Review: A Mersey Killing by Brian L Porter

A Mersey Killing by Brian L. Porter is a taut little thriller that grips you from the very first page until its satisfying conclusion.

Set in two different time periods, the book begins with the introduction of Brendan Kane and the Planets, a pop group hoping to reach stardom like so many others in Liverpool at the onset of the ‘Swinging Sixties’. Performing at the legendary Cavern Club, the group skirts the fringes of success while trying to maintain their everyday responsibilities. The author conveys perfectly, the headiness of the times and the beginnings of the musical revolution about to take the world by storm.

It is quite a shift in tone from that initial introduction to be transported to 1999, where a body is found thanks to a reclamation project at the waterfront. From this point on, the two time periods run parallel to each other and when they finally converge, the reader has an idea of how things turned out for Brendan Kane and the Planets.  

Nevertheless, just as the reader might feel comfortable with the direction of the plot, the book manages to surprise with an unexpected twist and a gut punch ending both satisfying as it is tragic.

As stated earlier, this is a tautly written book, with very little fat in between and this adds to the momentum. The characters are well formed and written so there is little need for elaborate back stories. Standouts are Brendan Kane, DI Andy Rose and Connie Doyle although the supporting characters are never interchangeable.  The murder squad with Drake’s gallows humour, McLennan’s novice discomfort and Ferris’ family issues make each character memorable.

    

Special mention should be made of the author’s depiction of Mersey and the religious divide in post-war England.

I finished this book in one sitting and aside from one or two typos, was gripped for most of it. If you enjoy well-paced thrillers and interesting characters, A Mersey Killing will not disappoint. A thoroughly enjoyable read. 

Review: An Unusual Chain of Events by GH Bright

If you throw a series of pebbles into a pond, what happens?  You create numerous ripples that ultimately intersect each other. The plot of GH Bright’s novel, An Unusual Chain of Events, illustrates with fractal intricacy how one brutal night of violence can have far reaching consequences that no one could have imagined.

After being initiated by a prologue that depicts a vicious attack, the book is broken up into four parts where we are introduced to a host of characters that might seem comfortable in the potboilers of the 1980s. We meet David, the repressed businessman, his bored and insecure wife Sally, whose crumbing marriage forms the bedrock on which the rest of the story in built. Neither are likeable characters and one can be forgiven for thinking David has a reason for his behaviour but when the truth is revealed, it invokes genuine surprise.

Each act introduces us to a new set of characters, including Sally’s brother Dean, the drug dealing mobster. Dean returns to England for Sally’s sake only to find himself faced with betrayal and a fight for his life in a gang war. Through Dean we meet Sian, Sally’s friend, estranged after her marriage to David. The third act leads into the introduction of Jo and her band the White Swans.  In the midst of all this, DI Harper makes his emergence and may be as much a pebble in the pond as the rape that begins this story.

I enjoyed reading this book and getting to know the latticework of characters the author is creating. Dean and DI Harper are standouts while Sally’s insecurity is tiresome when compared to Jo’s contentment and Sian’s sarcasm. The hunt for the killer which takes up much of the plot is also quite gripping and I did a binge read to get to the end to see what happens.

The book also makes an admirable attempt to explore the often taboo subject of male rape and its effect on its victims. One cannot help but empathise with the killer’s motivations when one realises the source of it, even if only serves to further damage an already dangerous psyche. It speaks to the ability of the author to paint his characters in shades of grey.

There are depictions of graphic sex but it does not ever gratuitous and serves to explain the motivations of some characters. If I had a complaint, I felt that the book might have been structured better. The gangland war with Dean and the Turks felt too long and added little to the overall plot. The introduction of Jo and the White Swans is not as seamless as it should be and some connections strained credibility. Sian’s revelation that she knew the truth about David without revealing it to Sally was difficult to swallow.

Other than that, this was a delicious read and I was very satisfied when I reached the end. The characters have messy, flawed lives but it makes them relatable since it’s an accurate picture of the human condition.     

Review: Fade to Black by Tim McBain and L.T. Vargus

There’s something not quite right about Jeff Grobnagger. In reading Fade to Black by Tim McBain and L.T. Vargus, it’s a feeling that does not diminish the more we enter his world.

