Death is just the beginning.
Earl Anderson takes a wrong turn and is shot dead in a mugging gone bad. The next thing he knows he is on a foreign world and has been conscripted into an intergalactic army.
He fears for his wife and baby son back on earth. He will do anything to find them, even go along with his captors as he awaits an opportunity to escape. Events outpace him as he tries to figure out what happened and how to escape.
He courts death at every turn as he fights his way forward in a situation that makes no sense.
Unable to discern truth from fiction, Earl works to subvert his captors in a struggle for his life, not knowing how things hang in the balance for humanity or even if his family still lives. If you like space opera and military science fiction, this book is for you. Pick up your copy today!
“Wallets!” The mugger screamed. “Now!”
Neither Sam nor I moved, something was off about his voice.
“Look, friend,” I said, trying to think of a way to make this easier. “Do I have permission to reach into my pocket and pull them out?”
“Give me your wallets, now!”
I shook my head and wondered what to do next. My last mugger had been calm and professional. This experience made me think of that fondly.
The mugger was taking too long. He was agitated.
The last thing I would do was reach into my pocket, he’d shoot me for sure.
Things are likely to go wrong either way.
Sam still said nothing. I couldn’t get a read on where he was because he was a few feet ahead.
I took another stab. “Friend. My wallet is in my right suit coat pocket, my smartphone is in the left. You are welcome to them.” I nodded at Sam. “I’m sure he’ll happily give you his. You are going to walk away with everything you want. If you will calm down—”
“Give me your wallets, now!” he screamed.
Before I’d spoken he’d still been turning the pistol between Sam and me but now it was just on me.
The strange mask had slipped, giving me a better look at his eyes. What I’d taken for bloodshot eyes before appeared to be a reflection of his mask. I’d expected to see wide unfocused eyes, but what I saw was more concerning.
His eyes were calm.
It was all an act.
A sick feeling formed in my chest, a stab of panic rising in the back of my mind.
Something was very wrong.
“Give me your wallet now!”
I finally realized what sounded wrong with the man’s voice. It wasn’t his voice at all.
It was a recording.
Why the act? Why the recording? I looked at the wet spot on the ground. Why the puddle in the alley on a hot day?
“What are you doing?” I asked the man, taking a calculated risk. “Why won’t you give me instructions?” I wasn’t ready to call him on the recording just yet.
I wanted to make him use his voice if I could.
He stepped back and pointed the weapon at me with both hands. I expected him to make another request, but he pulled the trigger.
Warmth blossomed on my chest.
I looked down and saw red covering my pinstripe shirt. In a distant part of my mind that was fast losing its ability to focus I realized the scarlet liquid came from me.
As my knees buckled, I made an involuntary gasp. My legs crumpled. My head hit the asphalt with a crunch, but the pain was detached from me.
The last thing I remembered was Sam turning as a plane flew overhead.