Monday, August 24, 2026

Fireline

 

 


A scientific experiment gone horribly wrong sends an apocalyptic firestorm raging throughout the Eastern seaboard. If it reaches the Atlantic, it might just be game over for the world. 

Fireline

by Peter Berk

Genre: Action, Eco Thriller, Suspense




An unhinged scientist introduces a nano-based chemical compound into the Potomac that's designed to purify the world's waterways but that instead sets the river on fire and rapidly spreads directly toward Manhattan, with only the young chemist who first warned against the experiment the worlds best hope of stopping it. 

Fireline takes us from the heart of Washinton, D.C. to the Statue of Liberty - all of which are direclty impacted by an out-of-control firestorm snaking its way to the Atlantic where it could go on to threaten every corner of the world. 

A science gone astray disaster novel, Fireline also touches on such timeless themes as personal redemption, heroism in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles, friendship and even father-son dynamics - all handled with touches of humor and romance. 

 

Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads




Peter Berk has written six novels, three TV pilots and a dozen screenplays, including several with his father which became the basis for the TimeLock series of novels. The original TimeLock novel is a Finalist in the 2023 Chanticleer International Book Awards for Science Fiction, Mystery, and Global Thrillers. TimeLock was also named as a Distinguished Favorite in the TechnoThriller category of the 2024 Independent Press Award. TimeLock 2: The Kyoto Conspiracy was published in 2023 and the third book in the series will be published by IngramElliott. Peter and his family live in Southern California.

 

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Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!


Enter the Fireline Giveaway Here


Friday, August 21, 2026

Requite of the Fates

 

 


Controlled by aliens, Nathaniel Wayne can’t resist his attraction to Marlene Broadie.


Requite of the Fates

by Venus Campbell

Genre: Interracial Time Travel Romance, SciFi Adventure



Perfect for fans of The Song of Achilles and A Touch of Darkness, this interracial time-travel romance is a Greek mythology retelling of the Theseus and the Minotaur that follows war photojournalist, Marly Broadie, surviving on grit and grief as she encounters Emissary Nate Wayne, under the control of aliens.

Set in near future New York city, and Los Angelos and 1500's BCE Crete, Nate's body, as Emissary for Earth, can be piloted by the Entity, aliens threatening humanity. Any resistance initiates humanity's annihilation. Marly's photography of the Emissary will ensure her mother's life-saving treatment. Instead, Marly provokes the Entity's interest and Nate's. Alien time-travel tech flings them back to ancient Minoan Crete. Stuck in the past, their desire for each other grows. Every reclaimed memory brings them closer to returning to the present and the Entity who can possess Nate's body. However, the future without them means human extinction. They will escape the past as their love is required to ensure humanity's future.

From award winning author, Venus Campbell, Requite of the Fates is a multicultural mytho-sci time-travel romance for readers ready to adventure into the mythical past.

 

Book of Venus * Amazon * IngramSpark * Goodreads




Nate had never known true agony. He was lucky. She wanted to hold it against him, his “everything will turn out all right” point of view, but she needed a bit of that. She looked up from her hands in her lap and met his gaze. Yes, a bit of fantasy in her life would do her good.

Smiling, she quipped, “You promised food.”

“Did I? Well, I think Stacy should be out in a minute with dinner. I usually get a pot pie. Chicken is one of her specialties.”

Marly nodded. Her stomach growled as she adjusted her bottom in the seat. “I could eat anything at this point.”

“You were rude, Mr. Wayne,” a woman’s voice interrupted from behind her. “And I just wanted you to know that it reflects badly on you to be sleeping with a woman like her.”

Marly turned to stare up at the tall blond who had accosted them in the front hall earlier. It took Marly a minute to absorb what she’d heard, then her face heated.

She didn’t think. She just stood, fury boiling to the surface. She took one step in the woman’s direction and would have let out a nasty response if Nate’s hand on her shoulder hadn’t restrained her. Staring at him, she opened her mouth to speak, but he wasn’t looking at her. He angled in front of her and squeezed her arm reassuringly in one controlled movement, then advanced on the blond with angry intent.

Nate’s voice rang out powerfully in the dining room’s sudden silence. “You better get smart. A mouth like that will get you permanently barred from a career in Hollywood. You’ll certainly never work on a film with me. And just so you know, I wouldn’t sleep with you to save the great race. Let’s go, Marly.”

He curved around the woman, making sure no part of him touched her, and headed out of the dining room with Marly right behind him. At the double-door hall entrance, a stalwart Stacy sent Nate a questioning look. He stopped, his nostrils flaring, and bit out his words.