The book begins with one of the most visceral, gut clenching openings I’ve read in some time. From the synopsis, what happens should be of no surprise as we descend into Jeff’s dream world. Still, the authors expertly set the scene, painting it with dismal tones of impending doom. When the inevitable climax does arrive, it still feels jarring.

Stalked in his dreams by a hooded assailant, the dreams strike at any time, manifesting as epileptic seizures. The manner in which Jeff is prepared to handle these dreams adds to the reader’s sense that something about him is off. The book is written in the first person point of view so we get some workings into Jeff’s mind, discovering a hermit-like existence and a pathological fear of human connection. This is never explained to satisfaction and adds to the mystery of the character.

The cold open leads the reader back to the waking where Jeff’s story begins. Following the latest seizure and dream-death, Jeff meets Glenn, a bystander who never quite feels like a bystander. Once again, Glenn gives the impression that there is more to him than his revelation of a lost daughter. Glenn believes that Jeff is the key to finding Amity whose fascination with the occult might have led to her disappearance.

It is through Glenn that Jeff is confronted with the possibility his dreams are psychic episodes. Following a real life attempt in his life, Jeff realises he needs to know the truth for his continued existence. As he and Glenn delve into the world of the occult, they encounter characters along the way who give credibility to this suspicion; the mysterious Ms Babinaux who conducts meetings in a limousine and Louise, the private detective whose perpetual smile veils a hidden agenda or a desire to kill Batman.

The story is fascinating, with two pervading themes, the cipher of Jeff’s personality and the sensation that the world around him is not quite what it seems. Every character feels like a projection and the reader travels the dreamscape and the waking world of the plot, waiting for the shoe to drop where all is revealed. Unfortunately that moment does not arrive and is by far, the most frustrating aspect about the book. I enjoyed the read but felt that some revelations could have been made without sacrificing the mystery. It may be too much for some readers to overcome but I intend to see what happens to Jeff in this next outing.

As long as the reader is prepared for the abrupt ending, this is an enjoyable book with clever and sometimes hilarious dialogue. I recommend it for those who love their contemporary thrillers with a surreal twist. Definitely one for the fans of David Lynch.

Sunday Scribblings - Ghostbusters

So this week, we received the official confirmation that we would be getting a new Ghostbusters film and it would be recast with female leads. As was in the case when Ben Affleck was cast as Batman, the Internet went crazy.

As a fangirl, I am required for the sake of sisterhood to get up on a soapbox and cheer that this is a win for women everywhere. Four talented actresses and comediennes are going to be showcased with a brand that is not just famous, but to my generation, venerated. How could it go wrong?

Quite spectacularly I can tell you.

According to Paul Feig, this version will be ‘scarier than the original’, with no relation to the characters in the 1984 film and will be a reboot.

Come on, when were the Ghostbusters ever meant to be scary? The title alone tells you what you’re in for. It was always tongue in cheek. There were some tense moments but how afraid can you be when your main monster is a giant, walking marshmallow sailor? It’s okay though, because that absurdity is what made the movie so special. 

Making it scarier than the original is changing the tone and the spirit of what the Ghostbusters always intended to be.

If that isn’t enough to raise flags, then absence of Venkman, Egon, Winston and Spengler should be. Unless this film is being directed towards the millenials or even Generation Y who may have no idea who these guys are, everyone is going to be comparing the new cast to these originals. That’s a hell of a comparison to overcome.  

Those who saw Ghostbusters back in the day, know that the magic of the film had to do with the amazing ensemble of Murray, Ackroyd, Ramis and Hudson. Even then, Murray’s unlikely turn as the sleazy college professor turned bona fide hero was standout. For years, rumblings of any new film couldn’t even be taken seriously without Murray’s involvement.

If this wasn’t bad enough already, the new film will be a reboot too.

For every Batman, Star Trek, Dredd and Godzilla that’s done justice to the source material, there’s also a Robocop, Amazing Spiderman and Pink Panther waiting to do the exact opposite. The world of celluloid is littered with the carcasses of failed reboots. Now the term provokes a knee-jerk reaction in the Internet crowd  and don’t even get me started on prequels…

Three strikes already for a film that hasn’t even been filmed.

From the tone of this post, you might be forgiven for thinking I hate that this film is happening. No, I don’t. I’d love to see a scary movie about four scientists who just so happen to be women, fighting ghosts and monsters with some humour in it. I think that would be a great ride. I just don’t want it to be called Ghostbusters. 

