SNEAK PEEK: SPEARGRASS OPIOID BY DWAYNE CLAYDEN

11 September 2020

The new tribal sheriff of Speargrass, Montana, is ex-rodeo champion, Franklyn Eaglechild, a man plagued with injuries from the past. His damaged health leaves him with a dim future of lost dreams. While coping with his personal defeats, Franklyn quickly discovers not everyone in Speargrass is thrilled to have a new sheriff in town looking into their business.

Franklyn soon makes enemies in high places. Friends are scarce but lucky for Franklyn, he has at least one friend he can rely on—his adopted brother and DEA Special Agent, Riley Briggs in Great Falls.

As an opioid crisis spirals out of control around Great Falls and Speargrass, Franklyn and Riley realize they need to join forces if there is any hope of putting an end to the destruction.

You’re invited to celebrate release week with Dwayne follow this link to learn more.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Dwayne Clayden writes crime thrillers. Dwayne was born and raised in Calgary, and resides in Bowness. Crisis Point, Dwayne’s first novel, was a finalist for the 2015 Crime Writers of Canada, Arthur Ellis Awards.

Speargrass Opioid is the newest novel by Dwayne and it symbolizes a new direction of writing for him.

In his 40-year career, Dwayne has served as a Calgary Police Officer, Calgary Paramedic, tactical paramedic, firefighter, emergency medical services (EMS) chief, educator, and Academic Chair at SAIT. Dwayne is a popular speaker at conferences and to writing groups presenting on realistic police, medical and paramedic procedures.

The co-author of four paramedic textbooks, he has spoken internationally at EMS conferences for the past three decades. More information can be found about Dwayne at: DwayneClayden.com and at Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dwayne-E.-Clayden/e/B0034PT4RI

Dwayne is available for interviews, media appearances, speaking engagements, and/or book review requests – please contact mickey.creativeedge@gmail.com by email or by phone at 403.464.6925.

Shadows Across the Moon Serial Novel Chapters 21 and 22

Sheila English

11 September 2020

Shadows Across the Moon is a sci-fi romance serial novel with chapters being released daily. If you missed the previous chapters, you can read them here-

Moderate violence and sex.

SHADOWS ACROSS THE MOON by SF English

Chapters 21 and 22

Chapter 21

Everything was a blur at first. The pain was gone, but nausea began to attack her waking senses. Dane’s concerned face floated before her. Her focus, hazy around the edges, finally cleared. Dane’s lip was swollen, but he was alive. Adrenaline poured in, and drowned out the nausea.

“Drink this.” Paul’s voice seemed to echo in her ears. A hand, holding a glass of something liquid and yellow came into view.

Dane took the glass and held it to her lips. The taste wasn’t bad, but her stomach lurched at the invasion.

“Slow,” Paul commanded, still out of view.

Dane allowed her to sip from the glass. Her stomach stopped lurching. The haze evaporated like fog in sunshine. The last of the liquid gone, she could now see Paul, as he reached for the glass.

“Grayson?” She asked.

“They’re looking for him,” Dane said. “I hit him and tried to get to you. He took off.”

Dane was safe. She was alive. Time was running out. Grace sat up on the makeshift couch. Robert was sitting on a backpack looking at her. He glanced at his watch, but said nothing.

“How much time do we have?” Grace asked. More adrenaline.

“Not a lot,” Dane told her. “Robert and Paul have everything ready to go. I think you should stay here.”

“No!” She scrambled to stand. A wave of dizziness hit her and she reached out to Dane to steady herself. “What happened?” Confusion. Anger. Determination.

Dane pulled her close until she could stand without his help. She looked down to where she had been shot, but there wasn’t any blood. No wound.

“It was a tranquilizer gun,” Paul explained. The look on her face could only have been shock. “We don’t know why,” he answered.

“It only nicked you,” Robert said as he stood and put the backpack on. “Paul’s little concoction is supposed to have you good as new by now.” He glanced to Paul. Grace wondered how these two would be able to work together. They were opposites. If they didn’t need each other, she thought, they’d kill one another.

“How do you feel?” Dane’s concern warmed her.

“Good enough to go,” she assured him.

“I told you.” Was all Paul said, as he turned to pick up his own backpack.

“Be certain, Grace.” Dane’s face was a mask now. No judgment. I trust you.

She wasn’t certain of a lot of things. Would she be able to keep up? Could she kill? Is this how she wanted to spend the end of her life? But, of one thing she was certain. Whatever she did in these final hours would be done at Dane’s side. Live or die.

“I’m certain.”

He nodded once, turned and caught the pack that Robert threw to him. As Paul handed her a smaller pack, Lisa walked in, with Ramon at her side.

“Bad news,” she said. “Ramon says that Grayson came to him and his men saying that I’d given orders for a final mission. One that would help secure the escape of our people.”

Lisa pursed her lips and looked intensely at Paul. “He took three volunteers and a whole hell of a lot of explosives.”

“What’s he going to do with explosives?” Grace asked.

“He didn’t say,” Ramon answered.

“Volunteers?” Robert’s voice held something that caused Grace to look at him. His mask was in place.

“Yes,” Lisa answered, but her tone, like Robert’s, seemed to hold more meaning than Grace could comprehend. The room had grown still. “He told them it was a suicide mission.”

Paul studied the rebel leader. His gaze moved over her

“What else?” he asked.

Lisa’s eyes darted toward Robert, then just as quickly found their way back to Paul. “He left a message for Robert.”

Robert continued to strap on the pack and check his weapons. He didn’t look up when he spoke. “What’s the message?”

“He says you’ll find your wife in the Colonel’s quarters at the land center.”

* * * *

The fog was dense in some areas, thin in others. Sometimes she could see the men in front of her, but more often she had to rely on Dane’s steady hand to guide her. It was over six feet now. The orders to kill anyone out in the fog would have been given. They were all moving targets.

Dane had given her a quick lesson in some of the hand signals they would be using to communicate. As the men ahead stopped near a dumpster, and then fell back into an alley, she wasn’t able to make out all of the hand signals. But she knew enough. Someone was coming this way.

They remained with their backs against the wall as several people went past them. The fog wasn’t as thick here, and Robert squatted down, pulled out a penlight to look at the map. Paul moved forward to keep a look out.

“We split here,” he told Dane.

“I thought we were waiting to split at the pier?” Grace wondered why the change in plan.

“It’s not safe ahead,” Robert answered.

“But people are just roaming around the streets here,” she said, and nodded in the direction those few people had gone.

“They aren’t roaming,” Robert assured her, “They’re running from something. Something up ahead. Something that probably saw them already.”

“Robert,” Dane called his attention. “Paul has the frequency set so it changes every thirty seconds. But he’s using Grayson’s technology. So, Grayson may be able to hear us.” Dane checked his headset settings against Robert’s. “Keep communications short.”

Robert only nodded. Grace wondered what was going on inside the silent workings of his mind. He’d not spoken to anyone, unless he had to. Something in his eyes spoke of things less than human. Savage things that could kill, and feel nothing. Those eyes moved to Paul, then back to Dane.

“He’s just like Grayson.” Robert’s mask held in place. “One thing…and he’s dead.”

Grace swallowed hard. Robert’s need for violence, for revenge, had a life of its own. She feared for Paul. But there was nothing she could say that would penetrate Robert’s cold heart.

“Right now he’s on your side,” Dane reminded him. “Don’t make a mistake you may regret.”

Robert’s cold warrior eyes moved slowly over Dane. Grace wondered if Robert even saw his brother-in-law.

Shuffling feet brought her attention to Paul. He kneeled down in their little circle, and looked to Dane.

“Timing is everything,” Dane said to everyone, but his gaze was on Paul. “We can’t give away that we’re trying to stop them, until everyone is in place. If they know, they might detonate prematurely.”

“I’m getting her out of there,” Robert seemed to think Dane was saying more than just his words conveyed. “I won’t leave her this time. Not for anything, not for anyone.”

“I’ll be waiting for your signal,” Paul answered. He seemed reflective for a moment, holding his own private counsel. Then his gaze found Grace. “Be careful.”

Grace wondered how a face, once so stunning, now, nearly half metal, could still convey such emotion. Instinctively, she reached out and grasped his hand. She squeezed it, let the warmth of her own reach him. As she let go, she wondered if she would ever see him again.

Robert tapped his forearm twice and gave the signal to split. Paul went back to his position, and signaled when it was safe to move out.

Grace flipped out the metal rod of her headset. Six inches. They plugged in. It was time.

* * * *

A glitch in his headset caused Grayson to stop. He motioned his men behind him. He flicked the channel and smiled to himself. They were all hooked up. All he had to do now was get to his objective first. It wouldn’t matter if they stopped the bombs or not. Not now. He motioned to the men. They were on the move again. Dead men walking.

Chapter 22

Grace wondered how Dane could find his way in the thick fog. He’d attached a 6-foot bungee-cord from his belt loop to her hers, in case they got separated. She missed holding his hand, but understood the necessity of being able to access weapons immediately. They inched forward at a rate that caused her to make an effort at not shuffling her feet. Dane tugged once on the cord to indicate she should watch her footing.

The cord went slack and she stopped. Neither of them moved. She strained to hear. Waves lapped at tethered boats, rocking them gently in the water. The occasional red beam of light no longer scared her like it did the first time she saw one. Dane had pointed out that the light gave away the position of any cyborg. The light had become a tool for them.

Grace thought of the conversation they’d had back in the tent as they readied to leave. Paul told them to expect the fog to become thicker around the bay. The fog was hiding a secret. A military ship, waiting there to detonate a bomb full of Fool’s Gold.

Grace thought of a painting she once saw. She thought the artist’s name was Goya. He had lost his mind during the Napoleon invasion. A quiet artist that had painted beautiful landscapes until violence struck. The obvious evils of men had shown themselves, and his mind simply broke. After he died, they’d found a painting on the wall of the man’s kitchen. Saturn devouring his children. A god who was to protect them…had cannibalized them. The image of it stuck in her mind, gruesome and bloody. Its meaning somehow ironically connected to this day.

Grace jumped when Dane’s hand grabbed blindly at her forearm. She forced herself to calm, when his hand slipped down her arm to take her hand. As they moved forward, the concrete turned to wood. She prayed that the creaking planks would blend into the sounds of the night.

A quick squeeze of he hand and he stopped. Dane had a boat on a private pier. A small one he used when he went out on his own to dream up beautiful music and great inventions. The chance of hitting another boat was much less. Grace hoped Dane could find his way in the ocean as he had on the streets. Carefully they boarded, and untied the boat from the pier.

* * * *

Paul lost sight of Robert as they neared the Hyatt apartments. The man had a death wish. Reckless. The fog was heavier now that they approached one of the ten fog machines in the city. A red laser light show tapped out a deadly rhythm in the sky. Cyborgs. At least a dozen of them patrolled the area, securing the machine.

Paul found that his headset enabled him to see through his dead zombie eye. It was hooked in to a control center. There was no telltale red, laser light, but he could see. No doubt Grayson had come up with a way to restore his own eyesight. Using Grayson’s technology, he’d wondered why the man didn’t wear a headset all the time. To let the rebels think he had a handicap?

He couldn’t figure Grayson out, and that bothered him. You have to know your enemy. But what would make Grayson so willing to let someone die trying to gain data from a military hook-up, and then use a tranquilizer gun on those same people later?

An unexpected sound put Paul’s attention on a nearby pile of dead bodies. Gun in hand, he moved in that direction. If it was Robert, he’d just as soon not have the man at his back.

Faces, purple and bloated stared at him. How many times had he seen such atrocities without a thought to the stories behind those eyes? Before the unfamiliar emotion could be named he stamped it out. He turned off any feelings that might have taken hold of his soul. He wouldn’t think of them again. Perhaps he wasn’t as human as he’d hoped.

From his peripheral vision he saw movement. Someone there, in the pile of death, hid a beating heart. As he moved forward, leaning closer to several faces, he scanned them. It registered that one face was still pink just before the eyes snapped open, and an arm came up to smash him in the head with a hammer.

