Gold Eagle Books

2011-11-08T14:54:00.001-05:00

A treasure of the revolution...or of ruin?

“Do you have any idea why the thieves would be interested only in

our Confederate friend’s remains?”

Annja frowned. “That’s all they took?”

“They were only interested in the skeleton and the documentation pertaining to it that you and

Professor Reinhardt assembled. Nothing else was touched, including items of considerable value that were in plain view in Dr. Reinhardt’s office.”

That put an entirely different spin on things. Breaking and entering to steal museum pieces worth millions was one thing; doing so just to make off with the recently recovered remains of a Confederate captain no one even knew existed was another.

Her thoughts turned immediately to the shadowed figure she’d encountered in the catacombs the night before.

There was more going on here than she’d realized.

Available November 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-08T12:39:00.000-05:00

IN A DARK NEW REALITY,
TIME IS ALWAYS RUNNING OUT!

Ryan touched the wires together

The jolt of electricity made him gasp, and he was thrown backward with a blinding flash of light. The door squealed as the twisted metal tried to move in the straight grooves of the frame.

“Fireblast! I didn’t expect it to hurt like that,” Ryan groaned as he scrambled to his feet. Then he followed
Jak’s gaze.

A thin trickle of water was visible, running faster and then furiously down the crack between the two doors.

Without warning, a high-pressure stream of water shot through the gap and caught Ryan in the ribs. The force threw him against the wall of the corridor, and for a moment light exploded around his head.

Then it went black.

Available November 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-08T12:34:00.000-05:00

A deadly cult goes on a killing spree in Detroit

The Executioner charged from the car, a gun in each hand

To survive against such overwhelming odds required movement—he would have to run the risk of seeking higher ground.

Holstering the Desert Eagle but keeping hold of his Beretta, Bolan grabbed the mirror extending from the rear corner of the van and pulled himself to the roof of the vehicle, flattening himself against it.

The gunmen would have his range in seconds. He drew his Desert Eagle once more, extended his arms out to each side, and began shooting from the roof of the van. The fusillade pinned the gunmen nearest to the van, striking and wounding some of them, killing still others. But there were more assassins than the soldier had realized.

The cargo van shook beneath him. Men were climbing inside. They would no doubt try to shoot him through the roof.

Bolan beat them to it. Holstering the Beretta and swapping magazines in the Desert Eagle, he aimed at the roof of the van and started pulling the trigger, walking the shots in an ever-widening pattern. Men screamed below him as bodies hit the floor of the vehicle.

He flattened himself again and spun around, shooting left and right, taking running gunmen this way and that.

It was time to move.

Available November 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-08T12:30:00.000-05:00

Earth's saviors are on the run, as more
nightmares descend upon them!

“Quiet, you two!” Kane bellowed. “We’ve got worse things to worry about than your petty little paranoia.”

Kane pointed to one of the unconscious hooded men. He knelt and tore the man’s cowl back, revealing a dark, meshlike covering that, in the shadow of the hood, would render the upper part of his face above his lips completely invisible. It was a cheap effort that produced an unnerving effect, and Kane himself had experienced a momentary pause as he was dealing with the shadow-faced opponents. Only encounters with equally weird and terrifying opponents had given him the ability to act despite the distracting nature of their appearance.

“That doesn’t look right, even with that cloth over his head,” Demothi said.

Kane reached out and took a handful of the meshy sack and tore it off the unconscious man. It was soaked through, which was strange as he had fallen on dry ground. But as he tugged, stringy mucus stretched between the fabric and gangrenous gray tumors that ringed his skull, the tumors themselves riddled with wires and circuits. The downed man wasn’t bleeding from his head trauma, but the crushed growths where he’d been struck were oozing translucent yellow pus that seeped into the grass under his head.

“What... Oh, God,” Suwanee began. She clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to fight off the urge to vomit.

Available November 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:51:00.000-05:00

Washington becomes ground zero for bioterrorists!

A moving shadow was all the warning the Executioner had

Bolan did a full running roll to get out of the way as a machete glinted in the moonlight.

