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(Summer of 1976)
Unable to remember how he’d gotten there, nor what had happened, Marcus Paulos hovered above his own bullet-riddled body. A man had just rushed from the room and a hint of…something lingered in the air. …
Photo is author’s friend
Len knelt in the corner of an empty room with his hands behind his back.
What’s binding me? Not handcuffs, rope, or tape. Zip ties? Maybe. How the hell did I get here?
He scanned the enclosure — one barred window and a door.
It feels like an oversized jail cell.
A profound sense of helplessness and the perception of impending doom blanketed him like a death shroud.
But what peril? Besides being hogtied, nothing looks like much of a threat.
A dark-reddish liquid seeped from beneath the room’s only door.
Diesel oil? …
Photo courtesy of Unsplash
An excerpt from my novel, Inherit the Earth. Photo courtesy Unsplash
A steady breeze from the stern aided the crew of Currahee to stay her course with minimum effort. At dawn, Richard exited the cabin, stretched, and gazed at the horizon. The eastern sky appeared the same dark-red hue it had at sunset.
“Red sky at morning, sailor take warning,” said the captain.
“That sounds ominous,” said Les, stepping up behind him. “What does it mean?”
“Old-time sailors used to forecast the weather by observing the sky,” Richard answered. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight, predicts fair weather and calm seas. …