Even if the premise is the same as the Ghostbusters, there’s enough about this movie to be its own creature. Its going to be darker, its going have all new characters and  no attachment to the original. So why call it a Ghostbusters film at all?  There's nothing wrong with having a similiar premise and a different brand name. 

When The X-Files first emerged on our screens, there were comparisons to the cult favourite Nightstalker with Carl Kolchak. The same could be said about Supernatural on the CW, two brothers on the road, hunting monsters bore a striking resemblance to two FBI agents, travelling America doing the exact same thing.  I believe news of this film would have been received better if it had no affiliation to the Ghostbusters at all.

My worry is that a great film may end up being bogged down by the resentment of fans who want a Ghostbusters film like they remembered in 1984. From the internet reaction, this is a very real possibility.  Armchair critics have the power to make or break genre films. Just ask Joel Schumacher.  The power of social media has never been stronger and the ability to taint a product before anyone sees a centimetre of film is not to be underestimated. So far, I’ve heard accusations of gimmickry, pandering and some truly misogynistic bile I won’t repeat here.

If this movie fails, the blame will not be on the fact that an unfair expectation was placed on it by being a Ghostbuster reboot. It will become just another example of women being unable to carry an event film.

Is it telling that Black Widow had to be introduced to a theatre going audience in Iron Man instead of leading her own movie like every other Avenger? (Don't say Hawkeye, I have no idea what's going on there!).  Wonder Woman has to make an appearance in Batman vs. Superman before she can get her own movie. We live in a world where obscure comic books such as Guardians of the Galaxy and Suicide Squad get their own films before comicdom’s greatest heroine.

So yeah, this movie being called the Ghostbusters does worry me a lot because it will only add ammunition to the stereotype that women can’t headline blockbuster films if it fails. It will mean that actresses will continued be relegated to window dressing and damsels in distress or worst yet; girl in refrigerator roles.  The exception being romcoms and Lifetime movies.  If the studio thinks that making a Ghostbusters film with female leads is enough to overcome the prejudice of the audience, the reaction from the Internet this week should give them pause. 

Let's keep our fingers crossed that this film can rise above its detractors because the ramifications if it fails will be more than just us not seeing another Ghostbusters film again.

Girl Found by Lisa Hall

From the cover, one could be forgiven for thinking that Girl Found by Lisa Hall is YA novel about a

young woman on a voyage of self-discovery.  Our heroine is looking at us sassily and challenging us to follow her on her adventure. In fact, the first few chapters does read that way as we enter the world of Ellen Morris, final year student at the University of Pittsburgh. I was quickly immersed in Ellie’s world and much like the citizens of the Republic, led to discover that all is not what it seems here and neither is Ellie.

Not quite dystopian but more science fiction, we learn that Ellie possess an interesting psychic skill I won’t spoil here but allows her to read people. The ability helps her to navigate the Republic in which she and her guardian Davis live.  After a series of catastrophic earthquakes, society remains fractured with the Republic seemingly in charge of everything. With Orwellian tones of implants, censorship, restricted travel and NSA agents that resemble the Gestapo, Ellie is desperate to escape for a future in space. It is a future that hinges on a university placement.

However, when Ellie is told that her placement is at the University of Chicago instead of Pittsburgh, it sets off a chain of events that turns Ellie’s world upside down. What follows is a thrill ride, beginning with the revelation that our heroine has a past that puts her on a collision course with the Republic. Forced to run, Ellie is betrayed by the people she cared about and manipulated into following their agenda. In the process, she discovers that the Republic’s iron clad hold of everything is an illusion. Somewhere beyond Pittsburgh is the Syndicate and its hierarchy has a greater personal connection to Ellie than she could possibly imagine.

Once the reveal about Ellie’s past is made, the book became a page turner and I had to get to the end to see how it all turned out. The Syndicate is one of the most interesting creations I’ve seen in a long time and I will enjoy reading the rest of the series to see how it is further developed. The action is well paced with pauses in between to give the reader time to absorb the fine character work Miss Hall does for Ellie, John Boden, Betty Malone and even the slithery Agent Cooper. I would have like to have seen more of Davis, Ellie’s protector and hope that his past is further explored in future books. I also hope that we see John Boden again because his chemistry with Ellie leaps off the page.

