Wake up, any of you who might possibly be considered sleepy-heads! Here’s the 50K sneak peek of Hunter “Eye in the Storm”! Sorry it’s so short, but I don’t want to be giving away the whole story, now do I?
* * *
I crack one eye open, look around cautiously, and then go back to sleep. This is the point where I’m supposed to say “I wake up and immediately wish I hadn’t” but I always feel like that when I wake up. Anyway, in this case, wishing isn’t going to help, so it’s up to me to make sleep happen.
The boot in the back, however, rousts me again and reveals that someone saw me wake up. I roll over, hoping someone has the decency to pour me some coffee.
“You didn’t think you could fool us into thinking you were still asleep, did you? The boss wanted to talk to you as soon as you woke up.”
I twist, fast as possible from a prone position, and trap his boot before it connects with my spine again. The pause of surprise gives me just enough time to flip him into something green, metal, and three feet off the ground. I bend an eye up and to my left; its the helicopter. Bennet’s helicopter, to be specific.
There’s a small dent in the armor where the kicker’s head collided with it. A new-found respect for the guy’s cranial density burgeons, but it’s not nearly enough to keep me awake. I roll back over and drift off for the second time. What seems like half-a-second later, another voice echoes around the brim of my hat and then dives down my auditory-canal.
“Hunter… the boss would like to speak to you, if it’s not too much trouble.” “Does he have coffee? Or tea. And preferably a shot of ‘75 Kentucky bourbon, but that part isn’t mandatory.”
The voice sounds slightly amused, but not overly surprised.
“I believe we may be able to help with the first one, the second if you like, and though the third one is slightly out of our power, I may be able to satisfy you with a shot or two of decent Irish whiskey?”
Finally. A half-civilized gent. I was beginning to think I was marooned in a land that knew not good drink, so to speak. Rolling back over and to my feet, I study the gent in front of me. Recognition takes a moment, thanks to the aftereffects of the dart. And possibly a little extra sleep.
“Ah, the not-butler. I’d say it’s good to see you again, but I might be lying. However, if you’re human enough to bring me a cup of coffee, sans alcohol, and then kick the brass collector between the third and fourth ribs, I can upgrade you to best friend status.”
* * *
I hope you enjoyed that peek! It’s from Chapter Twenty, right about where things really start winding up. If you liked that, you might check out the Hunter Short stories in the blog Library (assuming you haven’t already).
Also, the poll on the subject of the podcast idea is still going, so please, go check that out, too.