Favorite Chapter & Excerpt

Posthuman was a fun book to write. Each chapter has something special about it, but Chapter 7 is my favorite. Here’s a short except, and if you like it you can get a Look Inside on Amazon (www.amazon.com/dp/B07WRL35FX) or pick up a copy and let me know which chapter is your favorite.



Pulling up short, the barefoot man looked down at Jessica curled up in the suitcase.
Feeling shame and humiliation burning in his cheeks, Matthew blurted out, "She's dead."
"Remarkable," the man whispered, almost reverently, never taking his eyes off Jessica.
Matthew cocked an eyebrow at that. That wasn't the response he expected. The guy must not have heard him right.
"No…she's dead."
Blinking, the beach bum shifted his gaze to Matthew as if he was just becoming aware of the boy's presence for the first time. He stared intently, and Matthew felt his guilt consume him.
"I…I tried to save her, I even did CPR, but it…it didn't work. She drowned."
"Yes, but what's she doing now?"
Matthew frowned, confused. Again, this was not the reply he expected.
The guy continued to stare; his searching eyes didn't seem to hope that Matthew knew the answer as much as accuse him of withholding information.
Like a broken record, Matthew babbled his initial statement, "She's…uh, she's not doing anything. She's dead…she died."
The calculating eyes softened and looked past Matthew, back into the suitcase.
"No, not dead, she's alive."
The guy spoke with such conviction that Matthew whirled around, half expecting to see Jessica standing up with her head cocked to one side, smiling her ever-present pixie smile. The blow of finding her still lying motionless completely deflated him. Absent was the slow rise and fall of her chest. She was still gone.
Duped, Matthew wanted to tell this butthead that he wasn't funny, maybe even to go to hell, when Jessica's nostrils flared.
Matthew blinked.
He waited for the movement again, but it didn't come. What did come was a memory of something his lifesaving teacher had once told him. Matthew couldn't remember the medical term, but his instructor had said that when a person drowns, their throat constricts when water enters the airway. This shuts off the lungs to protect the victim, resulting in a loss of consciousness. A small portion of people still died even after being rescued because the sealed lungs wouldn't reopen; however, some people began to breathe spontaneously once the muscles relax.
In his grief, Matthew hadn't checked for a pulse or airflow. He did so now.
Dropping to his knees, he felt Jess' wrist. He'd never been good at this part and didn't feel a pulse now. Giving up, he put his cheek close to her mouth and nose and tried to feel any expelled air.
The slightest of breezes caressed his face. Matthew's heartbeat quickened, but he couldn't be sure it wasn't just the wind.
He waited, but he didn't feel the breeze repeat.
In desperation, he turned Jessica onto her back and placed his ear to her chest. He couldn't make out a second independent rhythm over his own thudding heartbeat.
"I…I just can't tell," stammered Matthew, flopping to the ground.
"I can," replied the beach bum, scowling as if the knowledge brought discomfort.
Kneeling, the guy used a hand to push Matthew away, clearing a space around him. Matthew shuddered at the contact. The touch had been mild, but it left him feeling grimy - the kind of grimy he'd felt once when he'd stolen a piece of candy from a grocery store.
Of his own accord, Matthew moved further away from the dark-haired man who hunched over Jess. As if testing her temperature, the guy placed his hand on her forehead.
She squirmed! It was quick, but she'd definitely moved.
"Did you see that!?" Matthew said, leaning forward and hovering over the barefoot man like a mother over a paramedic's shoulder.
"I didn't suspect this, not at all. You caught me completely off guard; you didn't figure into any of my contingencies."
Matthew was about to ask what the guy meant when he realized he wasn't the one being spoken to.
"You're quite the sly one," said the guy, still addressing Jessica. "You must have known right away, sensed me somehow. Well, that works both ways, and you were right to hide, but enough of this foolishness. Come forth!"
Upon the command, the guy wrenched back his hand, hissing as if burned, and indeed, Matthew thought he detected the faint odor of burnt flesh.
Jessica's eyes popped open.
They focused on the man above her and bore into the peculiar savior with a death glare. In the same instance, she spoke slowly and denunciatory, "Bad man."
Smirking and holding his hand, the guy took a few steps back. "Cute."
Matthew rushed over to his sister. She continued to eye her reviver even while he hugged her.
"See, not dead," said the man. Then added, "Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it. But never mind that. All's well that ends well, or so the saying goes. Now, let me introduce myself. My name is Shane—"
"Liar," Jess cut him off.