Paul stumbled back, his gun hitting the pavement behind him. The metal tore again from his face allowing blood to stream down his neck. The man hadn’t had enough room to get a good shot in, but as Paul cleared his vision and looked up, the man stood there, swinging again.

Paul didn’t step back, but moved his body to one side. The hammer slashed through the air, missing him. When the man drew back again, another hand grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Grayson.” Paul fought the inclination to take the hammer from Grayson, just as Grayson had removed the hammer from his assailant.

“Soldier,” Grayson spoke to the man standing wide-eyed in front of Paul, “Stand down.”

The words didn’t seem to register at first. Then, nervous eyes flicked toward Grayson. He didn’t so much relax, as he just stopped looking so damn terrified.

“Get back to your assignment,” Grayson spoke low, but with great authority. No one would question him.

The man took back the hammer, cast a last look at Paul, and scurried away into the fog.

“How do you like having your full sight back?” Grayson wore a mask of indifference. Whatever lived inside that man’s soul was black, or void of all humanity.

“It’s not safe here,” Paul stated.

“Look again,” Grayson invited.

Reluctant to take his eyes off of Grayson, Paul quickly glanced around the area. There was only the fog, which had started to thin out.

“What’s going on here?” Paul wondered how Grayson had gotten rid of the AIM soldiers.

“The data I wanted had nothing to do with a map for the rebels,” Grayson told him. “I’m taking out the fog makers.”

“I don’t get it.”

“If the fog doesn’t encompass the entire city, they can’t release the bombs. By daybreak, they’ll be caught with their pants down,” Grayson’s mask held, but something lived bright and ferocious inside his human eye. “It’ll leave witnesses to what’s happened. AIM soldiers. Military killing civilians.”

“And what if they release the bombs?”

“They might. But, I doubt it. It would spread so far, so fast, the bastards on that ship out there won’t have time to escape.”

“That doesn’t mean the military wouldn’t sacrifice them,” Paul felt heat spread throughout his body. His gut clenched, and his muscles began to fill with energy. “You could be condemning all of northern California.”

“It’s a calculated risk I’m willing to take,” Grayson moved, as though he could feel the heat of the other man’s anger growing.

“Why not stop the bombs? Why not work with us?” Paul’s hands clenched into fists.

“That was never my plan. And, I couldn’t be two places at once. You can’t think for a minute those rag-tag rebels could have pulled off something so covert it would fool the US Military?” Grayson shook his head, as though he expected more from Paul. “I can take the fog makers out one at a time. I only need to take out five to destroy their mission. I’ve taken out two already.”

“Why?”

“I’m a simple man,” Grayson stopped, touched his scarred face thoughtfully. “Revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“I had a life once. Like you. I was a top technology scientist. Civilian. But Infinity Corporation got a government contract to make headsets for genetically engineered people, and my life changed. Infinity figured out how to assassinate people using a head set, but make it look like natural causes. When the military asked for the technology, Infinity wanted to renegotiate terms.” Grayson’s mask slipped and anger filled his features.

“So what?” Paul said, unaffected by Grayson’s story. “You worked on a weapon for Infinity and when they wouldn’t hand it over the government turned you into a cyborg? My heart’s breaking.”

“I had no idea Infinity was working on a weapon. The scientists were given small tasks, never told what the big picture was. But, you’re right, Infinity decided to put all the information together on a chip, hide the chip, and blackmail the government. That didn’t go over too well with Uncle Sam. To insure the technology couldn’t be duplicated, Infinity started killing scientists. It was a race. You were killed, or you were turned into a cyborg.”

“It doesn’t give you the right to kill innocent people,” Paul tried to keep his voice emotionless.

“Let me tell you about innocent people,” Grayson lost his calm, “Infinity got to my home first. It was my son’s fifth birthday. I was late to the party, but I recognized the van when I pulled into the driveway. When I got out of the car someone grabbed me, injected me with something. The last thing I saw was blood on the inside of the kitchen window. And then,” he paused, “I woke up in Detroit. Like this.” His hand found the scars again.

“I don’t care.” Paul would worry about his loss of humanity later. He had a mission. And this walk down memory lane was over.

“That’s too bad,” Grayson said, as he pointed his gun at Paul, “I’d hoped you’d see that we were the same. Between the two of us we could nail those bastards. You have knowledge of them, like me. But we had different…talents. Different resources. Between the two of us we hold a wealth of secrets. And let me tell you this soldier,” Grayson stepped back, but his gaze never broke from Paul’s, “You’ll dream. If you survive this…you’ll dream. When you do, you’ll come looking for me.”

“I can’t let you do it,” Paul took a step forward, and was greeted by cold steel at his temple.

“Then stop the bombs,” he suggested as he continued to move backward.

Paul couldn’t see his weapon through the carpet of fog. There was no doubt that Grayson would kill him if he had too. Grayson was insane with his need for revenge.

He watched the madman fade into the billowy fog. He saw only his outline, then he was gone.

Paul searched until he found his lost gun. The land center was close. Grayson was a brazen bastard.

Stopping the fog machines to expose the military was a good plan. But the stakes were just too high. Paul turned in the direction of his destination. He wasn’t like Grayson, he was still sane. But then again, he hadn’t had time to dream.

Book Lights with Lisa Kessler presents USAT Bestsellers Bianca D’Arc & Anna Lowe

Jocie McKade

10 September 2020

Bianca D’Arc started her professional life running a laboratory. After grad school, she started to climb the corporate ladder in the shark-infested streets of lower Manhattan. She now writes full time and loves it more than anything, though she’ll always miss her first love… her laboratory. You can find out more on her website: https://www.biancadarc.com/

LISTEN HERE!!

Anna Lowe loves putting the “hero” back into heroine and letting location ignite a passionate romance. If she’s not hunched over her laptop, working on her latest story, you’ll find her hiking in the mountains or biking country roads. Either way, the day will end with a chunk of dark chocolate and a good read. Find out more at http://www.annalowebooks.com

And for more about our host Lisa Kessler visit http://Lisa-Kessler.com

Book Lights – shining a light on good books!

Shadows Across the Moon Serial Novel Chapter 19 and 20

Sheila English

10 September 2020

Shadows Across the Moon is a sci-fi romance serial novel with chapters being released daily. If you missed the previous chapters, you can read them here-

Moderate violence and sex.

SHADOWS ACROSS THE MOON by SF English

Chapters 19 and 20

Chapter 19

Grace waited at the front door. An alarm of some kind was sent out. A series of high pitched beeps had everyone running in an orderly panic. People had already packed. At least, Grace thought, some people were prepared.

Lisa opened the door, as Paul walked up behind her. Their solemn faces testified to the hopelessness of the night.

“Your sister?” Grace wasn’t sure what to say.

“Lisa’s going to stay here with her sister,” Paul said, as he moved through the door, to pass Grace. “I’m going with Dane.”

“I came to get the information that was downloaded,” Grace’s gaze remained fixed on Lisa. “We’re not leaving San Francisco.”

“I’ll get it,” Paul said. “I’ll meet you and Dane in the tent.” With that Paul excused himself with a nod, and a final glance to Lisa. Grace saw something flash across the doctor’s face that had nothing to do with saving lives, and everything to do with determination.

“Come in, Grace,” Lisa invited, “I want to talk to you before you go.”

The large canvass home was amazing. Grace walked into a living area that reflected the life of the rebel leader. Organized. Sparse. Functional. The number of chairs in the far corner spoke of late night meetings. A gun cabinet, locked with a chain and padlock, sat near a drafting table. No flowers, no bright colors, nothing feminine decorated the room. Yet, there were scented candles on the meeting table, and a stuffed toy lay abandoned on a chair.

“We have something in common, Grace,” Lisa said as she indicated to Grace that she could have a seat near the drafting table. “We’re dying.”

Grace watched her closely as she sat. Lisa had been crying. Grace could only imagine that it had to do with her sister. Lisa sat in front of her, back straight, eyes clear. She was a rebel leader again and this was business.

“What do you mean?” Grace asked.

“Unless someone stops those bombs, I’ll be dead in a few hours,” Lisa said, her voice unwavering. “Unless someone finds out what was done to you, you’ll be dead too.”

“I find that dead people are the most honest people,” she continued, “There’s nothing to prove anymore. No one can blackmail you. No one can buy you off.” Her gaze held, then her eyes moved over Grace’s face, as though she were reading it. “I trust you, Grace. I’ve lived by my instincts my entire life. I trust my instincts. I can’t go with my people, I’m needed here.”

Lisa glanced briefly at a small compartment of the tent where the flaps there were closed off. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked back at Grace.

“I can’t go with the soldiers, even though every fiber of my being wants that. But you’ll go,” she nodded, then stood and walked toward the gun cabinet. She opened it, using a small key, and took out a pistol. “This is mine.” She handed it over to Grace. “Use it.”

The gun was as cold as Lisa’s dark eyes. It was lighter than the gun she’d been given by Dane. Why Lisa would give such a gift to her was unclear. But she took it, checked the safety, and tucked it into the back of her pants.

“I don’t know what to say.” About her sister. About the rebels. About the gun.

“There’s nothing to say,” Lisa assured her. “Some women would have broken down crying when we stormed the house. Most would have been more concerned with themselves. You didn’t cry, and you wouldn’t leave a man behind. You were willing to give your life to save others.” Lisa paused in reflection, looked again at Grace, and nodded silently to herself. “You’re not going to wait here for them to return, and you’re not going to leave San Francisco, are you?” She knew the answer, but she wanted to know that Grace knew it.

“I’m going with Dane.”

Lisa nodded. “Of course.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do to save yourself?” Grace asked, as she stood and walked toward the other woman.

Lisa’s gaze was piercing and calculated. “I just did it.”

* * * *

The men sat around the table, hunched over a multitude of papers. Grace entered quietly, hoping not to disturb them.

“We can make it to the land control center in less than an hour,” Robert concentrated on the map in front of him. “This diagram…” he pulled another paper out from the pile, and sat it on top, “shows us where they have their land satellite, and the most likely location for a jail or holding cell.”

“They wouldn’t detonate from land,” Paul pulled out the map again. “The ship is located here, near Treasure Island. We’ll need to find a way to get to it. If we leave now it shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

“This mission,” Robert looked up to stare directly at Paul, “is under my authority. We infiltrate the land center first. Our objective is to rescue Stephanie.”

“Our objective is to save everyone in San Francisco,” Paul pointed out.

“I don’t give a damn about everyone in San Francisco,” Robert’s voice had lowered an octave. His calm was a lie. His heart beat hard enough that Grace could see it in his neck.

“There are children in this city,” Paul was unaffected, “Other people have wives…families here.”

“And I suggest they take care of their own,” Robert stood erect. The tension in the room caused Grace to shift uncomfortably.

“We work together. We save everyone.” Paul stood to face Robert. His metal face and dead red eye was all Grace could see.

The doctor-turned-cyborg had no one here, yet he was willing to die to save these people. Grace wondered if that was the soldier in him, or the doctor.

“Dane,” Robert turned to his brother-in-law for support.

“I understand,” Dane looked at Robert. “I do. There’s not enough time. We have to split up.”

Robert glanced back at the map. His expression became a mask less human than that of the cyborg standing in front of him. Grace felt cold chills looking at him.

“So be it,” Robert said. He pulled out the diagram again.

Grace stood, ready to be noticed. Lisa was right, she hadn’t fallen apart so far, and she hadn’t given up. Warmth, that only absolute resolve can give, coursed through her.

“What happens if Robert gets there, and the detonator is there, run by grunts?” she asked. She looked to Dane. “Didn’t you say that grunts are expendable?”

“That’s unlikely,” Dane looked thoughtful.

“But not impossible?” She asked.

“No,” Paul said, “Not impossible. I’m a high ranking officer, and I don’t know where the detonator is. It could be anywhere.”

“Our best bet?” Grace asked.

“Either the ship or the land center,” Paul answered.

“Then we split up,” Dane said. “Robert and Paul to the land center.” His gaze found her. “Grace with me.”

“You’re not coming with me?” Robert asked. His mask fell just enough for Grace to see the distaste there for Paul. Just as quickly, the mask went back into place, but Paul had seen it too.

“I won’t leave Grace,” Dane told him. “You should understand.”

