Sean Platt's Blog, page 11

Excerpt: Three Aliens Walk Into Town

Sam sat in an uncomfortable little wicker chair in Gus's room in the parsonage, trying to think of something more to say. Gus lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his leg in a more proper splint and bandage after the town doctor had gotten a chance to look him over at Pastor Ellie's request.

The muted tick-tock of a grandfather clock seeped in from the hallway.

“So. Not too bad, then,” Sam tried.

“I've been given a cane, Sam. I'm an invalid. I've been relegated. Have you ever been relegated?”

“Um. I'm not … Maybe in some sense of–“

Gus hunched up in bed to glare at him.

“No,” Sam quickly corrected himself. “Totally.”

Gus gave a satisfied nod and eased himself back down.

Sam had been spending the past fifteen or twenty minutes trying to think of things to say and, when he occasionally did think of something, saying it. Unfortunately he was no good at coming up with topics that would actually spark conversation, not in situations like this, and each of his utterances had fallen limply into the air and drifted back into the same heavy silence.

An old timey trumpet blared on Gus's phone, like a herald about to announce something important.

“Ooh!” Gus straightened and scrambled for it.

The strange notification was a huge relief. It gave Sam a natural question to ask and, better yet, one that had nothing to do with Gus's injury or their failed road trip or any of the wide minefield of topics Sam was so busily equating.

“What's that about?” he asked, handing Gus the phone.

“WarDuster. I left the notifications on just in case.” For a long moment, Gus peered at the screen, first reading the message, then apparently stricken. Then he slumped back to the bed and tossed the phone carelessly back onto his night table.

“Damn. We were so close.”

“We were? What do you mean? Close to what?”

“It's Night Fox,” said Gus. “She wants to see us. Like, not even in a maybe we could get coffee sometime kind of way. She sent her address and everything.”

Sam brightened. “That's great! That's like exactly what we wanted, isn't it?”

“Yeah. Except she's in Canada.”

“So? We made it this far.”

“That was before somebody shot me in the leg,” said Gus.

“You did that yourself.”

“I was being delicate.”

Sam decided to let it pass. “Look, man. It's okay. Maybe get a little better and then we can go up after that. You know?”

Gus shook his head. “By then it will be far too late. The end of the world is upon us. The aliens are nigh.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you're being dramatic. But for real. We have no idea how this is going to play out. For all we know, they just do a flyby or something. Or it's meteors and everyone was wrong about … you know. Whatever.”

Gus waved this away. “It doesn't matter. The moment is lost. Let me suffer in peace.”

“Dude. Seriously. You're being melodramatic. It doesn't have to be the end of the world for you to meet your girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah? And what if it actually is the end of the world? What if it's not a flyby? We could be zombie mind slaves by the time this leg's better.”

“More like zombie love slaves,” he said, trying to make Gus laugh, or at least jumpstart a better mood. “I mean. Not that I'm into that. Or anything. Gross. But still.”

Gus was staring dead-eyed at the ceiling.

“It's not too late,” Sam insisted. “What if we just–“

“It is too late. What are we going to do? Go find our two-tire monstrosity back in Wherever, Iowa? Get Ronan to give us a ride? Face it. We're done. We've been relegated, Sam.”

“Relegated?”

“Relegated. To the folksy life of the Midwestern farm hand. A new life stretches ahead of us. We will require overalls. And callouses. Do you know how many callouses I've had in my life, Sam?”

“None?”

Gus thrust his hands forward for inspection. “These are the fleshy hands of the intellectual class. These are not farm hands.”

“I don”t think a farm hand is, like, a literal hand.”

“Clearly I have much to learn as I embark upon this rustic endeavor, this new life of plow and of rutabaga.”

“You're not going to be a farmer, Gus. We'll pull this out.”

It occurred to Sam that the important meeting he had on Monday was starting in two hours. He felt a flash of panic, but it faded surprisingly fast. Once something turned impossible, it became much less urgent.

A sense of weightlessness overtook him. Would he ever see Denton again? Was he was still a data analyst? And if not, what was he?

“Leave me, Sam. I have much to ponder.”

“Are you sure?”

“I would be alone.”

Sam rose. Some part of him still felt like he was floating. “All right. But I'm telling you, there's more to our story.”

“Perhaps, my young friend. Perhaps.”

Sam began to walk out.

Gus rolled over in bed, his back to Sam and the room. “Be a good chap and hand me my phone?”

“‘Good chap'? Seriously?”

“Just give it.”

Sam grabbed Gus's phone and the screen momentarily lit up, displaying the message from Night Fox on the lock screen. In that moment, inspiration struck.

“I'll be running 2x2s on DuelMasters if you want to team up,” Gus added carelessly from the bed.

“Uh-huh.” Sam pulled out his own phone and snapped a hurried photo of the message. It had Night Fox's address, contact card, everything. This would be perfect. Sam knew exactly how to get Gus out of his funk. And have fun doing it.

And besides, it wasn't like Ronan was the only person with a car.

No, their story was most definitely not over yet.

The post Excerpt: Three Aliens Walk Into Town appeared first on Sterling & Stone.

Excerpt: Alienation

Ash steadied his breath and finally stopped blinking. Looked down and realized that he'd stepped into the shower fully dressed. His clothes were covered in suds.

Ash stripped naked, tossed his soaking shirt and pants outside of the shower, then quickly rinsed his body before getting out and ringing the woman's clothes out to nowhere near dry.

Darcy stared as he stepped back into the room.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“I forgot to get undressed.”

“Great. Did you forget how to drive or keep me alive?”

“No. I'm fine now,” Ash said, a second before falling onto his knees.

