something
waiflike and alluring about the tall woman with long, black hair. Snow dripped
off her, creating puddles around her stool. All she wore against the winter
weather was a thick, gray sweater and worn jeans. No scarf. No gloves. No hat.
He was close to certain her wallet hadn’t been stolen. She looked more like an
abuse victim on the run to him. Maybe he could help her get to her intended
destination, if it wasn’t too far out of his way.
He pushed his
chair back and made his way to the counter. “Say—” he began, but she started
and drew away as if she expected him to hit her.
I was right. Abuse
victim for sure.
“I’m not going
to hurt you.” He kept his voice low, soothing. “Order whatever you want, and
I’ll pay for it.”
She kept her
gaze on her hands clutching the coffee cup. “I can’t let you do that, sir. I’m
all right. Truly I am.”
Without waiting
for an invitation, he took the stool next to hers and called to the waitress.
“Bring her the same meal I just had.”
“You got it,
hon,” rang from the direction of the kitchen.
“You are not all
right,” Roy said. “You’re thin as a rail, and you were shivering when you came
in here. In fact, you still are. I’ll bet your shoes are wet clear through.”
When she didn’t respond, he ploughed on. “Let me help you.”
She shook her
head. “Don’t want your kind of help. It always comes with strings.”
“Mine doesn’t.”
He pushed a
little with his enhanced mental ability to get her to look at him. If she did,
maybe she’d see truth in his eyes. A shudder ran down her thin frame, but she
dragged her gaze upward reluctantly. Roy felt bad for forcing her, but he
didn’t have time to soothe her wounded places, which he suspected ran deep.
Eyes a shade of
green he’d never seen inspected him. Long, thick lashes framed those eyes, and
they were set in a face with high cheekbones, a high forehead, and black
eyebrows winging a track over porcelain skin.
“Who are you?”
The words tore from him. He hadn’t meant to say them. She was nervous as a
feral cat as it was.
She shook her
head sadly. “No one. I’m no one. You’ll forget all about me when you leave
here.”
Something
shifted in his mind, but he fought it. Before he could determine if something
real had just happened or if he were imagining things, the waitress showed up
with the woman’s dinner.
“Here you go,
hon. Hope medium’s okay for that steak?”
“Fine, thank
you.” Before the words were out, the woman picked up the fork and knife and
shoveled food into her mouth.
Roy
congratulated himself on a good call. Even though she’d been reluctant to admit
it, she really was starving. He had no idea what she’d do tomorrow or the next
day, but it wasn’t his problem. While she ate, he observed her from the corner
of his eyes. In addition to being hungry and underdressed, she looked young.
Maybe twenty. He’d be surprised if she were much more than that.
He shook a
mental finger at himself. The country was full of abused women running from the
men who used them as punching bags before they raped them. It was one part of
law enforcement work he’d never understood: why the women kept going back for
more.
“There are safe
houses for girls like you,” he said, and could’ve kicked himself. What the hell
was wrong with his mouth tonight? He couldn’t seem to keep words on the other
side of it.
She stopped
chewing long enough to glance at him. “What’s a safe house?”
“A place where
women like you can go so whoever’s after you can’t get to you.”
“What makes you
think someone’s after me?” Color splotched across her white cheeks.
Roy took a deep
breath. “I was a cop for a long time.”
Her entire body
tightened, and he wondered if he’d been wrong about why she was out in the
storm. “You said was.” She swiped a paper napkin over her lips. “Are you
still?”
“No. Not
anymore.”
She took another
bite, clearly thinking about what he’d said. “These people you think are after
me. Could they still find me in a safe house?”
He wanted to lie
to her, but didn’t. “Sure. Anyone can find anybody with the Internet and all,
but the people who run the safe houses won’t let anyone who might hurt you
inside.”
She drew her
arched brows together and drank some coffee. “I’d have to go outside sometime.
Work. Earn my way.”
He nodded. Those
things were all true. He scratched his head and pushed too-long hair out of his
eyes. “Sometimes, when a man is really persistent, there are ways of setting
you up with a different identity in a different part of the country.”
Interest lit her
features, and she cut up the last of her steak. “Where would I go to have that
happen?”
“I’m not sure,
but we could check with local agencies in the morning.”
A blank
expression washed over her face, as if someone had shut out a light. She shot
him a look she might have given yesterday’s overripe trash. “Morning, huh?
You’re just like all the rest of them, mister. Means I’d have to spend the
night with you.”
Roy winced. He
hadn’t been thinking. Of course she’d make that connection. “No.” He shook his
head emphatically. “I’d buy you your own room for the night. You can clean up,
get some sleep, and we’ll regroup in the morning after breakfast.”
She narrowed her
eyes, and he felt himself drawn into their depths. “My own room with a locked
door?”
He nodded
solemnly, willing her to believe him. If he could just do one decent deed, it
would make up for the last two weeks of beating his head into a brick wall.
Maybe it would give him enough juice to keep hunting for the scientists who
were a bunch of Houdini fuckers.
“Mmph.” She
started on her potato, taking large bites. In between them, she said. “I’m
trying to figure out your angle. If I’ve worked my way around to believing you
won’t hurt me by the time I’m done eating, I’ll accept your offer.”
It was the best
he was likely to get. Roy stood. “Fair enough. I’m going to finish my pie.” It
was sitting in a pool of melted ice cream, but he didn’t mind. “If you’d care
to accept my help, just stop by my table on your way out. If you walk past, I
give you my word I won’t bother you.”
“Deal.” She said
around a mouthful of food. Swallowing, she twisted to look at him.
It felt as if
she were staring straight through him, but Roy held his ground even after he
identified a zing of power withdrawing from his mind. What the hell was she,
anyway? When she returned to her dinner, he retreated to his pie, thoughts
racing a mile a minute. What the fuck was he doing? If he were smart, he’d
forget his offer, throw enough money on the table to cover both meals, and run
like hell for his car.
There was
something about the woman, though, an appeal that drew him, snared him, and
wouldn’t leave him be. He ate mindlessly, not tasting the pie. He knew the feel
of freak mind control. Was that it? Had he inadvertently stumbled onto one of
them?
Impossible.
They’re never by themselves, and whatever she examined me with didn’t feel
quite right.
Plus, she didn’t
resemble the ones he’d killed before. They had dark hair, but animal eyes.
Amber, not green like hers. Of course they’d been men, but simple genetics
argued they’d all look much the same if they came out of the same petri dishes.
Were there other
augmented humans beyond those he already knew about? The thought fascinated and
chilled him at the same time.
He scraped his
fork over the plate and realized it was empty. Slugging back long-since-cold
coffee, he dug for his wallet and extracted what he was certain would cover
dinner, laying bills on the table and placing his empty mug atop them.
The woman looked
almost done with her meal. What would she do?
What would he do
if she walked by him and out the door? Would he be able to keep his promise and
not go after her?…
Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at
heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers
many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls,
but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn
of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle
moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It
was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who
see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann
prefers solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys,
sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her
fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip
and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel
emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a
lot between writing that novel and its sequel.
Around that time, a friend of
hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before
that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty
regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her
tales often have a green twist.
In addition to writing, Ann
enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her
backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten
percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry
the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a
very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their
family.
@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)
Thank you so very much for hosting me, and for an intriguing topic. I always welcome an opportunity to cart out my travel slides. One of the best parts of the virtual tours is all the wonderful blogs I discover along the way.
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