“Paul?” Grace needed to know where the doctor stood on this. They needed to be able to trust one another.

Paul turned, and his dark eye was as dead as the red light opposite it. A warrior’s mask. Like Robert. It wouldn’t matter where Paul was told to go, she realized, he would search for a way to save them all.

Paul nodded once. The teams were chosen. A plan was set in motion. It was time to prepare to go back into the city.

Chapter 20

She’d never shot anyone before. The gun was no longer cold against her skin, but had warmed to her. As she had to it. She would kill; it was inevitable, inescapable, fate.

The woman who longed to make a difference had changed, her dream of being brave, hard-earned. And it wasn’t the romantic idea she thought it would be. She was still afraid.

“Grace.” The sound of Dane’s voice, as he stepped inside the tent, warmed her cold heart.

He glanced to the gun in her hand, and whatever he saw on her face brought him next to her. They were finally alone, after all this time. After all that had happened.

“Oh, Grace,” he sighed, as he kneeled beside her, taking the gun from her hand and putting it aside. “Are you going to be able to do this?”

Her shoulders straightened, lips pursed, eyes not quite as clear as she would have hoped. “We do what we have to do,” she answered.

He nodded, “Yes, we do.” His gaze remained on her. She wondered what he saw there, studying her, as he so obviously was.

His finger made a slow caress along her jawline, it held at her chin, tipping her head slightly, so he could press a gentle kiss on her mouth.

It was almost her undoing. Regardless of the mantra she’d created for herself, that she could kill when pushed, she just wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the fear, she decided, but the taking of a life that gave her heart that cold hesitation.

She let herself kiss him back. She would imprint this moment in her mind, preserve it. The soft unhurried kiss, so warm and full of something they might never fully realize.

“You’ve undone me,” he whispered against her lips.

She opened her eyes, to see a face full of such emotion she found it hard to believe he couldn’t feel. Was it a habit to show emotions, such as this, when he thought it was expected of him? Dare she ask? She wouldn’t. Nothing would entice her to break this spell, this lie. He was giving her something to live for. To fight for. She knew he couldn’t really love her, but he felt something. He was honorable. He would feel obligation, responsibility, perhaps even a kinship to her.

Even if he could love her, their social status would prohibit anything more than a casual friendship. All the time she would have with him, was this moment. This day.

It would be better to die living out this day beside him, than survive the coming months alone. She had reason to fight. There was still hope that whatever caused this brain tumor might be reversed. She couldn’t deny that the presence of Juliana, and the knowledge that the military had targeted her, was more than coincidence. There were a lot of reasons to fight. For herself, and for the people who couldn’t escape San Francisco. And, she thought, as she looked into Dane’s handsome face, for one more moment, as brief and fleeting as it might be, with this man.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, unexpectedly. Thoughts of his initial reaction to her military plug-in still haunted her.

Something flashed across his face, regret. But his eyes were clear as he nodded. “I trust you.”

The words caused relief to wash over her. Tears threatened behind her eyes. Dane would help her. If there was a chance she could be saved, he would help her find it.

“When this is over,” he said, “we’ll talk this out. We’ll figure it all out.”

A slight hesitation caused her to wonder if he meant to say more, but the flaps of the tent opened, and their private world faded away. Grayson, pissed and armed, stood at the entrance.

Grace grabbed for her gun, as Dane stood to face the enemy. Grayson’s gaze flicked to Dane’s gun, then to her. The tall man’s stance was imposing and dangerous.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Grayson asked Dane.

“We’ve done our part.” Dane moved, and Grace had to look around him to see Grayson. “We’ve been given our freedom.” Grace watched Dane flick the safety off his gun. “I don’t answer to you.”

“You are not going to sabotage this mission!” Grayson wasn’t afraid, he was angry. “I’ve had enough interference. You go with the rebels if you want to stay alive.”

Dane’s body acted as a shield, but Grace didn’t want him to save her. She wanted him to know that she was capable. She moved back, to get a better look at what Grayson might have as a weapon. Once she could fully see him, a cold chill ran up her spine.

“What mission is that, Grayson?” Dane asked. “Because, what we’re doing won’t affect the evacuation of these people.”

A twitch, slight and quick, in Grayson’s clenched jaw muscles told Grace that he’d slipped up. He hadn’t meant to say so much. Grayson knew he’d been caught. It made him all the more dangerous now.

“This is bigger than you know,” Grayson ground the words out slowly, as he chose them more carefully now. “Stay out of it.”

“I won’t stay out of it.” The line was drawn.

“If you’re dead, you can’t help her.” Grayson took a calculated step forward.

Grace wondered why Grayson would even care. Why not just pull the gun? The tension hung in the air like an electric currant. But, Grayson didn’t lift his gun. Not yet.

“What do you want, Grayson?” Dane never moved. Grace could see his profile, and knew his eyes were locked on the cyborg.

“What do you think you’re going to do?” Grayson shifted his body. Dane shifted. The tension rose.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Dane said. “Just walk away. Let us go.”

“I can’t do that.”

“So you’re going to try to kill us?” Dane’s body seemed to vibrate with expected violence.

“I don’t want to have to do that.”

Sweat broke out on her brow as she watched them. Dane moved, slightly, keeping his body always between her and Grayson. Screaming wouldn’t help. It might distract Grayson, but most likely, it would distract Dane. The tent flap was closed. No witnesses to the violence within. She was too far away to run for help. It would put her too close to Grayson. She stood there feeling helpless, even with her gun gripped so tightly is hurt her hand.

Grace knew something had happened before all hell broke loose. She didn’t see Grayson move, but Dane brought his gun up so fast she didn’t have time to see why. Time sped up. Everything moved faster than she could think. Grayson threw his large body hard against Dane. Dane’s gun flew across the room, and the two men struggled on the floor. She couldn’t tell who was hitting or who was bleeding. Her gun was in front of her, pointed, waiting for an opportunity. She didn’t recall bringing the gun up. As the fight on the floor seemed to move in fast motion, the fight within her slowed, turned to ice. A break in the fight and Grayson would be a dead man.

Through the cold that had turned inward, toward her soul, there was pain. She was focused on her target. But she had become a target. As the men struggled, Grayson’s gun went off. A scream ripped through her. Pain, first cold, then warm, spread. She heard Dane cry out. Her gun hit the ground. And so did Grace.

DK Launches New Travel Podcast “Where to Go”

Jocie McKade

9 September 2020

DK Eyewitness has launched a new travel podcast, “Where to Go” – produced for today’s travelers, for a new era where restrictions and precautions are ever present. The hosts, James Atkinson and Lucy Richards, don’t shy away from the impact COVID-19 has had on our vacation plans and openly discuss the effect of the pandemic on the world’s favorite destinations. They also share insights into what travel might be like in 2021.

Each new episode will celebrate a specific destination and the hosts will be joined by experts who have all chosen to call that place home. The guests will reveal hidden gems, reactions to cities, and sights that are not to be missed.

Georgina Dee, Publishing Director, DK Eyewitness, says, “We know how much of a difficult time this has been for travelers, and how uncertain many are about when or where they will visit next. So this new podcast is a real celebration of our favorite destinations and what makes them so special, alongside an honest and helpful account of how COVID has impacted them.”

In Episode One, James and Lucy are joined by Toni DeBella, an American travel writer who fell in love with Italy and never looked back. They discuss the initial shock of COVID-19, how the country is now starting to recover and open up, as well as Toni’s personal relationship with the country and her favorite places to see. Sweden, New York City and Scotland will also be covered during Season One.

Co-Host James Atkinson adds, “This podcast was such a joy to make, and has provided us with the chance to work with some of the world’s finest travel voices and hear the inside story from them on the destinations they love so much (directly from our home studios!). And it also features wonderful stories that will put you right alongside our guests as they join ice fishers in Northern Sweden, see the blue sky and white marble of Venice for the first time and experience crushing FOMO after just missing out on an all-star comedy night in an NYC comedy club.”

New episodes of “Where To Go” will be released every two weeks and are available from Acast, Apple and Spotify.

Shadows Across the Moon Serial Novel Chapter 17 and 18

Sheila English

9 September 2020

Shadows Across the Moon is a scifi romance serial novel with chapters being released daily. If you missed the previous chapters, you can read them here-

Moderate violence and sex.

SHADOWS ACROSS THE MOON by SF English

Chapters 17 and 18

Chapter 17

There was clapping. Not applause, but the sound of someone typing frantically on a keyboard. The pictures forced behind her lids, were foreign. Grace held still, waiting for the pain. More pictures. Things she’d never really see. Things she’d never know about.

Far away a buzzing began. The pictures came faster. A map. Another map. The buzzing became a high pitched whine as it grew louder. A document she couldn’t read. Another, with pictures of AIM soldiers. The noise resonated in her head. Another map. The command center. The noise brought pain with it. It began to vibrate behind her lids, until she could no longer see the pictures. Her lids convulsed. No control. Pain. Noise.

Someone was screaming. Her throat hurt, her lungs burned. Even in the darkness everything spun around. She recognized her voice, as pain and cold spread, dropping her to her knees. She scraped her palms, as her body tumbled. White-hot pain intensified. Dying. Abruptly it stopped. The pain was gone, as though it were never there. The spinning continued. Nausea followed. Residual pain registered as she caught her breath. Her hands and knees were wet and cold. Lungs and throat still burned, but she no longer heard the screams. Breathing took all of her energy.

“Grace.” The voice penetrated and her eyes opened. He knelt beside her, the headset in his hand.

“Dane?” She focused on him, but the room spun, making it difficult to hold her gaze to any one thing.

The warmth of his body, as he enveloped her in an embrace, pushed away the pain. He was sitting on the cold floor rocking her, his heart beating frantically against her cheek. How long had it taken to download the information? Did they get it all? Why wasn’t she dead? Her mind was full of questions, but her throat wouldn’t allow them to escape her lips. Her breath caught in her lungs, cooling her body.

She trembled, but she wasn’t cold anymore. An audible click sounded in her throat as she attempted to speak, but nothing came. The coolness of a glass touched her lips, and water poured in a small sip at a time. The first sip hurt, but the second was soothing and then her body responded and she tried to take a bigger drink. The glass was taken back and she looked up into the concerned face of Paul.

“Did I get it?” Her whisper came out on an exhale, and she wondered if anyone heard her.

“We got everything,” Dane whispered in her ear, his embrace tightening for a moment. He pushed her away from him to inspect her. He frowned as he wiped away tears she had been unaware of. “How do you feel?”

An internal inspection only brought more questions as to why her life had been spared. A headache, lodged between her eyes, was fading, leaving a dull heartbeat there. Her throat felt better, but it would be hours before it felt fine again. The tiny aches and pains from her fall meant nothing to her. Not now that she knew she would live a little longer.

“I’m fine.” Looking around the room, she saw the questioning faces of those who had watched her ordeal. Mistrust etched many of those faces.

A sudden jerk caused the room to spin, and the headache to flare, as Grayson’s large hands turned her to face him. He cradled her face in one hand, as he tilted it back, to inspect her hook-in. As he let go he pushed her toward Dane who caught her, and steadied her in his arms.

“You have a military hook-in,” Grayson accused. He looked around the room, halting his gaze on Lisa’s. “She’s a spy.”

“No!” Grace’s blood ran cold at the accusation. Why would they think that? She placed her hand to her hook-in, expecting to find blood that wasn’t there.

“Explain yourself!” Grayson’s harsh tones echoed in her ears.

She turned to face Dane. His face mirrored that of Paul’s. Confusion.

She dislodged herself, and stepped back from him. A study of his face caused a distinct pain in her chest.

“I don’t know why my hook-in can take a military rod,” she said. “Maybe the doctors did it when I had some of the tests done on my brain.”

“And you didn’t notice something like that? An alteration to your hook-in?” Grayson had been joined by some of the other soldiers.

“I was in a lot of pain for a while,” she stammered to explain, as her mind reviewed the days before, and directly after, her diagnosis. “There were so many tests. I was unconscious sometimes. I just don’t know. But I’m no spy!.”

“She has a military hook-in, and a pet cyborg,” Grayson said as he looked to the soldiers and then to Lisa. “Now, she’s infiltrated our command center. What are the chances that the map we have can be trusted?”