“What's happening?”

Ash knew exactly what it was, but there was no way to explain it until it was over.

I believe you have something WE need.

The Overseer's voice was in his head.

How? He thought he'd Separated forever. How was she still able to get in?

He couldn't ignore it. She was everywhere inside him. “Please … no.”

“Who are you talking to?”

THEY want the Puncture.

“No. GET OUT!”

Darcy scrambled toward the door.

“Not you. Darcy, stop! It's fine.”

The Overseer was gone — Ash could feel the empty space where she had just been — but that was still enough to startle them both.

“What happened?” Darcy asked.

“It was one of THEM … speaking to me.”

She swallowed. “What did they want?”

“The Puncture, of course.” But Ash was distracted. If the Overseer could hijack his mind when THEY were just nearing Jupiter, the Hive would have control in days.

He turned to…

What was her name?

“What is it? Why do you look like that?” Then, more urgently she asked, “And when can we get the hell out of here?”

“I … I can't remember your name,” he admitted.

“Oh, shit.” She looked worried. “What do you remember? Driving? Do you still know how to do that?”

“Of course.”

“What do you mean of course? You knew who I was five minutes ago. It's not an unreasonable question. Goddammit, FuckFace, what are we gonna do now?”

“Is that really necessary?” Ash asked. “To call me that?”

“No. Sorry. But I really think we need to get the hell out of here, and you're weirding me out in like, a thousand different ways. So can we please go? Or can you at least tell me what's wrong with you? Bonus points for both. We go and you tell me on the way.”

“I think I might be losing my humanity.”

“What?” She fell a tiny step back. “What do you mean by that?”

“I think the closer THEY come, the less I can control myself. I'm worried I might get an order that I won't know how to stop.”

“You're stronger than that. What's my name?” She stared into his eyes.

It took a few seconds, but then a wide smile split his face, “Darcy.”

“Darcy,” she agreed.

“Well, Darcy?”

“Yes?”

“I'm not that strong. Not against THEM.” He handed her the gun. “So I need you to take this.”

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

She still hadn't taken the weapon so he put it in her hand and closed her fingers around it. “If I try to hurt you, kill me. Don't think twice. Then run like hell so I can't get in to you.”

“That's crazy,” she said.

“It's not. This is real, and it could very well happen.”

She looked at Ash with a hesitant but evident suspicion. “What are the chances of you doing that? I mean … trying to hurt me?”

“At some point?” Ash apologized with his eyes. “Almost for certain.”

“Well, unlike you, the odds of my dying at some point are a hundred-percent. So I guess that's good enough for now. Let's get the Puncture, then get the fuck away from each other.” She laughed to let him know she was kidding.

“I never liked you anyway,” he teased.

The post Excerpt: Alienation appeared first on Sterling & Stone.

Excerpt: Peacekeepers

By mid-afternoon Alex had done enough work for the day and had settled in to read one of his books. He loved reading and had thousands of books in his digital library on the servers in his bunker. There was nothing better than spending the morning working and the afternoon relaxing and reading.

He was just about to doze off when an alarm blared from inside his house. His eyes snapped open, then he dashed in to check his screens. Two cars threw dust as they worked their way toward his house. Alex hoped they would break an axle. They were from the Sheriff's office.

He cursed. As if the aliens weren't enough of a problem.

He thought quickly. Given that they had just been here, their presence today was unlikely to mean anything good. They were probably here for his supplies and would be ready for a fight.

He looked around his small home, taking stock of everything inside. There wasn't anything here he couldn't afford to lose. But this was his property, and nobody had any right to it but him. If he allowed them to push him over now, he'd be allowing them to push him over for as long as this crisis lasted.

He didn't want to be anywhere nearby when they arrived. Running to his bunker would've amounted to hiding, so that wasn't an option, but his house didn't provide the cover required to live through a shootout.

As it often did in these situations, his mind clicked into a different gear. Alex looked around the house, spotting the items he needed for a new plan. He moved quickly, grabbing a pair of walkie-talkies and one of his rifles.

As he had been for the last few days, Alex was already open carrying. He made sure to stuff a few extra magazines into the pockets of his cargo shorts. He wasn't nearly as prepared as he wanted to be, but it would have to do.

Alex turned one of the walkie-talkies on as he left his house, cranking the volume as high as it would go. He set it on the front porch then ran. From the video he had last seen, the cars were moving slowly and cautiously, but it still didn't give him more than a minute to find cover.

He sprinted, lungs burning and legs aching. He hadn't done nearly enough conditioning lately.

He crested a hill about a hundred yards away from his house then ducked so he was hugging the ground. He looked around, double-checking to make sure there wasn't any better cover. The small rise would offer him a little bit of protection, but not nearly enough to make him feel safe. At a hundred yards, even a pistol could land a lucky shot against him.

Still, it was the best he had.

He had just enough time to calm his breathing when the two vehicles came in sight of his house. Alex chambered a round in his rifle and drew deep breath as he watched the scene unfold below him.

Austin and a girl Alex didn't recognize stepped out of the first vehicle, while another one of the deputies stepped out of the second. Austin stood behind his open door, drawing his pistol and pointing it at Alex's house. The other deputy did the same. The girl who'd exited Austin's vehicle had closed her door, but when she saw what the other two were doing, she opened the door back up and crouched behind it. She brought something small out and brought it to her eye. At first Alex thought that she had some sort of rangefinder. But when he looked at the scene through his scope he saw she was actually looking through a video camera.

A video camera? What the fuck?