“I believe that woman is having difficulty finding her way out.”

Stacy nodded. “I’ll make sure she gets there.” She handed him a key. “I’ll have your dinner brought up.”

Nodding a quick thanks, his expression impenetrable, Nate turned and pulled Marly up dark-carpeted stairs. They made their way silently down a wide hall, the maroon-colored wallpaper casting a forbidding slant to their mutual silence. She couldn’t figure out what was going on. He seemed angry with her, yet he’d defended her. Maybe he regretted his outburst, but she didn’t. Now she understood why every sane person wanted to be with or be Nathaniel Wayne.

They stopped at a door and Nate slipped the key into the lock, turned it with a click, and pushed, then retreated to let Marly enter first. She marched into the room, and after he’d followed and turned to address her, she slammed the door shut and grabbed his sweat coat, her mouth crashing against his as she pulled him down desperately.

He held back a second before grabbing her ass. Yes. Perfect hands.

Then his chest, arms, and nether regions pressed against her, his hard body inching her backward until she was against the wall and he adjusted his grasp on her buttocks. He held her against his erection.

His tongue caressed the inside of her mouth. She tasted mint on his breath. Tilting his head, he raised one hand to frame her face, the callouses on his fingers brushing sensuously on her cheeks. He pulled in her breath, lapping at her tongue, then slanted away to suckle her lips as his blue irises bored into her eyes. A question twinkled there and Marly nodded. This time, yes.

She couldn’t think as she watched him. Her eyes closed in shuddering bliss as his lips touched her neck and he ran his hands down her body again to pull her against him. Want was all she could think. She ached with want.

Then he was pulling away and the contrasting cool to his warmth returned thoughts to her head. Should they be doing this? She stared at him as he stepped back, breathing hard.

His hands, shaking, reached out to straighten her rumpled shirt, then held her face a moment. “I’ve been in enough movies to know that making love to you right now would ruin any chance I have at persuading you into a relationship with me.” He took another deep breath as if to steady himself. “May I draw you a bath?” His question was so innocent, so concerned. Marly’s heart thumped.

He didn’t wait for her to answer. Taking her hand, he walked her to the bathroom and flicked on the light switch. Lavender. Marly’s eyes lit in the violet-and--tiled room as the scent of lavender floated into her nostrils. Bath and hand towels in a matching -and-violet scheme lay folded on the marble countertop. A ceramic clawfoot bathtub dominated the room; its classic silver knobs caught Marly’s glance. A pair of complementing knobs shone from the sink. Stacy must have paid for the best interior decorator money could buy.

Nate left her to bend by the tub and turn on the water. After a minute of fiddling, he seemed to have the temperature where he wanted it. Marly was drawn to the water’s relaxing tinkle. Fatigue pushed forth again, as her tense muscles unwound from her earlier confrontation with Nate’s less-than-adoring public and, well, her life. She had to fight to keep her eyelids open as the steam from the tub wrapped itself around her.

Nate appeared before her and lowered her slicker off her shoulders. Then he pulled her shirt gently up and off her body and reached around to unhook her bra. No flicker of desire lit his gaze. Only concern. Her shirt and coat flung across the crook of his elbow, he smiled and rubbed her arms then bent to help her pull off her jeans.

Marly blinked to combat her fatigue. With her clothes in hand, he walked to the door and looked back. She could barely discern his words.

“I’ll be right outside, okay?”

Nodding, she let her gaze slide to the hot bath before her. The door clicked shut. Pulling off her bra and underwear, Marly climbed into the warm water and sank until she was covered up to her neck. The lapping of the water at her chin drew her lids lower until she couldn’t resist sleep anymore. Nathaniel Wayne, desire and concern in his eyes, was the last image in her head. Her last thought: she was falling in love with him.




Venus Campbell is the Principal of the Book of Venus publishing and the Winner of the Kroger Award for Excellence in Creative Writing.  She has finaled in various writing contests such as the Central Ohio Ignite the Flame and the New England Chapter- RWA First Kiss.  Campbell is a member of the Romance Writers of America (RWA) and the Authors Guild.  Campbell has written professionally since 2006 and has completed five single title manuscripts.  To Desire the Stars is her second publication. Campbell focuses on interweaving paranormal elements into romance stories, creating unique worlds which challenge people’s perceptions of self and preconceived notions of human love and relationships. 

