“What…” Alex tried to ask, but the words failed him. As they watched, a full third of the remaining lights went dark, in a wave going east to west. Without realizing it, Alex had slowly been decreasing power as he watched, slowing their approach. As they orbited the planet, more and more of the dark side came into view. Now they could see Eastern Europe, the Indian subcontinent, and lower China. China was completely dark.
“I don’t understand,” Alex said. The others shook their heads. “Maybe a war?” Then, in the middle of the darkness which was China, a brilliant light flared. Everyone jerked in surprise, and Alison let out a little squeak. The bright flash dimmed to a dull red, then grew, and began to climb into the sky. Even from a couple thousand miles up, the mushroom shape was unmistakable.
Below them, the Earth shuddered in its death throes as they slowly orbited above. None of them knew what to do, or say.
# # # # #
About the Author
Located in rural Tennessee, Mark Wandrey has been creating new worlds since he was old enough to write. After penning countless short stories, he realized novels were his real calling and hasn’t looked back since. A lifetime of diverse jobs, extensive travels, and living in most areas of the country have uniquely equipped him with experiences to color his stories in ways many find engaging and thought provoking. Now a bestselling author, he has no intention of slowing down anytime soon.
Sign up on his mailing list and get free stuff and updates! http://www.worldmaker.us/news-flash-sign-up-page/
Caution – Worlds Under Construction
Titles by Mark Wandrey
Cartwright’s Cavaliers
Winged Hussars
A Fistful of Credits
For a Few Credits More
The Good, the Bad, and the Merc
* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book Two of the Turning Point:
A Time to Run
___________________
Mark Wandrey
Available Soon from Seventh Seal Press
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “A Time to Run:”
“One minute!” the LCAC commander said. Alinsky thanked him and went to the bridge door. The sound of the powerful drive fans and lift motors went from a loud hum to a roar as he opened the door. His aide, Captain Richard Hartman, handed him his Kevlar, and he put it on and buckled the strap.
“One minute!” he yelled over the roar. Hartman nodded and spoke into his radio to the commanders of the LAVs. Immediately engines roared to life. The Marines who’d been sitting and standing next to the vehicles all got up and checked their weapons. Most of the men moved to the far sides and rear of the LCACs ample cargo area, while the Navy crew moved forward and prepared to free the LAVs.
The LCAC made a sharper turn and slowed. Alinsky knew they were close now, lining up with the ramp at the naval amphibious base at Coronado. A second later, both the .50 caliber M2 machineguns began to chatter. Hartman looked at him.
“Clearing the ramp,” he said, and the other man nodded. “Brace for landing!” he barked, and the call was passed around. A second later the turbine noise got louder, and the entire craft angled slightly upwards. The .50 calibers continued to fire in three-round bursts. A few seconds of climbing, and the LCACs drive fans suddenly cut, and the bow door fell.
The front two LAVs were released, and with a blast of diesel smoke, first one then the other rolled down the ramp onto solid ground. One turned right, the other left. Immediately, their 25mm M242 Bushmaster main armament began to bark. Now Alinsky was concerned.
“Hold the next two,” he ordered, “and get a platoon out to assist the LAV—” He was cut off as a dozen screaming infected ran up the ramp and leaped onto the group of navy men who were getting chains out of the way. Blood flew, and screams filled the air.
“Clear them away!” Hartman barked. The nearest Marines moved, but then they stopped, unsure of what to do. They couldn’t fire without hitting the sailors who were being torn to pieces.
Alinsky watched, eyes wide, as the lead LAV out on the concrete was suddenly covered in infected.
“Mother of god,” Hartman said.
“Fix bayonets,” Alinsky said, an order which hadn’t been given since Vietnam. “Fix bayonets! Get us off this damned LCAC before we’re swamped.”
As the Marines overcame their surprise and began to fight, Alinsky activated his radio. “Alinsky to Admiral Hoskins; we’re ashore and in hand-to-hand combat. Request immediate air support!” The dozen in the front of the LCAC grappling with the now mostly dead sailors were being bayonetted by his men, just as dozens more came rushing up the ramp. The .50 calibers on the bow of the LCAC were firing continuously, as were the 25mm guns on the LAVs. He could hear the screams of a thousand infected rushing towards them. He drew his handgun and prepared to meet them.
* * * * *
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of the Revelations Cycle:
Cartwright’s Cavaliers
___________________
Mark Wandrey
Now Available from Seventh Seal Press
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “Cartwright’s Cavaliers:”
The last two operational tanks were trapped on their chosen path. Faced with destroyed vehicles front and back, they cut sideways to the edge of the dry river bed they’d been moving along and found several large boulders to maneuver around that allowed them to present a hull-down defensive position. Their troopers rallied on that position. It was starting to look like they’d dig in when Phoenix 1 screamed over and strafed them with dual streams of railgun rounds. A split second later, Phoenix 2 followed on a parallel path. Jim was just cheering the air attack when he saw it. The sixth damned tank, and it was a heavy.
