Yes, after giving all my readers a break from my ‘serious’ books, for close to an eternity, here’s a brief extract from this wondrous tome…
Yes, I’m also Clive Thunderbolt.
Bullets made ragged holes in the grassy bank beside her car, and stones were kicked up, which spattered the vehicle’s paintwork. Katherine ducked down inside the vehicle as a second volley of machine gun fire studded the tarmacadam road surface between Wozniak and the tiny vehicle.
Anger exploded inside Wozniak’s brain like star shell. He grabbed Len and threw him at the car. Then he strode into the centre of the road, turned to face the corner, and raised the huge revolver. Two uniformed men were running down the road toward him. Both were armed. One with a machine gun, whom Wozniak assumed was the primary culprit, the other held a rifle. The man with the machine gun loosed off two careless shots as he cantered towards Wozniak before his magazine either jammed, or became exhausted. Wozniak coolly shot down the man with the rifle with a single round that caught the slightly built man in the shoulder – spun him around – and dumped him, face down, in the road.
The machine gunner looked at his fallen comrade for a moment. He appeared startled. He appeared torn, and seemed to consider fleeing, or perhaps diving for cover behind an ancient mile stone that lay partially embedded in the bank. But when he realized that his colleague wasn’t breathing, anger got the better of him, and instead of using discretion, he wrenched the magazine from his weapon, grabbed a fresh one from his webbing, and slotted it into place beneath the barrel. Wozniak then shot him down too. Two bullets smashed into his upper chest. He was thrown backwards by the impacts – and the gun spun away from his outstretched hands. His body slammed on to the road surface beside the rifleman. He twitched twice before slumping inert.
It had been a cold and calculating act of ultimate violence, and for a brief moment Wozniak hated himself for it. But, he reasoned well enough, it had truthfully been either them or him, and it wasn’t like he’d shot an unarmed man. Their intent had been clear. So in Wozniak’s mind his act wasn’t murder – whichever way one looked at it – or so he tried to convince his conscience.
“I’m getting rather good at this.” He said grimly. Then noticing Katherine’s inquiring expression, he added, “Killing people. And all I ever wanted to do was write TV shows. Is that asking too much?”
Len didn’t say anything, but he laid a huge, gnarled hand upon Wozniak’s shoulder, and patted him gently.
© Paul Trevor Nolan
This is actually available in paperback and e-book form. Perhaps you should purchase one or two. See the Lulu logo (on the side bar) for paperback and e-books; or the book covers (also on the side bar) to access Amazon, B&N etc.
Did you notice the Black Tower in the last Earplug Adventure episode?
Yup, it’s more of my infamous Tea Dust Art. Tea dust in the bottom of a box that is shaken or tapped until something interesting appears. Good, innit?
Amazon Kindle are the latest to show The Missing on their e-book listing. Perhaps, as a Kindle user, you should scrutinize their website. It couldn’t hurt.
And who knows: perhaps you might find yourself inspired.
WARNING: Technobabble-free post!
As you’ve probably ascertained from my earlier posts on the subject of photography, I’m a point-and-shoot merchant. If the picture on the screen looks like the thing I’ve just photographed, I’m happy. Auto is king. But not always. Sometimes you have to fiddle with your knob and twiddle your doo-dah. For example here is the picture of some Michaelmas Daisies that my Sony HX400 decided was true and accurate…
“Pretty,” thought I, “but that’s not what it looks like.”
So I fiddled with my knob. This is the result…
“Close,” I said to the Sony, “but no banana.”
So I twiddled my doo-dah. Here is the result…
This is what the garden just outside my kitchen window actually looks like.
So the moral of this tale is: a photographer should never be afraid to fiddle with his/her knob. And as regards to his/her doo-dah: well it’s just gagging for a good twiddle.