NEW RELEASE!! The Red Thread

NEW RELEASE!! The Red Thread
Sunday, December 15, 2024

Due to unforeseen circumstances, it took much longer than I had anticipated to get the second book published. But it's finally available in both eBook and paperback on Amazon, and just in time for Christmas!

In the crumbling city of Avalon, the stakes are high. Genetic manipulation, once a closely guarded military secret, now enslaves the weak and threatens the very fabric of humanity.

World War Four veteran, Sloan Whelan, stands at a crossroads, between his own moral culpability and knowing what must be done. Whether he likes it or not, he has one mission: stop General Griffin before he unleashes chaos.

The Independents rise from the shadows, each with a dark past but a singular goal; from the infamous silver bullet to deadly mutant hybrids, they must confront Griffin’s twisted ambitions. Time is running out. Lives hang in the balance. And as the risks mount, every choice could lead to destruction.

In "The Red Thread," each thread of fate weaves a story of courage and sacrifice. Will Sloan and his co-workers save Avalon from genetic tyranny, or will the nightmare consume them all?

Eight vampires. One enemy. The battle for genetic supremacy begins.

General Morgan Griffin desires complete autonomy over the North American Continental Bloc, but he’s got a big problem: the Irishman. Sloan will protect those he considers vulnerable, and that’s quite literally every single person in Avalon. So, when all attempts to capture Sloan for a new parasitic injection fail, the general hits the old vampire where it’s guaranteed to count—his heart. His cold calculated actions cross the line, but he has no intention of turning back. The Independents and Sloan are the only thing that stands between human survival and a mutant hell on earth.

Excerpt:

As soon as Tristan saw the Russian and Leona, he quit pacing. “Where is he?”

“Don’t worry. He’s coming,” Peaches said.

The sun was setting, and that didn’t help everybody’s anxiety. While Tristan fretted and Peaches tried to calm him, Petrov sized up the outer walls and vegetation growing over, in and around the structure. For whatever reason, he took aim at the busted doors. Hurry, my friend. A few tense seconds passed, and Sloan finally exited the building to the scraping creak of rusted metal. Petrov lowered his rifle with a relieved sigh. If anything happened to Sloan, he didn’t know what he’d do.

“All right, I’ve had my fill.” Sloan strolled in their direction. “If there’s no objection, I think a bottle of whiskey at Wade’s is in order.”

“Sounds great.” Peaches dug out her cigarette tin and lighter.

“What took you so long, Dad?” Tristan walked beside him.

The young man was such a worrywart, but Sloan remained tolerant. “I took one more look around. Relax.”

An unsettling sensation prickled Petrov’s nape, and he glanced back over his shoulder. The sun was almost gone, a blip on the radar, dipping below the skyline. When he saw a gleam of red, sunken in the strip of greyscale, under the fading light. He swiftly lifted his AK-5000 and took aim, pulse rising. “Bastard, I just saw you,” he sneered softly, searching the vegetation on the lower roof. “Show yourself.”

“What did you just see?” Sloan stood abreast to him.

Petrov kept his line of sight locked on the vegetation. “Red eyes.”

“You’re certain?” He studied every inch of the building.

“Positive, comrade.”

“Where?”

He pointed to the lower roof that was now completely shrouded by twilight. Sloan darted for the facility, and Petrov’s heart shot into his throat. “No, it is not important.”

Tristan and Peaches rushed back to Petrov, who was tensely holding his rifle.

“Where’s he going?” Peaches sucked hard on her cigarette, then dropped it and ground it with her boot heel.

“The lab.”

The three watched in horror as Sloan reached the building, crouched, and jumped up onto the lower roof. The ancient metal strained with a judder.

Petrov, after a moment of indecision, gripped the rifle and bolted after him. “Sloan!” Tristan and Peaches started to holler, and the Russian was dumbfounded as the Irishman disappeared within the jungle of vegetation.

The knotted undergrowth rustled, and an ungodly screech reverberated across the heavens.

He came to a jittery halt. “Sloan!”

“Dad…” Tristan joined Petrov with Peaches.

The three watched, now anxiously troubled and on edge.

The Irishman landed with a thud in the tall grass directly in front of them, yards away.

“I am glad you are safe. What was that?”

“Not here.” Sloan put his hand to Petrov’s lower back and pushed. “Run,” he said quietly, “and don’t look back.”

“Wh-what…”

“Go, son.”

Tristan and Peaches took the lead, dashing side by side, and Petrov ran after them.

Sloan lagged behind, rechecking the facility. The vegetation rustled again, and the roof sagged. Metal creaked. He saw red orbs in the distant blackness, and then something used the roof like a springboard, leaped high in the air, and landed to move cat-like through the tall grass. Shite, that isn’t good. Sloan looked ahead, speeding toward the others. “Listen carefully. Something’s stalking us.”

The two men and Leona fearfully peered back but kept running.

“Sh-shit. I knew something was watching.”

“Whatever you do,” he gasped, “don’t stop until you reach Avalon.”

“What do you mean?” Peaches jumped over a fallen tree. “The terrain’s irregular. That’s going to take us at least ninety minutes. Can we even outrun it?”

“No idea, but you’ve got to try. Get that knapsack to Wade. Tris, stay with her.”

“But, Dad—”

“Now’s not a good time, son. Just fecking do it.” Sloan belted Petrov in the arm. “You cover them.”

“What about you?” Petrov asked with trepidation.

“Someone has to play the decoy.”

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