Chapter Eighteen is now up, and hey, look at the time! It’s not 11:59! I actually hope to get back to early morning Thursday postings for chapters, but the quantity of rewriting I’m doing is a lot more than I (rather naively, as it turns out) expected. Teaser:
“Fuck!” Coleman shouted, and spun the thumper around to the right. “Who fucking shot me?”
Angelo, standing in the bed of the humvee behind, opened up with his .50 cal. Lewis watched the tracers reach out across the sandto a battered Toyota pickup racing toward them. Two bursts disabled the engine and the occupants piled out. Another burst cut one of them in half.
We’re now in Part III, which doesn’t necessarily have to mean anything to you except that it’s battle time. And as always, your help in catching errors and mistakes is always appreciated. Further, since we’re moving into combat mode again, that will mean greater opportunities for you veterans and gun enthhusiasts to
be nitpicky as much as your black little hearts desire offer constructive and useful criticism to improve the story. So enjoy.