Sam Austin's Blog, page 8

Free Fiction Friday: Tell Me the Truth

Isaac saw the problem the moment he looked up. Following the crowd of heads gathered at the bottom of the building, he craned his neck to see a small figure perched precariously on the roof. They were far enough away to be nothing more than a dot, but from the hip length trails of white flowing around them he guessed it was a woman.

���She won���t let anyone near,��� said the officer beside him. He was young enough to look like a kid playing dress up, and full of twitching nerves. ���I was the first to the scene. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn���t even tell me her name. I think she���s going to jump.���

He sounded desperate, his eyes never leaving the figure on the roof. A kid with the weight of the world on his shoulders. If she jumped he���d blame himself. Isaac felt a twinge of sympathy. His short time as a negotiator had taught him a lot about having the weight of the world pressing you down.

���It���ll be fine,��� Isaac said, trying to catch the man���s eyes. ���She���ll be fine. You don���t have to worry.���

The officer���s eyes flickered to his. All at once the tension in his face vanished. He smiled a faintly dreamy smile. ���I guess not.���

And it would be fine, because Isaac was not your run of the mill negotiator. Technically he wasn���t any kind of negotiator. He���d taken some classes, sure, but he had to admit he���d skipped a few when bored, telling the relevant people he���d already passed. They���d believed him of course. Everyone believed Isaac.

This woman would be no different.

***

She stood on the edge of the rooftop staring down. She���s younger than he expected. Late teens. Her white blond hair whipped around her slim figure, giving her an otherworldly appearance. The toes of her combat boots curled over the side of the building.

A single step from death. Isaac took a deep breath and stepped out onto the roof.

���You���re not going to talk me out of it,��� the girl said, not looking away from the drop. The wind gave a violent gust, causing her to adjust her stance to avoid falling. The movement was elegant, toned muscles flowing under baggy camouflage trousers and black t-shirt. ���Like I told the other guys, I���ve made up my mind.���

Isaac paused, standing half way between her and the door back down to the building. ���I only want to talk.���

���Sure,��� she laughed, a wet sound. ���That���s what the other guy said.���

���I���m Isaac Marie,��� he tried, moving sideways so he could better see her face. ���Will you tell me your name?���

���A name���s not going to matter,��� she said, shrugging a shoulder. ���I���m OK with Jane Doe.��� Her muscles ripple with the movement, and it struck him what a waste all of this is. It must have taken years of hard work to shape such an athletic body, and she planned to throw it away all at once. How could such a drive of self improvement and self destruction exist in the same mind?

Frustration buzzed at the back of his head. One minute of eye contact and he could convince her of anything. He could tell her she was beautiful, loved, that life was worth living. She���d step back off the edge of that roof with a smile on her face, but first he needed her to look at him. ���It matters to me.���

She turned to look at him, her sharp edged features both pretty and powerful. The palest blue eyes he���d ever seen stared out at him from a chalk white face. His heart dropped. Her eyes were unfocused, looking through him instead of at him. She couldn���t see him, and if she couldn���t see him, then he had no influence over her.

***

���Please sweetheart,��� Isaac said. ���Walk over to me.��� Because he couldn���t not try. A lifetime of having people follow his every command is a hard habit to shake. And there���s nothing he wanted more in that moment than for this girl to be safe. That heavy feeling on his shoulders came back, crushing him. Usually he felt it because he knows that one misplaced word can cause life or death. When everyone follows your every word, then you learn fast to either control your tongue or stop caring. This time it was the opposite. Nothing he could say would make the girl do what he asked. He was powerless. It���s such a foreign feeling that his mind froze, not knowing what to do.

Suddenly he felt selfish, lower than low. It was something he hadn���t felt in a while since the day he decided to use his powers for good instead of getting a free ride out of the people of London. Who was he to think he could help people? If he hadn���t talked his way into this job, then it would be a real negotiator here. One with enough diligence to at least pay attention in class and earn the job title. He didn���t know what he was doing. He���d never had to. All he���d ever needed was eye contact and a few words and the person he was talking to would do anything he wanted.

���Not going to end that way,��� she said, something sad in those unfocused eyes. ���No matter what you say.���

With a thudding realization he knew he believed her. Nothing he could say could change things. She���d step off that roof and die. Healthy girl with a life of possibilities ahead to smashed corpse in seconds. An almost selfish feeling clamped over his heart, squeezing it. So used to getting what he wants, the idea that something he wanted as badly as saving her life not happening made him feel like crying. ���Please,��� he said, desperation flooding through him.

���Bane,��� she said after a moment. ���My name is Bane.���

He let out a breath. It wasn���t much, but it was something. And he���d gotten it without having any control over her. A stray piece of hope entered his mind, and he grabbed at it. Maybe he could do this without his influence. Maybe he could still talk her down.

It was the only way. Negotiators are hard to come by. Either he talked her down, or she died.

No pressure or anything���

���Bane,��� Isaac said. Because it was given freely the name felt like a gift on his lips. ���You don���t want to die. Whatever problems you���re going through. Whatever worries you have, I can help.���

She scowled in his general direction. Her sharp features gave the expression an even more severe edge. ���How do you know what I want!���

���I know it���s been twenty minutes and you haven���t stepped off that ledge,��� he said, hoping he was saying the right thing. Hoping he didn���t say something to push her that extra centimeter over the edge. ���Something is keeping you here. A part of you hopes there���s another way. And there is sweetheart. There���s another way.���

Bane shook her head, waist length hair shimmering with the movement. She turned back to look over the side, throat dipping as she swallowed. ���There���s no other way. This is the only way out. You don���t understand.���

���Then make me,��� he said, inching forward. ���Tell me why you���re up here. Help me understand.���

���All my life I���ve been bred for one purpose, and it���s not one I���ve ever wanted.��� She leaned forward, as if trying to see the far away dots of people on the street, even though she���s blind. ���I���ve done horrible things Isaac. Terrible things no little girl should ever do. And if I stay alive I���ll do even worse things. I���m not worth saving.���

���You are to me,��� Isaac said. ���You are to those people down there praying you���ll step back on this roof with me. If you don���t like the life you���re living then change it.���

She gave a dry laugh devoid of all humor. ���You don���t know my father.���

No, but he knew people like him. He knew people who controlled others lives like they were playthings. People who used hurt and manipulation to get what they wanted. People who would even use their own children as pawns to get their own way.

Isaac swallowed down the thoughts, tried to think what a negotiator would say. ���When you���re young it seems like your parents can control everything – the whole world. But when you grow up, in just a year or two your parents fall out of your lives. You���ll be free of them.���

Bane���s expression grew dark, her eyes even more unfocused. ���Like I said Isaac, you don���t know my father.��� She teetered slightly, like she was leaning into the sky in hope of some comfort.

���Things will get better Bane!��� Isaac shouted, taking another few steps closer. ���I promise.���

���That���s just a line Isaac! A fairy tale,��� Bane spun around on the tiny ledge, causing his heart to jump. Her dancer���s legs kept perfect balance when everyone else would have fallen. ���How do you expect me to hold out for a fairy tale? I thought you were real. I thought you���d tell me the truth.���

Bane opened her arms, leaning back into open air like she expected someone to catch her.

The truth? His life had been lie wrapped around lie for so long it was hard to remember what that was.

���You want the truth Bane?��� Isaac asked quickly.

She didn���t answer, but she stilled, arms wide and head leaned back. Her white blond hair flowed over the edge, fluttering wildly with each burst of wind.

���The truth is, for some that���s true,��� he said, heart hammering loudly in his chest. ���Some people shed their parents when they grow up, but for others like you and me, it���s not that easy, is it?���

She raised her head to look at him with unfocused eyes.

���Some parents control you, mold you until you���re not sure what���s you anymore.��� He swallowed the lump in his throat. ���And some parents really do seem to control the world, even when you do grow up.���

Silence for a moment, then she spoke, her voice quiet. ���So you���re going to tell me you can beat that? That you can still be you, when they want you to be someone completely different?���

���No,��� he said. ���Because sometimes that���s not true. Sometimes they change you so much that their you is the only one you have left. That person you���d thought you���d grow to be when you were a kid dies, and you become the kind of person your parents wanted.���

Bane closed her eyes, dropped her hands to her sides. ���Then what���s the point?���

���The point is sometimes that���s enough,��� Isaac said. ���Sometimes you have to let them have the big victories so that one day you can have the small ones. And maybe someday down the line you can hope to make some of the bigger victories and find who you were meant to be. You may never be the kind of person you hoped you���d be as a child, but you can accept the kind of person they want you to be. Live the life they want you to live, but do it your way. If your parents want you to be a surgeon, then sometimes you have to do it. But whether you���re a kind surgeon, a mean one, whether you���re an artist on the side or a football player. That���s up to you. You take the life they want you to have, and you twist it until it���s your own. You find that piece of yourself that kept you from jumping off this roof, and you hold onto it tight.���

She took a deep breath, eyes wavering open. ���What did your parents want you to be?���

Isaac fought the impulse to shake his head and step back into the building. She���d wanted the truth. ���Nothing,��� he said. ���They wanted me to be insignificant enough to not get in their way.���

���My father wants me to be everything,��� Bane said after a pause. ���His goals for me are so high, I���m scared I���ll fail, and I���m just as frightened I���ll succeed.���

���I���m not going to lie to you sweetheart,��� Isaac said. ���You could live a great life, or you could lead a horrible one and everything in-between. The only certainty is that if you step off that roof, then you���ll never know which one it will be.���

She looked back over her shoulder at the drop below. He wondered how much her unfocused eyes saw. She held out an arm over the edge, letting the wind rush through her fingers. Her expression was contemplative, longing.

Then she stepped back down, onto the roof. Her footsteps toward him were hesitant, even with the feline grace of her movements. She stopped before him, arms crossed over her chest. Her unfocused eyes were the only evidence she couldn���t see him.

She jutted out her chin, turning her head away. ���Thanks for being straight with me.���

Isaac smiled, relief warm in his chest. ���Thanks for listening.���

She pressed her pale lips together, hugging her elbows. ���What happens now?���

���Now comes the rest of your life,��� Isaac said softly. He looked at her, feeling pity. He could tell it would be a struggle. Something told him that her problems went beyond a normal teenager���s, as his had done. He would talk with her, and if he could he would help. But the day to day struggle that life can be was down to her. And maybe that was a good thing, because it���s only through our struggles that we find that piece of ourselves that really makes us, us, no matter the life we lead.

Book Review Wednesday: Shift (Virals book 2.5) 5 stars

For my reviews on the previous Virals books go to:

Book 1:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Book 2:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

This one is a short story. Only 80 pages. It took a while to get into for me, because the other books have only had Tory’s POV, and this one gets into all the Virals heads. This doesn’t mean it was bad. On the contrary, it was neat to see what they were thinking, especially Ben. It did take a few chapters to get used to it though.

We also get to see Temperance. She is one smart lady. All the adults in the previous books have been pretty clueless about what’s going on with the kids, but if anyone’s likely to work it out, it’ll be her. Good thing she’s not around often.

So, there’s been a break in at Loggerhead. Of course that means headstrong Tory HAS to sneak in and try to crack the case. She didn’t need to. Her Aunt Tempe is there for a visit and plans to do her own investigation. And it’s not like they can tell everyone they solved the case. Maybe it’s the thrill of solving the puzzle, or maybe she just wanted to be sure the thief wouldn’t get away with it. Either way, I wouldn’t want to be her friend and get dragged along on all these dangerous missions. They were in a crime scene that was just about to be searched! What if the wrong person noticed some evidence they left behind and accused them of the break in?

