A Sneak-Peek Look at My Book

Yes, I'm writing a book. And yes, I'll be releasing it for a dollar on the Amazon Kindle store. Just to get you hooked, I'm going to post a scene which I just wrote. Keep in mind, this is a rough draft. It may not be the same in the final product. Here it is....

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The Lakeshore Tavern was a deceiving place on many different levels. For one, it was not on a lakeshore. The nearest lake was a hundred or so miles west of there, through thick jungle and swamp land. And, if you asked the locals, they could tell you the term ‘lake’ was used loosely.

Not only that, but from the outside the Tavern had the appearance of a decent enough establishment. It was made of dark, strong wood that looked clean and well kept. The sign hanging outside of the tavern was carved by hand with an apparent amounts of care. It was even lettered carefully and neatly in something that resembled cursive lettering, though it was probably just this planet’s interpretation of standard English.

It was even nestled in a nicer part of the small village, right next to several different shops, inns, and a law enforcement department. It was even situated on a stone road, a rare oddity on this backwater planet.

However, Sandra only had to step into the door of the tavern to see that looks were deceiving. The interior was made out of grayish wood, like rotting trees, and the stone was cheap looking and sparsely used, it looked like concrete- not even natural wood. The tables, chairs, and stools were old and worn, most of them didn’t even look structurally stable, many appeared to sag under the weight of the occupants.

Harsh tobacco smoke hung in the air like mist, partially clouding up the air and making the place hard to breathe in without gulping in the sharp, bitter fumes. It was loud inside, as well. Everyone spoke in their loudest, most drunken voices- speaking to people that were nearby as if they were separated by an unseen chasm. If less people were talking, Sandra guessed she would be able to hear each individual discussion.

All the eyes in the room shifted to her, and an air of silence fell over the room.

She suddenly realized how out of place she looked among the bearded, dirty farmers. While they wore tattered old clothes, she wore a fine pressed military uniform. Most of the men’s hair was shaven to prevent lice from nesting inside. Hers was long and dark red, flowing to her shoulders.

And then there was her gun strapped to her belt by a fake leather holster.

That was probably her most noticeable feature.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the fat, old bartender called out to her in a deep accent, “Heller madam, welcome to the Tavern! What can I do for you?”

“Uh- nothing. I’m, I’m just looking for someone…” Sandra tried not to sound uncomfortable. She couldn’t. She scanned the ogling men, trying to find him. Carter said he wouldn’t be hard to miss. Big guy. Fedora. A cowboy kind of guy.

At first, all she could see was the farmers that were still staring at her. No fedora-wearing guy, just men who were probably married but didn’t mind staring at her for a while. Then, she spotted him in the far back of the tavern, sitting all alone, a cigar clamped in his mouth. She could just make out his expression, and it was clear he found this very, very funny. It was also clear that he knew who she was looking for.

Already I hate this guy, she thought bitterly.

She didn’t waste a moment briskly walking to his table. In fact, she moved as fast as she could- hoping that they would stop staring at her. Some of them did. Most of them, however, did not.

On closer examination, she was sure that he was the man she was looking for.

He was a large, muscular man in his mid-forties wearing a dark brown cowboy hat. His hair was black, from what she could see around the hat, but it appeared to be graying a little. His face might have once been attractive, or at least handsome. But now it was aging and worn, like an old layer of canvas that had spent too many nights in the wind. His cigar was glowing at the tip, and a thick stream of smoke surrounded his face. He smiled coldly and yelled to the men who were still staring, “She ain’t much boys, and even if she were- your all happily married. Right? So turn your eyes elsewhere. Anyway, from the looks of it- she’d go way to fast for all of you kiddies.”

There was a slight murmur of disapproval at that, and Sandra had to try not to show anger at him.

“Mr. Richards?”

He looked contently at her and shook his head disappointedly, “Yeah. Is this who the recruiters send over these days? Man, the teenage boys are NOT going to be enticed by that.” He pointed at her and smiled again, this time it was an icy cold smile. He stamped out his cigar on the table and then cast it aside.

“My name’s Sandra Price, Sgt. Sandra Pri-”

“And I’m a commander of Spec. Ops, or I was. I really don’t care who you are, just tell me what you want or get out of my view of that waitress.” He pointed somewhere, but Sandra didn’t bother to look. She hoped her face wasn’t flushed with anger.

Why do I always get assigned to these kind of guys?

“You’re a head-hunter, right?” she asked, faking politeness.

“Either I am or you really need help on your intel, Sergeant. And I doubt you do.”

She took a breath, and then continued- “We have a fugitive who escaped to this planet- he’s wanted for treason, war mongering, and-”

“Vincente Cross. I know. Ugly character. Kind of like him, myself.”

She resisted the urge to protest and say Vincente was a murderer, instead she continued on, “We have reason to believe that he escaped into the jungle due south of this village, and we need your help tracking him down.”

He said nothing.

“We’re willing to offer you fifteen hundred dollars for your service, if we catch him dead or alive.” Sandra said flatly.

“Fifteen hundred, eh?” He sat back and stroked his beard in mock contemplation. “You know, honey, I could buy myself a pretty nice funeral with that money. I’d need to, because Vincente doesn’t have a record of messing around.

Last guy who tried to take him on was found with his eyes gouged and his throat sliced like butter. He was hunting him in a desert. Better odds of finding him than we do in the jungle.”

“How do you know-”

“Save it, I know a lot of things the average man shouldn’t know. Bottom line is this: I’m old, and I’d like to get a little older before I’m through.” he said this with a lot of finality.

She sighed and reached in her pocket, grasping a notebook. “Sir, we aren’t asking you to help. The reward is just that; a reward. You are legally bound to help us- to finally earn your pardon for the treason and murder that you are wanted for on every planet.”

His eyes shifted when she said that, as if he didn’t realize people had known about the murders. It took him a moment to regain his composure. “And what makes you think, babe, that I couldn’t disappear again?” He reached to his side, as if he needed to scratch his back. Sandra noticed it instantly.

They drew their guns at the same time.

“Ah, I see we’ve encountered a bit of an obstacle. Lord almighty knows that both of us have the chance to blow the other one’s brains out right here if we wanted to. We could both be dead before I could say Hello. However, that be big anti-climax, wouldn’t it?”

The eyes of everyone in the Tavern redirected to the two people aiming guns at each other. Stuff like this never happened, and it was huge to see it firsthand.

“Put your gun down, sir. You know that you wouldn’t have any chance of escape, even if you did kill me.” she remained calm. He was the biggest fool in the world, sure, but he wasn’t stupid.

He didn’t move.

“I want more, if I’m going to have to do it. A hundred thousand, and a one-way ticket off this planet and back to Earth.” he spoke calmly. Coldly. Like a weapon wasn’t aimed point-blank at him.

“I don’t think your in any position to-”

“I’ve got just much of a gun pointed at your jugs as you have at mine. Seems even enough to me.” He didn’t even flinch.

“Fine, I’ll try to give you what you want…” she lied.

“Babe, you’ll give me what I want.” he spoke in that same dry, emotionless tone that he always had. It didn’t sound like a demand, it sounded like a simple fact.

He lowered his gun.