Solar Dawn, the third book in the Survival EMP series, is now available on pre-order for just 99c at Amazon and Amazon UK. The book goes live on December 12, 2018, after which the price goes up to $2.99.
Since Amazon doesn't provide the 'read inside' function during the period of the pre-order, I have pasted the first chapter below for you to sample.
Book Description:
The
storm has ended, winter is over and a new dawn will rise in American
history. It may not be the bright future many hoped for.
Rick’s
family and friends have survived the predations of raiders and the
ravages of winter. Now they have to leave the radioactive city of
Charlotte, striking out for the mountains. Following in the wake of
previous refugees, they encounter a land picked clean of resources,
with embattled settlements hostile to strangers and gangs dominating
the areas in between.
Rick
finds that safe havens are hard to come by, and his military
experience might not be enough to keep his family safe. New forces
are rising that could spell doom for them all.
Sample Chapter 1:
1
If the walls of the
Myers Park clubhouse had ears, they would have heard many things:
From the jubilation of the wealthy members at the building of the
clubhouse in 1921, to the dismay of the same members as their stock
values crashed during the Great Depression that followed soon after.
From the upsurging economy during the Second World War, to the
whispered worries about sons or grandsons leading companies and
battalions in Europe and the Pacific. Thoughts about America’s
position as a global power would have been tempered with gossip about
colleagues with communist leanings, the stubbornness of workers’
unions and their mob affiliations, and the blatant lack of patriotism
among the Vietnam War protesters. Business deals would have been
hashed out over a bottle of Chateau La Legune in the restaurant,
political deals and requests for funding over bourbon in the bar, and
advice about offshore accounts and tax loopholes by the ninth hole.
The resignation of Nixon would have been quietly celebrated, Carter
commiserated and Clinton generously indulged. The rise of the
financial industry in Charlotte would have brought in a new breed of
member, and the second financial crash in 2007 would have had them
pursing their lips in despair. The devastating solar flare of 2017
would have been met with silence in the empty corridors as the lights
went out, and the building’s last memory would have been the
crashes of the gunfire, the whimpers of the dying and the tears of
those who survived.
Lauren, stalking the
corridors of the clubhouse with an old M16 rifle, had zero knowledge
of what might have preoccupied the minds of former members, but she
retained a vivid recollection of the latter event. The blood spilled
in the boardroom and the scorches from the gas-bomb fire still
stained the floor boards. Such things had passed to the back of her
mind in the immediate aftermath, with everyone focused on the
day-to-day work of survival, but now that they were planning to
leave, she couldn’t help but think about such things, adding her
memories to whatever secrets the old building might have retained.
Perhaps someone else
would move into the building after they left and wonder at the bullet
holes on the walls, the chain-link on the windows and the grave
markers out on the golf green. Lauren felt the urge to carve her name
into a door, simply to mark her passing and show she once existed. If
she had the talent, she would have painted a mural depicting the last
battle and everyone who took part in it, and in that way nobody would
be forgotten. She should have commissioned her daughter Lizzy to
begin the work, but it was too late now, and Lizzy was too obedient a
child to have considered drawing on the walls by herself. Lauren knew
that her son Josh had already carved his initials into a windowsill,
which was to be expected, but he’d also carved the name: Skye.
When asked why, he’d just said it was someone he once knew, but she
couldn’t get any more information out of him than that. He’d been
quiet since the battle, but she couldn’t tell whether it was
because he was depressed or simply re-evaluating his life. He’d
been forced to grow up fast and she was barely keeping up with the
changes.
Passing Packy’s
room, she saw that he hadn’t been shy about scrawling on the walls.
He had more graffiti than the average prison cell, with gems like,
You DO have to be crazy to work here,
to the more cryptic: They lied. Dream all you want. In
among his meandering thoughts, there was also the more heartfelt,
Mom. Simply that. It
was a brief clue to some of the deeper churnings of Packy’s
unpredictable mind, and about the only thing that made sense, given
the recent loss of his parents in this very building, but it remained
hard to tell what his feelings were, given he still acted like a
goofball. In his own way, he was as opaque as Josh. While Josh was
clearly growing up, Packy seemed to have ditched that concept in
favor of his own unique and unfathomable path.