I enjoy these books, but sometimes they annoy me. It’s like part of me goes ‘cool, another law broken. Excitement!’ And another part of me wants to yell at them to ‘stop. Think about what they’re doing. Make a smart choice.’

Overall this book won me over. Five stars. It’s a fun little tale. The plot is simple, but with only 80 pages it had to be. I prefer sticking to Tory’s POV for the novels, but for this shorter story it was interesting to see how everyone’s thought processes worked. Tempe was a cool addition.

If you’ve enjoyed the other Viral books then check this one out. It’s worth a read. Word of warning though: if you haven’t read the previous books you’ll be hopelessly lost, so check out them first.

For more reviews on this book��go to:��https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1...

Free Fiction Friday: Prey

He watches her for three nights across the casino floor, and for three nights she watches him back.

She’s met types like him before. White guys who want a taste of what it’s like to be with a negro woman. Not anything long term you understand. No self respecting white man would go out in Las Vegas with a negro on his arm. There’d be talk, and sooner or later one of them – most likely the black woman – would end with a knife in their gut or a rope around their neck.

That’s just the way things work. Wasn���t much different before businesses started turning away blacks when the tourist trade took off and their new white customers complained. Sure she remembers when blacks and whites used to eat and gamble side by side. Some were even mighty friendly with each other, but romance, now that���s a different deal. Blacks marry blacks, and whites marry whites. She’s fine with that because it means more business for people like her.

She crosses one leg over the other, showing just enough skin to make a few heads turn her way, adams apples bobbing. She smiles rouged lips at the man. He ducks his head, a blush touching his pale cheeks.

He’s wearing a dark suit, neatly ironed with a silver watch chain disappearing into the front pocket. Rich, she thinks. How rich, she can’t tell, but she’s not letting this one get away. There’s a certain wide eyed innocence to him that reminds her of teenagers looking to get their first lay, even though she puts him in his twenties. You can’t always tell with the innocent looking ones, but she likes to think she’s learned a good eye for these things. And he looks sweet as a button.

She pauses, wondering if she really wants such an innocent guy tonight. It seems wrong with what she has planned. She inwardly shakes her head. He’s an out of towner and a docile one at that. She can’t pass that up.

She gets up, walking over to the bar where he nurses a whiskey. Slipping onto the stool beside him she gives him a smile.

Hesitantly he smiles back. Handsome too. White teeth, and bright blue eyes set under the darkest head of hair she’s ever seen.

“I’m Marie,” she says, giving the name she always tells people on occasions like this. “Thought I’d better introduce myself since you’ve been staring at me so long.”

He blushes again, chalk white skin turning a bright red. It’s fascinating to watch. Living here in the desert, even when she comes face to face with white folks they’re never this pale. She wonders what part of the world he comes from where they have so little sun.

“Jermaine,” he says, holding out a hand. His voice has a peculiar quality that takes her a while to work out.

It comes to her while she’s giving his hand a firm shake – a firm handshake can do wonders to show a man you won’t take any funny business. “That accent. Canadian?”

“Near enough there,” he says, taking another swallow of whiskey.

He avoids her eyes. She wonders if they have any black folks in Canada. She wonders if he’s ever seen a black woman in his life before coming here. She wonders if they have any hookers.

He’s in over his head, the poor guy. But that just makes him the perfect guy for her needs.

“So why exactly have I been feeling your eyes all over me the past few nights?” she asks, giving him a sly smile. She props her head on an elbow, edging closer.

His eyes fix on the glass, fingers twitching around it. Pretty eyes. An intense blue that stands out against his white skin and black hair. They make him look like he���s concentrating real hard over something.

She tilts her head to catch those eyes. Gives him a smile she hopes looks kind. He���s as nervous as a girl on her first date. It must have taken him a lot of courage to come to west Las Vegas, and this little casino crawling with blacks. It���s not a bad place, but it���s a far cry from what they have in the white parts of the city.

���You want to get away from here?��� She asks in a voice low enough that only he would hear. ���Go back to my place?���

His eyes skitter wildly around the room, anywhere but her. For a moment she thinks he might run. Then he closes his eyes, gripping the glass so hard she���s surprised it doesn���t break. He takes a deep breath, lets it out, nods.

She has him wrapped around her little finger. Her mark. Her paycheck. Her prey.

***

Jermaine sits on a moth-eaten couch, wiping sweating palms over his slacks. If only he could stop his heart beating so fast. His head pounds with rushing blood. He doesn���t understand why he���s reacting like this. It���s not like it���s his first time. But the times before were different. This time it was him who sought her out. His choice that set things in motion.

A hand closes around his own. He glances up to see her looking down at him with sympathy on her face. Her other hand holds out a glass full of some kind of dark spirit.

���Hey,��� she says, perching on the arm of the couch. ���You know anything that happens here is your choice. We can spend the night talking if that���s all you want to do. You don���t have to be nervous.���

He shifts on the couch, moving his eyes around the small living room. Bare walls, sparse furniture. Not what he���d expected from someone like her. ���I���m not afraid of you.���

She smiles, showing neat rows of white teeth. ���Good, because I don���t bite.���

Laughter bubbles up in his throat. He takes the offered glass, not caring what it is, downs it to drown the laughter before it escapes. It burns his throat. “How many of your customers do you bring back to your place like this?”

“Why?” Her smile turns flirtatious. “Are you jealous?”

Jermaine places the empty glass on the couch, there not being anywhere else to put it. There’s nothing wrong with what he’s about to do, he tells himself. He tries to give her a smile back, but smiles have been hard to come by of late. “Why would I be-”

He gasps, head thumping. The room unfocuses around him, pulsing closer, then further away. Marie turns away, her figure swimming in his vision.

He grasps for her, but his hand flops, dead in his lap. Without anything to hold onto, he falls back into darkness.

***

“The drink,” Jermaine slurs as he wakes up. “Drugged the drink. Didn’t expect…”

He trails off blinking up at the ceiling. A bare bulb hangs above him. There’s something wrong here. It takes a sluggish moment for his brain to wake up enough to tell him what it is.

His hands and feet don’t feel right. He tries to bring a hand in front of his face, but it moves no closer than his side, something tightening around the wrist. He tries his feet with the same result. Tied down. Pinned as helpless as a hog tied pig carried to slaughter.

He cranes his neck catching sight of floral curtains, a sink full of dirty dishes. It’s so normal, so domestic, it makes him pause. Tied to a kitchen table and drugged. It’s the drugging that confuses him most. If she wants to kill him, then why drag it out?

“And I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon.” Her voice comes from the right. He turns his head to see her standing the doorway, a knife in one hand and a bucket in the other. She tilts her head at him in a way that might have been attractive, had he not been tied to her kitchen table. “I hoped you’d sleep through this.”

Funny, now that he’s in danger, he’s not the least bit nervous. Scared maybe, but not nervous. “So you’re a humanitarian psychopath?”

Her eyes widen, looking hurt. She sets down the bucket. “I’m not some kind of monster.”

“Really?” He twists his neck, holding her eyes despite the pain that shoots through his muscles in protest. “Then why do you have a knife? And why am I tied to a table?”

Her brow creases as she looks down at the weapon in her hand. Her brown eyes flicker to his, and then away. “You’re not the sweet spoken guy I thought you were.”

“Next time I’m drugged and tied to a table I’ll make a note to be more polite,” Jermaine says through clenched teeth. A thought pounds at the back of his mind. If he doesn’t get out of here there won’t be a next time for anything. “It’s not like you told me the truth about yourself.”

Her rouged lips press together tight, then she starts toward him again. She lifts the knife. “This won’t hurt,” she says, not looking at him. “Scream if you want. People around here are used to screams.”

Jermaine lets out a breath, tries to get his body to calm down. He keeps his eyes fixed on hers, trying to get her to look at him – not at what his right hand is doing. “Before you do that I’ve a confession to make. You’ve got to allow a religious man a confession, right?”

She pauses, knife wavering in her hand. Something soft comes over her eyes that suggests she’s religious too. But that can’t be right. If she were a follower of God that knife wouldn’t be in her hand.

He gives her a grim smile. “I haven’t been truthful with you either.”

Then he jerks his arm up, bursting through the frayed rope. Own knife held tight in his fist, he stabs at her.

She jumps back with inhuman speed, and his fatal blow cuts across her arm instead. She drops her knife on the table, hissing with pain. The wound smokes, the edges taking a blackened appearance. She bares her teeth at him, long canines ruining what once was a perfect set of teeth.

“Vampire,” he says. “I thought so when I saw you in the casino. You move like one.”

Marie hunches over her arm, glaring at the knife. “Where did you get that?”

He glances down at the knife fondly. It’s an old blunt looking thing. Pure iron, or near enough that. The softness of the metal means it’s covered in dents. Fragile, and powerful, at least against monsters.

“Family heirloom,” he says, picking up the knife she dropped to cut through the rest of his bonds. It cuts through the ropes with ease, but he knows short of cutting off her head with it, her knife won’t kill her. Not like his.

She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “A hunter?”

He points both knives at her. “A monster.”

“I’m not a monster,” she says, shaking her head, eyes sparking with indignation. “I wasn’t going to kill you. I was just-”

“Just going to drain my blood?” Jermaine pushes himself off the table, standing before her. The bucket sits empty by his feet. “How many men have you lured here. How many have you killed?”

“You’ve got things all wrong!” Marie shouts. Her eyes are desperate, pleading, saying scared woman in need of help. But those fangs say monster. “I had to.”

Jermaine drops her knife into the bucket, holding his dented one. The makeshift handle feels familiar in his hands. “Vampires don’t need to kill humans. They just want to. That’s what makes them monsters.”

“Sometimes animal blood isn’t enough,” she says, holding out her hands in front of her. The blackened skin has spread out, tracing veins from the middle of her forearm, up to her elbow, and down to her wrist. “When they’re sick. If they’re really sick human blood is the only way they get better. Otherwise they die.”

Jermaine hesitates. He’s come across a lot of vampires, and never heard that one before. It seems like an excuse, like all the others he’s heard. “You don’t look sick.”

She tenses. “I wasn’t going to kill you. I was planning on taking what I needed and leaving. You would have woken up with a headache and a healthy appreciation not to trust a pretty stranger. I don’t kill.”

“All monsters kill.” Jermaine lunges toward her. One stab through the heart. Then she won’t get up again. She won’t kill again. It’s his job now.

She dodges, moving so fast her figure seems to blur. This isn���t going to be easy, but he���s not here for easy. He���s here to prove to himself that he can do it. He���s strong. He has what it takes to do what���s right.

���Not me!��� She shouts, her eyes wide with desperation. Her face is a lie; pretty and normal. It makes him hate her more. ���Please. Please, don���t make me do this. I don���t want to hurt you.���

He runs toward her, his movements smooth from years of practice. He’s done this before, he reminds himself again. But this time he won’t be taken in by words from a monster with a pretty face. “Liar!”

She dodges again, but this time he smiles. They’ve traded places, him by the doorway, and her trapped in the kitchen. No way out, not even a window to crawl through. The only escape is through him, and he’s ready.

She looks toward him, blanching as that knowledge dawns on her. Then she runs toward him, fangs bared and face full of panic.

It’s almost too easy. She’s not thinking straight because she doesn’t try to dodge the knife. It slips into the cartilage above her heart smoothly for such an old weapon, but this is what the knife is made for.

Her flesh smokes, melting black where around the iron. The hilt hits her breast bone with enough force to push Jermaine into the opposite wall. He grunts, holding onto the weapon with both hands, even when his back thuds into the hard surface. Her necklace bursts in a shower of silver charms.

