by Nat Kozinn
<<
>>>We have come to the conclusion that despite whatever damage may be caused, Ultracorps cannot in good conscience ask its employees to risk their lives. All Differents in the Metro Area are advised to make their way to the Slug Yards. Trains will be waiting to move those individuals out of the Metro Area.
<<
>>>Think.Net was down.
<<
>>>That is not important. What is important is how we as Differents decide to handle this situation.
<<
>>>I am freeing our people.
She ends the call.
Love my story? Hate it? Share your opinion and help support me at the same time. Write me a review on Amazon. Your feedback will help prove to the world that someone read this novel and maybe other people should too. Thank you!
https://www.amazon.com/Different-Strong-Chosen-Book-ebook/product-reviews/B00XWD0A66
Want more of me? Visit natkozinn.com or email me at [email protected]
And now the first section from my novel Different Paths, the third and final book in the Chosen Different series. Available now.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XYT54K5
Excerpt
My capillaries pull fluid out of my eyes, bending my cornea to focus my vision at a target a thousand yards away. An aid comes onto the stage and taps a microphone, sending out a loud boom from speakers on either end of the stage. The Governor is sparing no expense for this press conference and that includes electricity.
The aid recedes, and I take a quick scan of the gathered crowd. Well, the back of their heads anyway. Luckily, I have perfect memories of the back of every head I’ve ever seen. I spot an odd-shaped brown-haired skull belonging to Ben, who’s about fifteen feet behind Linda. My eyes move up to the two dozen police officers gathered in front of the stage. I’m sure they have some plainclothes friends in the crowd. There are also National Guard soldiers with rifles standing on the buildings closer to the podium. This is a normal security deployment; the Governor is simply being cautious. I make myself believe that.
Governor Khan finally walks out onto the stage, his bald head covered in beads of sweat. Despite his disheveled look, he walks with a spring in his step.
“Thank you all for coming. I have an important announcement,” the Governor says without looking up from his notes. His oratory skills don’t compare to those of our old Governor. “I am proud to announce a partnership with Sagamore Industries to complete the first fishing vessel constructed entirely by human hands in Los Angeles in over thirty years. This ship is merely the first step towards increasing food supplies—” the Governor stops mid-sentence and hangs, like someone activated pause on a think.Net show. Linda is doing her thing!
“Okay, pay attention now; I’m going to say something important. It concerns the bombs that devastated this Metro Area a few short months ago,” Linda says through Khan’s mouth. The crowd quiets its murmurs.
“I have used this office to repeatedly accuse Gavin Stillman of causing the explosions, and many of you did not believe me. It turns out your doubt was well-placed. Not just because it never made sense, but because I am responsible for the bombs that devastated the Metro Area. I am a terrorist.”
The crowd erupts in a wide range of noises, but Governor Khan gets louder, and they all grow quiet.
“I used money from illegal bribes and laundered it through my supermarket chain and Medical center to purchase the ingredients for the bombs, as well as the cocktail of drugs that I used to induce the Different attacks that we all forgot about after the bombs. Later, I will deny these accusations and say a Telepath made me say all this, which is true, but it’s also true that I’m guilty. If you look through my financial records or search my properties, you will find incontrovertible proof of my crimes. If the police refuse to look into this matter, you the public should demand justice, and reporters, you should do your part to help unravel the web. You’re in for a real surprise when you find out just who my accomplice was. Now, I may stay here and try to dig myself out of the hole I just fell into, or I may run off the stage in disgrace. Let’s find out.”
The Governor shakes his head like he just woke up. Then his face turns a deep crimson, and he rushes off the stage, chased off by a slew of screaming reporters in the crowd. Looks like he went with option two.
As soon as the Governor leaves the stage, there’s a deafening boom followed by a whistle. I can tell from the pitch that it’s from a bullet headed right towards me. Bullets on a trajectory towards me have a particular tone, and I’ve been shot at enough to identify the sound. I slow down my perception of time so I can think this through, but even my recently improved muscles and nerve fibers can’t help me dodge this shot. I try to dive to the right, but that just puts the hole in my left shoulder instead of my right one. The rifle was high-caliber; it cuts through my hardened bone like a hot knife though Manna. It knocks me from the edge of the roof and onto my back.
“Target hit. Repeat, target hit,” a mechanical voice says… a radio. There’s someone else on this roof.
I was too focused on the Governor. I let someone sneak up on me, a spotter who helped the sniper put the bullet in me. I access my just-formed memory of the sound and replay it in my head. It came from my left. I get to my feet, using only my right arm. I turn towards a post, where the radio holder must be hiding.
As I stalk over, a fresh-faced young man in camouflage gear pops out of the hiding spot. He has a jittery finger resting on the trigger of his army rifle. I don’t think he has the wherewithal to pull the trigger, not that I can blame him he is facing a seven foot tall, five hundred pound hairless monster of a man. Becoming terrifying was the price I paid for stealing The Beast’s strength.
“St-Stay where you are!” the National Guardsman stammers.
“No thanks,” I say and take a step forward.
That jittery finger turns steel and holds down the trigger, I underestimated him. Hot metal tears into my flesh, my dense muscles stopping six slugs before they can penetrate into my organs. I rip the gun from the young man’s hands and toss the weapon off the side of the roof. I grab the man by the throat, my massive fingers wrapping entirely around his neck. I should make him pay for thinking he could hurt me. All I’d have to do is squeeze…
Why did I think that? I drop the soldier, who gasps for air as soon as he hits the ground.
I hear footsteps reverberating in the building below me. National Guardsmen, and lots of them. I’m on a ten story building though, so I’ve got some time. Their heavy guns will slow them down… which really isn’t that comforting. I’ve got to get moving before that sniper gets another shot at me. I take a few steps to get a running start and leap twenty feet down onto the building next door. As soon as I land there’s another boom that tears into the flesh of my back, putting a hole in my lung. That boom is joined by another, but I leap before that hits, making it on to another roof. More booms chase me, but I scramble away, leaping like a frog on lily pads until I’m finally out of range of the shooters.
Want more? Buy Different Paths (Chosen Dif
ferent Book 3) on Amazon.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XYT54K5