Tuesday, August 18, 2026

Beware the Evil Drakine

 Excerpt Pamela Ackerson’s

Dragons of Mu

 



She rubbed the back of her head, felt a small lump, and winced. Her head was throbbing. Her knee was yelling at her and now she heard angry, men’s voices.

One of them yelled, “Over there! There she is. Get her!”

Another pulled out a long knife and they ran toward her.

Amy rushed into the woods. Turning around, she could see they were catching up to her.

Up, Amy, up. They won’t be looking up.

She climbed an oak tree as high as she could. Pulling on the long skirt, she squatted on a branch.

The branch felt odd and slithered underneath her. A large, looming face in the shape of a dragon stared at her unblinking.

Holy cr—

The creature put a long claw to its mouth and said, “Shhh.”

Amy took a deep breath. A scream was building inside her but before she could release the ear-piercing screech, she was muzzled by the creature. Her heart jolted as its wing enveloped her and she lost consciousness.

A few moments later, she was gulping for air. Fully expecting to open her eyes and see the hotel lobby, she was stunned to be staring into the eyes of a dragon.

–A dragon, a huge dragon with big, green eyes.

You’re safe.

Amy shook her head. “No. No, I’m not. There’s no okay in this, whatever this is at all. This is crazy. Why is this happening?”

Where did you come from?

She stared at his mouth. It wasn’t moving.

This hallucination was freaking weird. A talking dragon that didn’t move his lips. They’re going to take her away and leave her in the psych ward for the rest of her life.

Her eye began twitching. It wasn’t real. None of it makes sense.

Think, Amy. Dragons aren’t real. How could a dragon talk?

Anything can happen in a hallucination. She repeated to herself. This isn’t real.

Was she dead? Is this purgatory? Her own personal nightmare of an afterlife? Could she have injured herself so badly that she died?

She wasn’t a bad person. It certainly wasn’t in Hades. Well, it better not be Hades.

A talking, psychic dragon communicating with his mind.

Of course, it makes soooo much more sense.

She watched as the men ran into the woods, searching for her.

The dragon spoke in a deep, soothing voice, “Why are you dressed in that garb?”

Amy stared at the huge beast.

The beast’s green eyes penetrated her with a questioning glare.

“A— a party. We were going to a party.”

He looked at the bracelet.

“Someone put them in my shopping bag.”

“Let’s go. We need to get you into normal clothing. I’ll take you to Bev’s.”

Amy started climbing down the tree.

“No, no.” The dragon grabbed her and placed Amy on his back before taking flight.

Amy squealed, inhaled and released another louder scream.

“Stop.” His body jolted. “Your obnoxious squawking is impaling my ears.”

Within a few moments, they soared through the air and flew from cloud to cloud.

Her stomach flipped and she swallowed the huge lump in her throat.

“Ugh, no ups and downs, please.”

He laughed. “No quick drops? You’re the slow-boat kind of person.”

Her heart was finally returning to its normal beat. She was getting comfortable riding on his back and was beginning to enjoy the view.

“Whoa! This is awesome. I never have flying dreams.”

The dragon huffed.

Amy was mesmerized. It was freaking fantastic. The warm heat from the sun and soft air on her face, the flapping of his wings, it was glorious.

She could do this. It was peaceful. He was gliding along and she was euphoric.

Hold on.

“Hold on? No, don’t ruin the moment!”

The dragon took a deep dive. Amy let out an earsplitting shriek and gripped the back of his neck tighter as he gracefully landed on the ground in front of a small, wooden cabin.

He grunted in pain.

“Your fingernails are cutting into my skin.”

“Sorry.” Amy dismounted him like she would a horse.

“You don’t look like you’re sorry.”

She gave him an angry side-eye.

He grumbled, “Go. Tell her I sent you.”

“Um. You want me to knock on a stranger’s door, in the middle of BFE, and tell her a dragon sent me?”

 “We’re not in Egypt.”

She snapped, “What? We’re in the middle of freaking nowhere. That’s what BFE means!”

Ignoring her irritation, he responded, “We’re in Ireland.”

 “Ireland? I’ve never been to Ireland. How am I dreaming that I’m here? I’ve only seen pictures and this in not anything like the pictures.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t have a passport with me!”

She rubbed her forehead. Why would she need a passport in a dream?

“No worries.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll be back in a blink. In the meantime, tell her Blaze sent you.”

“Oh, look. A fairy circle.”

His wide-eyed, incredulous stare gave her pause. He shook his head. “Wow.”

She shrugged.

“I can’t keep up with you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. My mind goes really fast sometimes.” She limped toward the fairy circle.