A grumbling of words from the soldiers behind Grayson were jumbled as Grace’s mind tried to capture any logic behind what had just happened to her. Somehow she’d gone from martyr to enemy. She should be dead, no doubt, from the hook-up and download she’d just went through, so she could understand their mistrust, she just couldn’t do anything about it.

“Grace is no spy, and you know it,” Dane’s expression held less surety than his words.

She looked at him, studied him, and knew he was unsure. How could he know? They’d only just met. It was long enough to make love, but not to earn trust.

Grayson walked forward, but stopped a few feet from Lisa. His stern look went to the soldiers. “Your leader brought a spy in amongst you. Is this who you want to follow when your lives depend on it?”

“Watch it, Grayson,” Lisa warned. “You brought her here, too.” Lisa’s soft brown eyes narrowed on Grace and held there. “I’m sorry Grace. I don’t think you’re a spy, but I do need an explanation about the hook-in.”

“Maybe she was slotted to be a soldier when she was young?” Paul offered. “Lots of orphans, and other unwanted, were given directly over to the military.”

“What? And the doctor who worked on her failed to mention that?” Grayson wouldn’t give up this line of questioning. Not this line of thinking. Not this opportunity to take command.

“We need to act on this information now,” Lisa interrupted. “It doesn’t matter if she’s a spy or not. We’re running out of time. If the map is fake, we die. If the map is real, and we don’t try to make it out, we die.”

“We have the cyborg,” Roger said.

“Do we trust a cyborg or a spy?” Lisa asked. “Let’s take what we have, and make a run for it.” She turned to two soldiers who stood at attention near the entrance of the tent. “Give the signal,” she said, and the two quickly disappeared. She turned back to those who remained. Her gaze fell to Paul. “Roger will take you to see my sister. She needs help before she can be moved.

Grayson, why don’t you send someone up to see if we’ve got company coming?”

When Grayson only stared, Lisa took a position directly in front of him. Toe to toe.

“No one here is going to trust a spy…or a cyborg, Grayson. That’s why you’ll never be put in charge.”

“What are you saying? I’ve kept my end of the deal.”

“And I’ll keep mine. For now, you check up top while I get people organized to move out.”

Grayson nodded, brief, curt. He spun around, and motioned for two of the soldiers to follow him, and then he was gone.

Paul approached Lisa. “You made a deal with the devil?” he asked.

“Grayson came to us weeks ago,” Lisa told him, “he told us something was going to happen in San Francisco. He told me that the only way to save my people would be to trust him to help. We struck a bargain. He helps us survive, and we take him into our group as a military leader.”

“And you trusted that? That he came all the way to San Francisco to ask a bunch of rebels for a job? I hate to tell you this, but Grayson is a selfish bastard, and whatever he’s really up to here has nothing to do with helping anyone but himself.”

“He got us electricity,” she said, “He put that computer together so it could download military information. He got us the map. We’re getting out of here because he kept his part of the bargain. Besides, what military significance would our people have anywhere? Until he does something against us, he’s with us.”

“That’s noble, Lisa,” Paul told her, “but it’s also stupid. Grayson isn’t someone to make deals with.”

“Where else is he going to go?” she asked. “You saw his face. He’d never be allowed to live among the sheep. He’s a wanted man. It’s the underground or death. His motive is simple; survival. And, I think we can all relate to that.” Lisa ran her fingers through her dark hair. “We need to get moving.” She said it to herself, paused in thought, and then looked around the room.

“Ramon. See that our guests are taken to the guest house. Give them their weapons. They can come or they can go. I don’t care. But, you,” her attention came back to Paul, “are coming with me.”

“We won’t leave without Paul,” Grace spoke out, bringing the rebel leader’s attention to her.

“Then you won’t leave.” With that Lisa nodded to Ramon, and then to Paul. Lisa walked out, and Paul gave a quick glance to Grace before he disappeared.

Ramon followed orders like a good soldier. They were shown to a large tent behind the one they had just come from. Ramon handed them each a gun without hesitation.

“Don’t try any funny business,” Ramon warned before he exited, “There’ll be enough death tonight.”

Left alone, Robert, Dane and Grace took seats around a table made of old tires and a car hood.

“What do we do?” Grace asked.

“We’re going to have to split up,” Dane spoke to Robert. “I’ll go to the command center on the ship and try to stop the detonation of the bombs. You go to the land center to try and find Stephanie.”

“What about me?” Grace asked.

“You’re going with the rebels, out of the city.” The finality in his voice made her angry.

“I’m not leaving with them,” Grace told him and then glanced to Robert. “I’m not leaving with the rebels while you’re out trying to save everyone. I’m not leaving here to die. And I will die.” Her words caused Dane to shift uncomfortably.

“She’s right Dane,” Robert spoke up. “She shouldn’t go with them. The military is looking for her. Where ever she goes, whoever she’s with, will be a target. She needs to stay with us. Besides,” he looked at Grace, “They want you, you have a military plug-in you knew nothing about, and this might be the only opportunity we have to find out what’s happening to you.”

Grace silently thanked Robert for being logical. She hadn’t thought of the danger she might put Lisa and her people in.

“Dane,” she said, “If there’s a way for me to save myself, I need to try. The chances that I’ll find out what they did to me after this is over is slim to none. I’m going with you.”

Grace placed her hand on Dane’s shoulder. His hand came up to softly squeeze her fingertips.

“I’m going to ask Lisa for the information they got. I’ll get the map to the command center. I’ll get everything.” She turned to leave and was greeted by Ramon. “I need to speak with Lisa.”

The rebel soldier nodded, and Grace was gone.

Dane watched her walk away and pride overcame him. He looked across the table to Robert.

“What are our chances?” he asked.

“Not good,” Robert answered, as he stood to pace the room. “But we do what we have to do, don’t we? For ourselves. For the people we love.” Robert’s gaze moved toward the place where Grace had sat. “I’ve never seen anyone affect you like she does.”

Dane followed Robert’s gaze. Robert had no idea. Grace Sullivan had more than affected him. She got under his skin, into his soul. Watching her plug in, waiting there for her to die, he had felt his heart short circuit, almost explode. When she’d survived, he was overcome by every emotion he’d ever felt. It was hot and cold all at once. It was something he’d never experienced before.

“She’s different,” Dane agreed. “I don’t know if it’s the timing, or the fact that wanting her goes against the status quo.” Dane stood, walked to her vacated chair, and rested his hand on the back of it. “I do want her,” he said, “She moves me, until I don’t know what to do. I don’t feel myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His imploring look brought his brother-in-law to his side.

“I know you think the military took away your ability to feel love,” Robert said, as he placed his hand on Dane’s shoulder. “But, I’ve always thought you were wrong about that. You love your sister. Hell, you love me. And I’m telling you right now…you love Grace.”

Chapter 18

The small bed lay against the far corner of the room. It was relatively quiet here, considering all the commotion going on around the compound. Paul stood in the doorway, watching Lisa gently wake her sister.

“Amanda,” Lisa whispered, as she rubbed the little girl’s back. “Sweetpea, I need you to wake up.”

Paul took a step inside. Stuffed animals hung on the walls. A preference toward animals that could fly was obvious. He reached out and plucked a unicorn off the wall. It had seen better days, but someone had taken care to sew the seams and place buttons for eyes. Paul would be willing to bet that the someone was Lisa.

The little girl rubbed her sleepy eyes, and smiled up at Lisa. Paul noted the strong family resemblance. Looking at the woman and child, a memory flashed instantly in his mind, and then it was gone. The image lost. But, the emotion brought on by it was staggering. Did he have a family? Somewhere out there? He shook his head as though he could clear it that way.

“You okay?” Lisa was standing there in front of him. It caught him off guard, and he frowned at her.

“Fine. Do you want me to look at her?” He slipped on a mask of indifference to hide the turmoil running rampant in his heart.

“Yes, of course,” she frowned back at him. “That’s what you’re here for.”

Paul nodded and walked to the small bed, where the little girl lay with wide brown eyes staring up at him. Those eyes remained on him for a moment. Sizing him up. Then they flicked to the toy in his hands.

“That’s Rainbow.” The voice was small and soft. She reached out and took the unicorn, cradling it near her heart.

She was wheezing, struggling for each breath. Paul pet the unicorn absently as he spoke.

“Your sister tells me that you’re sick,” he said. She only nodded, saving her breath and energy. “You have a hard time breathing?” Again, a nod. “Have you not seen a doctor before?”

Amanda looked at her sister, then back to Paul. Lisa came and kneeled down beside her.

“Grayson knows of a surgeon who can help her,” Lisa told him. “He says that, once we’re out of here, he’ll tell me where to find the doctor.” Lisa’s fingers ran through Amanda’s hair soothingly.

Paul looked at them. All the strength Lisa owned lay in this tiny deathbed. Grayson was useful alright. The bastard. He was blackmailing Lisa, and she was blind to it.

“What do you know about her condition?” he asked.

“She was born with a heart defect. Our mother was told that she’d need surgery to fix it. A valve in her heart isn’t working right. But, that’s all I know. Our mother died when I was ten. Our father was a rebel soldier here. And doctors, reputable ones, won’t come here,” she looked at Paul, “Not even to save the life of a child.”

His gaze moved from Lisa to Amanda. He had been a surgeon once. Not too long ago. But would he remember enough to do heart surgery on a child? A memory flashed before him. Blood. Instruments. Hand in latex gloves, digging into someone’s body. Then it was gone.

“Lisa, I don’t know if I can help,” he said. “Whatever they did to me,” he touched the metal that was still attached to his face, “they reprogrammed me. I don’t know if I’ll remember enough.”

Amanda looked at her sister when the soothing touch stopped. The little girl hugged the stuffed animal closer to her. Paul moved his hand, and rested it on the bedside. The struggling breaths of the little girl echoed in the silence.

“Can she be moved?” Lisa held her breath…waiting.

“I’m sorry, Lisa.” Damn! Wasn’t there something he could do? The helplessness of it made him burn. Those military bastards would continue to use him to kill. Only this time it wouldn’t be from a gun or a rifle, but from the knowledge they stole from him. A knowledge that could save this child’s life.

Lisa smiled to Amanda as her eyes filled with unshed tears. Amanda took in a big gulp of air, and reached up to wipe away the first drop that spilled over.

“Don’t cry, sissy,” she whispered, “It doesn’t hurt.”

Lisa swallowed hard, passed the tears, and passed the pain. Her hand began the soothing caress again, and Amanda closed her eyes. Lisa was nodding to herself. Resignation. Defeat. Grief.

“We should go,” Lisa said. She kissed Amanda’s forehead and pulled the covers up to tuck her in. An older woman, a nanny of some kind, came in. The women hugged, the older one looking at Lisa with hope that was distinguished with a simple shake of Lisa’s head. Another hug and Lisa walked out. Paul followed.

“I didn’t think she would be miraculously cured,” Lisa said, as she turned to face him. “I was hoping there might be something we could do to transport her somewhere out of the city. But, she can’t stand being moved. The stress makes it hard for her to breathe. At least here, she would be at peace until…” she broke off and turned away.

“I wish there was more that I could do,” Paul approached her, but then, didn’t know what to do. “If we had time, and the right instruments, I might be able to help. But, even if I tried to do the surgery now, it would take longer than we’ve got to complete the procedure. That much I do know.”

Lisa turned back to him, wiping the last of her tears. Her face was puffy, her eyes red-rimmed.

“I don’t want to alarm her. I’ll stay here with her,” Lisa’s resolve showed on her face.

“No.” But wouldn’t he do the same if it was his sister? If he had a sister. Damn his memory for failing. “We can still try to move her. At least you’d die trying.”

They stood in an alcove of Lisa’s home. They were still in the third hive, but this place was enormous compared to the other places.

Where the shadows were pitch black, the light was almost too bright. The contrast threw startling lines across Lisa’s beautiful face. The smell of earth clung to her, to this place. Soon it would be a grave, and they both knew it.

