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Eneme - Trojan Horse: Eneme, #1
Eneme - Trojan Horse: Eneme, #1
Eneme - Trojan Horse: Eneme, #1
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Eneme - Trojan Horse: Eneme, #1

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There is a ticking time bomb in almost all of us. A trigger so vile that 8% of humanity has had it surgically removed from their bodies before it destroyed them.

Medical doctors still don't know why we have it. Why we are born with it. What purpose it serves or who put it there.

But we are about to find out...There was an alien invasion of Earth some 5,200 years ago.... we were conquered silently in the night without a fight. We called them Gods back then, but they are nothing of the sort. Humanity was genetically changed, altered, manipulated and not for the better. An evil seed was planted in us for the future...a future that is not our own. Our free will as a species is an illusion created by our masters.

Follow LAPD Detective Jace Bradley as he is thrust into a shocking adventure that will uncover the hidden realities of UFO sightings, ancient Gods, bizarre genetic engineering, intergalactic warlords and the very nature of our most perplexing biological traits.

The world as you know it is about to be turned upside down.

This suspense filled Sci-Fi adventure merges the pulp detective genre with your favorite aspects of the Golden Era that has made Sci-Fi so wonderful to read.

Prepare to have your mind stretched as R.G. Beckwith delivers another tale of an alien invasion apocalypse, sci-fi suspense, intergalactic war and reveals the truth behind one of life's most intriguing mysteries...are we really who we think we are?

EnEmƎ is the first book in a series - pick up your copy now!

LanguageEnglish
PublisherR.G. Beckwith
Release dateMar 16, 2015
ISBN9781507032060
Eneme - Trojan Horse: Eneme, #1

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    Book preview

    Eneme - Trojan Horse - R.G. Beckwith

    ENEME

    Book 1: Trojan Horse

    ––––––––

    By: R.G. Beckwith

    Copyright Rod Beckwith

    Beckwith Publishing

    13130 Central Ave. Box 8008

    Boulder Creek, Ca 95006

    DEDICATION

    ––––––––

    This book is dedicated to my Dad who introduced me to science fiction at an early age with the original Star Trek series, standing in lines around the block for Star Wars & jumping back 3 rows of seats when the chestburster alien did his thing. I am so glad that he did because it has been an important part of my life and I am glad that I can bring this story to everyone...just wish he was here to see them. Love and miss you, Dad!

    Contents

    Chapter 1 – Daddy Issues

    Chapter 2 – Shrink Time

    Chapter 3 – Let’s Play Doctor

    Chapter 4 – Armored Soldiers

    Chapter 5 – Keep Running

    Chapter 6 - Allies

    Chapter 7 – Hauer’s Story

    Chapter 8 – Here Comes the Boom!

    Chapter 1 – Daddy Issues

    There he is. Face cold, unmoving. Eyes closed. Not looking, not staring, but if they were open, they still wouldn’t hold any spark of the man he was. He looked waxy. Stiff. Dead. Dead as it gets. Alexander Bradley, aged 78, poet, drunk, lecher, embarrassment. My father. Lying there with his arms crossed over his chest, surrounded by polished oak and brass, in a suit I’m sure I never saw him wear and that he could never have afforded in life. His white moustache perfectly trimmed, hair slicked back, gaunt, thin sunken cheeks and the same harsh, angled features I’d inherited through genetics.

    I’m Jace Bradley, son, LAPD detective, dying for a smoke. It’s no secret that my father and I didn’t talk—kinda hard to do that when he spent the last seven years of his life locked up in the looney bin.

    I know it sounds harsh, but so was growing up without seeing your womanizing drunk of a father for years at a time, so hold your judgment will ya?

    I look at my old man and can’t believe that he finally did himself in, especially the way he did. I would have had my money on booze, suicide, cancer, even a bar fight, but not, of all things, his appendix.

    The past aside, I can’t help but feel a tinge of pity, imagining his final hours. Apparently his appendix burst in the middle of the night, leaving him writhing in the floor in terrible pain, crawling toward the door for help, but passing out. The doctors said that the blood poisoning would have killed him, even if he hadn’t smashed his mirror and tried to cut the source of the pain out himself.

    And then I remember his life, and I can’t say that that the lack of dignity and warning of the whole situation could be any surprise at all.

    It’s hard to feel too much sympathy; after all, I did grow up the abandoned son of the famous poet, enrolling in the police academy straight out of high school, taking the responsible route, working my way up to detective in just three years. The white sheep of the family, so-to-speak.

    I can understand having to stare at him so long. You spent so little time with him, you probably didn’t recognize him said a bitter, sarcastic voice behind me. Heh, you probably weren’t even sure if you were at the right funeral.

    Fuck. My brother.

    I slowly

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