I recommend this book to anyone who enjoys a well-paced science fiction tale with an engaging heroine who makes us cheer when she comes into her own towards the latter half of the book. I can’t wait to see where Ellie takes us next.

Review for Kyrathaba Rising by William Bryan Miller

KYRATHABA RISING by William Bryan Miller

I received a copy of Kyrathaba Rising in exchange for an honest review and I have to say that when the second part of this book becomes available, I will be there to get my purchased copy. There are so many good ideas in Kyrathaba Rising by William Bryan Miller that it is hard to pin down which is the more interesting.

The book starts off with a cold open than introduces us to this dystopian world inhabited by Sethra and Byron, survivors of an alien invasion that leaves Planet Earth a radioactive wasteland. As a result, the survivors have been driven to an isolated subterranean existence with no idea if they are all that's left of humanity. While the trope of nuclear destruction may be quite common, what is unique is the manner in which the aliens exterminate the bulk of the human population. With our reliance on social media and electronic devices, how we may be wiped out by an alien intelligence is not only chilling but surprisingly plausible.

While the main plot of Kyrathaba deals with the new world that Sethra and Byron discovers and how it may well be humanity's salvation, there is also an equally compelling story in the way the A-3 bunker conducts its day to day business. The author paints the picture of a society that is almost if not more interesting than Kyrathaba itself.  The balance between the two realities is quite expert as the riddles Sethra faces is weaved in spectacularly into the book's third act. From this point on, the dystopian tale I was reading became a sweeping saga with ambitions concepts.

Although the book begins with Sethra and Byron, Kyrathaba Rising is really an ensemble piece. We're introduced to several residents of A-3 but it is Dr. Mephford, Grant Thompson and for a brief time, Dr. Hazard that really stand out. From Dr. Mephford's strategic management of A-3 to a riveting first contact situation with Grant, these characters leap off the page and command your attention right to the end. My personal favorite was Dr. Mephford.

My only complaint is that I received a copy of Kyrathaba Rising as an Audible book and I found the performance of the narrator a little difficult to follow because she speaks a little too quickly. It makes absorbing the technical components of the book difficult but I solved this problem by slowing down the speed. She does get better as the book progresses and by the third act, the narration has evolved beautifully.

This is a fantastic book in the vein of of Isaac Asimov, Arthur C Clark with a dash of William Gibson. Telling you why would be spoiling the book because there are some excellent twists. The story is well written with great attention to detail, particularly in the description of how A-3 operations and the suspense artfully delivered. There is also some lovely Lord of the Rings references. By the time the book reaches the end, reader's appetite is properly wetted for the next installment.

I recommend this book to those who love hard science-fiction, a well-paced story as well as character studies. Kyratha Rising is an epic read that is only just getting started.

Hunter's Haven - My new book!

HUNTER'S HAVEN

SYNYOPSIS

After taking revenge on a drug lord and his crew for murdering his sister, John Hunter is a wanted man.  It’s 2030 and in the aftermath of the great plague, John makes his way to Haven, craving sanctuary and peace but instead runs into a rogue religious group who wants to play God even as they run rife with corruption.  But they haven’t counted on meeting big bad John who’s meaner than they could ever be.  And just when they think they’ve put him out of their misery, he’s resurrected from his hospital bed and hell hath no fury like a hunter scorned…who’s become a devil with a cause! 

HUNTER’S HAVEN is an action packed thriller that grabs you by the throat and won’t let go until the end of the book.  To miss this incredible adventure would be criminal!  Get your copy today and enjoy the read of a lifetime!

This is an excerpt from Hunter's Haven, due for release on December 21st via Amazon and Smashwords. 

********

"Casey and Lopez checked in yet?" Othello Price demanded.

Omar Phelps lowered the cell phone from his ear. His expression grim as he shook his head, jaw ticking as he formulated the best way to deliver his answer. In the end, he realized there was no best way, just the only way.

"No and they're not going to. Jacey, who’s working the strip around the corner from Lockweed, says they got hit hard.  The whole building is up in flames. She doesn’t think they made it out."
"FUCK!" Othello swore, swiping all the contents of his desk to the floor in a burst of uncharacteristic rage. An assortment of objects clattered against the Persian rug—books, pens, papers and a tablet cracked on impact.  He kicked the chair to its back before turning around to face Omar again. 