“What are you doing?”

Amy chuckled. “Making a wish.”

He looked at her like she was growing horns.

“Um, yeah. Make a wish and the fairies will grant it only if they see fit. You have to watch out for all the fairies protecting the fairy circle. You don’t want to step on them, you know.”

Amy stepped back from the circle. “Hello, little fairies. I hope you’re having a pleasant day.”

He harrumphed and walked away.

“Hey, it’s my dream. I can do what I want.”

Amy raised her hand to knock, but never made contact. An elderly woman, in her mid-seventies, opened the door.

“Oh, I thought I heard Blaze’s voice.”

“I’m Amy. He told me to tell you—”

The woman opened the door wider. “Come in. The sun’s going to be setting soon and it’ll be a bit chilly.”

The elderly woman had light hair, dark blue eyes, and a wide, pleasant smile. Her hair was rolled up into a bun tucked on the back of her head. Amy’s memories immediately went to the cartoon with the grandma lady who owned the canary, Tweety.

Amy cautiously entered the house and as she turned to look about, a man rushed through the doorway.

He was an average-looking man except for his eyes. They gleamed an effervescent green. The man’s dark hair was a deep contrast to his light skin.

She never cared for the five o’clock shadow but it did do him justice.

“There you are, Blaze.” She handed him a mug.

“Thank you, Bev.”

Mark on his way?”

“Soon. He has a few things he needs to take care of before he comes.”

Mark? As in Harlow?

Bev turned to Amy. “What would you like, dear? I’ve got some hot tea on the table or, if it pleases, I can pour another draught.”

“T—”

“She needs normal clothes.”

Amy glared at Blaze. “And who are you?”

“I’m the man who saved your skinny bum and brought you here.”

“And how, pray tell, did you do that? A dragon…” Her voice trailed off.

Bev looked puzzled. “So, she’s not from medieval times?”

“No.”

“She didn’t time-travel here?”

“No.”

Time travel? Amy interrupted, “I can speak for myself.”

“Really?” He snorted. “Go ahead, darling, and explain how you got here.”

“Fine. I was at a party.” Amy flipped her hand in the air. “I tucked the jeweled comb in my wig and the next thing I knew, these men attacked me and I’ve been having this dream or possibly been unconscious ever since.”

Blaze sat at the table. “You’re not unconscious.”

“Then you tell me what’s happening.”

Bev took her arm. “Oh, sweetie, it’s been a day for you, hasn’t it? Sit, relax, and have a cuppa. I’ll get you some clothes that should fit you. We’ll get you all sorted out.”

The concern in Bev’s voice was telling.

Wariness clung to Amy as a hesitant smile tugged at her lips, a stark contrast to how she was feeling.

“I don’t need clothes. I just want to wake up.”

Bev asked, “Wake up?”

Blaze waved Bev’s question off and spoke to Amy, “Somehow, you’ve managed to get two very powerful and magical relics to bring you here. People have gone to war to possess the magical comb and bracelet.”

Amy grunted.

“Those men stole the relics to take over Mu and conquer the magical world. They will not hesitate to kill you for them.”

Amy bit her upper lip, repressing a nervous giggle. “Not ruby-red slippers? Will lightning flash from the jewelry when you try to remove it from my hair and wrist? Do I repeat ‘there’s no place like home’ three times?”

Blaze glowered. “I don’t find your sarcasm amusing.”

She removed the jeweled comb and handed it to Blaze. “Here. Take it.”

Bev glared at Blaze and tapped Amy’s hand. “Blaze can get you back to where you belong and to your party whenever you’re ready.”

“Good.” Amy put her wrist toward Blaze. “I’m more than ready.”

Blaze reached to take the bracelet off her wrist. “It won’t come off.”

Bev put her hand to her chest. “What?”

Amy’s voice shook in panic. “No, no, take it off!”

“It won’t come off.”

“Fine, then I’ll do it.”

She fiddled with the clasp and finally threw up her hands in frustration. “It won’t come off!”

Bev walked over to the cabinet and brought back a bottle of Irish whiskey and three glasses, and said, “It has begun.”

Available in Ebook, Paperback, and Hardcover

https://amzn.to/4e6aMAY

www.PamelaAckerson.net

@PamAckerson <--twitter

Facebook.com/PamAckeron

Monday, August 17, 2026

Living at the Edge of the World

 

Living at the Edge of the World – Summer 

Twelve-year-old Tabitha returns to the remote Shetland island of Papala expecting adventure –
not a mystery linked to an ancient selkie legend.
As pollution threatens the coastline and the island faces an uncertain future, Tabitha and her
twin brother Timothy, must uncover the truth before the islanders lose both their livelihood
and their home.