“She can die here, in peace, where she has no idea what’s happening,” Lisa explained. “If I try to move her, there will be pain and fear. If she gets out of San Francisco then, what? We have to travel through tunnels to San Jose. We’ll be staying with people who are not our own, people who may require us to serve them. She’d not last long.”

“What about Grayson’s doctor?” There had to be hope somewhere, even if it depended on that bastard, Grayson.

Lisa worried her lip in thought. Her dark eyes were full of things, he wished, she didn’t know.

“You and I both know, Grayson can’t be trusted,” she said.

“Then why did you let him in?”

“Grayson was much like you. Something happened to him in Detroit, and he regained some of his memory. He helped save the Detroit rebel clan. They sent him to us.”

“He saves a few,” Paul’s gaze studied her as he spoke, “but the city and everyone in it died.”

She swallowed hard. She wasn’t stupid. Grayson had his own agenda. Lisa had hers.

“The doctor’s in Michigan, she revealed, “He won’t come out until he knows we’ve secured his safety,” Lisa’s voice hitched, and she concentrated for a moment to get herself under control. “He won’t get here in time. You’ve seen her condition.”

“Then I’ll stay,” Paul offered. “I can stay here with you.” A memory, vague, but heart-wrenching molded into his consciousness. He had a family somewhere. Or, at least, he used to have a family. A painful stab of guilt and shame caused a pain in his head. Dead. He wasn’t able to save them. Was that right?

Paul’s hand rubbed absently between his eyes. The pain was mounting, as he tried to recall the memory more fully.

“If you want to help us,” Lisa pulled his arm down so he would look at her. “Stop the bombs.”

A lifetime lived there between them, as they gazed at each other. His lifetime. Her lifetime. And even more important was Amanda’s lifetime. She’d been cheated a full life. That didn’t mean it had to be over.

Paul nodded once. She would stay here with the child. He would do what he’d been trained to do. Not as a doctor. But, as a soldier.

BEHIND THE WORDS: TARI FARIS

Jocie McKade

8 September 2020

Behind the Words with author Tari Faris

Hi Tari, welcome to Reader’s Entertainment. First, tell our readers a bit about yourself.

I have been married to my wonderful husband for almost eighteen years. We have three kids, ages 16, 13, and 11. My favorite thing to do is to spend time with my family. From camping to movie night, I just love spending time together and laughing together.

Where you’re from, where you live?

I grew up in a small town in Michigan, which is where my inspiration for the town of Heritage came from. But now I live in Gilbert, Arizona, which is the south east side of the Phoenix area. Although I have learned to appreciate certain aspects of the desert and city life, my heart is still in a small town in Michigan. I try to visit my parents there every summer to get a break from the heat and enjoy the charm of my small town where you can’t run to the store without running into at least three people you know.

Is writing your full-time job?

I definitely put about that many hours in, but I also work for Susan May Warren at My Book Therapy helping teach aspiring novelists part-time. My Book Therapy was really where I learned the skills to not only get published but to succeed as an author. So, when I had the opportunity to come on staff, I jumped on it. Between writing and teaching my three kids and my husband fill up the rest of my schedule.

How long have you been writing?

I started writing about fifteen years ago, but didn’t start pursuing publication until about nine years ago.

Give readers a look at a typical writing day.

Before this spring, my typical writing day was to start writing when my kids left for school until noon then move into my part-time work for My Book Therapy. However, with the kids being home more because of Covid-19, that all changed. I will admit that I have struggled to find alone time to write because all the changes meant I always had a full house. Not to mention that my husband was sharing my office space to work from home as well. So, my typical writing day these days is to squeeze in words whenever I can find a few quiet moments.

Tell us about your latest release?

Now that Heritage has won the grant money, they have decided to spend it. They hire Austin Williams to finish landscaping the center square, and they hire Libby Kingsley as the new librarian to reopen the library. But when Libby’s ideas for the library create problems for plans Austin has for the square, the two will either have to learn to work together or chance destroying their careers.

Where the idea came from?

I fell in love with Pastor Nate with his prodigal son back story in the first novel, but didn’t know what I wanted to do with him. The more I dove into his character, the more I knew that the story I really wanted to tell was that of his brother Austin, who was still trying to make a go at the family landscaping business that was damaged when Nate left on his prodigal journey. In the first book, I also grew to adore the timid Libby. My heart ached for the burden she still felt for Luke disappearance, and I knew she was a perfect fit to smooth off a few of the rough edges of stubborn Austin.

Who has been the most difficult character for you to write? Why?

I think Austin was the most challenging. Everyone loves pastor Nate from You Belong with Me, so to write a character that is angry and in conflict with Pastor Nate from the first page without making him unlikable was a huge challenge. I had to try to help the reader understand Austin’s anger from the start and yet not make the audience dislike Nate. I wrote and re-wrote the opening scenes to get that balance of understanding both sides, hurting with both sides, and rooting for both sides.

If you could be one of your characters for a day which character would it be? Why?

I guess Libby. I mean the girl is a librarian and gets to spend the day with books. Need I say more?

All writers are readers. Are there any particular authors that have influenced how you write and, if so, how have they influenced you?

Susan May Warren has been my biggest influence as a writer. Her approach using her Story Equation has transformed my writing and deepened my characters. But even more than just her technical approach, Susie has influenced my writing in the way she is determined to continue to grow as author with every book. She is always reading, always learning and striving to make each story better than the last. I admire that and have taken on that as goal too.

Do you have a secret talent readers would be surprised by?

I love to sew. I don’t do it much anymore because it can also be time-consuming, and these days I just can’t fit it in. But there have been many years that I have gone all-out when making my children elaborate Halloween costumes. I have always loved playing pretend and sewing the make-believe world was just another way for me to dip in to fantasy.

Your favorite go to drink or food when the world goes crazy!

Coffee is a given. But that isn’t just when life is crazy. It is a daily necessity. So I will say ruby-red grapefruit juice. I know that isn’t very exciting, but I love the tang and for some reason I always feel like drinking it. It’s a small escape from reality when I need a break.

Did you always want to be a writer?

No. I was never very good at English or grammar because of dyslexia. But as long as I can remember, I have been creating stories in my head. It wasn’t until I grew in confidence as an adult that I started writing the stories down. And I found that when I wrote them down, they came even more alive. Eventually, I learned how to use my computer and writing to help me work with my dyslexia and not against it, and the rest is history. Never let what others see as weaknesses, hold you back from your dreams.

Thank you so much for joining us today, Tari.

Be sure to check out Tari’s latest release UNTIL I MET YOU…….

Welcome back to Heritage, Michigan—the small town with a big heart

When she hears that the town of Heritage is looking for a new librarian, Libby Kingsley jumps at the opportunity. Little did she know the library is barely more than a basement room stuffed with dusty, outdated books. What the community really needs is a new building. But the only funds available are those being channeled into the new town square, and the landscape architect in charge of the project wants nothing to do with her plans.

All Austin Williams wants to do is get the town square project finished, and he hopes it is enough to save the family business. Then he can extricate himself from the town that reveres the brother who cost him so much. But the local media and the town’s new librarian seem to be conspiring against him at every turn. Will the determined bookworm find her way into his blueprints—and possibly even his heart?

YOU CAN PURCHASE UNTIL I MET YOU AT:
BAKER PUBLISHING

“I loved this story! Tari Faris has upped her game in this sophomore book with her writing, her characterization, and especially the theme of family reconciliation. You’ll love it too!”—

Susan May Warren, USA Today bestselling author

“The right mixture of romance, humor, and realistic conflict. There’s no overlooking how Faris makes you laugh with her lighthearted, fun scenes, but she doesn’t back away from tough issues.”—Beth K. Vogt, Christy Award–winning author of the Thatcher Sisters series

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Tari Faris is the author of You Belong with Me. A member of American Christian Fiction Writers and My Book Therapy, she is the projects manager for My Book Therapy, writes for learnhowtowriteanovel.com, and is a 2017 Genesis Award winner. She has an MDiv from Asbury Theological Seminary and lives in the Phoenix area with her husband and their three children. Although she lives in the Southwest now, she lived in a small town in Michigan for twenty-five years.

Find out more about Tari and her books at:

https://www.tarifaris.com/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/tari-faris

https://www.facebook.com/tari.faris.author/

https://twitter.com/FarisTari

https://www.instagram.com/tarifarisauthor/

https://www.pinterest.com/tarifaris/

Shadows Across the Moon Serial Novel Chapter 15 and 16

Sheila English

8 September 2020

Shadows Across the Moon is a scifi romance serial novel with chapters being released daily. If you missed the previous chapters, you can read them here-

Moderate violence and sex.

SHADOWS ACROSS THE MOON by SF English

Chapters 15 and 16

Chapter 15

Strong arms and a warm body cradled her. They moved through the cold fog toward the train station. Nausea washed over her as the world continued to spin. Shaking her head to clear it had been a bad idea.

“Let me down,” she whispered. Briefly, she wondered if she’d actually said the words aloud. She looked up, surprised to see Paul carrying her.

“Paul,” she started to say something more, but he looked down at her and set her to the ground.

She wavered, her knees like rubber, but Paul kept his arm around the front of her waist to keep her from introducing the pavement to her face. She placed her hand on his forearm at her waist. She stood still. People were passing them. She couldn’t tell who they were.

“Are you okay?” The caring in Paul’s voice brought tears to her eyes. No one has a use for you. The caring she saw when she looked into Paul’s face said that they were wrong. She had promised to help Paul. He needed her.

She blinked hard in an effort to make the world stop spinning. The nausea subsided, but she didn’t trust it to stay away. Dane. The grief washed over her in an instant.

She turned her head to see where the van had gone, but what she found was Robert carrying Dane’s body. She couldn’t look away, even when Paul tried to move her forward. His limp body was too big for Robert to carry, but Robert held on. He looked toward the train station, seeing nothing else around him.

Grace tried to see where Dane had been shot, but she wasn’t able to before Paul blocked her vision with his large frame.

“Grace,” Paul’s voice was tender and soft, “We have to get into that train station now.”

“Dane is dead,” she whispered to Paul.

“Not yet,” Paul glanced at the two men and frowned. “But, if we don’t get in there he soon will be. AIM soldiers are coming.”

As he said the words, he waited for Robert to walk by. He stepped in front of him and stopped his progress. Paul took Dane and glanced in Grace’s direction. Robert nodded and walked to Grace.

“We need to go.” Robert took her hand. Paul walked in front of them carrying Dane. Still, she saw no blood, but her legs moved of their own accord. The men in front of her were a magnet and she led Robert, down into the underground.

The rebels had already done a sweep of the area. A dead AIM soldier bled crimson onto the white tiles. Grace looked away. Grayson came into view.

“Move it,” he said to Paul. “I told you, if he became a liability, we’d leave him. That goes for your other friends, too.”

Grayson glanced at Grace and Robert. She couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to look at him. And certainly didn’t want his notice. Dane. She fought back her urge to look away from Grayson. Her gaze went beyond him to Paul and Dane. No blood. It gave her courage. Dane wasn’t dead. She needed to stay alive. To help him. To help Paul.

“Come on, Grace,” Robert called to her. He was standing down inside the trailway where the conveyances traveled. Lack of electricity would keep them safe there, but she wondered where they were going and how much time they had left.

She joined Robert and the rebels in the darkened underground. The rebels had lit chemical lights and began walking east. A loud noise behind her caused her to turn around. Paul had jumped down with Dane still in his arms. He shifted Dane’s body and glanced at her.

“Let’s go,” Paul said.

Grace turned and followed Robert and the rebels into the blackness of the train tunnels.

They had only gone a few hundred yards when the lights stopped moving. Robert had her hand in his and he stopped near them. It was difficult to see, but, when Grace peered around Robert’s body a glimpse of a green light disappeared into a hole at the side of the tunnel. One at a time, the rebels lowered themselves into that hole.

Robert pushed Grace forward to the hole, but her heartbeat and the threat of nausea returned. She couldn’t do it. Peering down into the utter blackness of the small opening, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to go inside. There were noises in there, voices.

“We have to go, Grace,” Robert told her as he pushed her again toward the opening. “If we don’t go, they’ll kill us and you’ll go in that way.” No bodies. No trail. No proof.