Matthew was taken aback. Never had he heard his sister talk so confidently or so boldly to an adult, to anyone.
"Yes, that may be."
"Usurper!" she spat, and instead of being offended at the accusation, the man's smile widened.
"Hopefully, but for now, you can call me Shane."
Matthew tried to calm his seething sister. He didn't understand why she was so upset.
"It's alright, Jess. This guy…uh, Shane, he's here to help us."
However, immediately after speaking those words, Matthew wasn't so sure.
"You should listen to your brother Jessica, he's right, I am here to help. It's a changed world out there. Different from anything you've ever seen or known. You need to be careful. Be extra wary of strangers. Don't trust anyone, because everyone you meet will be jealous of what you've become. They'll try to use you, even hurt you. So stay away." The man paused for emphasis, "Especially from me."
The last was said with such repressed violence that Shane's teeth clacked together, and his eyes seemed to flash.
Had they always been purple?
Matthew was surprised that he hadn't noticed the intense coloring before. He'd looked right into those eyes. Suddenly, he felt like he was seeing the beach bum for the first time. The clothing hadn't changed. Shane's face was still inviting and charming, still held a supernatural quality, but now it had soured. For Matthew, it inspired the power felt on those rare occasions when he dropped the F-bomb or when he belittled someone to make himself feel better, a feeling that never failed to leave a bad taste in his mouth.
Also, Matthew now noticed the tattoos. Had they always been there? Rosy ink markings, like religious hieroglyphs, covered Shane's chest where his shirt was open at the throat and along his muscular arms down to the wrists.
"You can't surpass me," continued Shane, apparently not done helping. "It will never happen, so don't try. If you do, if you try and approach my level, you'll be just like Icarus - the closer you fly to the sun, the faster you'll burn. It's better to stay in my shadow. Better yet, keep away entirely. Because if you get too close, get any crazy notions of standing in my way, I'll destroy you. I'll tear you apart and devour you, piece by piece. Got it?"
Matthew nodded.
Even Jess dumbly bobbed her head.
Gone was her spit-fire attitude; she was scared. They both were.
"I doubt you do. You have eyes, but you do not see; ears, but you do not hear; you understand naught but fear."
Shane leaned towards the cowering pair, and terror filled their youthful faces.
"Perhaps that is enough. Yes…" Standing erect, he placed a hand on both Matthew and Jessica's heads.
Light shunned this man, bent away from him, but darkness seemed his lover; it surrounded him, shrouded him in a cloak of evil, and when he touched their heads, a transfer of that vile shadow oozed over them. A physical sickness of body, heart, and soul cried out against such corruptness, but Shane held fast.
"Fear me. This is my gospel, my blessing."
Fingers dug painfully into Matthew's head. Jess whimpered.
"Obey me, for inasmuch as ye keep my commandments, ye shall live."
Matthew tried to pry the hand from his skull as fingernails punctured flesh.
"Fear me. This is my will, my endowment."
Talons of impossible strength and sharpness threatened to crush bone and brain. Jessica cried in earnest.
"Because ye feared, ye are my disciples; the first of my flock. If there be others, teach them my word, for in the heart of fear the seeds of insurrection and subversion can never grow."
The vice grip grew stronger, inhumanly strong.
"Go forth in fear. Remember, always fear. Fear be with you."
The pressure and pain was too intense. Matthew went wild. Gone was any rational effort to remove Shane's hand; instead, he clawed and scraped and plucked at the fingers, hoping to break one. Break one, then another; break them all until he was free.
Matthew yelled, begged, pleaded for Shane to stop, to let go, but he didn't relent - only squeezed tighter.
Hands shaking, heads rattling and on the verge of popping like eggshells - Jessica screamed, loud and shrill and piercing.
It was an unearthly sound and acted like a crowbar, tearing Shane's clasp away. Fingers peeled off with the resistance of soldered iron, but Jessica's continued shriek was so powerful as to cause a concussion in the air, staggering the false messiah backwards.
Matthew used the brief freedom to run.
Grabbing Jessica's hand, they made a hasty escape. Looking back over his shoulder, Matthew stopped.
Shane was no longer behind them. As quickly as he'd appeared, he'd vanished. Only the empty suitcase remained.
Not waiting to find out where he'd gone, Matthew led his sister towards town. The guy had been nuts - a homeless wacko. However, once back among the main streets, Matthew saw that there was truth in what he'd been told.
Decoy was different.