“Got to kill you,” the heavily accented voice said. “For the Obeah Man.”

Bolan kept moving and came up with the Desert Eagle in his hand. He needed someone left alive who could talk, so he fired low, blowing out the man’s kneecap.

The posse member screamed and went down, and Bolan immediately turned back to the driveway, hoping to catch up to his target. But the car kicked up gravel as it peeled away, and he got only a glimpse inside—enough to see that the Obeah Man was getting away.

Bolan walked back to the man screaming on the ground and kicked the machete out of reach. “We need to have a talk.”

“Screw you!” the man muttered.

“It’s a start,” the Executioner said. “But I’m looking for something a little more informative.”

Available as of October 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:48:00.000-05:00

The Middle East crisis has a
dangerous new broker...

Bolan yanked Khan from the car

Once he had dragged the man a safe distance from the vehicle, he stretched him along the ground.

The soldier pulled a small flashlight from a pocket, clicked it on and ran it over Khan’s blood-soaked form. Three bullet holes had pierced the man’s chest.

Khan’s eyes fluttered open. Bolan noticed that the former ISI agent’s gaze looked unfocused. His breath came in shallow puffs. After a second, Bolan’s presence registered with him, and he turned his head slightly to look at the big American.

“Cooper,” Khan told him. “It’s not over.”

“It is for you,” Bolan growled.

“Not for you. Not even close.”

A shudder passed through Khan, and he was gone.

Available as of October 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:37:00.000-05:00

Eco-terrorists want to cleanse the earth...by destroying humanity!

“KEEP THIS QUIET OR NO PART OF YOUR NATION WILL BE SPARED THE WRATH OF GREENWAR.”

“You must bid higher than your opponent. The opening bid is one-fifth of your nation’s population. Those willing to sacrifice the most people will survive total extinction.

Those willing to resist will be completely exterminated.”

Bezoar smiled, though there was no mirth or warmth in it. “Have a nice day, sir.”

The video ended.

Brognola felt as if he had to scrub himself down. He’d only been watching for ten minutes, but the horror carried the weight of hours. He set down the small smartphone, plucked out a handkerchief and mopped his brow.

“They either have someone inside Homeland Security or they have good spies. Given the aerial footage…”

the President began. He rested a hand on Brognola’s shoulder. “Stony Man is our only option. Bezoar is insane, asking for me to kill one in five people.”

The smartphone beeped. The two men looked at it.

It was a text message.

“France has a bid to kill one of every two of its citizens. Make up your mind quickly.”

The Oval Office fell silent as the specter of doom hung over the big Fed and the leader of the free world.

Available as of October 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:32:00.000-05:00

The tales of the past hide a terrible truth...

Where did he go...?

Annja peered around the edge of the reef and the shadow was gone.

It really was almost as if the unknown figure had disappeared right off the coral reef.

What were the chances that he’d been taken by a shark? She shook her head. No, there’d be some sort of evidence of an attack. His oxygen tanks would be lying on the ocean floor. His weight belt would have been shredded.

Annja’s mouth went dry and she glanced down at her oxygen gauge.

It was running close to empty.

She needed to get back to the boat. But in the next instant, she knew where the shadow had vanished to.

He’d resurfaced.

The boat engine roared overhead, its sound muffled through the water, but Annja glanced up and saw the white foam as the boat suddenly shot back the way they had come out.

Leaving Annja all alone in the dark ocean.

Available as of September 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:29:00.000-05:00

DEATHLANDS # 100

The stunning epic of a new reality continues!

With a snap as loud as a gunshot, the rope broke

“Rona!” Dean Cawdor yelled, as the rushing water of the nameless river yanked him off the drowning horse to send him tumbling downstream.

Sharona screamed his name somewhere distant, but the crashing waves of the white-water river overwhelmed the sound until there was only the rumbling thunder of the icy wash.

Dean fought his way back to the surface, pulling in a lungful of air. Through the spray he saw his horse slam into a boulder, blood gushing from its mouth, its eyes going blank before the animal was swept away.

