We are excited to introduce a recently released (on 26th September 2014), a Young Adult, fantasy novel, The Golden City of Doubloon by Richard Natale. It is published by Double Dragon Publishing and is available both as an e-book and paperback. (Please scroll down for author bio and exerpt.)
BLURB: The Golden City of Doubloon is an adventure novel with a strong moral and spiritual underpinning. Set in the Great Depression, the protagonist’s journey of self-discovery includes a massive flood, a tornado, a terrifying massacre at a tent revival meeting and a climactic battle aboard a zeppelin. Our hero, Japeth Finian, 20, the devout, orphaned son of missionary parents, embarks on a time-constrained journey to Doubloon, the “oasis of the Midwest,” to find a serum that will save the inhabitants of his small town from a blood disease that robs them of their immortal souls in return for the promise of eternal life. When they arrive in Doubloon they are confronted by all the wonders, and terrors, of modern life. Joining Japeth in his adventures are his friends, the brave and noble Crowell, the loyal but scatterbrained Lon, Crowell’s sister Lucinda, with whom Japeth is not so secretly in love, and Abra, Japeth’s mute younger sister who may possess secret powers.
Richard Natale is a writer and editor living in Los Angeles whose work has appeared in such publications as the The New York Times, the L.A. Times, The Washington Post, W and Time Magazine among others. He is also a past winner of the National Playwright’s Competition. The Golden City of Doubloon is his third published novel.
A few minutes later, they pulled up to the shelter and pounded their fists on the metal doors, shouting “Open up, Reverend, open up,” until they were hoarse. But the howling wind drowned out their efforts.
“We’re too late,” Lon screamed. “Now we’re gonna die.”
They looked up in horror as one of the twisters touched down on the far end of Main Street, wrapping itself around the new fire house and spitting loose bricks like they were bits of confetti. One by one, the swirling, dark eddy ripped its way down the street, dismantling the post office, the general store, and the schoolhouse.
Abra pulled on Japeth’s arm and drew him down the hill toward the church. One of the chapel doors was open, flapping aimlessly in the wind like an invitation.
“But there ain’t even so much as a basement in there,” Lon cried.
“Don’t matter. It’s our only hope,” Japeth said.
Crowell climbed into the truck and rolled it downhill. Japeth and Abra jumped onto the running board and held on. Lon brought up the rear, riding Becka up the steps and inside the church.
“I don’t care if it is the Lord’s house, I ain’t leaving her out there,” he said before anyone could protest.
“All creatures great and small,” Japeth reassured him.
After parking the truck behind the church, Crowell helped Japeth secure the doors and bolt them, while Lon rode Becka around to shut all the windows and attach the shutters. They scanned the dimly lit room for a suitable place to take cover and nearly jumped out of their skins when the wind blew through the organ pipes, producing a blaring, discordant tune.
“That’s it,” Japaeth shouted. “We get behind the organ. Thing weighs a ton. Not even a twister could lift it.” He crouched down and peered behind the organ. It was a tight fit, but it would have to do. “Get in,” Japeth commanded Abra, who got down on all fours and crept into the darkness.
Japeth was about to follow when there was a sudden roar. The twister, now just outside, was rattling the front door like an determined burglar.
Lon got down from his horse and tried to find someplace to tether her. Frightened, Becka bolted and ran straight toward Japeth. He jumped out of her path and spun around. One of the window shutters exploded and slammed against the back of his head, throwing him across the room.
The gyrating wind howled through the insides of the church picking up any loose object it could find. Crowell and Lon flattened against the floor and crawled over to Japeth, who was unconscious. They dragged him toward the narrow opening behind the organ. Lon went in first, grabbing Japeth’s wrists. Crowell clamped his hands tightly around Japeth’s ankles to keep from being swept away.
“I can’t do it. I can’t,” Lon said in a panic. But slowly, he inched Japeth in. The last thing Crowell saw as he folded his body under the organ was poor Ol’ Becka being lifted into the vortex.
The wind tapped out a deafening dirge on the organ as it devoured the chapel. Abra had to press an ear against her brother’s heart to be certain it was still beating.
A few minutes later, as impulsively as it had descended, the twister relinquished its hold on the church and raced away. But the group remained huddled behind the organ taking no chances. The two tornadoes flirted with each other on the outskirts of town for most of the day. They finally gave in to their attraction and, just after nightfall, returned to visit their combined wrath on the graveyard. The giant twister skipped lightly over the old cemetery and concentrated its fury on the annex, churning the dead from their eternal rest. Tombstones were overturned, coffins lifted out of the ground and corpses were carelessly tossed about.
Sated, the tornado then trailed off in search of fresh prey.