Before he could even start to puzzle out that mystery he heard Austin yell. He was close enough that the words rang clear. “Alex! I know you've got a ton of supplies in there. You've got thirty seconds to hand over half of what you have. Otherwise we're coming in and taking it all.”

Alex spoke into his walkie-talkie, keeping his voice low. “Does Chester know you're doing this, Austin?”

In the scope, Alex saw Austin notice the walkie-talkie for the first time. He pointed it out to the deputy, then crouched lower behind his door, suspecting a trap.

He yelled, “This isn't about Chester. This is about you doing the right thing and helping us out. Daniel died this morning because we didn't have the first aid to save him.”

Alex shook his head, hating that the situation had come to this. He had no idea who Daniel was, but even at this distance, he could hear Austin's voice crack at the mention of his name. But Daniel's death had nothing to do with him.

Alex spotted movement in the scope. Austin gestured toward the deputy. He moved low, preventing a clean shot. Alex watched, curious and nervous in equal measure. The man opened the trunk of the second car, hiding behind it for a few moments before reappearing with a rifle. The deputy was using the whole car as cover now, scoping the surrounding area with his weapon. Alex hadn't had enough time to don camouflage, so he figured he only had a minute or two at most before the deputy spotted him.

Alex swore softly. He didn't want to fight with law enforcement, but he wouldn't let them steal from him, either.

“Turn around, Austin. I only want to be left alone.”

“That's not going to happen. Your supplies can save lives, and I swore to protect those people.”

The barrel of the deputy's rifle slowly approached Alex's position. There was a chance the deputy might miss him, but that wasn't a chance Alex wanted to take. Low to the ground, he presented a small target, but that was no guarantee of safety.

Shit. He aimed at the glass to the right of the second deputy's head and pulled the trigger.

The glass shattered and Alex heard his shot echo across the plains. Both deputies reacted immediately, ducking lower and completely hiding from Alex's sights. The woman with the camera stood frozen in place as though she hadn't realized what had just happened.

Alex heard Austin swearing and checking on the other deputy. But his gaze was distracted by the woman. Either she had the courage of a seasoned special operations soldier or was dumb as a brick. He shook his head. A video camera was the least of his worries. He still had two deputies who no doubt wanted to hurt him to worry about.

“Leave, Austin. I won't give you another warning.”

There was no response, which only made Alex more nervous. Unless they were yelling, he wouldn't be able to hear them. No doubt they were planning their next moves. He focused on the scope, trying to pick out any hint of movement between the two vehicles. He saw nothing.

A cool wind blew across his back, drying some of the sweat. He took a deep breath and realized he'd been getting worked up. He inhaled, focusing on the scent of the grass and the dirt, centering himself. Calm conquered all challenges.

The only person in sight was the girl, and she continued standing tall behind the car door. Alex would've had no problem taking a killing shot. She was surveying the area with her video camera, and Alex wondered if she was searching for him. How stupid was she?

Pretty stupid.

As he watched, dumbfounded, she switched her camera to her left hand, continuing to film, while reaching down and drawing a pistol with her right hand. He shook his head, not believing what he was looking at. The dumbass was going to shoot herself in the foot if she wasn't careful. Did she think she could use the video camera as a scope?

Alex blinked rapidly, as though he might be able to cause the illusion to disappear. The girl was so dumb, he struggled for words. His mute disbelief caused him to stop and stare.

But he had more important threats to worry about.

He ran his scope over the cars but couldn't see either of the deputies. Alex considered shifting his position, but then he saw a glint of light underneath the back right tire of the second deputy's vehicle. He swiveled his rifle around and turned his scope toward the light. It took a second to find the dark outline of a rifle from underneath the vehicle. The barrel pointed right at him.

He didn't even have time to curse before the muzzle flashed and the ground exploded less than a foot to his right.

The post Excerpt: Peacekeepers appeared first on Sterling & Stone.

Excerpt: The Iron Gate

They descended deeper into the mine shaft. The yellow light overhead seemed like sunlight filtering through rain clouds. Despite being behind the display of her sunglasses, the constant squint was giving Roddie a headache.

Without her mask, she couldn't hear Sahger through her com. His deep voice came to her from her right. Just above a whisper. “Water ahead.”

She tipped her head down to look over the top rim of the glasses. A rippling sparkle of reflected light. “I see it.”

Whatever was in the private labs was messing with the communications systems, anyway. There had been some wild stuff in the public areas, but nothing putting off interference like what was coming through the ground right now.

Static in her display, and it didn't respond to her optic commands like usual. She was about to pull them off and stow them in her pocket. Make due with what God had given her.

A spot of digital color made her pause with her hand on the earpiece. “Can you confirm movement?”

Sahger planted his feet and leaned forward to look into the shaft ahead. “Affirmative.”

She held her fist up over her shoulder. “Hold firm.”

“Roger.”

She walked to the water's edge in a slow crouch. The blip of movement lit her display, again. She heard a faint splash from several meters out.

A scream from behind her made her heart hammer in her chest. Brought her up short before putting her foot in the water.

The lights exploded in a series of shattering sparks that started over the water. Raced over her head like a string of firecrackers. Her display brightened in the dark, and it filled with the red of enemy movement.

Sahger jogged to her side. “Do we hold or go back?”

There was not recognizable shape. Just a rolling blob of red. “What is it?”

Sahger grabbed her arm. “Stay or go? Make the call!”

The red formed into wavering rays coming from a rippling center. She pulled her glasses off and dropped them next to her left boot. “It doesn't matter.”

Sahger let her arm go, and he stepped back. The sound of his feet digging into the damp earth took on the rhythm of retreat. He was running away.

Like she should have been.

