Psychological Military Thriller
Date Published: June 23, 2017
As the blast sends him on a deadly odyssey through the very fabric of time, he finds the beautiful yet mysterious disappearing sand. But Guy quickly realizes things aren’t what they seem and he may be witnessing his own destruction. With the reality warp tearing him apart, he has only his fading mind and a mysterious journal to help him solve the puzzle before time runs out.
His desperate search for an answer leads him to a single moment where everything hangs in the balance. Does this mysterious journal hold the clues to his salvation, or is it the ramblings of a madman? Can he figure out the mystery and save himself, or is the end of his odyssey written before his journey even begins?
Excerpt
> Chapter 2
The Beginning
of the End
June 1, 2006
Baghdad, Iraq
I leave the Humvee running and step out into the hot street.
The intense sun beats down on the back of my neck. Even with sunglasses on it
seems obnoxiously bright. Fucking Iraq. Miserably hot, and here we are in the
middle of the damn day, out in the worst of it.
My M-16A2 rifle feels
like an old, familiar lover in my hands. The strangest sense of déjà vu washes
over me. “Weird,” I mumble to myself, prying my eyes off of my rifle.
I quickly scan the traffic circle, soaking in all of the
details. There is no traffic coming through; there’s a Humvee at each
intersection, blocking off everything. No way in, no way out.
I glance up to Mike
in the turret, manning the .50 caliber machine gun. I have known him for as
long as I can remember. Mike was my next-door neighbor when we were kids. His
mom used to babysit me while mine went to work, and she’d make us peanut butter
and jelly sandwiches and then send us right back out to play. She always kept
strawberry jam on hand because she knew it was my favorite. Hell, she was
practically a second mother to me.
He is my best friend. He is more than that— he is my
brother.
Mike’s back is to me as he watches the Iraqis, making sure
none of them try to get into our perimeter. A horn honks and a driver gestures
impatiently at the intersection. Mike quickly swivels his machine gun toward
the car, silencing both the horn and the driver. I smile. We survived basic
training together, then jump school in the stifling Fort Benning heat. We
somehow got lucky enough to be stationed together. A sympathetic first sergeant
then assigned us to the same squad.
I wipe the sweat from my brow. It is instantly replaced as
the hot sun beats down on me. One bead of sweat forms on the scar on my
hairline and runs down my face, following my jawline down to my chin, where it
hangs on stubbornly.
I reach up and wipe the sweat from the scar under my helmet,
and shiver. My mind drifts for a split second to Mike. I close my eyes and
swallow back the lump rising in my throat.
Another small shiver runs down my spine despite the heat. I
have that feeling you get when you know someone is right behind you and then
you turn around and no one is there. When I turn around, I see a car parked on
the high overpass we usually cross.
My heart starts to beat a little faster and my palms start
to sweat more than usual in this awful heat. “I don’t like that fucking car,” I
say.
“What?” Mike yells over his shoulder without taking his eyes
off of the cars impatiently waiting for us to allow them through.
“I said I don’t like that fucking car over there.” This time
I point at it with my left hand and hold my rifle tightly in my right. “I mean,
I have never seen a car parked on that bridge. We almost always cross that
bridge. That would leave us nowhere to go but right next to it,” I yell with a
frown. “Doesn’t that seem weird?”
“Yeah, it is weird,” Mike agrees with a shrug.
I glance up at Mike for a moment, just a split second and
then back to the car.
“I’m telling you I have a really bad feeling—” The car
explodes with a deafening roar, shattering the peaceful silence of the
afternoon.
The blast lifts me off of my feet and throws me backward
into the Humvee. My head slams hard into the door behind me, my helmet bouncing
off with a thud. The world spins for a moment and goes dark.
Short
excerpt:
I will myself to put the gun down. Why? Why should you? I try to think of a reason and can’t. Well,
shit.
Have I been here before? I count the sands of time in my
mind again. I have never been great at math, but this equation is simple— it
comes out to zero. Time is up.
I never thought it would come to this. But when you are out
of time, you are out of time. I know how I became unstuck in time; I just
always thought I would find an answer, a way out of this nightmare, before it
was too late. Guess this is one way out. I was hoping for maybe a happily ever
after type of ending.
I take in one deep breath and hold it. My eyes slowly drift
shut while my finger gently squeezes the trigger. The well-oiled hammer on the
revolver clicks its way backward at a seemingly impossible slow speed. It’s as
if between the sounds, I can hear the slow ticking of a clock. Tick tock, tick tock, you are out of
fucking time. An eternity passes with my eyes still shut.
About the Author
Seth Bleuer is an author and veteran who served combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. He currently lives near Seattle, Washington with his wife and kids, by way of the Midwest. When he’s not reading or writing he can be found playing in the mud at obstacle races with his wife, Amanda. To see what Seth is up to check out his very originally named website https://sethbleuer.wordpress.com/or find him on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/SethBleuerAuthor/
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