It takes a moment for her to realize she’s dying. Her brown eyes open wide, staring at him as if asking for pity. He forces himself to choke down the feelings that rise up along with bile in his throat. Forces himself to watch as the life leaves her eyes.

She slumps backward on her kitchen floor with a squelching sound as the knife slides out of her chest. Black fluid spills from the wound, spreading over her dress.

He lowers his knife to his side, staring at her. There’s a slow dripping sound as black falls from the weapon to the floor. Her mouth, slightly open in surprise, shows only perfectly normal teeth. She looks human. He hopes that the part of her that was once human can now find some peace.

One less monster in the world. His job here is done.

“Mommy?” asks a small voice.

He snaps his eyes up from the body. In the doorway to the kitchen stands a little girl. She’s small; maybe around four. A thin white nightgown hangs from her slight frame. Frizzy brown hair clings to her forehead with sweat. Even though her skin is as dark as her mother’s he can tell it’s flushed with fever.

“Mommy?” she asks again, looking down at the body with confusion. Her impossibly big eyes are bright enough with sickness that he doubts she understands what she’s seeing.

His stomach drops, but he forces his arm to raise the knife. A monster is a monster, even if she’s a child as well. One stab to the heart. She won’t even feel a thing.

Her dazed eyes catch sight of the movement, and she looks up at him and screams. He pauses, the knife inches from her tiny chest. His heart clenches.

She staggers backward, tripping over her own feet. Shuffling away from him, she starts to cry.

He takes a deep breath. He knows what she is. He knows he has to kill her. But he can’t.

She’s so little, so scared. So human.

He raises his knife again, then lowers it. He can’t do it. Even though he knows it’s best for her, the only way to put the little soul she has at peace. He’s not strong enough.

For the first time he notices the overwhelming reek of the room. The tang of copper and burnt flesh rushes at him, mixing with the all too human smell of sickness from the girl. Jermaine looks down at the body again and for a moment sees not a target or a monster, but a desperate mother trying to save her child. What could be more human than that?

He scrubs the thought away, but it lingers like he knows the stench of fear and death will. He stumbles past the child, wanting to get as far away as possible from the crying, and the death and doubts.

Book Review Wednesday: Dreamcatcher (Stephen King) 3.5 stars

I watched the film of this book with my dad, and he gave up part way through and walked out. I saw why. While it still had a grip over me like most Stephen King does, it was WEIRD.

People poop out scary weasel-snake things with dozens of sharp little teeth. Weird. Also very gross. One of the main characters spends a lot of time hiding in his head from an alien, also in his head. The film was a muddled bunch of different storylines. You had our guy hiding in his head, another guy doing mostly unmemorable stuff, and flashbacks from when the men were kids and met another kid who seems to have some kind of gift.

The book still had all of these things, but it had a lot more room to wind them together into a cohesive and understandable storyline. So if you like Stephen King but couldn’t get your head around the film, try the book. It makes a lot more sense and I found it a lot more enjoyable. I’m even considering going back to the film now I’ve read the book to see if I understand it better.

Having said that, this isn’t one of his best books. I don’t think it’s terrible like some think. I found it enjoyable enough, but it was only a decent read, not a brilliant one. If you like most Stephen King like I do, then you might want to give this a go. If you’re relatively new to Stephen King and looking for a book to see if you like his work then DON’T choose this one. I’d recommend the book IT to a first time reader used to reading mammoth books, or if you’re looking for something shorter maybe take a look at ‘The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon,’ ‘Firestarter,’ ‘The Dead Zone’ or ‘Carrie.’ ‘Cujo’ is also one of my favorites of his, but not a lot of people agree with me about that one.

Back to this book. The characters were interesting, but didn’t seem as developed as other books of his. The plot was readable, but in no way mind blowing. All in all I’d call this a decent book if you love all things Stephen King, but don’t expect brilliance. It’s not one that I regret reading though. I enjoyed it, and there were moments that I really liked, such as the flashbacks. The boy’s friendship with Duddits was heart warming. The clash between the aliens and the military raised interesting questions as to what might actually happen in that situation.

Overall 3.5 stars. For more reviews on this book check out:��https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1...

 

Free Fiction Friday: Men Make the Worst Monsters

“I have a family,” the man babbles as he’s dragged into the hut that serves as our prison.

I look up with only mild interest. My head swims from the heat and lack of water. I’ve been here three days since getting separated from my unit somewhere in the New Guinea forests. I’ll be dead soon, or worse. The world starts to get less interesting when you learn there are worse things than death.

The Japs drop him on the dirt floor, laughing. One of them aims a kick at him before he leaves, shutting the bamboo door behind him. Bamboo, Christ. To think we’re being kept in this hell by something that looks so flimsy, but it’s not. Bamboo fools you that way. It looks as easy to break as twigs, but it’s damn difficult. And when it’s all stacked together like the walls of our hut, well, you might as well try breaking a brick wall.

The man pushes himself up on his forearms, scanning the room. His mouth is bloodied, and his face is covered in sweat. He looks past me, to the left wall and his eyes widen.

“That’s Johnson,” I say, not looking. I don’t want to look. “Seventeen. Lied about his age to sign up. Good kid.”

The man looks at me, his eyes wide as saucers. He’s in his thirties I think. Black hair, and bright eyes a strange shade of blue that looks violet. A real looker with the ladies I bet. The war hasn’t taken that from him yet. It will though. War takes everything.

“What did that to him?” He asks, pushing himself to his feet. I’m surprised by the fluidity of the movement. He’s strong. Thought everyone was pretty beat to hell by all this fighting.

Despite myself I glance over at Johnson. Don’t want to look, but I keep doing it. It’s like passing a bad accident, can’t stop but take a peek. He’s sleeping, head slumped against the corner of the hut. No words strong enough to describe how happy I am to see that. I hope he never wakes up.

His arm is gone almost to the shoulder. The stump left is black with gangrene. It smells foul. Moved house as a kid once. Only when we got to the new place a bird or a rat must have gotten in and started rotting. We never did find it. This is worse because I can see it right there in front of me.

I try not to look too close. Maggots wriggle around, eating at the wound. I tried to tell the kid that’s a good thing. That they’re eating all the dead tissue and leaving the healthy stuff, but he cries when they fall off and he sees them.

“Japs did it,” I say, without any real feeling to the words. Sure, when I first saw what they did to the kid I was mad, but now it’s like I don’t have the energy to feel anything. Because yesterday there were five of us, and now with the new guy there’s three. I’m next. “Think they’re eating us. After they take something, I smell meat cooking and sometimes they come and offer us some of it. They laugh when they do that.”

The new guy shivers, but he doesn’t look as scared as he should be. He doesn’t look as scared as I was. “I’m Jermaine Crystal,” he says, holding out a hand toward me.

I reach up and shake it. His grip is so much stronger than mine. “Edward King. Wish I could say it was nice to meet you Jermaine.”

He crouches down in front of me. “These Japs. Are you sure they’re human?”

I laugh. ���That���s the big question isn���t it? Is the guy I���m shooting at a person like me, or a monster? What about Hitler? I���m not so sure about him with all the stories I���ve been hearing lately.���

���No,��� Jermaine shakes his head, stares at me with utter intensity. ���What I mean is are they HUMAN?���

I think I���d worry about the guy���s sanity if I wasn���t past worrying about my own. The guy can be crazy if he wants. Heck, I���m starting to think losing your sanity���s a requirement in wartime. Taking your sanity into battle is like carrying a barrel of ice to the north pole; useless, and likely to drag you down to your death.

���Learned in this war people can do a lot of terrible things. I don���t think you need to look to the devil for answers.��� I glance over at Johnson again. His sleep is uneasy. ���Sometimes men make the worst monsters.���

He looks at me for a while with those intense eyes. There���s something not quite right about him. His face is boyish and handsome, made for smiling, but his expression is so serious I can���t believe he���s smiled a day in his life. Then he stands up, looking about our prison.

���You got a family?��� I ask, wanting to take his mind off whatever thoughts are rattling around in there. I know he does. I heard him when they dragged him in.

���I did,��� he says. There���s a heaviness to the words. ���A sister. Now it���s just me and my brother in law. He���s my family.���

I���m struck by the queerness of it. Why would he be babbling about his family when he was dragged in when he has so little? Maybe he was trying to get their sympathies. Can���t fault him for that. We can use all the sympathy we can get right about now.

���I���ve got a little girl,��� I say, a heavy smile settling on my face. ���Sixteen years old. The most beautiful girl on the planet next to my wife. Good as gold too. She minds her mother well, and she makes the best strawberry pie. Think I���d die happy if I had one more piece of that pie.���

I sigh, strawberry, pastry and cream dancing on my dried out tongue. Rebecca���s face smiles down at me, her eyes sparkling with joy at her daddy being home. Can���t bear to think what���ll happen when that letter comes through telling them I���m not coming back. There���ll be tears I bet. Don���t want to think about my girls crying.

A groan sounds to my left. Johnson waking up. Poor kid. He���s not much older than my Rebecca, and I can���t imagine my sweet girl anywhere near this horror. ���Promised to take Johnson back to America to meet my Rebecca. You hear that Johnson? You survive this, I���ll introduce you to the prettiest girl you���ll ever see.���

He blinks at me a moment, his eyes bright with fever, and skin a dull gray. Then his mouth twitches into an attempt at a smile. Jesus, don���t know how he manages to keep himself together like that. ���Got to be prettier than you at least,��� he says in that funny Australian accent of his.

Never saw many Aussies before I came to New Guinea. But I figure, if some of them are as strong as Johnson they aren���t a bad bunch. I wish more than anything I could pick him up, and appear magically in my little home town back in Maine. I���d get him to a hospital, see him fixed up. He���d lose the last of his arm I bet, but if he keeps his humor he���ll be all right. My wife and girl would coo over him until he turns a permanent red from blushing so much. And maybe when he healed up I���d take him fishing. It���d be nice to see him enjoy himself – let him be a kid for a while.

���There are too many patrols,��� Jermaine says, peering through the gaps in the bamboo wall. ���We���ll need to wait until after dark if we can.���

For a long moment my drifting mind can���t make sense of the words, then they click together. I try to laugh, but it comes out as a dry chuckle. ���You���re thinking of escaping?���

He glances between me and Johnson. His eyes rest on the kid longest. ���Only way he���s going to see that girl of yours.���

Johnson stares, looking like he���s only picking up half the words. I feel rotten saying the words in front of him, but I do it anyway. ���Others have tried. There���s no way out that doesn���t end with a bullet to the back, or a sword to the neck.���

Johnson���s face crumples.

���Ah hell,��� I say, and crawl over to him. I pull him gently into my arms like I do for my Rebecca when she has a nightmare or the girls at school pick on her. His skin is scalding against my neck, and he smells of decomposing things. I want to rock him and tell him it���ll be all right, but I���m not sure it will, and I���m mindful of his arm. He���s stiff in my arms, not so gone from fever to accept comfort yet. But I don���t let him go. I���m holding him just as much for me as I am him.

Jermaine walks over to us, crouches by us. He places a hand to Johnson���s fevered face, checking him like a mother does a child. Except, when I untuck the boy���s head from under my chin, I see no compassion in his expression. Instead he looks thoughtful.

���I wouldn���t come here if I didn���t think I could find a way out,��� he says, giving us both a level look.

Shock runs through me, making my heart thump wildly in my chest. That shocks me again. Didn���t think I had the energy left for such strong feelings.

���Rescue?��� Johnson asks, the hope in his voice enough to bring tears to my eyes.