The light from her display cast a weak light across the water. It reflected off the droplets falling off glittering scales. The sinuous movement of a serpent. Or the glittering tentacles of a sea monster. Her mind refused to define it.

The first shape was joined by a second. More and more.

The limbs of an octopus, each made of the tail of a great snake. Clawed suckers at the tips dug into the wooden beams of the walls and ceiling. The oak creaked with the pressure.

Another tentacle landed in front of her feet. It sucked like the hissing swirl of cavitation in an emptying drain. Roddie spread her legs to plant her feet. Lifted her weapon, and the splashing drops were replaced by a rushing wave as the creature lifted its head.

It was the bleached skull of a huge deer. Antlers spread the width of the tunnel. Reptilian eyes glowed behind the sockets of bone, and a fanged mouth fell open under the skeletal jaw.

Its scream sounded like the acceleration of a fighter jet.

Roddie braced with a scream of her own, and her body acted on instinct. Her finger squeezed the trigger, and her SR6 sent burning plasma directly into the thing's open mouth.

Its howl cut off, and it reared back. The blue fire splashed against its scaled hide with little effect. Two tentacles slammed against her. They wrapped her in a tightening cocoon and lifted her into the air. Her head brushed the dusty ceiling, and her stomach rose into her throat as it plunged her into the water.

The pressure on her ribs eased as one of the tentacles let go and lifted back out of the water. The tentacle around her legs squeezed until she thought her hips were going to explode from their sockets.

Her feet hit the bottom, and she looked up, straining to keep her mouth sealed shut. The glow of her display on the water's edge showed she was only a few feet under. They must have been at the point where the shaft leveled off. Where the monster had been waiting.

The post Excerpt: The Iron Gate appeared first on Sterling & Stone.

Excerpt: The Lady in Black

Richard looked above him. Spun to get a view in every direction. He stopped when he faced Naomi and Duncan. They stared at him from behind the chair, each still holding a handle.

Richard held his hand up. Pointed to the sky. “Can you see them?”

Naomi nodded.

He held his hands out at waist level. “This place is not right. It's not.”

Duncan dropped his hold on the wheelchair, took a step.

Richard backed away from the titan. He heard the sounds of ripping fabric and more giggles. Then he smelled the rotting fire of Willis Kemp's alter ego.

His mind was rushing to nowhere. Just running in place. Naomi's face was pale. Her eyes looked as wide as his felt.

Duncan put his hands over his heart. “There is localized mutuality here. Someone is trying to get out of the temporal well.”

Richard's heart pounded. Every sound at the edge of reality ramped his pulse up another notch. He couldn't get a breath deep enough to provide his body with enough oxygen. “Someone's trying to get out, huh?”

The metal roll-up door on the front of the building rattled. Naomi squealed and jumped away from the chair. It rolled back down the drive. When it passed the boundary around the Makers property, it froze as if it had become a picture.

Richard heard the ripping noise again. Like a wet towel pulled apart into strips. The door clanged as if someone had run into it at full speed. He looked at Duncan. “Someone or something.”

Duncan drew his eyebrows down in thought. He looked up, his eyes wide in horrified realization.

The expression on the Titan's face froze Richard's bowels. He didn't think he could face anything that scared him.

Duncan moved with terrifying speed, like he was in his own little sped up reality. Naomi's head whipped to the side when Duncan grabbed her then launched himself in a leap that carried them all the way to Richard.

The alien pulled him in with his other arm and was two steps toward the wild honeysuckle drooping over the edge of the driveway when the garage door cracked like it had been hit by a bus.

Duncan pulled them down as he dropped to his knees. They rolled into a tangled pile. Crushed the branches and flowers as they worked their way inside the jumble of shrubs.

The plants been growing here as long as Richard could remember. It was a whole other world in the shade of these old bushes so close to the ground.

He pressed his nose to the dirt. Duncan's broad back smashed him against the bones of the honeysuckle's body. As thick as his wrist, they supported the soft fall of the limbs they hid under.

The roll-up door crashed with another impact. Again and again. The ripping sound filled the air. Like the frenzied purr of a dragon ready to burn the villagers.

Richard craned his neck to see past Duncan's bald head. The titan shivered. Effort or fear, Richard couldn't tell. Naomi grunted at his feet as she struggled to get a view of her own.

Duncan's voice felt like a knife of ice in his brain. “Be still!”

Through the trembling honeysuckle, Richard watched the door explode out into the driveway. The inside of the Makers building was filled with a swarming nightmare. Creatures from a madman's imagination crowded into the doorway. Black and silver, with the sheen of metal — like scales or the exterior of a beetle.

They moved like frames were missing from their film, in fits and starts of blurred motion. Their eyes glittered like Duncan's and Jerry's. The black of gravity with blue and gold swirling in their depths.

The ripping purrs were their collective voices. They rose into a combined roar. He winced, worked deeper into the bush. Then the creatures charged as one down the driveway. Shimmering heat shot from their mouths, lit by blur fire deep in the gullets.

Like a flock of demon birds, they flowed out of the Makers building. A golf cart parked in front of the side door flipped on impact when the mass sideswiped it on their way out.

A black flood streaked by, and he clamped his teeth shut to keep from screaming.

Naomi's voice rose in a squeal to join the ripping howls of the stampede, and Duncan forced himself back even deeper into the bushes.

Richard's ribs creaked under the pressure.

When the herd hit the boundary in front of the wheelchair at the bottom of the driveway, the light brightened, and the sound outside returned. Like they burst the bubble of time as they passed.

Into the street they ran, then they spread out in all directions. There were far more creatures inside than the building could have possibly held. It seemed like minutes before it was empty.