A line of jagged boulders rose out of the spray. In a surge of adrenaline, Dean tried to slip between the deadly outcroppings. He made it past the first two, but the third smacked his arm with stunning force.

Then an undertow grabbed him, dragging him away from air and light.

Available as of September 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:24:00.000-05:00

An evil regime returns to unleash terror
across the Caribbean

“Are they all dead?”

Bolan nodded. As an afterthought, he picked up a pair of empty water bottles and cut open a vein on two of the bodies. He hoped the blood samples would reveal what types of toxins were used to turn humans into weapons.

“Who were they?” Rudd asked.

“Someone’s pawns,” the soldier replied. “Most likely, they were kidnapped tourists, harmless people sparked to insanity by some biochemist.”

“Who’d do such a thing? And who’d let them loose here, where there’s just kids?”

“If there’s a clue in the blood, I’ll use it. I’m going after them,” Bolan stated grimly.

“Alone?” Rudd asked.

“Alone. With an army. It won’t matter. I’m going to

find the people behind this,” the Executioner said.

Available as of September 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:20:00.000-05:00

A Congo rescue mission turns into a
deadly game of hide and seek!

“Our enemies outnumber us, but we are the superior force.”

The Executioner rose to his feet. “Nenad’s men are terrorists, not soldiers. They get others to commit their atrocities for them. But here in the jungle they are going to have to do their own fighting. They are not ready for what Niner Squad has become.”

Cadet Jovich rose and the rest of the squad rose withhim. “No way in hell they’re ready for us.”

“Caesar’s men are jungle fighters, but they have been terrorizing unarmed villages for far too long. They are not ready for what you have become.”

Cadet Eischen intoned Bolan’s earlier words. “We shoot them until they’re all down or we are.”

Bolan shoved his right hand out into the middle of the circle. The rest of the squad huddled up and put their hands on top of his. “And though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we shall fear no evil...for we are Niner Squad, the apex predators and the meanest sons of bitches in the valley.”

“Amen, Sergeant,” Cadet Johnson said.

“On me, call out!” Bolan looked around and saw the steel in the backbone of his people. “Niner!”

The squad instantly shouted back, “Squad!”

Bolan raised his hand beneath the squad’s and they snapped their hands down to break the huddle. “Be ready to move in an hour.”

Available as of September 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:15:00.000-05:00

A drug lord takes control of a
Midwest town...

Bolan’s calculated risk had gone terribly wrong

He ran for the nearest cover, which happened to be the underside of the armored Escalade. Its chain gun

was still pouring a firestorm of destruction into the rooftops. While it raked the left side of the street, the

townspeople on the opposite side tried to take the SUV out by concentrating their fire, but the lighter rifle shells ricocheted off the body.

Then Bolan heard an even louder racket above the earsplitting thunder of rifle fire as a shadow passed

overhead. The helicopter came in low and out of the south, a pair of gunmen wielding M-16s shooting at

the remaining riflemen on the roof. But then the M-249 on top of the Humvee swiveled and opened up as the

helicopter approached, the 5.56 mm rounds spitting out to star the helicopter’s windshield.

The pitch of the aircraft’s engine changed suddenly, turning choppy. The helicopter’s shadow began whirling

around on the street as the pilot fought for control.

Bolan watched the M-249 gunner pour more fire into the aircraft, and then heard a small explosion. The chopper reared up and accelerated right into a storefront, where its blades shattered into shards of deadly shrapnel flying in every direction. What was left of the fuselage crashed to the ground about fifteen yards from where Bolan was. The engine of the Escalade started, and Bolan flattened himself against the ground as the vehicle lurched backward and he was left lying in the middle of the road, while the SUV barreled down Main Street.

Bolan was on his feet in a flash, running for the Humvee. The driver rolled down his window.
“What’s your plan?”

Bolan leaped into the rear of the vehicle and pulled back the cocking lever of the M-249. “We’ve got to stop them before they get back to the factory! They’re going to blow it up!”