I stare at Jermaine, trying to tell him with my eyes that he better not be telling lies. Johnson can’t take that, and neither can I. To go home. To see my girls again. It opens a hungry need inside me deeper than any I’ve felt before.

“Rescue,” he says, the word beautiful.

“Where’s the rest of your unit?” I ask. Johnson stares at me in disbelief, like I’ve just questioned a god.

“We separated when I was captured,” Jermaine says, the words calm. Like it was all on purpose. All part of the plan. My suspicions spark like fireworks.

Johnson speaks up before I can ask anything else, his voice bright and eager despite his wound. “What do you want us to do?”

***

When dark comes Johnson is the most awake I’ve ever seen him. He watches with wide fevered eyes as Jermaine reveals a knife hidden at the small of his back. It’s the most pathetic looking knife I’ve ever seen – dents cover the small dark blade. The handle is wrapped in a strip of cloth torn from someone’s clothing. Only the scabbard looks mildly robust, made from stiff leather and too large for the tiny blade.

I peer outside. Something has got the Japs riled up. Don’t know what. Part of me hopes it’s Jermaine’s unit come to save the day, but I think that’s nothing but a hopeless dream. We’re deep in the forest here, and I don’t see why or how a unit would march through miles of enemy territory to rescue a few soldiers they couldn’t even be sure were there.

But Jermaine got here somehow.

“How did you know we were here?” I ask, trying to keep my suspicions out of my voice. I may not believe he’s here to save us, but Johnson sure does. The kid is as wide eyed as a small child at Christmas. I don’t want to say the words that will turn him back into a zombie waiting for death.

“There’s rumors all over about this place,” Jermaine says, fraying the ropes holding together the door with that little knife of his. “Most think it’s nothing but a story. They don’t think humans could treat other humans like this. So I decided I had to check it out for myself.”

“With your unit?” I ask, my voice steady.

He pauses, then nods. “Yeah, with my unit.”

Outside the Japs shout to each other in alarmed voices. There’s the spattering of gunfire from the trees. Someone screams.

“Is that them?” Johnson asks. He’s breathing heavy, but the smile on his face is genuine. ���Your unit?”

“Sure,” Jermaine answers, shrugging a shoulder. ���It might be.”

The Japs come out of the forest, some running. They gather in a tight circle in the middle of the tiny village of huts. Jermaine stops cutting the ropes, watching them.

“We have to put that fire out,” he says, pointing through the wall at the large fire crackling away in the center of the village beside the men.

I frown. The Japs are all huddled around the fire, staring out into the trees that circle the tiny village. It’s not much further to the tree line than it is to the fire, and I see no Japs out there. “Can’t we just make a run for it while they’re distracted?”

“No,” Jermaine gives me a firm shake of his head, still working at the ropes. Something must have really caught the Japs attention for them not to notice him for so long. “We’ll never make it. There are more of them out in the forest.”

I stare out at the circle of Japs by the fire. Jermaine’s right that there are less of them, maybe half, but something tells me that if they’re out in the forest they won’t be bothering us anymore. The men by the fire grip their guns with white knuckles. Their faces are a strained mixture of determined and terrified.

There’s something bothering me about all this, and that’s when I realize it. There wasn’t enough gunfire. A few erratic bursts at best. Like something in the dark caught them before they could fire a shot. I shiver.

“There.” The door leans away from its frame enough to squeeze out. I look out into the darkness, at the Jap’s scared faces gleaming under the flickering fire. I’m not so sure I want to go out there, but it isn’t like staying in here is an option.

“You go first Johnson,” Jermaine says. His lips try for a smile, but even in this poor light I see it never reaches his eyes. “Run toward the tree line. We’ll put out the fire and follow you.”

Johnson nods, his eyes full of fevered hope. “We’re really going to go home? I get to see my mom again?”

“Sure,” Jermaine says. “Just make some noise out there. Draw them away from the fire so we can put it out.”

“I don’t like this,” I say. “He can barely stand. Let me go with him.”

���I need you to help me put out the fire,” Jermaine nods toward it. it’s a decent sized fire, but with all the commotion hasn’t been tended to in a while. it’s burning low, most of it ash. A bucket or two of dirt will be enough.

I still I don’t like this. I don’t see why we need to bother with the fire. The Japs aren’t paying us any attention, and the fire is the only thing keeping pitch black at bay. If we’re quiet we can slip away into the night. they won’t notice we’re gone for a couple hours, maybe not even till morning.

And something’s out there in the woods. Something that scares me almost as much as the Japs. I don’t like sending Johnson out there alone.

“I can do this,” Johnson says, as if sensing my worries. his face is gray and slick with sweat, but he holds himself like he must have done before I met him, when he had two arms. He gives me the sweet smile of child reassuring a parent before they disappear through the gates on their first day at school. “And then later, you can introduce me to your daughter. Like you talked about.”

A lump forms in my throat. He’s right. Jermaine came all this way to rescue us. He wouldn’t do anything that would put us in more danger. And maybe he knows something we don’t. If he thinks putting out the fire is the only way we get out of here, then I should do it – for Johnson, for my girls.

“Don’t die,” I tell him.

Johnson gives me a tired smile, one that looks so out of place with his arm rotting away. “I’ve stayed alive this long. no point dying now.”

I nod, and he shuffles through the door Jermaine holds open. We crawl out soon after, but the darkness has already swallowed him whole. I want to call him back, or to go after him. Jermaine grabs my arm, pulls me to the other side of the hut. He pushes a bucket of dirt into my hands.

“You get that fire out whatever it takes,” Jermaine says. “I’ll take care of any lingerers.”

His voice is calm, that of someone who knows what he’s doing. But his orders don’t make sense. The light from the fire is low enough that I barely make out movement that may or may not be Johnson. The Japs don’t seem to notice. if we were to crawl to the tree line we’d be just as invisible.

Maybe the dehydration messed with my head more than I thought. Maybe I’m not seeing something he’s seeing. I don’t know, but I don’t like it.

There’s a shout from the darkness by the tree line Johnson disappeared toward. The Japs look at each other, the fire light warping their faces into those of monsters. One of the older ones barks an order and half the group peels off into the darkness. That leaves four left, staring after the others.

They don’t think to send anyone to look at the prisoner hut. Maybe their minds are so focused on the forest they’ve forgotten about us. Or maybe they just can’t imagine we’d be a threat to them.

Jermaine gets to his feet, and I follow his lead.

We creep through the darkness behind them. They’re so intent on the tree line they don’t notice us until I upend my bucket of dirt over the fire. The flames sizzle in protest, shrinking, but they don’t go out.

They spin around, eye wide with shock and fear. Three guns find me, lit up by the flames, I freeze. I’m a sitting duck, standing bare meters away from them.

Jermaine grabs the older one by the back of his neck, pressing his knife to the man’s throat. I see a line of blood trickle down the Jap’s throat. The three others snap their guns toward him, eyes almost as bright and feverish as Johnson’s.

“The fire!” Jermaine snaps.

I scrabble at the weak flames, beating at them with my hands and feet. The Japs yell once they see what I’m doing, sounds like protests. I feel those guns point at me again, imagine their scared fingers closing over the triggers.

My burning hands pull dirt over the last of the embers and darkness falls.

Then the screams start.

They come from all different directions, like the Japs scattered as soon as they sensed what was coming. There’s a flash of gunfire to my right, and I look in time to see a hint of pointed teeth, and bright green eyes. I scramble backward, stumble to my feet, but before I can run to the tree line something grips my arm.

I pull away, panicked, imagining those rows of bright teeth ripping into my flesh. I’m stunned when my fist collides with warm skin and not fur.

“Don’t run,” Jermaine’s voice says through the darkness. “Sometimes he gets confused about which throats to rip. Stay close to me and no sudden movements.”

I freeze, trembling. “We were supposed to escape,” I babble, not making much sense even to myself. “We were putting out the fire so we could run. You said.”

I can’t see him through the black, but I feel his cold eyes on me. “We didn’t need to get out. We needed to let something in.”

The screams feel like they go on for hours, but it must only be a minute or two. My ears pick up other things too, standing in the dark. The gurgle of blood as someone dies. The low growls of an animal. It sounds big. Powerful.

The last of the screams cut off, but the low breathy sounds of an animal get louder, closer. I smell blood and wet dog. Heat rolls off something large nearby. I bite my tongue so I don’t scream.

Jermaine leans away, and I panic, thinking he’s going to let me go. To leave me alone with the beast. He straightens up, his grip never leaving my arm, and suddenly there’s a light in my face so bright I can’t see.

The light shifts away, but I almost wish it hadn’t. There, lit up by the clunky torch in Jermaine’s hand is the biggest dog I’ve ever seen. In fact it doesn’t look like a dog at all. It looks like a wolf.

Its green eyes fix on me and it growls. The brown fur on its chin and chest drip blood. It���s got to be eighty kilograms, and all of it solid muscle. Its bright teeth end in pin points sharp enough to slip through muscle like knives through butter.

I move to back away, but Jermaine’s grip tightens around my arm.

“No sudden movements,” he says. “Let him realize you’re with me. That you’re a friend.”

He puts an emphasis on the last word that doesn’t seem intended for me. The wolf stops growling, and sniffs the air like it���s tasting my scent. Then it turns away. With a dry mouth I see some kind of bag strapped over its shoulder blades. I don���t understand how such a fierce looking beast can belong to anyone, but it seems it does.

Jermaine lets go of my arm. “He should be all right now. Just don’t run, and don’t get angry.”

I’m trying to work out why I’d get angry when I feel like all I’ll ever know is fear, then I remember. “Johnson. Where’s Johnson?”

I step forward on numb legs, toward where I heard the kid shout from. The wolf eyes me suspiciously, but lets me pass. Jermaine follows with the torch.

We step over dead bodies, all with their throats ripped out. They stare up at the night sky in frozen terror. I glance at their faces only long enough to see they aren’t the kid.

I spot him lying alone on the edge of the tree line. His stump of an arm writhes under the light of the torch, alive with maggots. “Johnson?” I ask, but there’s no reply. I realize I wasn’t expecting one, otherwise why would I have been searching for a body and not a live person?

I slump to my knees by his side. He’s on his front, like something came up behind him. The ragged remains of his uniform are ripped, and the light from the torch reflects back from the sticky mess of blood pooled at his throat. His eyes stare back at the camp, like he was looking for me, hoping I���d come and save him.

What could have been flashes over my eyes like a fevered dream. Johnson smiling from a clean hospital bed, waiting for his mother to wrap him in her arms and take him home. My wife fussing over him like a mother hen. My dear shy Rebecca talking to him about books, movies, opening up to him enough so they tease each other like the children they are. Johnson getting the chance to die an old man in his bed, a loving wife by his side, not a scared kid still dreaming of his mother���s arms.

���You sent him out here!��� I shout, my head snapping up to Jermaine. ���He trusted you and you sent him out here to die.���

The wolf snarls, pulling its lips away from those needle sharp teeth.

���Don���t get mad,��� Jermaine says, looking at me so calm I could scream, before placing a hand on the animal���s head. ���My brother doesn���t like it.���

I look at those green inhuman eyes, then at Jermaine���s intense ones. Both of them crazy. Both of them monsters.

���Why?��� I ask in a small voice. ���Why did you do it?���

���I had to send someone as a distraction,��� Jermaine says. ���And both of us were needed to put the fire out. It���s a long walk back to our lines. He would have died anyway.���

I close my eyes, trying to expel the image of Johnson���s scared face form my mind. It stays, like it���s permanently etched into the back of my eyelids. Like it���ll stay there for the rest of my life. ���We could have escaped. We didn���t need to put out the fire. You didn���t need to kill them. They wouldn���t have come after us.���

There���s a whimper. I look down at Johnson, hoping, but it���s not him. It comes from somewhere in the black, closer to the tree line.