“I got that last tank,” Jim said over the command net.
“Observe and stand by,” Murdock said.
“We’ll have these in hand shortly,” Buddha agreed, his transmission interspersed with the thudding of his CASPer firing its magnetic accelerator. “We can be there in a few minutes.”
Jim examined his battlespace. The tank was massive. It had to be one of the fusion-powered beasts he’d read about. Which meant shields and energy weapons. It was heading down the same gap the APC had taken, so it was heading right towards that APC and Second Squad, and fast.
“Shit,” he said.
“Jim,” Hargrave said, “we’re in position. What are you doing?”
“Leading,” Jim said as he jumped out from the rock wall.
* * * * *
Get “Cartwright’s Cavaliers” now at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MRZKM95/.
Find out more about Mark Wandrey and “Cartwright’s Cavaliers” at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/imprints-authors/mark-wandrey/.
The following is an
Excerpt from Book One of the Kin Wars Saga:
Wraithkin
___________________
Jason Cordova
Available Now from Theogony Books
eBook, Paperback, and Audio
Excerpt from “Wraithkin:”
Prologue
The lifeless body of his fellow agent on the bed confirmed the undercover operation was thoroughly busted.
“Crap,” Agent Andrew Espinoza, Dominion Intelligence Bureau, said as he stepped fully into the dimly lit room and carefully made his way to the filthy bed in which his fellow agent lay. He turned away from the ruined body of his friend and scanned the room for any sign of danger. Seeing none, he quickly walked back out of the room to where the slaves he had rescued earlier were waiting.
“Okay, let’s keep quiet now,” he reminded them. “I’ll go first, and you follow me. I don’t think there are any more slavers in the warehouse. Understand?”
They all nodded. He offered them a smile of confidence, though he had lied. He knew there was one more slaver in the warehouse, hiding near the sid
e exit they were about to use. He had a plan to deal with that person, however. First he had to get the slaves to safety.
He led the way, his pistol up and ready as he guided the women through the dank and musty halls of the old, rundown building. It had been abandoned years before, and the slaver ring had managed to get it for a song. In fact, they had even qualified for a tax-exempt purchase due to the condition of the neighborhood around it. The local constable had wanted the property sold, and the slaver ring had stepped in and offered him a cut if he gave it to them. The constable had readily agreed, and the slavers had turned the warehouse into the processing plant for the sex slaves they sold throughout the Dominion. Andrew knew all this because he had been the one to help set up the purchase in the first place.
Now, though, he wished he had chosen another locale.
He stopped the following slaves as he came to the opening which led into one of the warehouse’s spacious storage areas. Beyond that lay their final destination, and he was dreading the confrontation with the last slaver. He checked his gun and grunted in surprise as he saw he had two fewer rounds left than he had thought. He shook his head and charged the pistol.
“Stay here and wait for my signal,” he told the rescued slaves. They nodded in unison.
He took a deep, calming breath. No matter what happened, he had to get the slaves to safety. He owed them that much. His sworn duty was to protect the Dominion from people like the slavers, and someone along the way had failed these poor women. He exhaled slowly, crossed himself and prayed to God, the Emperor and any other person who might have been paying attention.
He charged into the room, his footsteps loud on the concrete flooring. He had his gun up as he ducked behind a small, empty crate. He peeked over the top and snarled; he had been hoping against hope the slaver was facing the other direction.
Apparently Murphy is still a stronger presence in my life than God, he thought as he locked eyes with the last slaver. The woman’s eyes widened in recognition and shock, and he knew he would only have one chance before she killed them all.
He dove to the right of the crate and rolled, letting his momentum drag him out of the slaver’s immediate line of fire. He struggled to his feet as her gun swung up and began to track him, but he was already moving, sprinting back to the left while closing in on her. She fired twice, both shots ricocheting off the floor and embedding themselves in the wall behind him.
Andrew skidded to a stop and took careful aim. It was a race, the slaver bringing her gun around as his own came to bear upon her. The muzzles of both guns flashed simultaneously, and Andrew grunted as pain flared in his shoulder.
A second shot punched him in the gut and he fell, shocked the woman had managed to get him. He lifted his head and saw that while he had hit her, her wound wasn’t nearly as bad as his. He had merely clipped her collarbone and, while it would smart, it was in no way fatal. She took aim on him and smiled coldly.
Andrew swiftly brought his gun up with his working arm and fired one final time. The round struck true, burrowing itself right between the slaver’s eyes. She fell backwards and lay still, dead. He groaned and dropped the gun, pain blossoming in his stomach. He rolled onto his back and stared at the old warehouse’s ceiling.
That sucked, he groused. He closed his eyes and let out a long, painful breath.
* * * * *
Get “Wraithkin” now at: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N0RGYZS.
Find out more about Jason Cordova and “Wraithkin” at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/imprints-authors/jason-cordova/
Turning Point (Book 1): A Time To Die Page 46