"How many is that now?" He panted, fighting to compose himself again. His fists were clenched as he stared into the green felt on the oak desktop, trying to wrap his mind around how this could be happening at all.

"Twenty-two dead so far," Omar tried to hide his own fear at the storm coming their way. "We can't be sure of the exact number at Lockweeds. We know a couple of guys who haven't checked in yet."

Twenty-two men, all dead. Shot, burned, stabbed or killed in some equally gruesome fashion. Everyone he'd sent out to deal with the situation did not come back.  When Dwyer bought it at the Sin Kitty Club, the night was young but that was hours ago. As the hours ticked by, as more and more of his guys were hit. Some in their homes, others were at the various businesses owned by the Triple C and some while their dicks were in their girlfriends' snatches. 

It began to dawn on Othello he had crossed a line and he crossed the line with the wrong cop.
The fucking war hero was coming.

"How many guys we got around here?"

"Thirteen," Omar answered, still recovering from the realization that Othello, the baddest motherfucker he knew, was scared. "Four on the roof, three at the gates and the rest patrolling the house. There ain't no way that psycho cop is getting in here. We got eyes on the ground. He'll never get past the gate. Lamonte is watching the cameras."

"Good," Othello was grateful his young cousin was not in the front line so to speak.  An hour ago, he did something he never imagined he would do. He sent Mona and the kids out of the city to her folks in Indiana. He didn't know if the cop would hurt them or not but he wasn't risking it. The cop wasn’t just killing members of his crew. He was killing anyone who worked for Triple C. Pimps, mules, dealers, cooks and soldiers. He didn't seem to care if they were male or female. If they were Triple C, they died. 

"Don't worry Theo," Omar assured him, using that old nickname from back in the days when they use to run together as kids.   "We'll get him."

"Yeah," Othello grunted and walked over to the liquor cabinet and retrieving a bottle of scotch from inside of it. He didn't pour himself a glass, taking a healthy swig of it because he wanted the liquor to burn its way down his throat.

"All this over his bitch sister," Omar commented going over to the leather sofa before lowering himself into it.

Othello tensed. He didn't want to think about the girl.

Mention of her dredged up the memories of the brunette they dragged off her college campus three days ago. Her brother was one of those cops who couldn't be intimidated or bribed. Fucking Captain America who came from the war thinking it meant shit in the real world. Othello wanted to show him how touchable he was, just like Charles Martin Smith in that old movie with Kevin Costner.

They had her for almost a day in one of his warehouses, him and four of his boys. Omar included.  She was a real looker too, long legs, brown hair and a killer body.  They took turns at her because she was so fucking sweet and because it would drive big brother crazy. She'd screamed and wailed as they tore into her body, smacking her good and bloody when she made too much noise.

Yet through it all, she didn't break. The bitch didn't fucking break. Even after they'd left her bleeding and naked, covered in their jizz, he remembered the look in her eyes, the defiance as she stared at him. She smiled with teeth broken and covered in blood and said to him without fear.

"He's going to kill all of you for this."

It was the last thing she said before he put a bullet in her head.

It pissed him off she hadn't begged, not once. Not even when they were violating her. She cried and she screamed when they hurt her but she didn't beg. That defiance infuriated him, made him think she’d deserved more pain, more desecration. So he told his boys to send her back to her brother, special delivery.

They sent her back in pieces.

Othello thought the cop was finished. No one came back from a thing like that. The leader of Triple C was confident the cop would rage and curse but that was all he could because unlike Charles Martin Smith, he and his crew were untouchable. In this world where the law was breaking down, he and his guys were the new reality. The cop bore no proof they were responsible and even if he did, there wasn't anyone in Chicago brave enough to come after the Triple C. They were invulnerable.

Or so Othello thought. 

Something caught his eye through the window of the study. He winced as the light overloaded his retinas. Blinking the spots out of his eyes, twin strobes glared at him through the front gates. He strode over to the desk, he opened the top drawer and retrieved his gun, a Glock, and went to investigate.

"What's going on?" He heard Omar ask but ignored him. Before he reached the glass, gunfire broke out and dropped to his knees.  Omar dove for the floor behind him.  The rat-tat-tat of an assault rifle filled the air before bullets riddled the window above his head. Glass shattered and he was driven behind the cover of the desk.

