Fan-fic

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I am so digging John Birmingham’s end of the world project, Zero Day Code. He builds the book chapter by chapter in his pay-to-play Patreon site, and all of us subscribers get to watch from the peanut gallery and enjoy the process.

There have been some new developments, namely that the launch date for the audio book of Zero Day Code part one has been fixed worldwide for July the 4th. You can listen to a sample here. By all means pre-order it on Amazon or whatever.

One of the reasons this is attractive to me is that his format allows for us readers to contribute and imagine along as he creates- sometimes I find myself jumping ahead in the story installments and I create my own scenes in his scenario.

Today I kicked out this blurb, it may or may not have anything in common with what Birmingham actually writes.

But it’s what I’ve created, born of eager anticipation of the next scene or chapter.

Damn is this fun.

Here goes, a little fan-fic tidbit.

Rick ghosted through the Eastern Hardwoods in the blue-black dark. His senses were alive, every noise registered and was filtered through his re-awakened internal threat matrix. He moved quietly. He took long pauses to listen. Rick was a killer holding a killer; his captured M-4. He smelled earth, dead leaves, and a whiff of extinguished campfire. He heard the scuttling of raccoons, the cry of a screech owl. A fallen branch bent, but did not break beneath his carefully placed step. Rick held his weapon at the low-ready, his thumb was on the safety and his right index finger rested on the cold trigger housing. He tasted the evening’s instant coffee. He was relaxed but alert, his nerves sang with the old mortal song. 

This we’ll defend, he thought. His friends, his mate, his life.

Rick took another step. He inhaled slowly, he listened. He scanned. He had never been to this place before, but it was as if he had never left. All that was different was the scenery. Iraq, Afghanistan, the Canaan Valley. All the same to him. Jihadis, bandits. Whatever. They sought his life in the dark, so they had to die.

From ahead, along the shadowed trail, Rick heard a metallic clink. He froze, his senses collapsed into a razor-sharp tunnel.

This, he thought, this is what I was born to do. Rick experienced a moment of free-fall, of weightlessness. Like launching from the door of a C-130.

He acted.

You guys can pick it up from here. Better still, get the two or five dollar a month subscription and follow along as John writes.

It’s worth every cent.

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