“We have to get Dane down there,” Paul stood behind them.

Grace looked at them. Paul’s green chemical light cast shadows across Dane’s face. She thought she saw him move, but, in the eerie green shadows, it was hard to tell. This was the only choice. Putting her arms on either side of the dark hole, the cold concrete tunnel scraped her back as she slid forward.

The tunnel took her farther down underground. Noises, footsteps, and voices awaited, capturing her in a soft green light as her feet hit solid ground.

Charlie moved her as, one at a time, the rest of them came down the chute. Dane’s unmoving body slid into Robert’s arms. A moan, deep and full of pain, escaped Dane as he was gently set aside.

Her hands trembled, unwilling to touch him, but needing it. His clothes were damp, holding the cold to his warm body.

“Let’s get going.” A woman’s voice, Lisa, called from farther down the smaller tunnel.

“He isn’t shot?” Grace asked, as she followed Paul.

“No,” Paul answered. “One of the rebels was shot, but not killed, and Dane wouldn’t leave him behind.” As he spoke, they came to the entrance of another, larger tunnel and she followed Paul inside, standing straight and looking at the rebels as they gathered around Lisa.

The smell of sewer and dirt wafted in the air. Were the two men she and Dane encountered earlier in the day here? The two that she and Dane hid from?

Grayson came through behind Robert. Though he was a large man himself, Robert’s frame wasn’t sufficient enough to slow Grayson’s pace as he walked to the front next to Lisa, where the last of the men gathered.

A ladder behind Lisa caught Grace’s attention. Another tunnel at the top. No time for this. Lisa motioned for them to go and stood next to the ladder, as one by one, the rebels climbed up and crawled inside.

“Help them,” Lisa told Charlie and then climbed up to disappear into the tunnel.

Charlie climbed the ladder and went inside the tunnel. A hand extended from the dark mouth. Robert climbed up and Paul passed Dane’s body to Robert and together they handed him to Charlie. Robert followed as Charlie pulled Dane inside. Grace took Paul’s cold hand and followed the men into the darkness of the smaller tunnel.

Heavy breathing. Pushing. Pulling. Sliding. She followed the sounds of Dane’s body being pulled through the tunnel. Her knees grew wet as she crawled in the small space wondering how the larger men were able to get through. She struggled for air. Cramped inside the small space among a group of people it became hot. The smell of filth was a stain to her senses.

A loud “humph” and a moan echoed from the bottom of yet another tunnel slide. A rat in a maze. Her muscles ached and her knees popped as she lowered herself. Familiar hands, a slight build, Grace could make Robert’s silhouette as he caught her.

The soft light felt harsh to Grace’s unaccustomed eyes. Body outlines and shadows were all she could see at first. As she strained to see farther into the tunnel Robert’s hands fell gently to her shoulders to move her out of the way and help Paul up as he arrived.

Dane lay on the cement floor, his head moving slowly. She swallowed hard and fought back tears as she kneeled beside him. Hard. Cold. Wet. The cement held an odor she couldn’t place and didn’t like.

“Dane.” His cheeks were cold to the touch. She ran her hands over him and found a large bump on the back of his head. He winced.

“Keep moving,” Lisa called.

Paul was there, picking Dane up. He put Dane’s arm around his shoulders and Robert took the other side. Grace followed them, a thankful prayer echoing inside her heart as she watched Dane try to walk with them.

The large tunnel opening fifty yards up was marked with a single line on the outside. Within makeshift huts, the weary faces stared in wonder at the strangers. It was a small piece-meal village that went back about two hundred yards.

Fifty yards again and another opening, a larger recess in the tunnel with more huts and more staring eyes. Men, women, and children of all ages and in various stages of disarray and filth watched them. Outside the tunnel, two lines marked the opening.

Fifty more yards and the outside of this opening matched the three bars on the rebel’s hats. It wasn’t as large as the second underground village they passed, but it was larger than the first. Two rebels stood guard outside the entrance. Lisa nodded to them as she led the way inside. The entrance opened up into a large cement cave that recessed over 300 yards back. Huts made of old car parts and metal garbage lined the back.

Hive. Grace’s neck craned back as she took in the small cubicles stacked 50 yards in the air. Make-shift ladders led up and down the side of the rows. They were large enough to fit two adults each, but no one could possibly stand up straight in them, except for small children. There were no children in this place, only men and women with weapons.

Other buildings lined the concrete tunnel on the side and up the middle. In the very center was a large cage made of rusted fencing and tall metal poles. The large square fenced enclosure proved to be a jail. A man stood in the center of it, filthy and wet, and obviously ill-treated. Grace’s heart pounded as they neared it. The prisoner’s eyes were large, but, as they stared at her she could see no humanity in them.

Small breaths helped to stifle the odor. Ventilation holes lined the ceiling but did little for the smell. Cool air ran over her as she passed beneath them. She was grateful when they passed the prisoner and moved toward a large hut made of tires and old conveyances. Eyes that had become accustomed to the light had to readjust when they walked inside the darkened hut.

Candles sat unlit and a string of tiny electric lights made a path around the single room inside. Three desks on three walls held computers and small weapons. The one in opposite the only door to the hut was larger than the rest and there were papers scattered over it.

An old couch, pushed up against the wall next to the larger desk, was an ugly green, but dry and welcome as Grace took a seat next to Dane who was able to sit up on his own. Robert sat next to him, his eyes taking in the situation.

“Charlie,” Lisa said, “You stay. And Roger. Put Ramon on guard outside,” she cast a glance to Grayson then back to Charlie, “Just in case.”

Charlie nodded, as everyone left except for him and Roger. Roger was relatively clean compared the rest of them, and much smaller. Charlie leaned back against the black tire wall to keep a watchful eye on the prisoners. And Grayson. Roger sat at one of the computers, took out a large hunting knife and began to clean his fingernails. He seemed totally engrossed in his task, but Grace saw his gaze flick to Grayson again and again.

“What happened to Dane?” Grace asked, Paul who stood between the couch and large desk.

“Grayson told the men to leave a wounded soldier behind. Dane wouldn’t leave him,” Paul explained.

“We don’t leave anyone behind,” Dane’s voice was strained, but Grace’s heart raced to hear it. She glanced at him, saw him struggle to concentrate. Her hand fell softly to his thigh. His larger hand covered hers, pressed down lightly, and remained.

“What a luxury it must be to have such nobility,” Grayson said as he approached the couch. “Who are you to judge our sacrifices?” Grayson seethed. “Who are you to question my authority?” Grayson grabbed for Dane’s throat, but a hand caught Grayson at the wrist. Paul shoved at Grayson. As Grayson stumbled back he pulled a knife.

Paul pulled out an equally large knife, and Grace had just enough time to wonder how Paul got it before Lisa spoke.

“I would stop right there, Grayson,” she said evenly.

Grayson’s eyes first glanced to her, then, he held still as the muzzle of Charlie’s gun rested against his temple.

“Did you give orders to leave one of my men?” Lisa asked.

“He was going to die. He was holding us up.” Grayson made no apologies.

“Did you know, Charlie?” Lisa’s gaze fell to Charlie.

“No. We were already with you, doing a sweep of the train station when Grayson went to check on the men.”

Lisa walked, craning her head to look into the eyes of the tall man. She took his knife.

A crack in the air announced her fist connecting with Grayson’s jaw. Grayson was unmoved, but he looked down at her through those dark glasses, and a lightning bolt of fear filled Grace’s heart for Lisa.

“Do it,” Lisa spat at him, “We don’t need you anymore. We’ve got him.” She glanced at Paul and back to Grayson.

“He may not be able to do the things that I can do,” Grayson warned. “He may have different training.”

Lisa nodded, but said nothing. She walked to Paul and took his knife.

“I see that I’m going to have to keep a close eye on you,” she said to Paul. Her gaze searched his face, lingered there before she turned away.

“Those aren’t candles,” Dane’s voice broke the silence. Grace turned to him and watched him as he shook his head and concentrated on the small string of lights around the room.

“No,” Grayson said, but he looked to Lisa as he continued, “They’re lights. Electric lights.”

Dane looked around the room, and the sound of power brought his attention to where Lisa stood at the large desk, booting up her computer.

“Power?” Dane questioned Lisa, but it was Grayson who demanded their attention.

“That’s right,” he said. “I’m able to tap into the military’s electric frequency without alerting them.”

“How can you do that?” Dane asked. He rubbed absently at the lump on his head, but Grace could tell by the clarity of his gaze that he was fully recovered.

Grayson walked closer again, Charlie’s gun trailing him.

“Because,” Grayson said, as he removed his dark sunglasses. “That’s what I was trained to do in Detroit. Tap into electric frequencies.”

Dane’s body was so close to her that Grace could feel his tension. She stifled a gasp, but her heart pounded in her ears as she looked in to the dead red light of Grayson’s left eye.

Chapter 16

“The only way to save our people is to get the hell out of San Francisco before those black boxes explode.” Lisa remained in the center of the room, pacing.

“Our people?” Grace listened quietly as Lisa spoke, her opinion growing softer toward the rebel leader.

Lisa stopped, her gaze finding Grace and holding there. Emotions were thrown back behind a wall of nothingness and soft brown eyes.

“I can’t save everybody,” Lisa’s monotone voice sounded factual, but an underlying anger threatened at the edges of her pursed lips. “We’ve only got a few hours. It’s going to take all of that time to get everyone organized to leave this place.”

A mixture of heat, anger and sadness grew in Grace’s heart. There was well over a million people living in San Francisco.

“When those boxes explode, and that bacteria goes out into the air, everyone in the city will be dead in a matter of minutes,” Lisa’s mask slipped, and her eyes blinked back a thought that held the warmth of tears. “I hate those sheep-bastards,” her gaze moved to the ceiling and beyond, “but I don’t wish them dead.” As her gaze found Grace again they held only softness.

“You have access to information,” Grace looked to the computer, “We can find out where their command center is and stop them.”

Dane squeezed her hand, calling her attention. Pity. Sadness. Anger. His gaze mirrored Lisa’s, but held a warning. His thumb moved over the back of her hand, stroking softly.

“They’ll only have enough time to get a small amount of information from the computer before the military recognizes what’s happening and sends out a signal to kill Paul.” Dane released her hand to rub at the back of his head.

The shuffling of feet caught Grace’s attention and she looked to Lisa. Tension filled the air as the beautiful rebel moved to stand in front of Paul. Grace couldn’t stop watching her.

“You can’t kill Paul.” Being angry in person was different than being angry to people inside your headset. Grace shifted in her seat. The anger was lined with fear, and Grace trembled as she spoke. “Paul isn’t one of your people. You can’t just do with him what you want. You can’t just kill him.”

“That’s the point,” Dane said. “Paul isn’t one of their people.”

Cold and heat wound around her heart, fighting for supremacy. She hadn’t been trained to interact like this. Speaking out to Mr. Miller or Juliana was unheard of, but she recognized the need welling up inside her to express her opinions. Her anger. Nothing stood in the way now. Six months. Nothing to lose.

“You’re selfish,” Grace said to Lisa as she stood. Roger gave her little notice, but Grayson took a step forward.

Dane was up, not steady, but up. His body moved between Grace and Grayson. He wavered, shook his head, but held his ground. The heat from his body called her closer to him. His back was damp and smelled of the cold, wet concrete of the tunnels. Somewhere underneath was the musky scent of his cologne, and that sent a memory into her heart.

“You’re only thinking of yourself. Of your own people,” Grace felt stinging in the back of her throat. “You can help a lot more people than just yours, if you get the right information.” She swallowed hard, but the dryness caused her to cough.

Lisa’s gaze dropped. She walked to the desk and poured a glass of water for Grace. Grace needed it, so she took it. The water was clean, cold, and soothed her aching throat. Lisa took the empty glass.

“If you could save him, would you do it?” Lisa asked, looking at Dane.

“Yes, of course,” Grace said without hesitation.

“Why?”

Hesitation. Why? A glance to Dane and her heart tightened in her chest. Early this morning she wouldn’t have cared at all if the news told her Thomas Dane was dead. Her life unaffected by it. Others would care, because he’s a celebrity. People felt they knew someone if they saw them in movies, on television, heard them sing. Yet, in a week’s time Thomas Dane would be replaced by another celebrity. In a year, Dane would be reruns and classic oldies. Forgotten. Replaced. A victim of a moral, social disease he helped to create with his damned Emotion Chip.