Living at the Edge of the World – Summer
The Papala Island Adventure Series Book 3
written by S. J. Barratt
narrated by Gill Mills
Genre: Middle Grade Eco Adventure

When twelve-year-old Tabitha returns to the remote Shetland island of Papala, she expects
adventure with her twin brother and friends–not trouble.
As their ferry approaches Papala, Tabitha discovers what appears to be a selkie skin drifting in
the harbour. Local legend says the skin belongs to a mythical creature–half human, half
seal–and that if it is not returned before midnight, the island will be cursed with generations of
bad luck.
But Papala is already under threat. Pollution creeps along the coast, the bird sanctuary is at risk,
and the island’s owner plans to sell. With time running out, Tabitha and her brother must
uncover the truth and convince the islanders to protect their home.
A lyrical eco-adventure for those who enjoy atmospheric island stories like The Storm Keeper’s
Island by Catherine Doyle, with the adventurous spirit of Malamander by Thomas Taylor.

“Educational storytelling doesn&#39;t come any better than this.”  Dieter Korger, Science fiction
author for adults.
This story has a little of everything that 9-12+year-olds love to read: ocean life, adventure,
animals, science and suspense. The list goes on and the pages keep turning!&quot; - Janet Ashmore,
children’s writer

“The fast pace and beautifully vivid descriptions add to the richness of the story. Judy Wollin,
Writer Fun Fast Reads” 

“I am still as thrilled with this third volume of the Papala Island Adventure Series: the writing is
top-notch, the plot is gripping, and we are getting attached to the characters. This time, the
main themes are environmental conscience, and whether it&#39;s even worth fighting against a
global problem.
An uplifting and important read for young people.” - Anne-Chat – Amazon 5 star review

Amazon * Amazon ebook * Apple * Google * Bookbub * Goodreads

Book Links:
Audible: https://amzn.to/4hvu05r
Amazon ebook: https://amzn.to/4weIx9j
Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/audiobook/living-at-the-edge-of-the-world-
summer/id6793196529
Google:
https://play.google.com/store/audiobooks/details/S_J_Barratt_Living_at_the_Edge_of_the_
World_Summer?id=AQAAAED6FllWsM
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/living-at-the-edge-of-the-world-summer-the-
papala-island-adventure-series-9-12-by-s-j-barratt
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/255733957-living-at-the-edge-of-the-
world

Don’t miss the first two Papala Island Adventures!

Living at the Edge of the World – Winter
The Papala Island Adventure Series Book 1
Audible * Amazon ebook

Living at the Edge of the World – Spring
The Papala Island Adventure Series Book 2
Audible * Amazon ebook

About the Author
S. J. Barratt is a self-published, professionally edited children’s author whose eco-themed
stories celebrate the connection between people and the natural world. Rooted in an English
countryside upbringing and shaped by a career in agriculture, she blends a gardener’s curiosity
with a storyteller’s warmth to her writing. Now based in Lyon, France, Suzanne creates tales
that inspire middle-grade readers to swap screen time for green time—and rediscover the
wonders waiting just outside their door.

Website * Facebook * Instagram * TikTok * Bookbub * Goodreads

Author Links
Website: https://www.sjbstories.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61550542796509
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/s.j.b_stories
TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@s.j.barratt
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/s-j-barratt
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/45227609.S_J_Barratt

About the Narrator
A former BBC broadcaster and journalist, Gill Mills brings over 20 years of experience in
entertainment to her narration. Known for her warm, resonant voice, she began her voice
career while DJing on BBC Radio 1 and has since voiced numerous TV and audio productions.
She now runs a content company specialising in podcast and film production from her studio in
East London.

LinkedIn * Instagram

Author Links
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/gillmills
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/gillmillsnarrator/

Giveaway
$10 Amazon or Paypal
Follow the tour HERE for special content and a giveaway!
https://www.silverdaggerbooktours.com/livingattheedgeoftheworld-summer

Direct link:
https://gleam.io/gJrHb/living-the-the-edge-of-the-world-summer



Tropes:
Real Environmental Issues
Magical Legends
Twin Heroes Kids Can Connect With
Atmospheric Shetland Setting
Self Confidence &amp; Speaking Up
Friendship, Community &amp; Making Change

Friday, August 14, 2026

Kill Code

 

 


In a world gone wrong, can one man actually make a difference, or will he die trying? 