Richard's mind was no longer charging downhill. It was frozen with shock, and he was surprised he couldn't feel piss soaking through his jeans. But then, he couldn't feel anything down there anymore.

He was paralyzed again.

He pushed against Duncan's shoulders. “They're gone, okay? Get off me. You weigh a fucking ton.”

Naomi struggled to free herself. “What the fuck were those things?”

Duncan moaned as he crawled out from under the honeysuckle that filling the air with the sticky sweet aroma of summer. He dropped his head into his hands as if he was about to weep. “They are the Unity. Something was trying to get in.”

The post Excerpt: The Lady in Black appeared first on Sterling & Stone.

Excerpt: The Alabaster Fool

The floor above them creaked.

Richard tensed. Andrea's hair fell over his forearm as she looked up into the dark like he had. At least she had the good sense not to cry out.

Richard pulled out of her arms as the footsteps crunched and scraped along the floor. He pulled her along behind him as he hustled into the main room.

Jericka and Bobby stood next to each other, looking at the ceiling toward the other end of the building.

Tracked more footsteps. Somebody else had come through the front door.

Jerry sat on the floor with his feet stretched out, pressed flat against Duncan's. Naomi leaned against his shoulder, eyes closed.

When Richard wondered if she was asleep, her eyes popped open like she had heard his thoughts. A fierce look told him the crying was behind her for now. Like she had made a decision, and that was that.

Carter stood on Duncan's chest. Sniffed the air with his eyes closed.

Richard followed his example. Could no longer smell the rain, the sulfur and ozone that had coated everything. Sniffed again. Under the smoke and ash was something … fresh.

Voices sounded above him.

He turned his ear up to listen. Hushed words, and he could almost place them with a speaker. He knew who was up there, but he couldn't retrieve it out of the fog of his exhaustion.

The door at the top of the stairs clanged. Somebody had put a shoulder to it.

Bobby snickered, then he clapped his hand over his mouth.

Richard understood — that door only looked like wood. One of the geezers from the Makers building had painted it to look just like old white oak with a dark walnut stain on it.

Kerry Dyer was a wizard with an airbrush. Smoked nonstop and smelled like armpit, but she was an artist, for sure.

They hit the door again, and the impact sent an echo into the basement like the bell on the old church. Steel door, steel frame mounted into a block wall, tempered security bolt on the inside — made a decent bunker.

Chase had insisted they prepare at least a little bit.

Couldn't figure out why the dumb fuck was trying to bash the damn thing in. It opened out.

More footsteps thundered above. Must be three or four people up there.

Richard didn't know the situation. Were they armed? Friendly?

Their own stash of weapons was paltry. They'd been unconcerned with carrying guns downstairs, what with the sky on fire and all.

He dug his fists into his hips. Jericka slid the 9mm out of the canvas holster. His own .45 was snug on his hip.

Duncan was still out cold. Jerry was a big fucker, but Naomi and Andrea were practically defenseless. Maybe Bobby, too.

At least Carter had claws.

Shouted words were followed by a denial from a different speaker. Demanding and angry, the second voice lit his memory again. Richard closed his eyes and waited. Held his hands up for silence in a silent room.

The next shout made something click in Richard's head. His eyes flew open. Breathless confusion splashed in his chest like a frigid tide.

Bruce Brittle.

The footsteps scraped through the dirt and glass on the floor above them, one after another until they were gone.

Richard looked at Jericka. Her eyebrows were up, and she shook her head, waiting for him to explain himself.

He was almost afraid to say it. He could barely keep it a whisper. “I know who one of 'em was.”

The post Excerpt: The Alabaster Fool appeared first on Sterling & Stone.

Excerpt: The Gate

It had been five years since Landon's last hangover. He'd gone on a bender after his first — and consequently only — book was panned by every historian, archaeologist, and anthropologist on Earth. Too bad he didn't publish it on another planet. It probably would have been a bestseller wherever the aliens came from.

The last thing he remembered drinking was the bourbon in Gunnar's office. Was that really only yesterday morning? It felt like a week. He'd certainly done more in the last twenty-four hours than he typically did in a seven-day stretch. Yesterday's alcohol hadn't even made him tipsy and had long since burned off.

So why did he feel like hammered dog shit?

Oh, right. Because he'd been fired, hauled to D.C., interrogated by the government, secreted away to Ohio, held at gunpoint twice, dragged through the woods, drugged, and threatened. Oh, and aliens were coming.

How could he have forgotten?

He rolled his eyes at himself, the sarcastic thoughts doing nothing to ease his pounding headache, abject fear, or sense of dread. His gaze traveled over Wolf and his team. All of them appeared to be asleep, getting an hour or two of rest before resuming their mission. But Landon knew better than to try and escape. Something told him the relaxed postures and slack faces were only an illusion. As he shifted his weight to find a more comfortable position, he could practically sense their coiled muscles tensing, preparing to pounce. It was unlikely — hell, it was impossible — that he could get to his feet without everyone snapping alert. No way could he creep past them to disappear into the deserted streets of Peru.

The crowded bazaar was his best, and maybe only, chance. He glanced at his watch. Shouldn't be much longer.

“Don't even think about it, Professor,” Wolf said, not even opening his eyes. “You'd never make it off this bird, let alone into town.”

Just as Landon suspected. The merc was resting but hyper-alert. Several retorts danced on his tongue, but he stayed silent. No point confirming he was awake. Maybe Wolf would doubt his instincts, giving him a window to escape later.