Only when he took refuge behind the sturdy safety of oak did he dare look up again and this time, he saw the sentries at the gate were firing blankly at the strobes that just so happened to be headlights rushing at them. Not from a car though, he thought. They sat too far apart and too high off the ground.

The cement truck tore through the steel gates like paper, crumpling one and tearing the other off its hinges. The gates tumbled off the hood as if it had been swiped aside by its wipers. Two of his men, Naf and Elroy were mowed down as the vehicle accelerated. The third leap out of the way, only to be cut down by a barrage of gunfire from the driver's side. 

Footsteps pounded over his head, the guys on the roof were running into position and he imagined the racket would bring the others patrolling the grounds. The truck rolled down the paved driveway before stopping short of the house, idling.

The door swung open without warning and the faint shape of a body seemed to be taking cover as the guys on the roof opened fire. The driver didn’t respond and lost in the sound of MAC-10s was a single burst of sound, like a champagne cork popping. With that single sound, the driver retreated into the safety of the cabin even as bullets pinged against the steel.

The explosion that followed rocked the house to its foundations. Screams tore through his ears as one of his men went over the side, landing on the grass near his window. His back was a mess of burnt flesh and fabric. It was difficult to tell which was which. He landed with a sickly thud, body still flaming but still.

"What the fuck was that?" Omar stared at the ceiling. Pieces of mortar had broken off in chunks and concrete dust was coming through freshly made cracks.

"I think the fucker used a rocket launcher!" Othello shouted getting to his feet.

Another burst of gunfire erupted as the men patrolling the grounds circled the house, closing in on the truck. Before they could get close enough, the side passenger door swung open once again.

"GET CLEAR!" Othello rant to the window and screamed. "GET CL...!"

He never finished the sentence because of another loud pop and this time, the grenade landed in the middle of the group. The explosion sent dirt and smoke in all direction. More screams followed the pop and whistle of another grenade being launched. The explosion landed closer to the house because once again the walls shuddered and the smoke and flames became more prolific. It was only the size of the place keeping him and Omar alive in the study.

As the lights died around the house, another eruption of gunfire filled the air. The large calibre shells being fired from behind the shield of the door ripped apart the remaining Triple C soldiers who hadn't been killed by the second grenade. The bodies of the dead or wounded, he'd never know were also riddled with stray gunfire as if the cop wanted to make sure they didn't get up.

"Jesus!" Lamonte stumbled into the room, "Theo! We need to get you out of here! That grenade took out all our guys on the roof."

The gunfire stopped abruptly and Othello ran to the window.  The driver retreating into the cabin of the truck and gunned engine once more. The wheels spun in place, smoking up the driveway with the stench of burn rubber. The bullet had killed the lights outside but one of the truck's headlights remained and it glared into the house like a searching eye.

"Fuck this!" Othello growled and stomped to the front door. He wasn't going to wait for the crazy son of a bitch to come back at him. The door flung open and he stood beneath the portico and started shooting at the windscreen. The bullets of his .457 exploded out of the magnum, killing the headlight and what remained of the frosted glass.

"Your sister was such a good thing to fuck!" Othello taunted. "You should have heard her howl! She was begging for more by the time we were done!"

The wheels continued to spin even after the windscreen was gone. Through the darkness, he tried to see the driver but there didn't seem to be anybody at the wheel. What the fuck? Othello thought. Where was the war hero?

He had no sooner asked the question when suddenly the truck lurched forward, the wheels creating a loud screech. It roared forward, quickly escaping the drive way and ruining the manicured lawn. Othello squinted, trying to glimpse who was driving but as the truck rumbled towards the walkway leading up the porch, he was driven backwards into the house.

"Run!" He warned seconds before the truck smashed through the front porch, smashing through columns and bringing down the balcony. Masonry and wood clattered against the huge cement as it became wedged in the ruined doorway and buckled the walls against the study. The grill stopped short of the staircase upstairs.

Carlo and Meacham, the last of his soldiers still standing appeared, coming through the kitchen. They had been furthest out and thus spared the death that had come to the others on the front lawn. They opened fire, bathing the cabin with a murderous barrage of artillery. They maintained the relentless assault for an eternity, covering the dented front of the truck with so many holes the engines no longer ran. It died with pitiful final roar diminishing into weak rumble before stopping for good.