Available as of August 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:11:00.000-05:00

An exiled god prince acts out his
violent vengeance!

“Will it hurt?” Kane asked then, and his question was genuine,
no longer a part of his innocent act

Dylan nodded. “The future has to be born, Kane,” he said, “and birth is traumatic. But it will be brief, and the

new world awaits you once it’s done. You need never look back, never regret. God will be with you.”

Kane gritted his teeth as he watched Dylan bring the stone closer. Then he felt it brush against his skin, its

surface cool, and for a moment the ex-Mag tensed.

“Relax yourself into it,” Dylan advised. “Don’t fight it.”

Dylan pulled his hand back slowly, leaving the stone balanced on Kane’s outstretched arm. The stone was

resting against Kane’s wrist now, in the groove that was made there at the heel of his hand. Kane watched

as the stone rested there, doing nothing out of the ordinary. And then he felt it move, like an insect’s tiny

feet tickling against his wrist, and he almost laughed. The movement was so slight that, in the gloom, he could

not really see it. All the same, he felt it, felt as it rolled and turned, inching around in a slow turn at the base of his palm.

Suddenly, Kane felt a strange kind of pain, his skin splitting at his wrist with a burning sensation. It reminded Kane of the way that chapped lips feel in cold weather, a hotness around the wound. He watched as the stone rested at his wrist, watched as it seemed to become slightly smaller. It was sinking, Kane realized—sinking into his flesh, burrowing there like an insect.

Available as of August 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-11-07T15:07:00.000-05:00

A global network is trafficking
nuclear materials...

BARBARA PRICE RUSHED INTO THE ROOM

“Able is compromised,” she said without preamble.

“They’re going deep black to Charlie Mike but we need to get them a new safe house in a less populated area and arrange resupply.”

“When it rains, it pours,” Kurtzman said.

“What?”

“I got a message from James on the ground in Brazzaville, text based.”

“Why text?”

“He couldn’t get a signal out, so he put a communication in the system for the repeater relay. It’s twelve minutes old. They were compromised on initial insertion. They think their Congolese police

counterpart might have set them up.”

Akira Tokaido leaned back in his chair and whistled. “Phoenix under fire, Able on the run—this mission is

blown right out of the gate.”

Available as of August 2011 wherever books are sold!

2011-07-21T12:36:00.000-04:00

Gold Eagle Author Questionnaire

Author Michael Newton has written over 240 books under his name and various pseudonyms. He has contributed over one hundred books to Gold Eagle within both the Executioner and Mack Bolan series, and he is still going strong! We recently asked Mike a few questions and he was kind enough to indulge us!

Has the action/adventure/science fiction genre always been a passion for you?

I got my start as a published professional in action/adventure, thanks to Don Pendleton, and was an avid fan for some years prior.

What are your literary influences? What are your pop culture influences?

I’m an omnivorous reader, in both fiction and nonfiction, with no particular genre limits.

What are you reading/watching/listening to now?

I just finished Stephen King’s Under the Dome and am starting Michael Slade’s Red Snow. In nonfiction, I’m midway through The Holocaust by Martin Gilbert and Five Families by Selwyn Raab.

Where do you find inspiration for your books? How much do world events affect the stories you decide to tell?

We try to keep the Bolan novels current, so I do my idea-shopping in the headlines. For my Westerns, I lean toward classic themes and try to incorporate real-life historical events and characters whenever possible. My nonfiction tends toward true-crime, where dead felons are the safest topics: they can’t sue!

Of the GE books you’ve written, which one would you like to see be made into a movie? Who would make up your dream cast?

Nearly all have been Bolan novels, but an “origins” episode would require a radical makeover of Don’s original War Against the Mafia to keep it current. For Bolan, Don used to say that he pictured Clint Eastwood’s face on Clint Walker’s body, but now that one Clint is in his eighties and the other is deceased, you’d need to shop around for a viable action star: no teen heart-throb, clearly, but not over the hill, either. Frankly, I’m drawing a blank. My personal favorite stories are The Trial and Eternal Triangle, but neither could be filmed without at least one other movie establishing background.