After what felt like an hour — but was probably only a few minutes, max — he shifted his weight again. The chopper seats weren't designed for sleep. All his muscles ached, and he had a crick in his neck. His patience wore thin and his discomfort intensified. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and whispered, “Wolf?”

The merc opened one eye. His gaze seemed alert, and laser-focused on Landon.

“I need to stretch my legs.”

“Who's stopping you?”

“No, I mean outside. Walk around a little. My muscles are stiff and cramping.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“And I need to relieve myself.”

“You're a big boy. Hold it. We need to get up in about half an hour. You can go then.”

Now not only was he seven shades of miserable, he was starting to feel claustrophobic. Unseen fingers squeezed his lungs, making his heart race. He panted for breath, wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. “At least allow me to sit by you. I'll even sit on the floor. The air is stuffy in here, and I can't breathe.”

“You just want to be by the door so you can run.”

Landon clawed at his collar. “Please. I beg you–“

“No.”

But he no longer cared about permission. He didn't care if he got shot. Nothing was more important than getting out of that helicopter. He sprang to his feet, leapt over the stretched out legs of Wolf's team, then dove out the door.

He froze when he hit the ground. No longer panicked, no longer desperate. His heart rate slowed, his breathing regulated. A blanket of calm enveloped him, and he dropped to the ground, immobile.

Wolf and the rest of his team scrambled out after him. He heard them readying their weapons, knew without opening his eyes that little red dots of lights were trained on his chest and head. But he didn't care.

“Why didn't you tell me you were claustrophobic?” Wolf asked. “I'd have put you outside with some of my men.”

“That's actually decent of you, but I'm not claustrophobic.”

“Then what the hell was that freak out all about?” Tex asked.

“I don't know. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.” Still, he lay there, staring up at the star-studded sky. Only in the west was it still black. High above him, it became a deep midnight blue, and in the east it had faded to indigo. Finally, dawn was breaking. It was a relief to put the worst day of his life behind him, even though this day didn't look much more promising.

“Stress,” one of the guys muttered.

“Sorry about that,” Landon said, surprised to find he was.

“Might as well get ready to head to town,” Wolf said. “Gather–“

“Wait.”

Wolf glared at him. “What now?”

“I don't know. Just like I had to get off the chopper, I know we have to stay here.”

“Why?”

“I just said I don't know why.”

“We don't have time for this.” Wolf bent down, grabbed Landon's shirt and hauled him up.

As he scrambled to get his footing, he continued staring at the horizon, his gaze transfixed on the gradients of blue before the warm tones of dawn and then the sun fully rising. “Stop! Doesn't it look like the sky is glowing?”

“Funny how the sun does that,” Tex said.

“The sun's not up yet.” Landon's feet found purchase on the ground, then he jerked free of his captor's grasp. “It's definitely glowing.”

Wolf sighed and made a show of aiming his weapon at Landon's chest, the red laser dot right over his heart. “You don't want to become more trouble than you're worth, Professor.”

“Shit, Wolf,” Tex said. “He's right. Look!”

Landon heard his name whispered on the wind. A sense of satisfaction — completion — flooded through him. He looked with rapt attention at the eastern horizon, where several glowing blue orbs rose from behind an outcropping of rock then streaked across the sky.

They hovered above the Puerta de Hayu Marca mountain range where the Gate was. Then they disappeared.

The post Excerpt: The Gate appeared first on Sterling & Stone.

Excerpt: Conundrum

“I've researched the Astrals extensively. There's a growing theory that all of this — not us here, but the entire occupation — is about judgment. They've been here for months. So why haven't they formally invaded? Why haven't they taken us over, established their own puppet governments?” Tyler tapped his knee. “It's because they want to see what we do on our own, so they can sit back and judge our actions. That's why they've let us reestablish so many of our routines. Why they practically encouraged us to forget they were there and get back to business. We're an ant farm to the Astrals.”

“Bullshit.” Kenneth shook his head. “They abducted tons of people, destroyed cities, let those fucking .. things … loose in the countryside–“

“At first. But then most of their activity backed off, and now they're only observing.” Tyler gestured at the room. “They're testing us, I promise.”

Zach said, “If this is a test, why no shocks or treats?”

“They can test by just watching what we do. There don't need to be punishments and rewards.” Tyler shifted, pulling up his mental list of observations. “Except that there have been rewards. Like the doors.”

“What about the doors?” Miriam asked.

“When we were trapped, a door opened.”

“Because they opened it.” Kenneth nodded to Zach and Ian.

“We didn't do anything,” Ian said. “We've been trying to get out of this room since we got here. It only opened when you opened it.”

“We didn't open it.” Kenneth shook his head.

They looked at each other. Tyler could see Nicole and Elyse trading glances as well, probably wondering about their own open door.

“Almost everything in this place is repeated in every room,” Tyler said. “One of the few exceptions is that ferret. Why only one?”

Marcus shrugged. “That doesn't mean anything. Why just one kitchen?”

“The kitchen is the only source of water. We needed it to stay alive.”

“We didn't even know it was here.”

“Zach and Ian did,” Tyler said. “They started where there was water. Nicole and Elyse — I assume you started with the ferret?”

“What's your point?” Nicole asked.

“Kenneth, Miriam, and I found the cage of mice, right by our room. And lastly–“

“What?” Deborah asked as Tyler turned to her.

“You knew that ferrets eat mice.”

“So what?”

“Doesn't anyone think it's strange that we were in four groups, and pieces from all of us were required to keep that animal alive?” He ticked off fingers. “Mice. Water. Knowledge. And of course, the animal itself.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” said Elyse.

Tyler kept going. “It's starving and thirsty. It ran right up to the sink the second it got here. We had to work together.”