Kill Code

by Clive Fleury

Genre: Dystopian Science Fiction


 

WHEN THE OCEANS RISE...THE TRUTH DROWNS


It's the year 2031. Our future. Their present. A world decimated by climate catastrophe, where the sun's heat is deadly and the ocean rises higher every day. A world ruled by the rich, powerful, and corrupt. A world where a good man can’t survive for long.

Hogan Duran was a good man once. He was a cop, forced to resign in disgrace when he couldn't save his partner from a bullet. Now Hogan lives on the fraying edges of society, serving cruel masters and scavenging trash dumps just to survive.

But after four years of living in poverty, Hogan finally gets a chance to get back on his feet. He's invited to join the National Security Council, the powerful paramilitary organization responsible for protecting the rich and powerful from the more unsavory elements of society. All he needs to do is pass their deadly entrance exam, and he'll be rewarded with wealth and opportunity beyond his wildest dreams.

But this ex-cop's path to redemption won't be easy. The NSC are hiding something, and as Hogan descends deeper and deeper into their world, he starts to uncover the terrible truth of how the powerful in this new world maintain their power...and just how far they will go to protect their secrets.

In a world gone wrong, can one man actually make a difference, or will he die trying? 

 

Kill Code is the first novel in an exciting new dystopian science fiction series from the mind of award-winning author, screenwriter, and director Clive Fleury. Fans of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey, and Divergent by Veronica Roth will be captivated by Kill Code. You'll also love this book if you enjoy:


* Dystopian novels and stories

* Stories about futuristic societies

* Stories about disgraced cops

* Stories about unlikely heroes

* Stories about conspiracies

* Stories about injustice

  

Amazon * Bookbub * Goodreads




The Station: a seething mass of humanity. Some came with hope in their hearts, ready to embark on the journey of a lifetime. For others, it was the only place they had left to go. They had reached rock bottom. Day or night, the scene was always the same: Transporters arrived and departed constantly, full of people desperate to get away from here, from there, from everywhere. Others wandered around the Station aimlessly. These were the homeless, the addicts, the criminals, the thieves and deadbeats. They spent their time begging or looking for something to steal.

And there was always tension in the air. A fight could break out at any moment as these tired and hungry people reached their wits’ ends and lashed out at the world.

Max and I had been waiting there two hours, which was at least one hour and fifty-nine minutes too long but neither of us minded. I kept reaching into my pocket to pull out the letter and stare at it.

“You’ll wear it out, buddy,” said a smiling Max after I had brought the note out a tenth time. “Just accept it. Next stop: Easy Street.”

I pushed the letter back into my pocket. I still couldn’t believe it. I’d been accepted. That was the good news. The bad news was I knew that this letter only confirmed that I had been chosen for NSC training. It was incredibly difficult to get this far, but even so, only a very few would make it to through to the next stage—to become officers. Frankly, I had grave doubts I could make it that far.

Max tapped me on my shoulder and pointed to a transporter that had just pulled in to Dock 10. It had the word Seattle printed above its windshield. It was Max’s ride. “Okay, Hogan, looks like it’s my time to go.”

I moved behind Max’s wheelchair and pushed it through the seething crowd towards the vehicle. It was, like all public transporters nowadays, driverless. So since there was no one to help, it was up to me to put Max’s ticket into the scanner and to lower him into in his allotted seat. After that, I folded his wheelchair and carried the chair to the luggage rack at the front.

As I finished storing the chair, I spotted an attractive woman in her mid-thirties walk up to Max. I watched as she checked the seat number on her ticket. “That is twenty-two N isn’t it?” I heard the woman say to Max as she pointed to the vacant seat next to him.

Max smiled. “It sure is. And you have the luck to be sitting next to Max Creeling.” He held out his hand. “Great to meet you.”

The woman smiled and sat next to him as I returned.

“Okay, Max, time to go. See if you can get someone to help you with the chair at the other end.”

“I think I can organize that,” the woman said. “I’m Lisa.” She pushed out her hand and I shook it.

“Pleased to meet you, Lisa. Thank you for your kind offer. Now, Max, don’t forget when you get to Seattle to keep out of trouble.”

“Will do.”

I high-fived Max. “Bye. And behave yourself.”

“Always.”

I turned quickly and headed for the transporter’s exit door. Almost as soon as I had stepped down from the vehicle, the door slid shut, the last passenger just managing to squeeze on. As the transporter drove off, Max peered out of the window and winked at me before turning to speak animatedly with Lisa. It looked like he had struck it lucky.