The wolf peels off from Jermaine���s side, and the light from the torch follows it. I wait in the dark a moment by Johnson, before stumbling to my feet and following them.

A Jap. He���s half dead from a rip in his throat that bubbles blood. His eyes widen when he sees the wolf.

���They���re human,��� Jermaine says, looking down at the man. ���With all the stories I didn���t expect that. Usually I don���t hunt humans.���

My blood turns ice cold in my veins, wondering whether he���s just crazy or something more. I can deal with crazy. Everyone goes crazy in war, some like these Japs more than most. Humans can be scary beasts. That���s why I never bought into the idea of supernatural things like monsters. Humans are monstrous enough on their own without looking for other creatures to pin all the bad stuff on.

The wolf turns to look up at Jermaine with a questioning look.

Jermaine shrugs, looking down at the terrified man with no expression. ���Kill them anyway. All of them.���

It hits me that this was never about rescue. Jermaine didn���t come for us. He came to kill them, whatever he���d thought they were at the time. I shudder as the wolf tears out the man���s throat. He tries to scream, but only manages weak cries. His hands beat once against the animal���s fur, then convulse and lie still.

We stand in the dark and listen to the screams as the wolf picks off the stragglers one by one. I put my hands over my ears, but it doesn���t help. And all the while Jermaine stays as calm as anything, like he didn���t just kill a kid, like we aren���t listening to humans get hunted down like animals. This is normal for him, and later I can���t imagine he���ll feel any regret about any of it.

Looking at him I know it���s true. Sometimes humans make the worst monsters.

Book Review Wednesday: Seizure (Virals 2) 4 stars

My review of Virals 1:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

I’m a fan of Kathy Reichs Temperance Brennan series, which is how I got into these younger books. They’re a lot of fun, but they are definitely aimed at a younger age group, so be warned. They remind me a lot of the Famous Five series I used to love as a kid. Teenagers get involved in crazy adventures, and somehow make it out to save the day. Totally unrealistic, but fun!

While the book starts with a recap, you’re still going be pretty confused if you haven’t read the first book. Check out the above link if you want to read what I thought of that one. The characters are fun. The main character Tory is a bit of a Mary Sue at times. That can get a little annoying. But at least she has agency. Sure, she’s suspiciously good at a lot of stuff for a teenager, and seems too sure of herself at times, but she is definitely not a damsel in distress.

So I wouldn’t call her a total Mary Sure. Others will have different definitions, but to me a true Mary Sue is someone who everyone loves even when they don’t lift a finger or do anything worthwhile in the story. Of course if they had to diffuse a bomb they magically could because they’re perfect, but for most of the story they’re sitting around doing nothing and getting fawned over.

Tory just has a few minor traits of Mary Sue. Her skill set seems a bit too advanced, which wouldn’t bother me if she also had some weaknesses pointed out. She definitely isn’t fawned over by everyone, but has a couple boys besotted with her with little reason given. ��Thankfully she does make occasional mistakes, and has earned the loyalty her friends show her. Overall she’s pretty badass, and I only point out this occasional annoyance I have with the character in case some of you coming from book one have noticed this and hoped she’d get better in book two. Nope, sorry. Not in book two. On the plus side, she keeps the cool parts of her personality as well as the annoying parts.

Book two can be summed up in five words: Totally awesome, and totally unrealistic.

We’re searching for pirate treasure in this book guys. Pirate treasure!!! There’s puzzles to work out. Some easy enough that I was shaking my head at the book going ‘seriously guys, use those genius brains,’ and some hard enough that I had to wait for the explanation like a good little reader.

Why pirate treasure, you ask? Well, if they don’t get serious money soon the logger institute is going to shut down, their parents will be out of jobs, and the virals will be strewn far and wide across america. Tory hears of a pirate treasure people have been searching for hundreds of years without any luck. She decides this is it. Instant pay day.

Oh Tory. If you came to live in the real world, you would be so disappointed.

Though, to be fair they do have their work cut out for them. Other people are after the treasure too, and those people have guns. It’s a fun ride if you don’t expect too much realism.

For more reviews on this book check out:��https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/8...

 

Free Fiction Friday: Troubles

This one is a side story to the Crystal Wolves series. It’s set between the first and second stories. So if you’ve read either of them, you should recognize a few characters in this one. The first story in the series ‘Moonlight Madness’ is available on amazon.

 

“But I need this job,” Payton tries again. She walks down the path, oblivious to the beautiful countryside around her, mobile phone balanced under her chin. Her arms are pulled forward, each hand holding the lead of a large rottweiler. “And I don’t understand. How can I not meet the minimum requirements? I had everything it asked for in the application.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have right amount of experience,” the voice on the phone says. It’s a husky voice, the sound of a woman who has smoked too many cigarettes for too many years. “The ad said at least a year.”

“I have three, not including the dog walking,” Payton says, trying to reign in her disappointment and put on her best ‘oh dear, there must have been a mistake’ voice. “Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding. It should say on my application.”

“No misunderstanding,” the woman says after a pause that Payton imagines might be a drag on a cigarette. “I’ve got it here in front of me. Your degree doesn’t count as experience. Mucking out kennels is a heck of a lot different from sitting in a lecture hall.”

“It was an animal behavior and welfare degree,” Payton explains with strained patience. She tugs the dogs to the side of the path to sit down on a bench. They pull against her for a moment, and then sit down with huffing sighs. “Over a third of my hours were practically based. I literally lived on the farm site for the first year, and in my final two years I worked on both the farm and zoo as a part time job in addition to my university hours. That’s not including the practical work placements we had to complete to pass.”

“Look lovey. Truth is you’re overqualified for the job,” the woman says. “It’s entry level. We’re looking for experience, not degrees.”

Payton slumps back against the bench. Both dogs look at her. “But I have both. I’m a hard worker. I’m willing to work my way up. Please, I just really need a job right now.”

A pause, and then a racking smoker’s cough echoes down the line. “I have to go now lovey. People to call, work to do. You know how it is. Wish you the best of luck finding more suitable work.”

“Wait,” Payton says, bolting upright. “Can’t you just give me a chance?”

Before she’s even finished her sentence, a short beep tells her the line has disconnected. She holds the mobile in front of her, staring at the screen. Tears prick at her eyes.

Too overqualified for half the jobs in the country. Too under-qualified for the other half. Why can she never find anything she’s just qualified for? Not for the first time she curses whatever idealistic notions she’d had choosing her university degree.

You like animals, the staff at her school had said. Well then, take a look at these animal related degrees. The world had been different back then she supposed. If you had a degree, you got a job. Now everyone has a degree, so half the jobs have raised the bar higher, and the other half cling tightly to antiquated ideas of who they should be employing.

There’s no place in this world for someone like her. Three years of working her socks off conducting research experiments, peering down microscopes, designing enclosures, learning anatomy, performing necropsies, training animals, and shoveling muck. All for nothing. All meaningless.

She folds inward, the past year catching up with her. Hundreds of applications, hundreds of rejections. Hundreds of people saying ‘no, you’re not good enough.’ The look on people’s faces when she walks into the benefits office. The look on her advisor’s face when she says she’s had no luck yet again, like she’s doing it on purpose. Like she’s something subhuman. Lower than low.

The way her mother screams at her over every last thing. Saying she can’t stand supporting her twenty three year old daughter. Saying she wants her out, even if it means a life on the streets.

She blinks and scrubs her eyes, but it’s no use. The beautiful park swims out of focus under a flood of tears. One of the dogs nudges her knee, reminding her that she’s failing again. She’s supposed to be walking them for their owners. She can’t even do that right.

“Well, you look like someone badly in need of entertainment.”

She jumps at the strange voice. The bench creaks as someone sits down beside her. It’s a male voice, his tone cheery. That’s all she can tell while trying to hide her tears. The dogs go crazy, wiggling their backsides in a dance of joy that looks as odd as always, even when seen through a film of tears.

“I’m sorry,” Payton says, ducking her head. She digs a tissue from her pocket, trying desperately to stifle her tears. “I just need a little time alone right now.”

“Nah,” the man says. “Being alone is dull, dull, dull. What you ought to do is spend some time with me. My dad’s a real big shot. He’s having this huge conference. We’ll go together. It’ll be fun.”

She blinks enough to see. He’s fondling the dog’s ears while they pant happily. He’s younger than she expected. Late teens maybe. A band t-shirt hangs loosely over his slim frame. It’s torn at the shoulder in three neat lines that travel down the top of his chest. They look like claw marks. Some kind of fashion statement, she thinks. It looks odd worn over jeans that seem brand new.

“That’s sweet,” she says. Sweet or creepy. Burley may be in the country, but it isn’t the sort of place where you accept invitations from mysterious strangers. There might have been a day long ago when that kind of thing happened, but nowadays tourism to the New Forest brings all kind of crazies looking to make a quick buck off another’s misfortune. “But I need to get these two guys home.”

“Come after then,” he says with a wide grin that goes up more on one side than the other. His messy brown hair falls in his face giving him a roughish look. “It’ll be going on all day I bet. Takes them forever to decide on one thing. But I bet it’ll be much more fun with you there. And you like dogs, right? My dad’s company is all about dogs.”

A thought pops into her head. She needs to network. That’s how they say people get work these days; by who they know, and Payton knows no one. She’s a hard worker, does her job, keeps her head down. Those she’s worked for are pleased enough by the job she does, but as soon as she leaves they forget who she is.

She needs to get her name out there. She needs to do the meaningless small talk so they decide she’s a person worth more than a brush off. The thought sickens her. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Roy Crystal at your service,” he offers a hand. “And you are?”

“Payton Lamb,” she says, shaking the offered hand.

“Now we know each other. We’re acquaintances. That’s one step away from friends.” Roy pats the dogs one last time, then pushes himself to his feet. That grin is still painted wide on his face. “Moorhill house hotel as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting for you. I promise, it’ll take your mind off your troubles.”

***

The building is on her way home from the dog owner’s house. She decides to walk past it. That way she can make her mind up whether to go, and about what to wear. Her clothes aren’t terrible, but they definitely aren’t her best. If he comes out in full dress clothes, then she can say she’s on her way home to change. And if she decides not to go, then she can make up some excuse and hurry home.

He’s waiting for her in the same ripped t-shirt at the front of the building. He grins when he sees her, like he’s genuinely pleased that she came.

It sends a warm feeling through her. No one has been pleased to see her for such a long time.

“It’s on the first floor,” Roy says, leading her through the gleaming doors. A man holds them open with a smile. She’s not sure what to do. She’s never had a doorman hold open a door for her before. Do you tip them or what?

“Thanks Bill!” Roy calls back to the man with his lopsided grin. She follows his lead and smiles a thanks.

Inside she’s struck by the size of the place. Just the reception area is massive, and everything speaks of money. The waiting area has sofas, a wide screen television, and its own small kitchen. The furniture gleams, the paint on the walls is perfect, even the carpet is thick and lush under her feet. She feels bad stepping on it after walking through the park.

“Come on,” Roy says, taking her hand. With a quick wave and wink at the receptionist he pulls her across the room and through a pair of double doors.

He pulls her along like a eager kid wanting to show her something neat. In a way he is, but she can’t recall ever being that enthusiastic even when she was a teenager. She’d always been a serious child, and the last year only served to compact that seriousness.

He drops her hand when they reach a particularly ornate pair of double doors, and grins at her as he opens it. Noise and smells wash over her. Laughter, talking and so many kinds of food, her mouth waters.