Is there a way for your fans to contact you or keep up with your latest news?

I’m not on Twitter, but my various projects are updated on my website at www.michaelnewton.homestead.com. My email address is also there, but for some reason AT&T obstructs my efforts to answer incoming messages. Weird and inexplicable...at least, to me.

Michael Newton's latest work Enemy Agents, Executioner # 391, is in stores now!

2011-07-18T14:45:00.000-04:00

THE EARLY CHAPTERS OF HISTORY CONTAIN
DANGEROUS SECRETS...

“I want that torc, Mr. Jackson.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good enough.” The man turned and headed up the stairs,
but stopped before he’d gotten more than a few steps away.
He turned to face Jackson once more.

“This woman, the one with the sword. Do we know who she was?”

Jackson nodded. “An American archaeologist named Annja Creed.”
He took a photo out of the file folder in his hands and passed it to his
employer. The picture had been taken at the dig site and showed
Annja’s still and bloodied face.

The other man stared at it for a few seconds, then passed it back.

“She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she?”

Available July 12, 2011, wherever books are sold.

2011-07-18T14:43:00.000-04:00

A madman's war games are poised to plunge
the world into chaos...

The President frowned

“Why would Shen-wa want Snyder alive… Ah. So that he’ll know what
we know about the Red Star, and can make preparations against our
responses in advance.”

“And Snyder might know if Shen-wa is the person behind these attacks,
and possibly his location,” Brognola stated.

“Striker certainly has courage, breaking into a Red Chinese maximum-security
prison just to ask a man a question.”

“Whatever gets the job done, sir,” the big Fed said as a dark shadow swept
past the window.

As a second shadow appeared, Brognola dived forward and tackled the
President to the floor just as something exploded outside, the titanic force of
the blast rocking the White House.

Available July 12, 2011, wherever books are sold.

2011-07-18T14:38:00.001-04:00

FROM THE RUBBLE OF THE FUTURE COMES POTENTIAL...AND PERIL!

“Ryan!”

Heedless of his own injuries, J.B. bolted to his side, firing his Uzi through the veil
of smoke. Grabbing Ryan by the legs, he dragged him back to the wall. “How bad is it?”

“Not…good. I know that much,” Ryan gritted. He brought his trembling neck muscles
under control to look down at his shoulders, seeing a lot of blood and the jagged end
of a bone poking up through the skin.

J.B. gingerly explored the wound. “This is going to hurt a lot.” The Armorer eased
himself under his old friend’s right arm, eliciting a groan of pain from him as he

gripped his hand tight to keep him in place.

When J.B. stood, Ryan nearly passed out from the agony shooting through his shoulders.
The Armorer half dragged the one-eyed man forward, intent on getting clear of the

underground pit and getting help for Ryan….

Available July 12, 2011, wherever books are sold.

2011-07-18T14:34:00.000-04:00

Organized crime threatens to take over the Big Easy!

Bolan woke to the hum of a mosquito swarm

His hands and feet were tied together and he was strung up between two
willow trees that were slowly bending with his weight. Blood dripped from
the cut on his scalp into the water below, carrying his scent to the

alligators that infested the area.

He scanned the water for the telltale ripples of an approaching gator and
spotted not one, but several, slowly closing in on him. For the moment, Bolan
was safe, though it was only a matter of time before the branches gave way.

One alligator was getting more curious, and as it swam around below Bolan,
a trickle of blood hit the water. Large jaws snapped out and slashed through
the murky swamp.

The tree limbs creaked as Bolan tried to inch his body away from the reptile,
and the Executioner knew that his chances of survival were diminishing with
every second. Using all his strength, he pulled on the limb that seemed most
likely to break. The tree groaned in objection, but finally relented. As the gator
surfaced again, Bolan reached up and grabbed the sagging branch. It lowered
inch by inch as he struggled to free his arm. The gator swam beneath him,
his tail flicking Bolan’s boot as a subtle reminder that his time was just

about up.

