Tuesday, January 19, 2010

2nd Syckosis excerpt

You have waited patiently for another excerpt from Syckosis, and here it is!



“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Randolph closes the phone and puts on the auto-pilot on the Prius and closes his eyes for a few moments to decompress from what had already been a stressful morning. No sooner had he closed his eyes and began to doze off to sleep then a proximity alarm sounds in the vehicle. His eyes bolt wide open as he sits up straight in the car, clutching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Randolph looks ahead and sees a wall of flame spread across his side of the interstate from where a gasoline tanker had lost control and crossed the median before flipping onto the northbound lanes of the road and exploding in flames. Randolph quickly swerves the Prius onto the grass on the right side of the road, and struggles to maintain control as the little hybrid bucks and jumps through the dry St. Augustine grass, all the while the flames spreading closer to the vehicle and beginning to lick at the blades lining the edge of the road.
After an eternity, Randolph manages to pull the car back onto the road and look at the carnage in his rear view mirror, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as he relaxes his grip on the wheel. He picks up his phone and quickly dials 911 for a fire truck and police to arrive and route people around the wreck, before resetting the auto-pilot and settling back in for an hour and a half nap between his current location and mile marker 442. Randolph’s sleep is troubled and light as his brain replayed the events of the morning over and over, and Randolph trying desperately to figure out what he did wrong to allow Morgan to be kidnapped.
He was into his tenth repetition of the events that morning, all with the same result as the original, when the car's auto-pilot's soothing female voice roused him. He rubs his eyes groggily and looks around at his surroundings. He lightly taps his right foot on the brake to disengage the auto-pilot and begin slowing the car as the sign announcing mile marker four hundred forty two appears just over the horizon. Randolph squints briefly, looking for the package that Morgan's kidnappers had told him would be there. He flips a switch and the neon green flashers come out of the top of the car and begin to flash. He slows the car to a stop as he eases off the side of the road right at the marker, and waits for a break in the traffic to get out of the car. He looks at his watch and breathes a sigh of relief. Fifteen minutes to spare, he says to himself, and looks in the sky for the chopper that was to meet him at the mile marker. To his dismay, there is nothig hovering overhead, not even a cloud. "That lying little piece of ----" he says, as he flips open his phone and begins to dial the number to the Sacramento office. "I would watch what I would say, if I were you, Agent Prescott," the muffled voice on the other end of the phone chides him, as he puts the ear piece to his ear. "How did you--- I dialed ---- okay, we need to set some ground rules here, Mr. Voice," Randolph snaps back. "I am at the rendezvous point as agreed upon with fifteen minutes to spare, now what?"
"My, my, aren't we a l-l-l-lttle impatient," the voice on the other end of the phone responds. "All right, m-m-m-my l-l-l-little boy scout, the box that you are to transport is behind the third bush to your right. But be careful, or it might explode, and we don't want to have to clean up boy scout off the road. Would be extremely m-m-m-messy."
"Third bush on the right," Randolph mumbles under his breath as he walks towards a scraggle of barberry bushes that had sprung up earlier that month. He pushes the brush aside and sees the package laying on its side, and a light gray smoke emanating from the far corner of the box. “Um, the box seems to be smoking. Should it really be doing that?”
“N-n-n-n-no. What color is the smoke?”
“It appears to be a light grayish-blue.”
“Then, I would suggest that you run, because I would say that in the next ten seconds, that package is going to explode.”

Chapter 4: “Tick-Tick-Boom!”
Randolph hears the word “run” and takes off in a full sprint away from the box. He had gotten about twenty feet from the package when it erupts into a fireball about the size of a small car, and the concussion of the explosion lifts Randolph off his feet and sends him hurtling through the air and onto the pavement about fifteen yards away.


More to come as it comes to me.

Do you like what you have read? I welcome your feedback on this or any my blogs, leave me a comment below or send me an e-mail at childofking88@aol.com.

Until we meet again, remember that two wrongs don't make a right, but three rights make a left.

Monday, January 11, 2010

New Excerpt from Syckosis

All right, here it is: the next excerpt from Syckosis!



“Yea, you can connect me to Agent Menov,” Randolph responds after a few moments of silence.
“It would be my pleasure to connect you, please hold,” Rocky responds, and the musak begins again, this time playing a synth rock pop ballad that somehow had gained popularity earlier in the year among the tween and teen crowd. Finally, a man answers the phone.
“Agent Douglas Menov, how can I help you?”
“Doug, Rand Prescott, out of the Bethesda office. I am in Fresno right now, and need to know where the closest field office would be to my location.”
“Rand, I thought you were on vacation with Morgan? What are you doing asking for a field office location?”
“Doug, I don’t have time to go into it right now. Suffice it to say, we are down one agent due to someone that has access to our tracking technology taking advantage of what they could access. Now, can you get me the location or do I need to speak to someone else?”
Doug is silent for a few moments, as he clicks at some keys on his holoterminal. Finally, he speaks. “Well, Rand, if you would have asked me an hour ago, I would have told you Los Angeles, but given what has happened, you got two choices: Sacramento or San Fran. They are both about the same distance and time. You need me to send someone to pick you up?”
Rand replies quickly to that question. “No, but I will need a noteholo and an untraceable cell phone waiting for me when I get to Sacramento. And I also need someone to keep an eye on my locater because I have a feeling that there may be someone trailing me using my locater.”
Doug is silent for a few more moments at the announcement that someone could be trailing one of his co-workers. “All right, Rand, any thing else you need.”
“Actually, yes. Can you have the same person who is watching my locater also watch for Morgan’s? The people that took her appear to have the technology to deactivate her chip.”
“You got it, man. Be careful.”
“I don’t know any other way to be.”

More to come as it comes to me.

Do you like what you have read? I welcome your feedback on this or any my blogs, leave me a comment below or send me an e-mail at childofking88@aol.com.

Until we meet again, remember that two wrongs don't make a right, but three rights make a left.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Syckosis!

Have you ever had a nonsense word stuck in your head for hours? Early this morning, I had the title of this blog pop into my head and it would not leave. For some reason, I even started spelling it in my sleep. When I woke up an hour ago, I realized the meaning of the word: the title of my next novel I was to work on.
In the following minutes, I quickly powered up my laptop and typed out a portion of the prologue. I thought I would share what was written with you now.

"People were milling around the Farmers' Market on the corner of Fairfax and Third Street that sunny spring morning in downtown Los Angeles. The market itself was brimming with people, waiting on the market to actually open for the first time of the year, as the first fruits and vegetables from the area had just arrived earlier that morning on the farmers' trucks and were still being arranged to their liking.
"No one seemed to notice the nervous young man of African-American descent trying to pus his way through the crowd. He kept looking around, constantly checking over his shoulder, convinced that at any moment a Los Angeles bike cop would tap him on his shoulder and ask him his business there, and thus thwarting the master plan. The youth kept one hand on his backpack strap of the backpack that had been securely fastened to his back, until he reached his destination and removed the hand from his strap and reached into his pocket and pulled out a detonator."


More to come as it comes to me.



Do you like what you have read? I welcome your feedback on this or any my blogs, leave me a comment below or send me an e-mail at childofking88@aol.com.

Until we meet again, remember that two wrongs don't make a right, but three rights make a left.