Brad and I are collaborating on sea going saga of a teenage boy who sailed with the pirates Jean and Pierre Lafitte in the early 1800's. This is the first chapter of our book. Hope you enjoy it.
December 1814
The rope was tight around Carlos’s, neck digging into his skin and making it hard for him to breath. He wanted to take it off or at least loosen it a bit, but that was impossible with his hands bound behind his back. He tried to wriggle his wrists out of the binding, but his hands were too big, the knot was too tight. He felt it burning his skin every time he moved. The humidity didn’t help. Even though it was cooler in the cell than outside, his body still produced sweat to cool off. The sweat didn’t evaporate which left the salt to pool under the ropes and further aggravate the abrasions.
“Buck up, kid,” Jean encouraged.
Carlos didn’t bother to respond. He was so angry with Jean and his brother Pierre. He was also angry with himself and cursed under his breath.
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| Jean LaFitte |
“This is the worst part, Carlos,” chimed in Pierre who stood just ahead of the teenager and Jean. “The waiting, I mean. Once the hangman pulls the lever, you won’t have to worry any longer.”
Carlos shot the elder brother a nasty look, but Carlos had other thoughts on his mind like Zelma and his parents. They couldn’t be too proud of him at that moment. He wondered if they were going to watch him die or would they choose to stay away from the crowds, the spectacle, and the embarrassment.
The young man began to gather in his nerves and look around for the first time. He was being held in a dank and dusty cell with thirty others from the brothers’ crew and a dozen other common criminals. The smell was the worst part. The mold was sour from the body castoff of years of prisoners. Carlos recognized it as the mold that got into a man and ate him from the inside out.
All the men were bound, each with a section of rope taunt around their necks. was sorry to see that Pulson and Gregory were among them. He wished that they had escaped when they had the chance. He wished for a lot of things to be different.
All the men were bound, each with a section of rope taunt around their necks. was sorry to see that Pulson and Gregory were among them. He wished that they had escaped when they had the chance. He wished for a lot of things to be different.
The cell door swung open and a burly, barrel-chested, sweaty guard entered the room. He didn’t say anything, but he made Carlos’s stomach turn from just his imposing stature. He symbolized death to Carlos, and Carlos did not want to die. The guard surveyed the room while chewing on his dirty fingernails, spitting a strip to his right regardless of where it would land. His lips snarled into a contorted grimace making Carlos think that it was the look he had whether he was eating, killing people, or gardening.
“Come on, move it!” the guard said grabbing a man that Carlos didn’t know by the rope around his neck. He yanked hard and the prisoner was forced to comply at first but then the bound man pulled back, trying to resist the guard. A heavy fist to the midsection took the fight out of him and the guard led the prisoner out of the cell while another massive guard latched the door behind them.
“Savages, all of them,” claimed Jean, his French accent still present though he had lost most of it during his years in America.
“So says the pirate,” Floyd said with venom.
“Proprietor, you mean.” Jean stretched his neck and jutted out his chin like he often did when the word pirate was mentioned in his presence. “I am an entrepreneur, a businessman of sorts.
”Carlos rolled his eyes and then sent his attention to the raised stage. He could see it through the large set of bars that trapped the prisoners inside but granted them a great view of their future. The guard shoved the bound man up the steps and onto the platform directly under the hangman’s beam. The guard and the hangman positioned the man on top of the trap door and then the hangman drew slack to his line by pulling a lever. The hangman, whoever he was, was an ingenious fellow, Carlos noted. He had a spool of rope threaded around his beam with a metal hook knotted to its end. He brought the hook down and baited it through a small, secure loop on the rope around the prisoner’s neck. The hangman tugged on either side of the hook to make certain it would hold. When he was satisfied the hooded man walked over to his post. He held his hand out and placed it on a second lever that would work the trap door.
Carlos never liked watching hangings. He recalled coming to a few when he was a boy, but he never wanted to watch someone suffer, no matter who they were.
“John Douglas, you have been tried and convicted of the crimes of thievery, extortion, and debauchery. Do you have any last words or confessions?” Minister Thomas asked.
The man only cried. People in the crowd mocked the poor guy, laughing at him.
“May your soul rest in peace,” the preacher said as he signaled the hangman. The people cheered when the door dropped from under the prisoner’s feet. Carlos only winced. The man kicked his feet and thrashed around like a fish on a line, but that nonsense stopped after a couple of seconds. Carlos wanted to turn his head away, but he couldn’t. His mind wouldn’t allow it. That was going to be his fate. He was going to dance at the end of the hangman’s line at the ripe old age of sixteen.
Not On My Watch is about a LCpl. Casandra Sing, a Marine aviation rescue firefighter. The inspiration for Cassie's character was the stories that my granddaughter, who was a Marine Corp. aviation rescue firefighter at the time of the writing. Elements of the story are also taken from my service in the Army Nuclear Weapons Program. LCpl. Sing witnesses the murder of two U.S. Army M.P.'s and decides that is her duty to stop the murderers. The situation gets complicated when she discovers that they have also stolen two nuclear weapons.
THE OBSIDIAN DAGGER. When a mad witch with a magically crafted and frightfully powerful Obsidian Dagger threatens to obliterate humanity and overtake the magic clans of the Celtic Isles, destiny forces 17-year-old American, Brendan O’Neal, and his younger sister, Lizzie, to intervene. Joining the desperate princess of the Leprechauns, Dorian, and her two loyal companions, Rory and Biddy, they embark on a dangerous and wondrous adventure across Ireland and Scotland to thwart the witch and save mankind.
In The Defect, I tell the story of a terrorist attack on a nuclear power plant and why the government covered it up. The Defect is based on true events: The reactor accident at Three Mile Island NPS and a shooting incident at Watts Bar NPS. Some story elements come from years starting-up and operating nuclear power plants. In The Defect, I tell the story of what really happened at the power plant and why the government covered it up.
The Megalith Union. Just as life was returning to normal for Brendan as a college freshman, the hands of fate intervene and adventure besets him again in the second installment of the best-selling Celtic Mythos series. Elathan, the golden god of Celtic lore, is reborn out of the ashes of a dead king and evil witch. Through Brendan and his family, Elathan maneuvers the tendrils of destiny, seeking to gain ultimate power at the expense of all humanity. Dogged by giants, alphyns, and ruas Brendan, Dorian, Lizzie, and a new cast of characters risk it all to unravel the mystery of the ultimate foe. With Corways under attack and Brendan’s father captured by a forgotten enemy, can Brendan and his allies prevent the end of days? As the megalith union looms, Brendan and his friends must look to the past to prevent a future where Elathan reigns supreme.