In
the grand ballroom, the others had gathered their remaining supplies,
ready for transportation to the promised land – or at least
someplace else that hadn’t been affected by the radioactive cloud
that covered Charlotte after the McGuire nuclear plant blew. They’d
waited out the winter for want of a better place to hole up, but now
the weather was improving, it was time to get moving again. April was
three months pregnant, and the safe development of the fetus was
foremost in her mind. She didn’t go outdoors anymore, but
considering they all drank water from Briar Creek, which flowed from
the north, it wasn’t enough to just stay inside. They needed
somewhere clean where they could grow food without thinking of the
long-term effects.
Chuck brought in
another tray of seedlings from the greenhouse, adding them to the
trays laid out in the ballroom. He carried them in his left hand as
his right arm was still weak from the shoulder wound he’d
sustained. At his age, Lauren suspected the arm would never heal
right.
“Lizzy, give Chuck
a hand bringing the plants in.”
Lizzy and Daniel
should have both been helping, but they were distracted by a kid who
was even younger than they were: Baby Jacob. Sally was giving him his
daily examination, trying to keep the stethoscope on the baby’s
chest, but Jacob was more interested in rolling over to dash across
the floor.
“He’s fine,”
said Sally, letting him go.
Sensing freedom,
Jacob sped off, his little limbs pumping the floor at a fast crawl,
his bare butt wiggling. Lizzy and Daniel both giggled as Jacob tore a
determined path to the plants.
Lauren snapped her
fingers to attract Lizzy and Daniel’s attention. “Hey, there’s
work to do.”
Jacob paused,
wobbling as he stared up at Lauren, then resumed his journey with
renewed gusto. His mother, Dee, scooped him up before he reached the
plants and laid him on a table to put his cloth diaper back on.
“I’ll give Chuck
a hand,” said Sally, closing her medical bag.
“I’m good,”
said Chuck. “You worry about the little feller there. He’s so
full of beans, there’s no telling what he might try to do. I say we
hitch a trailer to him. He can bring in everything in one shot.”
“You won’t be
laying a finger on him,” said Dee without looking up.
April sat on a
chair, stroking her belly. She was barely showing, even at three
months, but she did that every time she was close to Jacob. “He was
joking, Dee,” she said gently.
Dee
acted like she hadn’t heard, focusing totally on Jacob. Apart from
allowing Sally to examine him, she remained aloof from everyone in
the clubhouse. Lauren noted that April spent a lot more time trying
to ingratiate herself with Dee, softening her demeanor in an attempt
to connect with the young mother, perhaps identifying a common bond
now that she was pregnant. Dee simply ignored her the same as she did
everyone else. To Lauren, April’s efforts were painful to watch. It
was like seeing a school-kid trying desperately to make friends with
the snobby bitch from the in-group. Whether that was down to April’s
hormones or not was hard to say, but the regression was embarrassing.
“Okay, people,”
said Lauren, “it’s time to get everything squared away. The guys
should be back this afternoon and we need to be ready to go.”
Chuck shrugged as he
turned away. Overhead, the alarm-cans jangled on the pulled wire.
Lauren shouldered past Chuck and ran along the corridor to the
service ladder that led to the OP on the roof. Josh waited, crouched
behind the sandbags, sighting along his rifle at some distant target.
“Group of people
coming this way,” he murmured, keeping his head low.
Lauren slid down
next to him and took out her binoculars. A small procession of people
were coming across the golf greens. Lauren focused, counting eight of
them. They weren’t moving tactically, and Lauren couldn’t see any
weapons. They appeared to be wandering refugees, but they were headed
straight for the clubhouse.
“Should I fire a
warning shot?” asked Josh.
Lauren glanced at
him. He’d learned a lot from this winter’s encounters, especially
from his father. It was comforting to know she could count on him
right now, even though he wasn’t old enough to shave.
“No, but keep your
sights on whoever might be the leader. I’ll go down and see what
they want.”
Sliding back down
the ladder, she called out: “We’ve got company! April, you watch
the children. Sally, you back me up.”