Looking at him, tears threatened to fall. His death would devastate her. When had that happened? Her eyes closed, no movie, no radio, only memory. No headset required. His touch, his taste, his body. All of those things kept her from wanting him to die. But something more warmed her blood, and caused the tears to caress her cheeks in their flight to the ground. He had told her something that changed her life, something that made her want to live. That same thing made her willing to do anything, everything, to keep him alive. You matter. He’d said it with that beautiful voice, that hard body, the taste of his kiss.

“He matters,” Grace whispered into the room as she opened her eyes.

Dane’s gaze caught hers. A moment. Private, stolen. He searched her face, held her gaze and couldn’t look away even when Lisa moved closer to her.

“I have a sister,” Lisa said. Grace looked from Dane and into soft brown eyes. “And what you feel, right now, for him,” she glanced at Dane and back to Grace, “is what I feel for her. How can you ask me to take a chance with my sister’s life like that?”

“We could save everyone,” Grace pleaded.

“Could. But if we don’t, my sister dies. Right now, I can save her. I can save a lot of people I care about.”

Grace tried to stop her anger and frustration. Dane wouldn’t die. He could go with the rebels. But lots of people in San Francisco had people they loved. She couldn’t leave them. Years and years of conditioning to turn away were lost on her. She would do what she could.

She couldn’t speak as her mind processed what she must do. The air was thick from lack of ventilation in the closed building. Wet cement, sewer, so many smells it made her head ache. Dane stood there, her protector. Paul, behind her ready to die, but willing to heal others. Robert. Her gaze found him. He was fidgeting, trying to hold still, not seeing, not hearing. Stephanie. She’d never seen a man love a woman so much.

“I’ll do it,” she whispered, and turned back to Lisa.

“Do what?” Lisa asked.

“I’ll plug in to the computer. I’ll get the map of the city, and if I’m not dead you have to promise to get the location of the command center.”

“No,” Dane’s voice was clear and deep. It captured the attention of Roger, who closed his knife and pulled his gun.

Grace felt the tone rock her body. She shivered. She couldn’t make herself look at him. She’d look at Grayson before she’d meet Dane’s gaze. You matter. Her fate was sealed by that tone. She couldn’t let him die. She couldn’t let any of them die. She looked at the shocked face of the rebel leader.

“I’m dying,” Grace said. “I have a brain tumor.”

Silence. Lisa signaled Roger, who aimed his gun at Dane as he neared. Grayson stepped closer to Roger, but his attention held on Grace.

“If she dies, we still have the soldier,” Grayson’s voice raked at the inside of her mind.

“Paul is a doctor,” Grace wouldn’t look at Grayson. Her gaze remained fixed on Lisa. “His life is worth so much more than mine.” Grace thought of the conversation in the van. “He could help save your sister.”

“It’s not going to happen, Grace,” Dane’s voice was calm, but the tone was so low it vibrated in her ear.

Roger put the muzzle of the gun to Dane’s head. Silence again.

“You’re dying?” Lisa asked. Her mask was back in place.

“Yes,” Grace confirmed, “and we’re running out of time.”

Men came in from outside the building. Grace never heard anyone call them. They were just there. Lisa nodded. The men took positions by Dane, Paul and Robert. When Lisa stepped aside, Grace moved to the computer.

“No!” Dane moved, and three of the rebels grabbed him. Paul tried to move toward her, but several of them stopped him as well. Robert was still. His eyes glassy, tears unshed, glistened.

“Robert?” Dane yelled to the other man.

“What choice is there?” Robert’s soft voice held Dane in check.

Grayson moved to the computer and sat down. His fingers glided across the keyboard. Grace had never seen such a computer. She’d always had her headset. But the keyboard was the same. Instead of being plugged into a headset it was plugged into a box. She was mesmerized by it. Grayson plugged in a headset. The rod was six inches. She was fitted for four. Pain. Fear. Acceptance. The pain wouldn’t last long.

“Don’t do it, Grace,” Dane struggled.

A cold plastic headset was placed into her hand. Suicide. Death. Life. She shook, forced herself to steady so Dane wouldn’t see her hands. The rod was already pulled down.

Another glance to Dane held her to this earth. A lifetime in a day. She placed the headset over her head. She positioned the rod.

“I’ve never loved anyone before,” she said, looking into Dane’s eyes. He was her miracle. She was glad to know he might survive this.

“Grace!”

The rod slid into place. She was plugged in.

SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS WITH AMANDA COX

Jocie McKade

7 September 2020

SPECIAL FEATURE

A Hard Lesson to Learn: Trusting My Writing Instincts – AMANDA COX

I entered into the adventure of writing novels with zero assumptions on what I knew and didn’t know about writing. I soaked up articles on craft and feedback from critique partners like a sponge.

For the most part, this perspective served me well, but it also left me with a difficult lesson to learn—when to trust my voice.

When I ventured into the world of finding critique partners for my work, the frustrating thing I found was that two different people would have very different opinions on the strength of a single passage. I was like a ball in a pinball machine trying to follow everyone’s advice, wondering who was “right.”

After a while, a pattern emerged. There were those critique partners who affirmed areas of my writing that I felt good about, and challenged areas that I felt weren’t quite right. Then there were others who advised changing things in my story that I felt served it well. I began to understand that some ears weren’t tuned to my writing voice. And that’s okay. We all have different things we value in the stories we read.

A huge component of trusting my writing voice occurred when I began the editing process with my editor for The Edge of Belonging. Instead of many voices speaking into my writing, there was one voice that I trusted challenging me and sparking ideas to elevate my story. I quickly saw that my editor tended to like the areas that I felt strongly about in my novel. The areas that weren’t my favorite, but that I thought were “good enough” were the areas that needed to be reevaluated and rewritten.

I gained trust in my instincts as a writer through the editing process. I’ve learned that I know the difference between when my writing is good and when it still needs work. If I feel iffy about a scene, I trust that and rewrite it. I’ve stopped agonizing over the scenes that my instinct tells me are strong. If they need work, my editors will tell me the adjustments needed so that my writing best serves the story.

I am much more settled now when I write. Although, on the flip side, I’ll find myself glaring at those scenes that won’t cooperate because I know they aren’t done yet, even if I’m not quite sure what the fix is. I’ve learned not to try to get them to “pass” as done. Those are the areas I need to dig into and push a little harder.

Summer fun: My travel loving family hasn’t gotten out and about as much as we normally would have this summer, but we’ve tried to explore the great outdoors as much as possible. We’ve enjoyed hiking, backyard campouts, swimming in spring-fed creeks, and a quick trip to the beach. Another big part of summer fun for me has been gearing up for my book releasing this fall.

TAKE A LOOK AT AMANDA’S DEBUT NOVEL – THE EDGE OF BELONGING

When Ivy Rose returns to her hometown to oversee her grandmother’s estate sale, she soon discovers that the woman left behind a path to uncover the truth about Ivy’s adoption. Shocked to learn that her identity may be a lie, Ivy begins seeking clues. But a key piece to her past is missing.

Twenty-four years earlier, Harvey James—a homeless man—finds an abandoned baby who gives him a sense of human connection for the first time in his life. His desire to care for the baby forces him to give up his reclusive lifestyle, and his life is soon entwined with an elderly widow and a pastor seeking to help him find his way. Harvey knows he must keep the baby a secret or risk losing the only person he’s ever loved.

As the truth—both the search for it and the desire to keep it from others—takes center stage, Ivy and Harvey grapple with love, loss, and letting go. Will this blended family’s ties be damaged by lies or will they find healing in the truth?

About The Author:

Amanda Cox is a blogger and a curriculum developer for a national nonprofit youth leadership organization, but her first love is communicating through story. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Bible and theology and a master’s degree in professional counseling. Her studies and her interactions with hurting families over a decade have allowed her to create multidimensional characters that connect emotionally with readers. Learn more about Amanda at:

visit www.amandacoxwrites.com. You can also connect with on the following social media platforms:

Facebook: www.facebook.com/amandacoxwrites

Instagram: www.instagram.com/amandacoxwrites

Twitter: www.twitter.com/amandacoxwrites

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20033571.Amanda_Cox

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/amanda-cox

Shadows Across the Moon Serial Novel Chapter 13 and 14

Sheila English

7 September 2020

Shadows Across the Moon is a scifi romance serial novel with chapters being released daily. If you missed the first two chapters you can read them here-

Moderate violence and sex.

SHADOWS ACROSS THE MOON by SF English

Chapters 13 and 14

Chapter 13

She was warmer, but only on the outside. Dane had found some of Stephanie’s clothes in the guest room and she now wore a white, woolen sweater, much like the one she had on earlier.

The scent of coffee and chocolate met her at the top of the stairs and her stomach protested her lack of nourishment. She took the steps at a faster pace, hoping the men hadn’t downed it all.

Her body still felt alive from Dane’s lovemaking. Another lungful of air and she smiled at how something so simple, even at a time like this, could give her pleasure. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned to see what the men were doing when she halted, frozen in her place.

She wanted to cry out, to scream for help, but there was no one that could help her. The living room was full of armed men. Her gaze searched the room for her friends, for answers, for death.

Ten to fifteen men stood before her. They were dressed in street clothes, some dirty and some wet. Many wore knit hats, black with three blue bars, vertical across the front. They were silent. Waiting. One had on sunglasses, and he moved forward, leaving a gaping hole in the cluster of bodies and she saw Dane sitting on the couch behind them.

His hands were behind his back and blood had dried at his lip. His gaze warned her, but she didn’t could only look on in confusion and horror.

Paul sat next to Dane, but she could barely see him. He was tied up like Dane and would have a huge black eye, soon if the swelling was any indication.

She couldn’t see Robert, but many of the men stood in front of the couch, blocking her view. She could only hope that he was alive.

Her attention was drawn back to the man with sunglasses. He was big, his t-shirt too tight and torn, filthy, and wet in areas. His pants were military, but these weren’t military soldiers. Most of them were too thin, too dirty, and too haunted to be military. Rebels. She had heard of people who lived below the city, below the train system, but, until today, she’d never been close to one, and had doubted their existence.

As he approached she could see scars on his face. He was different than the rest. The scars were jagged and long, white and thick. Dangerous. It wasn’t his scars or clothes or even his size that frightened her. It was the way he walked, stalking her, like a predator.

“If you have a weapon, I suggest you hand it over,” he said. His voice was harsh, as though his throat hurt. “If I find any on you, I’ll use it on your friends behind me.”

“I don’t have anything,” her voice sounded small in her ears.

A woman walked through the men to stand next to the warrior. Warrior. She knew that was right. Something about him reminded her of Paul. Paul was a warrior. Maybe he wasn’t in the beginning, but they’d made him into one.

She wasn’t much taller than Grace. Her dark hair shone streaks of red in black and it curled softly around her beautiful face. Her hair was the only thing that looked soft. Pursed lips and obsidian eyes gave her the look of someone jaded and ill used. Muscles on her bare arms spoke of labor and scars there, and on her neck, spoke of hardship.

“Grayson,” she glanced at the man with the sunglasses, “Take her and let’s go.”

Grace’s heart beat hard and a flood of anxiety raced through her. She didn’t want Grayson to touch her. She wanted Dane. She wanted to know what these people wanted and what was expected of her.

“Dane,” she called to him, unsure if she’d be punished for it. “What do I do?”

A feminine laugh, short and harsh, rang out. “Like you have a choice.”

Grace glanced at the woman, but found nothing in her expression that would give away what she wanted. Contempt etched on her face took away the beauty. The woman looked Hispanic, or partially so. Grace tried to see something there she could relate to. Something that might tell her that this woman could offer mercy or help. Nothing.

“Get our…” A sharp jab with the butt of a rifle stopped Dane from finishing. Get our…?

Grace looked around the living room as she walked the last few steps to the door. On the coffee table were several items, with Dane’s and Robert’s empty packs. She hesitated.