“Bullshit.” Ian sounded irritated, and maybe even pissed. “It's a fucking hairy rat. Who cares?”

“Maybe that's the question,” Tyler said. “Are we the kind of beings who help other beings? Or the kind who only care about our own survival?”

“Even if you're right,” Zach said, “nobody decided whether or not to feed it.”

“Deborah did.”

“Well, bully for Deborah,” said Elyse.

Miriam moved closer, almost as if she sensed pain and wanted to hug her. But Elyse shot her a look that kept her in place.

“That was luck, not teamwork,” Kenneth said.

Tyler disagreed. “It wasn't. Doors had to open before we were together in the same room.”

“Doors we didnâ€t open,” said Ian.

“Luck,” Kenneth repeated.

“The doors opened when we made choices,” Tyler insisted. “They didn't open at random.”

“They opened at random.” Ian sat on a bunk, worrying his hands through close-shorn hair.

Tyler sat back, never comfortable with either the spotlight or confrontation. He had thoughts about everything, but they were ill-formed, needing data to fill them out.

“All right,” said Zach, once the room was finally quiet. “Arguing won't solve anything. Tyler thinks we're being tested. Maybe that's true and maybe it's not. For whatever reason, the doors out there are opening and closing. But that's not all. I used to see a pink door through there. Now it's light blue.”

“So the doors change color.”

“Or the rooms are moving,” Deborah suggested. “Can you feel the way the floor and walls keep shaking?”

“How the hell can rooms move?” asked Kenneth.

Then three things happened at once.

As if in response to his question, an orange door on the far side of the room opened — just in time to show the frame shrinking in the shadow of advancing walls, the arch itself narrowing to reveal sliding gears and churning machinery. The floor trembled as the room slid past, rolling from one to another like chambers in a revolver.

Deborah, now clutching the ferret, screamed.

And Tyler, whose antennae were up, noticed the conspicuous absence of Marcus's voice. He should have been leaping in to take control as the game changed.

Tyler, and the others, turned toward Deborah, who wasn't screaming at the moving room. She was screaming at Marcus, who was halfway through the used-to-be-black door, holding that little card he'd taken from the pile of papers. He was staring at it, advancing backward, trying to escape unseen. His eyes widened as they fixed on the card, a look of horror dawning on his face.

His mouth opened — maybe to explain why he was trying to sneak out like a coward or to voice his deadly realization. Maybe to argue.

But Deborah wasn't screaming about his attempted escape. She was crying out at a growing green light, hovering mid-air above his head, about the size of a golf ball, growing larger and throbbing with menace.

Very carefully, Miriam took a step toward Marcus. Hands up and out.

“Come toward me, Marcus. Nice and slow.”

But the ball of light became a beam, then a column enveloped him same as the mouse.

An ozone plume blew outward, momentarily everywhere like a zero-gravity fire.

Then Marcus was gone, leaving flaming scraps of cloth to dance in the air, the card he'd been holding slowly seesawing downward, a wave of burning stench wafting on the breeze.

The alien clock ticked on.

Chunk.

Chunk.

One door opened.

Another closed.

The room beyond the red door jerked then moved upward, soon to be replaced by another.

The post Excerpt: Conundrum appeared first on Sterling & Stone.

Excerpt: The Beast of Killeglen

Asa knew he was dreaming because he had both arms, and even his dreaming self had started to grow accustomed to the fact that his left arm was gone. There was a great deal of pain in the limb, enough to almost jostle him awake, but his elbow bent and his fingers moved when so desired.

He was in darkness, lost between one safe place and the next, and didn't recognize anything. Indeed, there was nothing around to recognize. He stepped carefully, trying to feel his way through the dark with his feet — bare, bleeding, studded with thorns.

Asa didn't know this darkness, and he realized with a rush of panic that it wasn't his. It was thick and swirling now, unfamiliar as the patterns of another person's mind trying to squeeze its way into his. He wanted to wake up but couldn't find his way through the nothingness.

From the darkness, something glowed. Blue eyes and marble-white features. A man's shape, but too tall, bald as a rock, smiling wickedly to expose pointed teeth dripping saliva.

Trapped in a dream that didn't belong to him, Asa screamed.

***

Dela's bed was soft and warm, but Dela herself couldn't get comfortable. She'd had difficulty sleeping for a while — really, as long as she could remember — though if she thought too hard about how long that was, it never seemed as long as she guessed it should be.

But tonight was different. Dela was asleep, she was sure of it, but nothing about it was restful. The pain in the bottom of her foot from the thorn that stabbed through her too-thin shoes yesterday was lancing its way up her leg, and her head pounded like she'd worked in the field all day under a summer sun without a single sip of water.

The pain in her head wasn't meant for her. Dela had never slaved away in a field, had never worked a day in the blazing summer sun. Her father was one of Killeglen's wealthiest and most influential men, second only to Lord Gautvin himself. She was practically a princess. Certainly more important and influential than Lord Gautvin's shut-in daughter.

And yet, here she was, in a field she didn't recognize, a large, flat space that didn't exist in the hilly, river-fed village of Killeglen. Her back was bent, and her head throbbed. She looked up, trying to ease the aches in her muscles, and saw someone at the side of the field watching her.

A man — at least, an entity shaped like a man. He had glowing blue eyes and shockingly pale skin. Not a fair complexion like Dela tried to maintain, but like the blood beneath his skin wasn't even red. He looked carved from marble, with fierce blue fires for eyes. When he saw her, his face twisted into a smile that could only be called so by the shape of his mouth. It held no humor or pleasure, no feeling or expression. It was just … nothing. Teeth gleamed from behind his marble lips.

