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RITES OF PASSAGE               The heavy weight of a .357 revolver rested in the right hand pocket of his trench coat.   It was too warm to wear the heavy coat, but the fat gray clouds that threatened rain would suffice if he had to make an excuse.   Brad Christian was an expert at making excuses.   Some would say the thirteen year old was even pathological he was so good at telling lies.   He would shrug and ask what pathological meant if someone mentioned it to him.   He knew he was a good liar.   It was all part of growing up.   Brad had overheard his stepfather tell his mother that one night when they thought he was asleep.   It was their fault really. They should have known to keep their voices low in the tiny three bedroom single wide trailer the small family shared.   Even though his parents room was separated from the middle bedroom by the kitchen and living room, any sound louder than a whisper floated through the thin wood panel w

  CHAPTER ONE    JAKE   He stared at the drop of golden amber liquid on the tip of his finger. It glistened in the neon glow of a beer sign behind the bar, beaded up and hiding his fingerprint underneath. He imagined for a second he could see the twirl and swirl of the unique lines that only he owned in all the world. Fingerprints, the ultimate identifier. “Are you going to bet?” Jake shot a look at Amanda behind the bar. She had one hand behind her back, a bottle of what was on his finger hidden in her grip. “Double or nothing?” he shot her a cocky grin. “You’re on,” she snapped back with a smile. He put the tip of his finger on this tongue, transferring the drop onto his taste bud. He let it roll around a minute, savoring the miniature volcano of heat on just that one section of his tongue. It made the rest of his mouth water in anticipation. “Dewar’s,” he announced. Amanda pulled the hidden bottle from behind her back and showed him the label. “I’m impres

    CHAPTER ONE       There was too much leg to take in at once. They stretched up like monuments to dance crafted perfection, long lithe and lean. There was a line along the outside of her calf as she shifted on the uneven dirt, highlighting the muscle beneath. There were too few perfect legs in the galaxy, too few by far and the set standing in front of him attached to the red hair staring down at him knew she was one of the chosen. She worked at it. “Take a picture,” she smirked. “You burned all the pictures,” Jake rolled over on his back and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He was on the porch again. At least this time, his hand was on the door.   He tilted his head to one side and groaned at the crack of pain that tried to split his skull apart. “Hair of the dog?” Gretchen asked. He blinked open again and spied his truck.   It was parked in the yard, rear wheels on the gravel driveway.   The driver’s side door was open and the lights were still on, though

    He stepped out of the shower and almost bumped into Mona Lisa. She stopped in the middle of the corridor, inches away from his still damp skin and stared up at him with oversized eyes. “Jesus, Bat,” she breathed. He could look down and see the flush of her cheeks, the hint of color creeping up her neck. Her eyes dilated, her breath came in short quick pants as her eyes drifted over his bare torso. It looked like it had been carved from some tan colored stone, etched by an artist who admired Michelangelo but insisted on a more comic book interpretation of the male form. All the muscles were massive, packed and sheathed under thin skin, like a soft from anatomy map. Everything was oversized, from his biceps to pectorals, to sloping muscles down his back to where they tapered to a trim waist hidden in a towel that looked too small. “They were designed like that,” Junebug announced from the speaker. “Stop watching me,” Mona Lisa answered. “I am the ship,” the AI sta

  HELL TO PAY     "A Trooper is virtuous. He never denies battle, even when he is outnumbered. A Trooper is poor, chaste, kind to women." The Templar Creed       Paying Hell   Ralph stared across the hardpan surface of the alien planet. It was covered in dust and rock, a dry desolate plain spread out in front of them, bordered by a rock wall on one side and a sea of sand so fine, it was like sinking in water every time someone took a step on it. They had lost several transports that way, the first on accident, the next two a test of sorts, a test that failed, and cost the life of one Trooper. The others they had been able to rescue. "How goes it?" a voice interrupted his reverie. Ralph pointed to the instant structures at the far end of the plain. They were faded from sunlight and use, but still functional in the Martian atmosphere. "No one has been in or out in two hours." "You've stood watch that long?" Ral

 Hail Fellow - The Marshal of Magic “You know where this place is?” he asked from the seat next to me. Hail sat in the passenger seat, arm resting on the open window of my dusty old truck as we rumbled along a two lane back road. The sun winked through leafy treetops, tossing a cascade of flickering lights across the inside of the cab. Elvis floated behind me in the bed of the truck, whipping on the end of his tether like a kite on a string. He didn’t yell so much anymore. I suppose the novelty of flying wore off after awhile, but I could feel happy energy radiating off of him in waves of bliss. “If you’re asking if I’ve been,” I told him. “No. But in a general sense.” He snapped off a salute. “General sense.” “You don’t seem too concerned,” I told him. He shrugged. “Not for me,” he tapped his chest and watched the road through the windshield. “But I consider you a friend, Marshal. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” “Thanks?” “None needed,” he said. “I called y

  The Berserker Brigade  Episode Two     Outside, the two boys joined the last empty spots on the second row of six trainees. The DI watched them in silence for a moment before he glanced over their shoulders at the closed door to their sleeping quarters. Jack stared straight ahead at the dark nighttime sky. "Now that we're all here," the DI said. "I've got a command instruction straight from the top." He held up a sheet of paper in his fist. "You're going to break into two squads and participate in an exercise," he continued. So far, so good, thought Jack. They had done exercises before, plenty of them. Hell, that's what training was all about. Exercise for the body, and war exercise for the mind to get them ready for battle. The DI passed two packets to the boys on each one of the rows. "These are your squad leaders," he announced. "They are word of God out there." Jack bit back a grunt of surprise. The tall boy at the

  The Berserker Brigade - a sci fi action adventure Episode One "All right you numb nut sacks of shit, I'd tell you to drop your cocks and grab your socks, but I don't think there's a shaft to be had on any of you pussies." Jack rubbed the crusty sleep from his eyes and rolled up from the blanket spread out on the floor. He popped to attention, or at least as close to it as his sleep fogged mind would allow. "You plan to sleep all day princess?" the loud voice yelled next to him. Jack froze and tried not to breath. The yelling wasn't directed at him, he was just near the line of fire. One wrong move would put in him trouble though. "I said get your ass up!" the DI yelled at the young man in the pallet next to Jack. He was a small kid named Kirby, and looked like he should be playing at soldier instead of training to be one. Kirby hauled himself up and stood shivering under the curse filled barrage of the DI. "You

  Hey it’s Chris,   Just a quick note today to share some things with you.   I’m filing taxes this week, which is always fun.   It feels like a game sometimes, and I wrote about it in the 52 Billion Dollar Solution.   I’m thinking about taxes because we had a deep freeze here with a snowstorm last week.   Everything iced up and iced over and it’s still melting, turning the ground into a soupy mess.   Water seeps into cracks in the asphalt and refreezes overnight, which makes potholes.   Tires hit the potholes and eat away the edges, making them into divots you plow into at whatever speed you happen to be going.   That’s what our tax dollars should cover.   Better roads. Better blacktops and clear sidewalks.   Instead, the roads here are like turtle shells, at least for the next six months.   Someone said it’s because “nobody wants to work.”   Which is still a lie.  I’m still applying for day jobs to the tune of at least one to five applic