The room is huge and filled with people. Mothers sit chatting with infants on their knees. Elderly people play with children, some doze in chairs. In one corner a withered looking woman speaks to a semi circle of toddlers gathered around her chair. They listen to the story with wide eyes.

Teenagers entertain children by chasing them around the room. They shriek with laughter and duck under the many food laden tables. Some pause to help themselves to piled plates of food. Dotted around the room are dogs. They sit, sleep and play among the humans. One even sits, wolfing down food from a plate set on a coffee table where a group of elderly people chat animatedly. None of them raises an eyebrow. She blinks in surprise. This doesn’t look like any conference she’s seen.

A handsome looking man with neatly gelled blond hair walks over to them, carrying a small girl by the back of her pink frock. He’s wearing a black suit. Not just any suit, but a full dress suit complete with waistcoat and bright blue tie. Most of the crowd isn’t as spotless as him, but everyone has clearly gone to some kind of effort. It makes her feel self conscious, standing here in her jeans and t-shirt.

Roy gives the man a wide grin, not seeming self conscious at all. “Clem! What’s that stuck to your hand?”

With an almost careless gesture, Clem swings his arm back, then swings it forward, causing the girl to fly through the air. Payton’s heart jumps, but the girl lands cat-like in Roy’s arms. She sniffles and burrows her face into the teenager’s shoulder.

“Little Miss Daisy’s been biting again,” Clem says, crossing his arms over his chest. His expression is hard, but Payton gets the feeling that he’s not really mad.

Roy pulls the girl away from him, holding her at arms length with a mock stern expression. “Now Daisy. What did I say about biting?”

I scan the room, but no one protests at their roughness with the child. In fact I see a couple adults and teenagers doing the same. One mother holds a toddler upside down by a foot, tickling him while he squeals with laughter. A teenager catches a playing child and throws her in the air before catching her and spinning her around.

Daisy pouts, looking adorable with blue eyes staring sadly from under a mass of tight brown curls. “No biting, unless they deserve it…or they taste real good.”

“Exactly,” Roy says with his lop sided smile.

Clem huffs, then takes the girl from Roy’s arms. “You know, one of these days she’s going to believe you.” He sets the girl down on the floor, “No biting,” he says to her sternly.

She nods, then turns to stare at Payton. “She smells like dogs.”

Payton blushes, wondering if the smell is really that strong.

Roy looks at Clem and shrugs. “Well, at least she didn’t try to sniff her butt this time.”

“I think the appropriate greeting is ‘hello I’m Daisy, it’s nice to meet you,” Clem says to the girl.

Daisy blinks up at him with a puzzled frown. “I’m Daisy. You’re Clem.”

Clem closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just introduce yourself to the nice lady.”

Daisy turns to Payton and holds her pink frock in a neat curtsy. Her little face is serious. “Hello, I’m Daisy. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you Daisy,” Payton says, feeling a little lost. “I’m Payton.”

“How did you teach her to curtsy?” Roy asks Clem in a stage whisper.

Clem shakes his head. “Don’t ask.”

Daisy turns to Clem. “Can I go play now?” She asks, her voice solemn.

“OK,” Clem says. She runs away, her brown curls bouncing. “But no biting!” He yells after her.

Payton shakes her head, looking around the vibrant room. “You said it was a conference,” she says, giving Roy a pointed look.

“It is,” Roy says, but he has the decency to look guilty.

She sweeps a through the air, gesturing at the room. “Since when do all these people attend a conference? What is your father’s company anyway?”

“You know, dogs, security. A little of this, a little of that,” he looks at her with a grimace. “It’s hard to explain. And it’s a family business, hence all the family.”

She looks around the room, at all the very different looking people. Some black, some white. There are even a couple in traditional Arab dress; the man with turban and long beard, the woman hidden behind a black garb with only her eyes showing.

“It’s a very big family,” Clem says.

Payton looks at him, but there’s nothing to suggest he’s lying. He stares at her with impassive blue eyes, his gaze so piercing she has to look away. Embarrassment floods over her. “Right. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

Roy’s sunny smile comes back full force. “No problem. I did kind of spring this on you. But we’re going to have fun, and food. Did I mention there was food?”

“Payton,” Clem says, his voice as neatly ordered as his clothes. “Why don’t you go and eat something? I just need to talk with Roy a minute about the family business.”

Is it her imagination, or did Clem nearly growl those last two words? She nods, feeling awkward. Maybe Roy wasn’t supposed to invite her along.

“Be careful of the kids,” Roy shouts after her. “Some of them bite.”

Payton weaves her way through the crowd, toward the heaving tables. If she is going to get kicked out soon then she might as well get some free food out of it. She’s disappointed to find most of the tables are full of meat. Dried meat, burgers, chicken cooked every way possible, and steak so bloody it turns her stomach over.

Being a vegetarian never seemed so disapproved of. She hunts through the sandwiches and comes up empty. Finally she finds half a table filled with different cheeses and a cake that isn’t meatloaf. Cheese or cake? Cake every time. No contest.

She’s just reassuring herself that even if she doesn’t get a job out of this, she still got some brilliant tasting cake, when Daisy walks over to where she’s sitting. The girl is all wide eyes and tight curls like something out of a movie. When she grows up she’ll be a knock out, if she gets rid of that solemn look. People don’t like a serious girl.

“Payton,” Daisy says, grasping her arm and staring up at her. “Can you help me find my mommy?”

Payton swallows the last of her slice of cake. She licks the last of the frosting from her fingers, looking around for the men. “Why don’t you ask Roy or Clem?”

“They aren’t here,” Daisy says, her gaze intense. “I think they went where mommy is.”

“And where is she?” Payton asks.

“In the conference,” Daisy says. “In the other room.”

Things suddenly make a bit more sense. This is the waiting room for children and those not involved in the conference. The movers and shakers of the company meet some place else. But she still doesn’t understand why they want the children and others here. They can’t be employed by the company, so why weren’t they left at home?

“I don’t think we’re supposed to go in there,” Payton says.

“I don’t want to disturb them,” she says. Her bottom lip sticks out into the beginnings of a pout. “I just wanna see.”

A small part of her is curious. She does want to go in there. If she wants connections, then it’s the ones in there who she needs to rub elbows with. But sneaking into their conference is hardly the way to make a good impression. There must be a reason Roy didn’t invite her in.

She shakes her head. “I think we should stay here,” she says. “It’ll be all boring and stuffy in there. And look how much fun the other kids are having here.”

“You just want to stay here and eat cake!” Daisy yells, stamping her foot. She runs off in the direction Roy and Clem went.

Well, she does have a point. It is good cake. Payton looks around the room, hoping someone noticed the outburst and guessed what Daisy is planning on doing. She imagines it; a calm orderly conference, and a screaming six year old rushing right into the middle of it. Bad news for whatever it is people do at conferences.

No one so much as looks in their direction. There’s too much chaos to make a deal of one yelling child. Sighing, Payton gets to her feet. She runs after Daisy, hoping she can stop her in time.

***

Payton runs down the corridor, awed again at how big this place is. There aren’t as many doors along it as she expects. The rooms behind them must be massive.

Just when she thinks she’s lost her, she sees Daisy ahead. The girl is slowly opening one of the doors, her tongue stuck out in concentration.

“Daisy,” Payton hisses.

Daisy turns toward her with a scowl, then places a finger on her lips and disappears into the room.

After a moment of hesitation Payton follows. Maybe she can get her out before she ruins anything. And she’s curious to catch a glimpse of the conference. From what she knows about conferences they’re boring dusty things, but most conferences don’t have parties of children playing in the next room.

The room is dark. She stumbles in, disorientated. This can’t be the conference. She can barely see her hands in front of her face. Then she hears muffled voices and sees Daisy standing a distance from the door, a sharp line of light across her face.

Curtains, she realizes after a long moment. The girl is peering through a set of curtains. They’re in the back of a stage. And she’s betting that on the other side of that curtain the conference is going on.

Payton has to admit, for a six year old Daisy is smart. Most kids would barge right in the front entrance. Now, hopefully she can convince the girl to leave before they notice the both of them here.

She crouches down next to Daisy, the smells of varnish, musty curtains and too many people in one room washing over her. She opens her mouth to speak – maybe to convince her back with talk of cake – when Daisy firmly places a little hand over Payton’s mouth.

Right. Quiet. She’s starting to think Clem’s right about Daisy lacking manners. At least she isn’t biting.

Daisy gives her a sharp look, still covering Payton’s mouth with a hand. She taps a finger of her other hand to her own lips, then points through the gap in the curtains.

Despite herself Payton turns to look. A man and a woman stand on the stage. The man is tall and pale with coal black hair and an ageless face. He could be thirty, she thinks, or forty, maybe even fifty. He stands, feet wide apart, every one of his bulky muscles exuding power. If it weren’t for the politician’s smile on his face, she’d peg him as a wrestler in a nice suit.

The woman paces around the stage like a predator, her movements fluid and her eyes locked on his. She looks like she wants to tear him limb from limb.

And she’s also completely naked.

Payton jerks back from the curtain. She replaces Daisy’s hand with her own, suppressing a squeak that threatens to escape her mouth. Seriously, what kind of conference is this?

Daisy doesn’t flinch, still staring out the gap in the curtain. After a moment Payton joins her. Come on, she’s hardly going to go back without seeing what the heck is going on. She didn’t lie on the phone about being a hard worker, and part of being a hard worker is never leaving a job unfinished. Leaving to eat cake without finding out why there’s a naked woman on the stage feels very unfinished.

She scans the crowd, thinking they’ve stumbled onto some amateur theater production by mistake. Row upon row of bored faces stare up at the stage. Now she’s more of a book fan, but it seems odd that so many would be bored watching a play about a naked woman. Then she spots a couple of equally naked people sitting among the well dressed crowd, and even more weirdly a good number of large dogs staring up at the stage with the same bored expression as their human companions. Some of them even sit on chairs.

“So we’re agreed the time has come to exterminate them,” the man says, his voice as deep as his large size suggests. “We just need to agree on the method.”

The woman shakes her head, long brown curls echoing the movement all the way down to her waist. Her lips draw back into a snarl. Her eyes flash a violent green. “I won’t endanger my pack with your extreme methods Crystal. We kill them, but not by your methods.”

“What way then?” Mr Crystal – she’s guessing Roy’s father – says. He gives her a pained grimace. “We can’t continue to let them run riot. We’ve done that too long and the packs are suffering. We need to take immediate action. We need to kill every last one of them.”

Payton spots Roy lounging in the third row. He slumps down in his chair, giving an exaggerated yawn. Clem, sitting beside him, clips him around the back of the head.

None of this makes sense. Who are they talking about killing? And how can Roy act so calmly. What has she walked into?

“Let’s go,” Payton whispers to Daisy. It isn’t safe here. Whoever they’re talking about killing, she doubts they want anyone to overhear. She grabs Daisy’s arm and the girl makes a small whine of protest, squirming under her grip.

Immediately the woman’s eyes snap to where they’re crouching. Half a second later every single pair of eyes in the room does the same. Payton freezes, cold shooting down her spine. Everyone stares at them with eerie accuracy, including the dogs. That’s when she notices the man on the stage’s eyes are a bright inhuman yellow.

Then the woman starts to change.

Her bones crack one by one. The long brown hair recedes into her skull, and all over her body thick brown fur springs up in tufts. Her ribs pop outward, giving her a distorted starved appearance until the fur covers them. Her face is the worst. Every bone contorts with a horrible snap, crackle, pop that reminds Payton sickly of rice crispies.

