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    Oil to Ashes 2, "Truce" (Linc Freemore Apocalyptic Thriller Series)
    Oil to Ashes 2, "Truce" (Linc Freemore Apocalyptic Thriller Series)
    Oil to Ashes 2, "Truce" (Linc Freemore Apocalyptic Thriller Series)
    Ebook74 pages1 hour

    Oil to Ashes 2, "Truce" (Linc Freemore Apocalyptic Thriller Series)

    By Lee Brait

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    About this ebook

    Apocalyptic Science Fiction Story. 67 pages (16.626 words)
    Oil To Ashes Part 2, 'Truce'

    Truce brings hope. A nameless slayer erases it. Can Linc save his family for good?

    As peace seems overwhelmed by random acts of suburban violence, Linc Freemore must stop an unknown murderer and save his wife and son. One killer becomes many, a conspiracy larger than he could conceive.

    Linc already gave his son's childhood to the company. For a better life. Is that lost too? As the tipping point of war is breached Linc must fight viciously for his life, for his family and for his own virtue.

    Contains Graphic Violence.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLee Brait
    Release dateJul 26, 2014
    ISBN9781310246913
    Oil to Ashes 2, "Truce" (Linc Freemore Apocalyptic Thriller Series)
    Author

    Lee Brait

    Born 1970 in a serene valley city, the middle child in a family where I realized much later that I wasn't actually the least favorite, the closest I got to an apocalypse was a fog over the river so thick you could almost swim in it. And as a ten year old Science Fiction fan and wanna be computer programmer, my most creative attempts at programming in BASIC code on my Dad's Timex/Sinclair ZX-81 barely triggered a foreboding error message, never mind the end of the world.I somehow fumbled my way through school and made it out the other end a success: clueless but still alive. My four year degree included a Bachelor of Science in Computer Science with a 1 year post graduate thingy on the end. During that time I discovered a natural affinity for both explaining things and for writing technical documentation.It turns out novels are harder.Twenty years and thousands of foreboding error messages later, I managed to escape my unfulfilling cubicle dugeon and I now live with my partner, Debbie, and our two Burmese cats/idiots where I run a small business from home.I enjoyed reading the great post apocalyptic stories so much that my own version seemed to devise itself. For me the scariest apocalypse is the one most likely to happen. I took plenty of inspiration from real world conflicts and the creative end of my brain converted itself from solving problems to inventing dilemmas. My evolution to fiction began with a series of three apocalyptic stories, Oil To Ashes 1, 2 & 3.After some people told me they liked it, it looks like there will be more.Maybe one day I'll be able to say "based on a true story"?Anyway, welcome to the oil wars. You can dip your toe in the cauldron for free with Oil To Ashes 1.

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      Book preview

      Oil to Ashes 2, "Truce" (Linc Freemore Apocalyptic Thriller Series) - Lee Brait

      OIL TO ASHES

      Part 2

      'TRUCE'

      A Linc Freemore Story

      Lee Brait

      PUBLISHED BY:

      Lee Brait at Smashwords

      Copyright © 2014

      1st Edition

      www.LeeBrait.com

      All rights reserved.

      No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

      This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

      ____________________________________________

      Catch Linc Freemore's next adventure: www.LincFreemore.com

      When you join the mailing list you'll get pre-release access to the next book and introductory discount pricing.

      Have you read part 1? www.lincfreemore.com/OilToAshes1

      'TRUCE'

      It started as a faint drone, barely audible over the thumping pistons and raging wind as he pushed the lumbering Harley as fast as he dared. As it drew closer Linc could hear the strain of the motor. Like a lawn mower laboring through long grass. He searched the sky. Nothing ahead. Nothing to the right. He scanned left and found it. A small plane. A Cessna or Piper. Flying low, only a couple hundred feet or so. Dragging its weight through the dirty afternoon sky, a dark vortex tumbling from the tip of each wing. The pitch of the engine lowered as it crossed in front of him, a mile or so away. Somewhere near the industrial area and marina.

      A cylindrical object fell from the plane. It was followed by three more in quick succession. They wobbled and spun psychotically and disappeared below the horizon of houses. Linc felt the shock wave before he heard the WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP. A ball of black smoke and thick red flame billowed in the distance. It grew and climbed and consumed the sky until it dwarfed the retreating aircraft, now a faint drone once again. No longer laboring under its heavy load.

      Linc pressed both brakes until the tires began to lose their fight with the blacktop. He powered into a right hand bend, clipped the apex, opened the throttle full and let the big V-twin roar.

      The smoke glowed, red and angry and dirty. It rolled and mauled its way upward and grew to a column that seemed to intensify the rushing acrid air. The largest of eight columns, supporting the weight of the bloated black sky. Each column thickened the haze and thinned the chances of a lasting truce. Each day they say will be the day they put pen to the truce agreement. But each day the pens seem to be replaced by more swords.

      The haze fattened and glowed, fed by the spreading fire which was obscured by rows of speeding houses. Like a smoldering sunset in the middle of the afternoon. Linc could not tell whether they'd hit a storage tank or a well but they didn't care, the effect was the same. They drop their improvised bombs or launch mortar rounds from an SUV and keep the targets random. Oil tanks or wells, even the odd home. So long as it disrupts the oil supply and escalates the panic and confusion.

      Linc smoked the tires into another corner. Then twisted the throttle and the bike responded with its throaty growl, stretching his arms against the handle bars and accelerating past the playground. Empty. Swings and seesaws and carousels. Normally bustling with the after school rush.

      His wing mirror swallowed the playground. This one had been his stomping ground back when he was still keeping up his end of the bargain. Angie did the feeding and he takes care of the endless array of accessories that come with a new baby. Managing car seats and strollers, refolded baby beach-shades and keeping the little guy from getting sun burnt. As much as was possible at least. It seemed like a chore at the time, but what he would give now to complete the job. And be present for the years that followed. The ones he'd missed.

      No time for day dreaming, he growled at himself. You're not letting them down this time.

      He passed a long and low office building, wrapped with dark gray mirrored windows. The constant roof line seemed to last forever but the rooftop air conditioners and satelite dishes that zipped by gave his speed away. A cluster of Mercedes and BMWs lay claim to the parks nearest the shiny front doors. Further from the entrance were modern Toyotas and Fords and Crowns, until at the far end lay the beat up wrecks of the working men and women. Peeling paint and broken headlights. Even shrapnel holes.

      Linc threw the hulking machine around a corner faster than was safe and powered into the straight. He skidded to the verge and dumped the bike on the grass. He sprinted half a block and paused at the gate to fumble for the latch.

      He shoved it open one quarter, just short of the creak in the hinge. He squeezed through and eased it shut again. He hurried silently along the right hand side of the house, through the sweet perfume wafting from Angie's roses and put his weight on the stable side of the wobbly paving stone that Ryan had laid. He'd never fixed it, how could he?

      He came out into the back yard. It was empty and the back door ahead and to his left was shut. He stayed on the path and passed under the tree where he'd built Ryan's tree house, heading toward Jim and Mandy's place next door. The upstairs bedroom window was open and a lace curtain blocked any view of the room. Linc and Jim had planted a privacy screen of trees along the boundary but they

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