"Is he fucking dead?" Omar stepped forward, making sure Othello was behind him as he, Carlo and Meacham closed in.

"If he ain't dead," Carlo snorted, "he'd be wishing he was right about now."

Meacham, one of the few Caucasians in the Triple C, approached the driver's door first, nodding at Carlo to cover him as he pulled it open. The bullet ridden door swung open and Meacham peered in, expecting to find a body as ruined as the truck but the cabin was empty. A baseball bat was wedged against the accelerator.

The last thing Meacham noticed before the truck exploded taking Carlo and Omar with him was the man standing on the walkway to the house in the leather duster.

Othello had started running as soon as he heard the sound of the weapon discharging. He had tried to warn Omar and Lamonte but there wasn't enough time. The fireball swept through the house and he took comfort in the fact Omar’s death was quick. Lamonte was not so lucky.  Othello stared at his cousin as he flung himself through the window was the fire sweeping over Lamonte, bathing him in flames.

He landed on the grass outside, scrambling backwards as he saw Lamonte flaying about in agony, his entire body breathed in fire. His screams were barely audible through the roar of the fire and he gagged realising the stench belonged to Lamonte's cooking flesh. 

"LAMONTE!" Othello screamed. There were tears in his eyes not just from the smoke or seeing his house, the one he'd had built for Mona and the kids, crumbling before his eyes. The lawn which he had so enjoyed walking across in his bare feet was covered in debris from the explosions and the pieces of men were once his friends.

By now Lamonte had tumbled to the ground, disappearing in the blaze. The fire was out of control now and the heat so intense Othello was unable to stay where he was. Backing away, he started to get up when something moved at the edge of his vision. Still clutching his gun, he whirled around sharply only to cry out in pain when a boot caught him in the jaw. Reeling in pain, he fell against the grass and attempt to raise his hand. The same boot came down on his wrist, driving it into the ground forcing him to relinquish the weapon.

"FUCK YOU!" Othello cursed through the broken fragments of teeth.

He was answered by the butt of a rifle, this one shattering his nose. Othello uttered a scream, one hand flying to his face as the pain flared across his skull and warm blood flowed down his lips and chin. He opened his eyes to look and saw the same gun, now flipped over, the barrel held poised at his forehead.

"Come on war hero," Othello sneered as he stared into the cop's face. "Do it! Pull the trigger! Ain't gonna bring your bitch sister back is it?"

The cop shifted the barrel of the gun away from his forehead and fired.

Othello uttered a scream as the single bullet tore into his shoulder. He collapsed on the grass, as the pain tore through him. He didn't have time to recover because no sooner than one shot had stopped ringing in his head, another shot rang out and he was screaming again. His knee shattered and he lay on the grass writhing.

Panting hard, trying to regain some measure of dignity despite his pain, he glared at the cop with hate filled eyes. "Just do it! You fucking coward! Get it over with!"

The cop, the war hero, stared at him with dark eyes. There was no trace of grief, no sign of the fury provoking this night of carnage. Just dead, dark eyes boring into him, like he was a ghost already. Reaching into the duster, he retrieved a plastic bottle from his pocket and began squirting its contents at Othello.

The stuff smelled and it burned.

"What the fuck!" Othello glared at him and realized what he being doused with.

It was acetone.

"Fuck you war hero!!" The leader of the Triple C screamed as it dawned on him his final fate. "I'm glad I fucked your sister! Glad I sent her to you in a doggy bag!" He ranted as the cop emptied the bottle's contents all over him.

The cop reacted to none of this except to toss the bottle aside when he was done.

"Go to hell!" He shouted when he saw the lighter in the cop's hand.

"Probably will," John Hunter spoke for the first time. "But not before I make a stop in Gary, Indiana. You know where that is, don't you?"

Othello froze.

Jesus, Mona and the kids!

He opened his mouth to plead but he never got the chance. The lighter flicked to life in the cop's hand a second before it was tossed at him.

After that, Othello Jones was beyond thinking about anything. 

*********

Soon to be available on Amazon.  On sale on the 21t Dcember 2014 through Amaxon on 

amazon.com/author/lindathackeray