Bolan strained harder at the branch, while watching the gators on final approach.
One of them circled and dived below the surface, and Bolan wondered if the
creature was going to come leaping out of the water to snatch him in its jaws,
like he was a worm on a hook.

The Executioner’s premonition proved accurate.

Available July 12, 2011, wherever books are sold.

2011-07-18T14:28:00.000-04:00

Homegrown radicals seek global domination...

“Hal,” the President said, “what do I do?”

“I wish I could help you, sir, but I honestly don’t know. My best people are on it.”

“I’ve got people on one side of me telling me to declare martial law,” the Man said.
“There’s a group of people in the Joint Chiefs of Staff who have already drawn up
a contingency plan, but my instincts tell me that’s the wrong approach. I need

your honest opinion.”

“I think you should level with the people, sir,” Brognola replied. “You should go
on television and tell them we have a dangerous situation to deal with. They should
be vigilant, but not fearful.”

The President pondered the advice. “That might work for a short time,” he said.
“But if we have a wave of shootings tomorrow, people are going to riot. And if that
happens, I’ll have no option but to declare martial law.”

Available June 2011 wherever books are sold.

2011-07-18T14:24:00.000-04:00

American extremists plan a terror strike!

The armor-piercing slug sizzled past Bolan’s face

It singed his cheek with its hot tailwind as Bolan threw himself behind the
exit housing. Though the metal door and plaster walls concealed him from
the sniper, they wouldn’t stop the Barrett’s rounds from finding flesh and bone.

The shooter quickly demonstrated, slamming his next shot right through the
structure three feet above roof level, where a crouching man’s head might be

found. Bolan was lower, lying prone, but his would-be killer still had six shots
left before he’d be forced to reload—virtually guaranteeing at least one stunning hit.

It was time to move—no mistake.

But left or right? It was a gamble, either way, and Bolan knew that he was

running out of time.

He hedged his bets, triggered a shot around the right hand corner—the shooter’s
left—then rolled out the other way as two suppressed rounds ripped into the wall
that had shielded him. One blew away a fist-size chunk of plaster, while the second
came through, dead-on, where Bolan had been a heartbeat earlier.

And by that time, the Executioner was clear, wide open for the man who meant to
kill him, scuttling across the sun-baked roof on stinging hands and knees, seeking a
kill-shot of his own.

Available June 2011 wherever books are sold.

2011-07-18T14:19:00.001-04:00

The balance of global power is threatened...

BROGNOLA SOUNDED ESPECIALLY WEARY

“On the world stage, meanwhile,” he said, “the Man

is worried that we can’t simply hit Ovan and cut this

off at the source, because all of the evidence we

have is covert intelligence. We can’t afford to point

to any more satellite photos of WMD factories that

turn out to be anything but…and we can’t afford to

move against Turkmenistan in an official capacity, not

even as a black operation, unless we can turn public

opinion against Ovan and show the world he’s got his

hands in the terror attacks in Iran. If his involvement

is exposed, the Iranians will scream bloody murder

about the interference, and Magham’s fate will be

sealed. That’s especially true if his own involvement in

the plot is outed.”

“So what are we doing?” Lyons asked.

“A WMD-equipped Ovan would be a nightmare for us

all,” Brognola said. “His terror network, at this point,

quite possibly rivals al Qaeda. But more years of

hard-line rule under Magham does no one any favors,

either. We need to expose the terror link in Iran and

do what we can to ensure an honest victory for Khan

while putting a stop to Ovan’s terror network and

removing him from power.”

“Oh, is that all?” McCarter said.

Available June 2011 wherever books are sold.

2011-05-13T14:41:00.000-04:00

FABLED FOLK SEEK A TERRIBLE REVENGE...

“They’re here...”
Annja felt the breeze that moved her ponytail from in
front of her shoulder to her back.

Then she paused.

There was no breeze.

She must have moved, flipped her hair over her shoulder
with a jerk of her head. It was the only thing that made
sense. Until a strange flutter made her look down.

She didn’t know what was causing her sudden
nervousness, or making her hear things.

