Sunday, August 10, 2014

Harley, In the Company of Snipers, #4

Harley is in the last round of edits and giving me the evil eye.
The man needs to be published, so….
It's time for a hint of things to come.



Thunder shook the ground. Shrapnel and bullets pinged too close and personal, pushing him to act. So that’s the way it was, under fire and his men forced to leave him behind. He was alone. Instinct kicked in. Training took over.
Move it, soldier. Move it. Move it. Move it!

He steeled his jaw, stiffened his spine and secured his belt around his own bleeding leg, padding it with a rag from the dirty ground. The chemicals in the smoke provided an acid eyewash that would not quit. He could barely see to stagger away. His feet would not follow. No matter. He carved a drunkard’s path into the desert and away from hell. One more step. Then another. Time and distance. All he needed now. Three things were sure. He wouldn’t be taken alive. He’d live to fight another day. And he’d catch up with his men.
Keep moving!

Confusion and guilt ruled the day. It sure looked like his men were dead back there. He was sure they’d begged for help. But then they were gone. That meant they were alive, that they walked away. Didn’t it? Parts felt real.
Parts did not. Like that detached hand. How could those fingers tap like they were attached to Kent when they weren’t? Harley collapsed against a wall. Scrubbing the pain away, he tried desperately to remember or forget. The puzzle remained. Hadn’t he seen this same damned movie before?

Shreds of bizarre nonsense swirled inside his tired skull.
“Nine o’clock team meeting, don’t be—”
“Your favorite peppered shrimp—”
“Mark’s baby girl... JayJay... looks like—”
“Judy.”

The last word, that name tugged at his weary mind for further scrutiny. It meant something. He could tell. It was a pleasant name. Like the piercing beam of a lighthouse cast high above the pitch-black storm in his head, it called
to him. ‘Look at me. Remember me.’

Harley sucked in another breath of desert air, his soul whipped and beaten by the war. Who the hell is Judy?

Look for him early September at Amazon.com, paperback and kindle ebook!

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