In her bed just two doors down from the home of Lord Gautvin himself, Dela screamed.

***[image error]

Alf's head hurt from the day laboring in the field. He didn't know where he was or even recognize his own self. Blood oozed from his left shoulder and spilled down his side. Bones protruded through the ragged flesh where his left arm should've been. Pain nearly shocked him awake.

He didn't know how he'd lost his arm. He could feel the scrape of teeth and shredding of claws on his ribboned skin, but he couldn't see or remember what sort of beast had attacked him.

Even more disturbing were his surroundings. Large rocks, taller than they were wide. He counted them, hoping to distract himself from the pain. Twelve. A perfect dozen, set in a perfect circle around him. The blood smeared across each and every stone was his own. The stench of raw meat and warm copper clung to his nostrils.

It didn't make sense, fit like a square peg jammed into a round hole — small enough to go in, but not without scraping the sides.

This wasn't somewhere he'd ever been, somewhere he'd never seen.

Standing near him in the center of the circle was a strange and hideous creature. Man-shaped and bald, with glowing blue eyes and smooth white skin.

Broader than the rocks and just as tall, it could almost be mistaken for a statue — until the beast looked at him and smiled.

Napping under a tree after a hard day's work, Alf screamed.

[image error]***

Gautvin had blood on his hands.

He held them in the moving water of the Kille, scrubbing them together until the skin on his knuckles was shiny and red. But the blood wouldn't come off. He kept sensing motion at the edge of his vision, a sinister presence watching and waiting for its chance to leap on him and tear into his flesh, but whenever Gautvin turned his head, he saw only woods.

Unfamiliar, unnatural woods, full of trees dead and dripping with blood, branches ripped off, haphazardly shredded, then reattached to their trunks in places they weren't meant to go.

Blood bubbled up from the ground and stained the river water with red.

He felt the presence watching him again and turned. This time, there was someone there.

The angel.

Only he wasn't the same as Gautvin had seen before. He was taller, bigger than he'd ever been, and his eyes were glowing. Unlike everything else around him, he was not covered in blood. His skin seemed to glow white, brighter than the sun, shocking against the blood-red trees.

Gautvin started toward him, hands raised like a supplicant, dripping blood and water from fingertips and elbows. “Please,” he whispered, “speak to me.”

But the angel only smiled. His teeth were sharp.

Gautvin screamed.

***[image error]

In her bed, Imma slept soundly, unmolested by nightmares.

The post Excerpt: The Beast of Killeglen appeared first on Sterling & Stone.

Excerpt: The Mountain King

The first time Lance took a swing, the head of the sledgehammer sunk into the temporal boundary that surrounded the ship. It was like somebody grabbed it out of his hands.

He fell forward and splashed against the cold sphere. Like he was trying to pick it up out of its crater.

Lance growled in frustration. He spun around and eyed the sledge still hanging in the air.

It bobbed up and down like it was trying to shake his hand.

Drying blood spread from his belt to his knees. Stained the bottom of his shirt.

His queen still loved him.

He had screamed in horror and agony until he was hoarse and puking. Blood splattered the floor between his feet.

Then his queen forgave him. Healed him. Took away his pain.

Cammie grinned to show him his own blood in her teeth, then she had leaned forward, and the punishment had started anew.

Over and over, until he was exhausted.

When it was finally over, his queen healed him again. Cammie stood and walked to her corner, then his queen stood on her tiptoes. Kissed his wet cheek. Whispered in his ear.

“Open it.”

It was the greatest sexual experience of his life.

He wrestled the sledgehammer out of the bubble, being careful not to enter it himself, then he turned to strike.

The metal rang off the ship like an anchor chain dropping a link.

Chips flew into his face. Flecks of silver glass. They hit the barrier and froze in flight.

Lance pulled the hammer back. Swung with a grunt of effort.

He never wanted to disappoint his queen ever again. But he couldn't stop thinking about what might happen if he did.

The hammer struck with another shower of glass. Like the coating on the back of a mirror.

Lance lost track of the number of swings. He swiped blood out of his eyes. It was full of crystalline grit.

He wiped his hands on his pants. The fluid from the burst blisters mixed with the bloodstains.

Inside the bubble so near the ship, he could no longer hear the mind of his queen, but he could see her in his imagination. Her slight smile as she watched his punishment. Her tongue as it darted out between her parted lips.

He would be with her tonight. Lance would gain access to the ship and kill anybody who tried to enter.

He hammered on the ship, and the point of impact increased in diameter and depth with each swing. Chips flew, layers were exposed — glossy sheets of colored glass like hardened sediment.

Lance let the head hit the ground, then he leaned on the handle. Spots danced in front of his eyes. His lungs burned.

He worked his hips back and forth to release the sticky fabric of his underwear from his balls without using his hands. He was sweating like a linebacker in the red zone.

Lance leaned forward and put his hand in the jagged divot he'd created. No way to tell how much was left. The thing could be ten feet thick.

He thought about what she would do if he succeeded. What she would do if he failed.

Either way…

As Lance set his grip and heaved the hammer up for another round, the sky lit up like the sun bursting through a rain cloud.

He dropped the hammer and turned to look up.

Fire leaped into the air. White centered on a blinding flash of orange. The silhouette of the pear tree stood out in relief at the edge of the parking lot.

The church's tower tumbled over. Crumpled against the ground. The rumbling vibration hit before the sound washed over the bubble.

Lance pushed off the ship into an arrested run.

He was stuck in time.

The post Excerpt: The Mountain King appeared first on Sterling & Stone.