It had to be an insect. It had sounded like that, like
wings fluttering.

“Just a bug,” she whispered.

A male cry of pain alerted her. She heard a body hit the
dirt and the clatter of the plastic-encased camera followed.

“Eric,” she whispered.

Footsteps crunched. Those were not Eric’s rubbersoled Vans.

Sucking in a deep breath, Annja calmed her racing heartbeat.

She swept out her right hand. Looking into the
otherwhere, she opened her fi ngers and closed them
around her battle sword.

Slapping her left hand to the hilt, she prepared to
meet whatever was coming around the corner….

Available May 10th, 2011, wherever books are sold!

2011-05-13T14:33:00.000-04:00

NO GOOD INTENTIONS PAVED
THIS ROAD TO HELL...

“What’s wrong with him?” Ryan demanded

Mildred didn’t answer. She turned away and rammed
two stiff fingers down her throat, trying to induce
vomiting. It took Ryan only an instant to understand.
With a curse he tossed away the canteen. Poisoned. The
whole bastard lake was poisoned!
Dropping the Steyr, the man clumsily cut his arm with
the panga, hoping the pain would keep him awake as
his world started to go dark. But Ryan barely felt the
passage of steel through his skin and knew that it was
already too late.

Enraged over his failure to recognize the trap, Ryan
felt an adrenaline surge course through his body. But
the brief respite vanished quickly, and, still fighting to
remain conscious, the one-eyed man slumped to the
ground and went still. The rest of the companions joined
him moments later.

Soon, there was no movement at the crystal lake other
than the steady rush of the waterfall and the bright
sunlight reflecting off the gentle waves.

Available May 10th, 2011, wherever books are sold!

2011-05-13T14:28:00.000-04:00

TERRORISTS PLOT TO POISON
AMERICA'S FOOD SUPPLY!

Bolan awoke to find himself lying on an operating tabl

A pair of green eyes peered at him from over a hospital
face mask. Kristen Kemp sewed the last stitches into his
shoulder and said, “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Where are we?” he asked.

“In my clinic.”

Bolan sat up and tried to collect his thoughts. “How long
was I out?” he asked.

“About an hour,” she said.

Bolan remained silent, contemplating the likelihood that
they’d been followed.
Kemp put her hands on Bolan’s shoulders and tried to
get him to lie back down. “You should rest.”

“We’re not safe here,” Bolan said.

“Grassy Butte has two hundred and fifty people, and I
know every last one of them. No one’s going to harm us
here,” she said as she covered his wounds with sterile
bandages.

“Whatever you thought you knew about this place
changed the moment we got shot at yesterday,” he told
her. “Something big is going on here—and it’s damned
dangerous.”

Before Kemp could respond, Bolan saw the shadow of
a man holding what could only be a gun outlined in the
window. He grabbed Kemp’s shoulders and flipped her
over him, as automatic gunfire tore through the walls of
the clinic.

Hurling himself on top of her, Bolan had just one more
question. “Where are my weapons?”

 Available May 10th, 2011, wherever books are sold!

2011-05-13T13:56:00.000-04:00

A resurrected voodoo priestess and her entourage of the undead prepare to send humanity to its grave...

Ezili Coeur Noir smiled at the noise
Enjoying the terrible, familiar song of death reversed.
All ofthe corpses had done this when she had revived
them; each had sung a beautiful note of pain. It was so
pure, so absolute, she wished to one day make an
orchestra of these corpses, killing and reviving them
to create the music she heard echoing in her black heart.

Already she was walking down the road,
instinctively searching for another dead body,
feeling herself drawn to it as she repopulated the
Earth with her army of the undead. But soon she
would not need to search. Once the Red Weed
batch was completed by her lackeys, Ezili Coeur
Noir would have an endless supply of the dead
to reanimate, a perfect orchestra to scream her
beautiful songs of death. And prized among those
singers would be the three humans she had found
in the underground bunker of the redoubt, the
three who had challenged her with the brightness
of their living souls.

Available May 10th, 2011, wherever books are sold!