I missed him already.

My transporter would be in next. Dock 20. I started to walk towards the number 20 sign, scanning the crowd for those who were waiting for the NSC Transit transporter like me.

A tall, handsome man in his early twenties stepped in front of me, momentarily blocking my way. I glanced across at him. I knew the type. Dangerous and arrogant but the sort of asshole that women love. In fact, two young beautiful girls were with him: long legs, flowing blonde hair, angelic faces. They were obviously twins.

A commotion came from behind, and a middle-aged, scruffy, worn-down man pushed through the crowd, a rusty shotgun in hand. “Hey, you!” he screamed at the guy with the girls. “Those are my daughters, you son of a bitch.”

The handsome man turned, taking in the man and his gun.

“Really,” he replied. “Then I guess I owe you for raising such lovely pleasure units.”

“They aren’t pleasure units, they’re my girls, and they’re only seventeen.”

“Oh, God…I didn’t know,” the handsome man said, looking shocked. “They swore they were fifteen.” He grabbed one of the teenagers and starting to kiss her passionately.

“You bastard,” the older man said, and raised the shotgun, ready to fire. The handsome man pushed away the girl he was kissing, spun around, and yanked the weapon from the father’s hands in one motion. In an instant, the father was looking down the barrel of his own gun.

“The only reason I don’t shoot you right now is ’cause I’m afraid this rusty piece of shit might blow up in my face.” The younger man cracked the gun open and dumped the shells onto the floor. Then he pulled a gleaming handgun from his trousers and leveled it directly at the father’s head. “This, on the other hand, is in perfect working order. Care to test it?”

The father lunged forward, but I grabbed him, pulling him back. “That’s enough.”

The handsome man stared at me. “Well, thank you,” he said, stuffing his pistol back into his pants. “You should thank him too, Dad,” he said to the girls’ father, “you could have got yourself hurt.” He turned away to look at the girls. “Ladies—it’s been a pleasure. I’m sure you won’t forget your time with Jake Teerman.”

“Bye, Jake,” one of them shouted as she consoled her teary-eyed sister.

The man, Jake, quickly headed towards the transporter that had just pulled up at Dock 20.

“I guess some girls like that kind of thing,” a voice behind me said.

I turned. The woman who’d just spoken was strikingly attractive, with long dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a button nose. She was dressed in form-fitting jeans and a blue blouse that hugged her shapely body. She carried an antique leather holdall.

She held out her hand. “Ruby Mason.”

“Hogan Duran. Pleased to meet you” I said, shaking her hand and pointing at the NSC Transporter. “You getting on board?”

Ruby smiled proudly. “Yep. And you?”

I nodded and glanced at Jake Teerman, who was climbing up the transporter’s stairs.

“He’s going as well. I thought the NSC was more selective.”

“I guess not,” Ruby said.

***

About a hundred of us were cramped on board. Most were in their late teens and early twenties, mainly young men but with a sprinkling of women. I knew I was an old man by their standards. It was a pretty big handicap, and since Max’s shooting, my confidence had never really returned. Was I up to this? The transporter had been pretty quiet from the start, with only a few talking to one another. That was the sensible thing to do. We didn’t know exactly what our training would involve, and to give too much away about yourself at this stage was not a smart strategy.

Ruby and I hadn’t spoken much, either. I’d told her about me being an ex-cop. She’d told me that she was a waitress who had just been fired from her job. The news of NSC acceptance had been the lifeline she’d needed. To keep the conversation going but avoiding any more personal talk, I pointed at the transporter driver. “Haven’t seen one of those for years.”

“Me neither,” Ruby said.

It was a surprise to both of us. Nowadays, cars and trucks were almost all driverless. When they were first introduced, people had willingly given up their vehicles and relied on driverless taxis to get around. Before long, all trucks had been made driverless, too, and as demand for ‘driven’ cars fell, the industry collapsed: factories closed and workers were made redundant, joining the thousands of professional drivers in the ranks of the unemployed.

The NSC was one of the few employers who kept their drivers on, not trusting the security of driverless vehicles. Onboard computers could be hacked, they reasoned. It was difficult to accomplish, of course, but it was a risk the organization wasn’t prepared to take.

The view from the vehicle was a revelation to me, too, even though as a cop, I had traveled all over the city. In the four years since resigning from the force, the landscape had changed dramatically. I could see the wealthy zones with their well-lit stores, malls, and schools. These were surrounded by rows of affluent suburban homes, some of which had glistening swimming pools in their back yards. Cars shunted along the wide, clean boulevards, and children played happily in the lush green parks. The zones were protected by high steel-mesh fences hung with huge searchlights. Gun-toting guards, walking with vicious-looking dogs on leashes, manned checkpoints along the border.

