I have, however, noticed a definite shift on the Amazon side of things. The pay to play aspect of KDP publishing has most definitely convinced me once and for all to go wide with all my indie books while putting my advertising dollars into a full-time/part-time marketing professional. Ads are a hit and miss, not-an-exact-science, speculative venture at best. Some authors see great results when they pour literally tens of thousands of doll-hairs into them and I'm just not willing to do that at present.
On wards.
Trying something new for the next few weeks and, if it works, months. I have so much new material, I thought I would publish a chapter a week of a new novel for you and naturally, gauge your reaction. If anything, what the hell, it's free words.
First up, my new cyber punk novel, Primary Termination, which I believe will be the pilot novel in a series. This one is Blade Runner meets The Matrix....Or something like that. Keep in mind, what you're getting is entirely unedited. It's the naked and the raw version...
Primary Termination
The Tanya Teal Corporate War Chronicles (1)
Vincent Zandri
“Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move,
fall like a thunderbolt."
--Sun Tzu, The Art of War
“Oh, God said to Abraham, ‘Kill me a
son.’
Abe said, ‘Man, you must be puttin' me on.’
God said, ‘No Abe.’ Abe say, ‘What?’
God say, ‘You can do what you want, Abe, but
The next time you see me comin', you better run.’"
Abe said, ‘Man, you must be puttin' me on.’
God said, ‘No Abe.’ Abe say, ‘What?’
God say, ‘You can do what you want, Abe, but
The next time you see me comin', you better run.’"
--Bob Dylan, Highway 61
Albany, New
York
State Office
Building Complex
Late August,
2028
You’re drowning in your own air.
You’re lungs are burning, heart pounding not in your chest, but in your throat.
Your temples beat like double bass drums and the blood speeds through your
veins so fast, you feel like you’re on fire. You’re lightheaded enough you
could pass out at any moment. The air on the high-rise rooftop is cool, if not
downright cold, even in late August, but you are burning up inside and out, the
sweat coating your body and soaking your brown dress.
Coming from above, the chop-chop-chop
of helicopter rotors. Two, maybe three of them circling the rooftop. Black
beasts with dark, tinted windshields that obscures the militant, jack-booted
corporate men and women who are coming for you. Joining the helicopters are
two, maybe three drones. The drones record your every move.
Some police chase you on foot, others
on 4X4 quads. They are 25 floors down in the street. But they are coming for
you. Despite your elevated pulse pounding inside your head, you are able to
make out shouted orders. They police carry weapons. Automatic rifles, high-powered
pistols, knives, and stun guns. They are the best equipped military police
force in the world. They are the police force of the mighty Everest Corporation,
and they are coming for you. And sooner than later, they will catch up to you.
It’s just a matter of time.
Still you run, managing to jump from
rooftop to rooftop.
You run and jump with every ounce of
energy you have left in your veins, every fiber of strength you have left in
your muscles, ever bit of spirit you have left inside your heart and soul. When
you were a little girl, your father would tell you never to quit, no matter how
much you were hurting. No matter the many tears falling from swelled eyes. You
recall one of the many times he told you not to quit. You were playing sixth
grade soccer on a Saturday morning in the fields behind your grammar school. It
was the red team versus the blue. You were on the blue team and you were
getting beat. One of the red team girls tripped you and you fell flat on your
face. The other kids laughed at you. You broke out in tears and ran off the
field into the arms of your mother. The embarrassment was all too much. But
your dad took a knee before you. He wiped the tears from your eyes with the
tips of his fingers.
“I know it hurts, Scout,” he said, using the
nickname you and he loved so much from your favorite movie and book, To Kill a
Mockingbird. “Speaking of Scout? What would she do?”
You sniffled, tried your hardest to
hold back the tears.
“She would keep on playing,” you
said, under your breath and through your tears.
“Exactly, kiddo,” your dad said with
a proud smile. “Now you get right back out there, and kick some serious butt.”
Your dad never expected you to take
him literally, but when you tripped the girl who’d tripped you, and then went
on to score the winning goal, he couldn’t have been more proud. All the way
home, the former Gulf War vet spoke about the girl who picked herself up,
dusted herself off, and took no prisoners.
Now, as the Everest Police close in
on you from all sides, you can’t help but think of your father. You can’t help
but see the face of the much younger man he used to be, before the Everest
Corp., or what’s also known as Everest.com, took over everything. Before they declared
Primary Termination on your parents. Before the police stole them from their
own home. Before the Everest Corporation made them slaves.
You come to the final building.
Correction, there is one more building—the brand new Everest Corp. Upstate
Headquarters, but it’s way too far away. At least three-hundred feet away to be
precise. There’s nowhere else to go but down.
The choppers circle and begin to
descend. You know that soon, the police will descend from rope ladders from out
of the cargo bays. Or worse, they will shoot you with a tranquilizer like they
would a wild animal on the planes of Africa. If you can’t escape them, the hordes
of black riot gear-clad Everest police will close in around you. There’s
nowhere to turn, nowhere to run.
You stand on the edge of the parapet,
looking down at the solid ground 25 floors below. You look over your shoulder.
You spot the police. They’re coming for you. They leap the narrow distance
between the buildings as if it’s child’s play. Overhead, the choppers swarm.
Directly before you, nothing but open air and solid ground. Sure death.
“Stop right where you are!” bellows a
booming voice over one of the helicopter loudspeakers. “Don’t move or you will
be shot!”
The police shout orders as they approach your rooftop position.
“Down on your stomach!” a policewoman
screams. “Primary Termination is initiated! Do you understand me?! This is Primary
Termination!”
Gazing
up, you see the doors on the first helicopter open and the rope ladders
released. The doors on the second helicopter open and a gun barrel emerges. The
drones circle you like oversized insects.
“Stop right where you are or we’ll
shoot,” blares the loudspeaker voice.
Your heart is beating so rapidly,
your brain swimming in so much adrenaline, you’re convinced you will black out
at any moment.
“Get down now!” the same policewoman screams
from no more than twenty yards away. “This is Primary Termination!”
“No one comes back from Primary
Termination,” you whisper to yourself.
A shot rings out and fragments of
rubber roof explode at your feet. They’re not using tranquilizer darts. They’re
using real bullets. Bullets, no doubt, purchased from Everest.com with Everest
credits. You scream, but no one is around to hear you. No one human, that is.
No one who cares or dares to care.
Staring into the distance, you see
nothing but blue sky.
“Down on your face!” the policewoman
screams again as she closes in on you. “Primary Termination has been initiated!”
“There’s got to be some place to go,”
you whisper. “Some place free of the corporation.” Then, you feel yourself
smiling. “What would Scout do?”
You know what she would do, Tanya. You know exactly what she would do,
even if it costs you your life…
You swallow something bitter and dry.
You shift your feet forward. Closing your eyes, you inch your toes over the
edge of the parapet.
You jump.
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