Grayson’s cold hand encircled her upper arm. The grip bit into her and he yanked her on toward the front door. She tried to pull away, but his hand was a vice.

“I need to get my gear,” she told him. She had to try. “Let me have my things.” She pulled her arm and was rewarded with a tighter grip. The bruising would be extensive.

“Let her have her things,” Dane said to the girl. “You want some cooperation from us? Don’t hurt the girl. Don’t be an asshole.”

“You’ve gone through our things,” Paul spoke out. “You know what’s there. Let her have what she wants. You say you’re the ‘good guys’, so prove it.”

Grayson brought her into the midst of the men. She could reach out and touch Dane, if she thought they wouldn’t punish her for it. Looking at the far end of the couch, she saw Robert, looking much like the other two men. Blood trickled from his nose and his knuckles were bleeding.

“Lisa,” Grayson called her attention, “No time.” Grayson was used to giving orders, but, here, he didn’t seem to be in charge. His tone said he’d push the envelope.

Lisa gazed at the tall man, her distaste for him on her face, but was quickly hidden away. She wrinkled her nose as though there was a foul smell in the room. Her face went slack as she turned her gaze to Grace.

“Get your stuff. Hurry up.” Cold, dark eyes went back to Grayson, daring him to say something.

The vice at her arm held for a moment and the tension was palpable in the room. Grace looked to Dane. His body was rigid, his eyes watching the interaction between the two.

Grayson let go. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She grabbed the biggest pack, Dane’s. Many of the items on the table were foreign to her. Camping gear. Was that where Dane was headed when they met? Not to the graveyard, but to the airport? Grace had never personally known anyone who went camping. Not even the executives at Infinity could afford such a luxury.

Not all of the items would fit. She picked up the half empty box of chemical lights, a lighter, three headsets, two of them military issue. She noticed her satchel had been dumped. Her meager belongings were of no use to them and she left it there. Candles, a watch that wouldn’t work without an electric frequency, but she took it, just in case. She threw in as much as she could until the pack was stuffed full.

Robert stood to take the pack and was pushed roughly back to the couch.

“She packed it,” Lisa said, “she carries it.”

“Take some out,” Robert told her as he stood, this time being allowed to remain standing.

“No time,” Lisa said, as she turned to make her way to the front of the group, “We’re out of here.” She made a circular motion in the air and the men gathered Dane, Robert, Paul and Grace to an area in the center of the group.

Grayson walked up next to Lisa without a thought to Grace and she was grateful. She struggled to put the pack on, but once it was in place she thought she could manage the cumbersome weight.

“These are the good guys?” Grace looked to Paul. They hadn’t let them bring weapons. The men were tied up.

“They seem to think so,” Paul answered. “But every enemy thinks they’re the good guy.”

“Let’s keep it quiet,” Dane instructed. Paul nodded and they were shuffled out the door and into the fog.

Chapter 14

Two Hummers, and two vans waited at the end of the block. The rebels fell into three groups. One group remained with the prisoners, one went ahead to scout out the area and the other fell back into the shadows. Lisa and Grayson remained in front, watchful within the thick fog.

It was difficult to see, but not impossible. The moon was huge in the sky and the fog moved like shadows across it. It was almost a full two feet above her, blocking out the smaller stars in the night sky. Lights came on in the vehicles. Lisa had a chemical light in her hand and waved it back and forth over her head. Another light came from a darkened corner between houses.

As they neared the vehicles, the rebels separated them. Grace could smell chemicals around the hybrid cars. Gasoline. Robert was loaded into one van, and Dane into the other one. She felt his gaze on her until he disappeared inside.

She and Paul were put into a Hummer, side by side, and surrounded by rebels with guns. One of the men took her pack and threw in the back. Lisa and Grayson got up front, Lisa driving.

They pulled in front of the other vehicles and led the way toward Embarcadero. They moved slowly down the empty streets. The fog seemed to be rising faster and Grace tried to recall what Paul had said about it. Six feet.

“How high is the fog?” she asked. She glanced at Paul whose face was blank. He knew, but he said nothing. Why? Maybe she should say nothing as well?

Grayson turned in his seat to look at them. His hidden eyes and scarred face were in the shadows and Grace was grateful.

“Well over six feet,” Grayson said, looking directly at Paul. “Wouldn’t you say so, soldier?”

Paul said nothing. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as the two men stared at each other. Animosity. Hatred. Acknowledgement. Did they know each other?

“Just keep an eye out for trouble,” Lisa said.

The rebel beside her checked his gun. He turned his gaze out the window. She could hear the others behind her rustling about. Had Paul already told them about the dangers of the fog when it got to six feet? Had she been in the shower that long? Had she heard them downstairs what would she have done? Her mind was so full that her head ached.

“Why didn’t I hear you come in?” She asked Lisa.

“We’re just stealthy like that,” she answered. Silence filled the vehicle and Lisa shifted, moving forward toward the windshield. “We saw the smoke rising above the fog. We were looking for supplies and answers. We knew we’d find one or the other in the village district.”

“But why take us with you?”

“It just seemed odd to us that you’d have your own pet cyborg,” Lisa said as she leaned closer to the windshield. “Shit! I can hardly see ahead of me.”

“The fog is moving faster,” the soldier beside her commented. Grace looked at him. He smelled of sweat and dirt. His clothes were simple, functional and dirty. The cap on his head displayed the three blue bars.

“Your cyborg can help us,” Lisa continued. “Once he does, you can all go.”

“You don’t need me,” Paul said. His voice was low but clear. “If you wanted to ask questions, you could have done it back at the house.” He looked at Grayson, then turned to watch the buildings go by outside.

“We didn’t know we’d find something like you,” Lisa said. “We weren’t prepared. Besides, what we need help with requires your…presence.”

“What do you need?” Grace asked, suddenly worried for Paul. She had helped to save his life. She had made a promise. What did these people want with him?

“A map.” Grayson’s voice made her insides grow cold.

“What kind of map?” Paul asked. His attention went back to Grayson.

“A map of the city,” Lisa answered. “So we can get our people out of here. A map of the underground.”

“Why do you need Paul for that?” Grace asked.

“In order to download the map, he’ll have to plug in and retrieve the information from the command center,” Grayson told her. “As he downloads it, we’ll be backing it up in a computer I’ve set up just for capturing information from the command center and land base. The computer itself is too slow for gathering data, we need someone to plug in for that, but it can store the information once we have it.”

Grace watched Lisa glance in the rearview mirror at Paul. She scowled, licked her lips and looked away.

“Then, we can go?” Grace asked.

“You can go. Or you can come with us,” Lisa told her. “This city is dead. You don’t have to die with it.”

Grace sat silently thinking of the irony. The city was going to die. She was going to die. But, the city could be saved, if she stayed and helped Dane.

“I’ll stay with Dane and Paul,” Grace said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Lisa snapped at her. She looked again in the mirror and caught Grace’s confused gaze. “And don’t look at me like that.”

“What did I do?” Grace looked to the soldier beside her, but it was Grayson who answered.

“Our fearless leader is a little squeamish about killing your friend,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” Grace’s voice held fear and her heart beat hard as she looked at Grayson and then to Paul. Both men wore no expression.

“Now that I’ve been reported as missing,” Paul said, as he turned to look at her, “when I plug in, they’ll trace the signal and I’ll be terminated.”

She couldn’t breathe. Paul was a warrior, a doctor, he could help people. His life would be a terrible sacrifice. He’d already suffered. It was unfair. He shouldn’t die. If you have something to offer the world you shouldn’t die.

“You can’t do that.” Grace looked to Lisa. She tried to will the woman to look at her, but she wouldn’t. “Paul can help.”

“He is helping,” Lisa said without looking back. “That map will save hundreds of lives.”

“No,” Grace’s cry caught in her throat. “You don’t understand. He knows things about what they’re doing. He has human memories. He’s a doctor.”

Silence filled the vehicle. Tension rose, from the rebels, from Lisa, from Grayson. Grace saw Lisa glance into the mirror. She looked at Paul, then at Grace.

“He’s a doctor?”

Grace nodded, hoping the tone in Lisa’s voice meant that Paul had a chance.

Lisa looked at the soldier beside Grace. “Charlie.”

With that single word, Charlie brought his pistol out in front of him, ready. He flipped the safety off and aimed it toward the back of Grayson’s seat. Grayson barely moved, but his body went on alert at the sound.

“We found a high-ranking soldier,” Grayson’s voice was even as he spoke. “We knew there would be sacrifices.” He turned his head toward Lisa slowly. “You’ve spent the last hour telling yourself that one sacrifice for over three hundred people was acceptable. But, now, that changes because your sister is dying and you think this thing can help you?”

“Shut up, Grayson, and let me think.” Lisa cast her gaze back to the fog.

Lights from the vehicle behind them flashed on and off rapidly. Charlie kept his eyes on Grayson, but Grayson turned to look.

“Trouble,” Grayson said.

“Shit.” Lisa’s gaze searched as far as she could see. “Man the windows. Watch for them.”

A rustling of clothing, the stench of sweat, and the sound of windows going down caused Grace to shiver with fear. The cold invaded the interior of the vehicle, leaving good bumps on her body. Wind blew her hair in her face and she grabbed it, tucking it down the back of her sweater. It wouldn’t stay. She held on to it with one hand as she tried to see outside.

“What’s happening?” She thought she knew, but she wanted to be wrong.

“AIM soldiers,” Paul answered. His gaze remained fixed on the fog as his arm came around her to pull her close. “Stay back from the windows. Keep low.” He tried to lay her in his lap, but she wanted to see what was going on.

Dane. He was behind them. Had he seen the AIM soldiers? Had someone been hurt? She tried to look out the back window, but the rebels were in the way. Paul kept pulling her down, but she needed to see what was going on behind them.

The car lurched and she was pulled back as they accelerated. The car lights flashed again.

“They’re on foot.” Charlie said. More flashes from behind. “Someone’s been hit. But we’re all still together. Let’s get the hell out of here, Lisa.”

A sharp turn to the right threw Grace up against Paul. He caught her before her head could connect with the window. They sped through the city the short distance to the Embarcadero train station. Lisa pulled into a parking lot that had three cars in it. She parked and Grace could see the other three vehicles pull in.

The last vehicle was a van. The back window had been shot out. Dane. The tightness in her chest nearly stopped her breathing. Tears gathered, threatening to fall.

The side door of the Hummer opened. Charlie got out, grabbed Grace’s pack and gave it to one of the other rebels. Everyone was moving. Something was very wrong. Were the AIM soldiers able to follow them there? Whispered shouts meant to hurry everyone were lost to her as she watched rebels pile out of the van. Where was Dane? Why wasn’t he getting out of the van?

“Come on,” Charlie grabbed her wrist and pulled her out.

Grace broke free and started running toward the van. Dane. He wasn’t coming. She screamed when someone caught her and her feet left the pavement. The world spun around and she couldn’t catch her breath as bands of steel crushed her. It was Charlie. Grayson came up behind him.

“Shut her up,” Grayson told him, “Or I will.”

“Dane,” she called out.

A hand went over her nose and mouth. She couldn’t breathe. She tried to get away, but Charlie held her still.

“Understand this,” Charlie spoke directly into her ear. “No one has a use for you. If you give away our position, we’re all dead. I don’t want to have to hurt you. Please don’t make me hurt you.”

Tears spilled, the world wavered and Dane never came out of the van. Charlie moved his hand slightly and she pulled in air through her nose. Cold air filled her burning lungs. Charlie turned her around and set her feet on the ground. He removed his hand. Don’t make me hurt you. What did it matter? She was dead already. No one has a use for you. Was that true? With Dane dead it was true. All of a sudden six months seemed like such a long time. Too long.

Her legs shook as Charlie let go of her. Dane. She didn’t want to go. Everyone was rushing to get things out of the vehicles and running toward the underground train station. She couldn’t hear anything. Not their voices. Not their footsteps. There was only silence. She saw Robert. One of the rebels was pushing him forward. He was still tied up. He looked at her. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear him. It seemed like everyone was moving in slow motion. Charlie’s face swam in front of her. Her eyes moved upward toward the moon. She saw light…and then darkness.

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