Distantly Payton hears Roy’s father yelling, but she’s not paying attention. The creature on the stage is more dog than human, and down in the chairs some of the humans start to change in the same way.

Payton scoops up Daisy and runs.

Her heart hammers madly in her chest. She slams through the door so quickly she hits the opposite wall. Hunching protectively over the child, she pushes herself off the wall and she���s running. The corridor never seems to end, like one of those nightmares where no matter how fast you run you never make it to safety.

The girl fights against her grip like a wild animal. Payton ignores the sting of scratches along her arms, trying desperately to remember the way out. This time she doesn’t marvel at how big the place is. She only hopes to get out alive.

There’s a slam behind her that makes the walls around them vibrate. A door opening violently outward. It’s followed by a ripping sound she recognizes all too well from her time around big dogs. Claws digging into carpet.

She doesn’t turn around. She just concentrates on running.

Hot breath hits the back of her legs. That’s when she knows she won’t make it. All her nerve endings scream, waiting for sharp teeth to tear into her legs, then her throat. She reaches deep down inside herself, drags up a final burst of speed.

A corner looms ahead. Around it is the waiting area with its cake and people. And beyond that is the entrance, out onto the nice normal English streets where people don’t suddenly change into animals.

It seems so close. It seems so far.

The impact is sudden even though she expects it. A solid weight slams into the back of her legs, sending her sprawling. She hits the floor hard, the bare skin on her arms burning as it skids across the carpet. Daisy flies out of her arms.

Payton lifts her head enough to see Daisy roll forward along the corridor, then land neatly on hands and knees. The girl pauses, blinking, then shakes her body like a dog. She doesn’t run.

Payton tries to pulls herself up, to grab the girl and carry on running, but she freezes. Hot waves of breath hit the back of her neck. Fur tickles her arms, and there’s a heavy warmth hovering over her.

Slowly she turns herself over, blood running cold in her veins. There hovering above her in a large dog’s face are two bright green eyes. The animal draws its lips away from bright sharp teeth. She screams.

A wave of warm breath against her left arm. She doesn’t want to look. These things aren’t human, but they aren’t dog either. She doesn’t know what they are, and that scares her more than those snarling teeth inches from her neck.

She shouldn’t look. She shouldn’t look. She looks.

Another dog, this one even bigger with sandy fur and piercing blue eyes. It shoves its head between the brown dog’s teeth and her neck. With a yelp she puts her hands over its muzzle, trying to keep its jaws from her throat.

In response it lowers its head, pushing against her. She skids backward a few inches along the carpet. The power under her fingers makes her heart drop lifeless to the pit of her stomach. It’s solid muscle. It would be nothing for it to rip her apart.

Then it stands back and looks at her with those piercing eyes. Its large tail sways slowly from side to side.

She sits, hands frozen in midair before she realizes what it’s done. It put space between her and the brown dog / woman. It stands calmly between them, like an adult separating two squabbling kids.

The brown dog stands, its attention on the other animal. Its shoulders are hunched, hackles raised, but it’s not snarling.

“D���aww,” the familiar voice snaps Payton out of her trace. She scrambles backward, getting to her feet.

Roy jogs over to them, and behind him dozens of dogs and people mill around. None of them look aggressive, more curious, but Payton backs up toward Daisy. The words she overheard are still fresh in her ears, about extermination, about killing all of them. She can’t trust this strange creatures who want to kill an entire race – not when that race must be humans.

“He likes you,” Roy says, grinning at her, like she hadn’t just been attacked. He glances down at the sandy colored dog. “Clem, I think you have a crush.”

The animal turns his piercing gaze toward Roy.

Roy shrugs a shoulder. “The tail doesn’t lie man.”

���Stay away from me,��� Payton says, coming to her senses. She reaches down to pick up Daisy, but the girl crawls away from her.

The brown dog growls, the noise deep and menacing.

���Whoa,��� Roy says, holding his hands in front of him in a placating manner. ���Let���s cool things off a minute, shall we? Daisy, why don���t you scoot on over this way.���

The girl crawls over to him fast. He picks her up under her armpits and carries her over to the brown dog.

���Roy!��� Payton shouts, heart jumping up to her throat. ���Don���t!���

He looks back at her with a lop sided smile. ���You worry too much Payton. It���s all right.���

He places the girl next to the snarling dog, who immediately stops snarling. The animal towers over the small child. It sniffs her urgently from head to toe, then licks her face all over.

Daisy squeals, but it���s a happy sound. She scrubs her face, sticking out her little tongue. ���Gross mommy,��� she says, then leans against the animal, threading one small hand into its thick fur.

Payton blinks. ���That���s her-���

���Her mother,��� comes a deep voice from the crowd behind Roy. The crowd parts to let a man through. It���s the same yellow eyed man she saw on the stage – Roy���s father. He stands next to Roy, placing a hand on the boy���s shoulder. Then he smiles at Payton. ���I can see you have a lot of questions.���

Payton takes a step backward. She thinks about running, but they���d catch her in no time. There���s no way out. ���You���re all monsters. All of you.���

Roy tilts his head. ���Now that���s a bit harsh, don���t you think?���

Clem – because that is Clem isn���t it, she can see by his eyes – sits in front of her. His tail sweeps slowly from side to side on the carpet. He lowers his head, looking like he���s trying to make himself look smaller and less frightening. He looks back over his shoulder at Roy.

���In no way is this my fault,��� Roy says, folding his arms over his chest. He glares at the dog, and she notices he���s holding Clem���s clothes folded over one arm. ���You���re so judgmental.���

���We���ll sort out whose fault this is later,��� Mr Crystal says, clapping his son on the shoulder hard. Roy ducks his head, looking nervous. ���For now, why don���t me and you take your guest somewhere less public to chat?���

Payton shakes her head. ���I���m not going anywhere with you. Just let me go. Please.���

Roy steps away from his father, toward her. His smile wavers. ���Hey, we���re not monsters here. It was just a misunderstanding. You got scared and grabbed Daisy. Her mom got scared and thought you might be hurting her. A whole lot of scared going on today, but it���s over now. You���re safe, I promise.���

Sudden anger bubbles through her. She hits him on the chest once, twice. He staggers back. ���You told me this was a conference.��� She hits him again. ���You told me your father worked with dogs.���

Roy rubs his chest, giving her a wounded look. ���This is a conference, and they���re kind of dogs.���

The brown dog growls deep in her chest.

He glances over at the animal. ���I said kind of.���

The growl deepens.

���All right. Wolves, not dogs,��� Roy says, throwing up his arms in an exasperated gesture. ���Forest wolves. So touchy.���

Nowhere to run. Fear trickles away. ���If you think I���m going to let you get away with this, you���ve got another thing coming. I���ll tell everyone your plans. I���ll stop you.���

Roy blinks. ���What plans?���

���The ones I heard in that room,��� she says. She takes in all the faces, dogs and humans. ���You���re planning on killing humans.���

Roy frowns at her, looking deep in thought. Then his eyes widen with realization, and he starts to laugh.

Payton grips the front of his torn t-shirt, shakes him. ���What���s so funny?���

He looks like he���s trying to form words, but he���s laughing too much to say them.

���Fleas,��� Mr Crystal���s deep voice says behind her.

She lets go of Roy, turning to look at his father. The man loosens the gold tie at his throat, looking a little self conscious. That���s when she realizes that none of them have moved an inch, even though she���s been practically beating up their leader���s son. She takes a step back from Roy.

���We were talking about fleas,��� the man says. ���They���ve infested all the packs in the area, and we���re having problems agreeing on a solution.���

���Forest wolves are the eco friendly, hippie types,��� Roy says. He wears a big grin that quirks like he���s trying to fight back laughter. ���They don���t want to take chemicals, but they keep re-infesting all the other packs. That���s what you heard. We���re trying to kill all the fleas, not humans.���

���Lemon,��� Payton says automatically.

They stare at her.

���Most citrus repels fleas,��� Payton says, trying to force away how weird all this feels. They���re all looking at her. She���s being stared at by a pack of werewolves, and she���s giving them advice on fleas. She blinks away a wave of dizziness. ���Peppermint, rosemary, some say garlic but there isn���t much evidence. There are a few others. I could write them down if you want.���

���Please,��� Mr Crystal says, his eyes a little wide.

���You���re awesome,��� Roy tells her firmly. He turns to his father. ���Can we keep her dad, please? Clem likes her too, and you know how few people HE likes.���

Mr Crystal presses his lips into a thin line. ���We do have a few job openings.���

Payton���s heart stutters in her chest. She���d work with monsters, she���d work with the devil himself if it meant she had a job. Though she���s starting to suspect they aren���t monsters after all. ���I���m a hard worker,��� she blurts out.

Mr Crystal smiles at her. ���I���m sure you are.���

Roy drapes an arm over her shoulders. ���I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.���

Payton frowns at him. She���s not so sure of that, but maybe with time. He did tell the truth about one thing. This did take her mind off her troubles.

My 10 favorite reads of 2014

Note: These are the favorite books I read during 2014, not books published in 2014.

I read 85 books in 2014, so narrowing it down to my very favs was difficult. I kept on going: oh what about this one! No, must be strong. Otherwise this would be a very very long post.

2014 was a good year for books for me. Unlike 2013 I didn’t come across any books I utterly hated. I had three books that were meh for me, forty-five books that I liked but had noticeable flaws or had sections that didn’t hit that book loving spot. That left thirty-seven books I love love loved.

Thirty-seven…

So in no particular order follows my top ten reads of 2014. They span across genres and lengths. Most of them I’ve already reviewed, so search my site if you want to read a more detailed review.

1) The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher

This is a bit of a cheat as it’s a series, but I read all the way from book one to book twelve last year, and most of them ended up with five stars. For those not in the know, Dresden Files is a humorous urban fantasy about a wizard detective living in Chicago. Lots of funny, and loads of action. Seriously, these books are addictive. Go try them.

2) Cinder by Marissa Meyer

A futuristic steam punk version of classic fairy tales. This one stars Cinderella, only she’s a��cyborg. She’s also pretty kick ass, which is neat since she’s got a lot of people against her. Cyborgs are second class citizens you see, and her step mother is not fond of her or her best android buddy Iko. And when things heat up, her step mother becomes the least of her problems.

I think this is the funniest book I read last year. Iko had so many lines that had me laughing out loud. There’s also a fair bit of action, and loads of tension with a war brewing and all. There are two other books out in the series: Scarlet (you can guess the main character in this one) and Cress. The fourth book: Winter is coming out this year.

3) The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan

A post apocalyptic world filled with zombies and a few pockets of survivors. Need I say more? Zombies make for awesome stories, and this one is one of the better zombie books I’ve read. This and the rest of the books in the series sum up human nature. Fighting for your dreams, and sometimes just taking that step after dogged step when you’re tired and hurting because you’re going to do everything you can to survive. These books are beautiful, sad, and tinged with a small but strong thread of hope.

4) World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks

I know, more zombies, but this one is a good one. Promise. It’s very different to the film. It takes the form of a series of interviews with people from all over the world and their experiences in the zombie war. The interviewer wants to record a true picture of the impact of the recent zombie war, so that��future generations don’t forget the lessons it taught and repeat it. What follows is poignant and scarily realistic.

I listened to the audio version of this book, which I think is the only way to get the full impact. The voice actors are brilliant. You really hear the characters come to life.