Unlocking the side
door by the kitchen, she went out onto the pool terrace. There were
two pools and a Jacuzzi, all filled with stagnant water. The
burned-out apartment block next door loomed over the fence –
another reminder of the fierce fight during the winter. Checking that
she had a round in the chamber, Lauren slipped the safety catch off
and took position behind a semi-circle of sandbags. The group of
refugees kept coming. Looking up, they saw her, and began walking
past the raised terrace, up the slope toward the barbed wire.
“That’s far
enough,” called Lauren, aiming her rifle.
There were five men
and three women, all in their thirties or forties, though with the
straggly beards, dirty faces and unkempt clothing, they could have
just appeared older than they actually were. After the harsh winter,
everybody looked older.
“Hey there,”
said the leading man, halting. He had a pinched face and he squinted
up at Lauren, studying her. The whole group did, assessing her
without a trace of emotion on their faces. Having survived this long,
they probably weren’t impressed by much anymore.
“What do you
want?” said Lauren.
“Major Connors
sent us,” said the man. “Told us you had supplies and you would
help us out.”
“And why would he
tell you that?”
Sally came out onto
the terrace, toting a shotgun.
“Because it’s
true,” said the man, his gaze switching from Lauren to Sally, then
back again. “Major Connors is in charge of this district now and
said you had an obligation to help. Said that you were soldiers and
these were his orders. Wrote it down on this piece of paper, he did.”
The man reached to
his pocket and Lauren called out, “Keep your hands where I can see
them.”
The man held his
hands out, eyeing Lauren. Behind him, the others were unmoved. “Can’t
really show you your orders if you don’t let me get them out,”
said the man.
“We don’t take
orders,” said Lauren, “and I don’t know where the Major got the
idea that we would, but he’s mistaken. We don’t have a lot of
supplies and we can’t help you.”
A thin smile spread
across the man’s face. “He said you’d be awkward about it.”
“Awkward’s got
nothing to do with it. We’ve only got enough to feed ourselves. I
suggest you go back to him and let him know this isn’t a military
outpost and we’re not under his command.”
“You want to keep
it all for yourselves, is that it?”
“There is no
‛all’.”
“Prove it to us.
Let us in to take a look. If what you say is true, you’ve no reason
to object to that.”
Lauren couldn’t
understand why he was so insistent. “Turn around and go back the
way you came. There’s nothing here for you.”
The man turned
around to address the others. “See? She wants us to starve. Doesn’t
care whether we live or die.”
One of the women
screwed up her face in disgust. “You’s lying,” she said to
Lauren. “You got a basement full of food that you’s meant to be
giving out. You a liar.”
Lauren scanned the
group, looking for signs that someone might be reaching for a weapon
while she was distracted, but all she saw were eight pairs of feral
eyes glaring back at her. Whatever these people were like before the
storm, the months of hardship and starvation had changed them. The
hatred was palpable.
“You’ve got the
wrong idea,” she said, taking up the slack on the trigger.
“No, you’ve got
the wrong idea,” said the man. “I’ve got a signed statement
here that says I have the right to shelter here, and you got
the responsibility to take us in on behalf of the state of
North Carolina. That’s the law.”
He reached toward
his pocket again.
“You keep your
hands clear,” ordered Lauren. She ran hastily through her options.
Who the hell were these people with their strange demands? She could
see Sally from the corner of her eye, no doubt waiting on her cue,
but Lauren wasn’t sure how to defuse the situation.
Dee came out onto
the terrace, hugging her baby and gazing impassively at the group.
The man’s smile
broadened as he looked at Dee, his hand still moving toward his
pocket. “Well,” he said. “It’s just a few women here, that’s
all.”
End of Sample
This was a spell binding story!@@ Slow to start but once it got going and everything went black it got very interesting! The travels of parents trying to get to their home through unexpected stops and the turbulence of no law and order was an exciting story. Looking forward to seeing the 2nd book Solar Winter!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the feedback. Really glad you enjoyed it. Books 2 & 3 are already out, so I hope you enjoy them too while I finish writing book 4.
ReplyDeleteI just finished the third book. Wow! So many emotions shine through the characters without too much fluff. This is a great action packed series and I can't wait to read book four. Hurry up Mr. Lopez, I'm officially in withdraw.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your feedback, and I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Still working hard on Book 4, but I can't confirm a date, so I'm unable to alleviate your withdrawal symptoms yet. But it will come.
ReplyDelete