In contrast, most of the city’s other zones looked like they’d been bombed out. There were no green spaces: the schools were huge, gray, factory-like buildings; the few stores were tiny, temporary structures; and hardly any cars traveled the crumbling roads that often looked impassable anyway. Homes were, for the most part, a mixture of temporary-looking Nissan huts or constructions built out of old wood and corrugated metal sheets.

As the transporter sped on and darkness fell, the signs of decay and dereliction increased. Tents replaced houses and roads became fewer and fewer. When the vehicle finally left what remained of the town and descended from the freeway down onto the open road, the lights inside were dimmed. People slumped back in their chairs, trying to get as comfortable as possible to sleep.

“Night,” said Ruby, shutting her eyes.

“Night,” I said, and did the same.

***

I awoke hours later, my legs aching, my back in pain. I really was getting old.

I stared out and saw that the sun had just started to peek over the horizon. Soon it would be high in the sky, streaming through the transporter’s tinted windows. If I was to die and somehow found myself in purgatory, it would probably look like this: dirty brown wasteland stretching out as far as the eye could see. On the horizon was a mountain range. But these boasted no romantic, snow-covered summits glistening in the sun: just steep, hostile, rocky escarpments layered with brown dust.

Ruby opened her eyes. “Hi,” she said, stretching and pulling herself up.

“Morning.”

Ruby turned to look out the window. She shivered. “Is this Hell?” she asked.

“Sure looks like it.”

“Three more hours,” Ruby said, yawning.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, peering at the small clock positioned high over the driver’s head. I reached into my pocket for my old flip phone, and then remembered we’d had to leave all electronic gear with the driver. The NSC expressly forbade anyone to carry anything that could be used to reveal where we were going. I doubted if the clock really showed the correct time. It would be too easy to work out where you were from the time traveled.

Ruby gave a start. “Oh my God.” She was staring out the window. I followed her gaze. In the distance, a band of bikers were riding through the wasteland, heading towards the transporter. I recognized them. “Krails,” I said. “I’ve never seen them up close.”

Others on the transporter had seen the Krails, too. They watched fascinated as the gang approached. As they came closer, I could make out the lined, tough faces of the riders. Although all were dressed in the same tight black leathers, some wore black bandanas or had long scarves covering their necks and faces. Many had grown their hair out, letting it fall down to their waist, while others had it shaved off completely. It was hard to tell the women from the men. All looked equally tough, with lined faces browned in the sun.

More than anything else, Krails were proud of their bikes. Despite the dust, each machine had been meticulously cleaned so their chrome and steel handle bars shone. Some riders had bows slung over their shoulders, quivers of arrows hanging from their belts. Others carried long hunting knives stuck into ornate belts, and handguns stuffed into leather holsters. The man on the lead bike looked huge and terrifying. He was bald, and his face was crisscrossed with long scars.

Ruby made a face. “Disgusting. How can anyone live like that?”

“Maybe they ask the same thing about us,” I said as the transporter accelerated away.

Staring back, I saw the big bald man, the Krail leader, raise his hand and indicate the rocky outcrops on the horizon. Pulling his bike around, he started to ride in the direction he’d indicated. The others followed in V-formation.

 




Clive Fleury is an award-winning writer of books and screenplays and has worked all over the world as a Film/TV director, writer and producer. He has written six books, most recently 'All Or None', the second novel in the Detective Ryan Murder Mystery series.

 'All Or None' sees Detective Ryan back in the thick of things. His latest investigation into a mysterious death couldn’t come at a worse time. He discovers his mother is hiding a troubling secret and is further sidetracked by a new romance. Fans of who dunnit's, crime thrillers, and cop and detective stories will love this novel. 

 Clive's other books include 'Off Season' - book one in the Detective Ryan Murder Mystery series; 'Kill Code' - a dystopian science fiction novel set in a world facing climate change;  ‘Scary Lizzy’  - a novel about an eight year old girl, who befriends an African child ghost –  and the teen action adventure book; ‘The Boy Next Door ‘ -  a story of what happens when a teenage girl has a crush on her next door neighbor, who isn’t all he seems.  He also co-wrote ‘Art Pengriffin and The Curse of The Four’ - a young adult fantasy adventure about a teenage boy who discovers his father was Merlin the Magician.

 

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