5) Hawkeye Vol 1: My Life as a Weapon by Matt Fraction, David Aja, Javier Pulido, and Alan Davis

Watched the avengers movie? Noticed that guy who spent most of the movie brainwashed, and wondered what he’s like when his brain isn’t all messed with? This graphic novel is the one for you. This one contains Matt Fraction’s Hawkeye comic issues 1-5, and Young Avengers Presents 6. But really, you only need to buy it to see Matt Fraction’s version of the character. The other part is nice, but doesn’t hold a candle to the awesomeness that is Matt Fraction’s take on it. We meet pizza dog, Clint drinks his weight in coffee, and he gets hurt a lot – like a lot a lot. He’s this stubborn guy who acts dumb, takes on a mob to save the people in his apartment building from being evicted, and has a weirdly endearing habit of talking to inanimate objects. He’s officially my second favorite avenger after��Bruce Banner. No matter what the movies do to him, this right here is the version of Clint I’ll say is the real one:

6) The Green Mile by Stephen King

There had to be at least one Stephen King in here somewhere because I’ve read like a bazillion of his books – and still have another bazillion to read. How does one guy write so many? It was hard choosing my favorite of his from last year. My answer will probably change given the day. For now though, it’s the Green Mile. Some of his books can seem a bit stretched out, but the green mile is not one of them. Apparently he originally wrote it as an episodic, and the result is a tight book for him with a lot going on. It’s set in the height of the depression, from the point of view of a prison guard on death row. Or rather, it’s from the point of view of an elderly ex prison guard writing his memories of that time. The characters are well fleshed out – even the death row inmates. Our guy’s life changes when he gets a new inmate different from all the ones before: John Coffey. There’s something very special about Coffey, and our main character Paul Edgecombe is about to find out exactly what.

So much emotion in this book. Stephen King spends enough time on the moral dilemmas raised by what they discover to really twist my heart. But it was a scene set years after all this near the end of the book that broke me. Edgecombe’s wife needed help, and the only thing that could save her was Coffey’s gift, but because of what Edgecombe and his fellow guards did years before that’s not possible. I think that’s the moment the full ramifications of what they did hit him. So many feelings.

7) Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

This one was beautiful. It’s set in the depression. Our main character is a veterinary student who drops out of school when his parents die. He hitches a ride on a train, which just so happens to be a circus train. It’s a romance, which I tend to avoid, but this one won me over. For one the setting is fascinating, the animals are brilliant, and there’s a decent amount of action and tension. For another, while he instantly thinks she’s the most beautiful person on earth, he then learns she’s married and keeps it in his pants. Despite his attraction to her, there’s not even a hint of romance between them for most of the book. This is great as it lets them build an actual relationship with each other first. You know, if you think someone might be your soul-mate, you might want to find out if you can stand to be around each other first.

The point of view is split between elderly Jacob in a nursing home, and young Jacob at the circus. This worked well. All the human characters were interesting, but for me it was Rosie the elephant that stole the show.

 

8) How to Become a Straight A Student by Cal Newport

I love a good self help book. I read quite a few of them, it was hard choosing a favorite. I flittered for a while between this one and Kelly McGonigal’s ‘Maximum Willpower’ but in the end this one won out. While Maximum Willpower is brilliant, Newport’s tactics were way similar and quicker to put in practice. There are other self help books that opened my mind, like the aptly named ‘Mindset’ but Newport’s book is the one from 2014 that had the biggest impact on my productivity. I didn’t expect it to from the title. I put it off for a while, expecting some of the usual ‘buckle down’ advice and not much else.

I was wrong. Newport’s book holds the greatest and simplest organisation system I’ve ever seen. I could set it up within a few minutes of reading the relevant sections, and I think it’s made a big impact on how much I get done. In short: awesome, and a lovely surprise of a book.

9) The Forgotten Soldier by Guy Sajer

A heart wrenching memoir of a German foot soldier in world war 2, made even more so when you remember it’s true. I’ve read a few memoirs of that period (it’s an interest of mine – so if anyone has any recs of good ww2 books please tell me) but this is one of the best written. It really captures the hope, despair, chaos and madness of life at the front. There are so many moments that will stay with me. The moment the Russians sent men to trample over a field full of bombs. When Guy was sent on some much needed leave, and then immediately called back up. When they got new recruits, and half were elderly men, and the other half were little kids swapping candy with each other. When the planes machine gunned civilians they were trying to get to safety, or when they machine gunned the soldiers when they were trapped, wounded, and completely defeated. So many moments when even knowing he had to survive to write the book I thought he was done for. And when he and the few survivors of a horrible defeat finally made it back to safety, only to be reprimanded for losing or damaging pieces of their equipment. An exercise which made the exhausted men weep. If you have any interest at all in world war 2, then this is a must read book.

10) Mystic River by Dennis Lehane

I’ve read a lot of Dennis Lehane last year, including his Kenzie and Gennaro series. Good books, but I think this one tops them, just ahead of another of his books I read last year: Shutter Island. It’s not my all time favorite of his though. That title goes to ‘Gone Baby Gone’ which I read in 2013.

Mystic River is a standalone book revolving around three childhood friends, now adults. One is an ex criminal, another a detective, and the third just trying to keep his life and marriage together. Then Jimmy:��our ex con’s daughter is killed. Sean: the detective is assigned to the case. ��And Dave may know more about it than he lets on.

Dennis Lehane is an artist in weaving tales in a way that makes them mesmerizing to read. He leaves just enough clues on the way to give you an idea who the killer might be, so if you watch closely you might work it out before the reveal. Be warned though, Lehane’s books tend to be very dark, and this one is definitely no exception.

(spoiler warning:

 

One of the boys was abducted and sexually assaulted when they were young. This is treated as key to the book as he battles demons related to this, and his childhood friends battle their guilt. One small part of the book I didn’t like was how it was taken as given that all childhood victims of sexual assault grow up to have sexual urges toward children. Not true, and very dangerous thinking. I mentally skipped over that part, and re-framed it as possibly true in this case but not others – and maybe not even true in this case. I think he’s more scared about the idea that he could have the power to do that if he so wished. He’s been forced to acknowledge that happens, and the idea that he could do that to a child terrifies him. If you find any of these things too difficult to read, then skip this one.)

Book Review Wednesday: The Stand (Stephen King) 4 stars

I read this 1100+ page beast about a man-made virus decimating the human race right in the height of the Ebola hysteria. That made things….interesting.

There’s something almost cathartic about books that show what happens after the human race gets brought to its knees and society falls. I mean, for the most part I’m happy with the way things are now. I live in a first world country. I get health care, have laws covering most of my human rights. I’m fed, housed, and have time and money for leisure. But society is far from perfect.

Society is��like living in a house. It has four walls and the roof keeps the rain out, but there are giant holes that let the rats in, the electrical system keeps shorting out, and the walls must be cardboard for all the good they do keeping the cold out in winter. You like having a house, and wouldn’t want to be without one. But sometimes you think: I bet if I tore the whole thing down I could make something a lot better.

This book does a good job exploring that, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of starting again, and looking at what might happen if we had to. Sure there’s the peace and quiet, and freedom from the idea that we have to work ourselves to death to have worth, but this book brought home to me that I really don’t want to tear things down.

For one thing it took us a long time to build this society in the first place. There are good things I’d miss; like medicine, and the protection laws provide. For another, we may be starting again, but not from scratch. We’ll start with scared people clinging to their broken capitalist system, and they’ll build things up again from what they remember. I hadn’t considered that before, so this book gave me a lot to think about. Chances are in the couple hundred or so years it takes to build things up again, your house will look around the same as before.

This book has two main parts. In the first, our patient zero travels across america and infects a group of people, then things spread from there. There’s not a whole load of attention paid to the world outside america, but I assume everyone else got taken down too. The second takes place after most people are dead, and follows our select group of lucky survivors. The first part is horrible, but not supernatural. In the second part, supernatural comes into play.

People start getting dreams that lead them either to our big bad guy Randall Flagg, or mother Abigail who leads the good guys. Only, it goes deeper than that which I loved. It seems that most of the bad guys head toward Flagg, and most of the good toward mother Abigail, but there’s a lot of overlap. Most of it seems to come down to choice more than character, and a lot seems to be down to nothing more than luck.

There are a lot of themes and questions that Stephen King explored through his characters in this book. This deep thinking was one of my favorite parts of the story. My other favorite part was the characters.

There are quite a lot of characters. They are set at various positions on the line between good and evil, and most sit firmly in the gray area. Nick was my favorite, partly because he’s deaf and dumb and I love reading portrayals of characters with differences, but mostly because he’s one of those rock solid morally driven guys. He’ll make the right choice, even if doing so costs him. There were so many others as well. Stuart who started off so badly and made the choice to be a better man. Nadine who starts so brilliantly, then makes the choice to listen to darker thoughts.

This fell short of five stars for me partly because the two parts were so different to each other. I was enjoying the surviving the end of the world plot, then things started getting supernatural which was a bit of a shock (but not too much of one since this is Stephen King.) The second part of the story was good, but I enjoyed the realism of the first part so much that some of me spent the rest of the book mourning its loss.

There were also some twists and turns in the tale that seemed not quite to fit the rest of the story. They were just there, and felt clumsy when there seemed to be no reason for them.

Overall this was a good book. I didn’t enjoy it as much as the other giant book I’ve read of his: It. When I reached the end of It I felt like I’d been on a fantastic journey, and everything slotted together at the end. I didn’t get that feeling with The Stand. I just felt like I’d read a good book, but didn’t feel personally connected to it like I had with It.

For more reviews of this book check out:��https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1...

 

Book Review Wednesday: Changes (Dresden Files book 12) 5 stars

This one is the twelfth��book in the series.

Links to my reviews of the previous Dresden Files books:

One:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Two:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Three:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Four:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Five:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Six:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Seven:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Eight:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Ninth:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Tenth:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

Eleventh:��https://samaustinwriter.wordpress.com...

I���m going to assume by this point you know what this series is about. So here���s the blurb for this particular book:

Long ago, Susan Rodriguez was Harry Dresden’s lover���until she was attacked by his enemies, leaving her torn between her own humanity and the bloodlust of the vampiric Red Court. Susan then disappeared to South America, where she could fight both her savage gift and those who cursed her with it.

Now Arianna Ortega, Duchess of the Red Court, has discovered a secret Susan has long kept, and she plans to use it���against Harry. To prevail this time, he may have no choice but to embrace the raging fury of his own untapped dark power. Because Harry’s not fighting to save the world…

He’s fighting to save his child.

Yup, you read that right. Harry Dresden has a kid. Everything changes. I do feel for these action hero guys. It seems like they hardly ever have a kid the traditional way. Instead it’s a baby ending up on your doorstep, or an until then unknown child being kidnapped by their enemies. Poor Dresden gets landed with the second option. There is quite a bit of wondering on his part of what could’ve happened if he’d known about her before this, and had the option to be around for all those moments he missed out on.

Given his protective instinct over The Archive recently, and his slight pining over Michael’s family life, I think he would’ve made a great father.

There are big, seemingly impossible stakes in this book, but Harry has even more reason to fight given it’s his daughter’s life on the line. He gives up a lot, and has to make some big deals with nasty people in order to give him, and his daughter a fighting chance. He loses a lot too. There’s this moment at the end when someone close to him dies (I won’t say who.) It was the only way to save the day, but what it must have cost him is indescribable.

There’s some neat banding together of characters in this one, as all Harry’s friends who can fight come to do so. Mouse of course is one of them, and has some great moments. As usual there’s lots and lots of action, but in this book there’s more tension than usual since the odds seem so insurmountable. And at the very very end there’s a twist that came out of nowhere. I didn’t see it coming, and usually I do.

My verdict. One of my very favorite books in this series so far. Definitely five stars.

For more reviews on this book check out:��https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6...