CRIMSON RAGE

Book 1 of the CRIMSON RAGE series

By Sam J Fires

Copyright 2021 by Samuel Fires Publications. All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or person, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment.

WANT A FREE GIFT?

SIGN UP TO MY MAILING LIST TO RECEIVE THIS FREE COPY OF MY BOOK

BAD BOYS MAKE BROKEN MEN

Cole Denvers is a bouncer at the hottest nightclub in town, The Ballroom, when he’s approached by Gino Scanelli, Mob Boss and owner of the club, to be an enforcer for his gang. The big times are calling, and Cole wants to be a part of the big game.

He doesn’t mind hitting people, but it goes against his moral upbringing to kill anyone. He builds a reputation on the streets as being a hard-handed enforcer. But with each beating that he lays down, the voice of his dead brother calls out from the grave, forcing Cole to face his past, and relive the horror of his brother’s death when he was callously run down in the street by a hit-and-run perpetrator.

Sure, everyone has hardships, but as Cole’s about to find out the hard way... On the mean streets of New York City, Bad Boys Make Broken Men.

GET YOUR FREE COPY OF BAD BOYS MAKE BROKEN MEN HERE

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1- JED

CHAPTER 2 - ERIC

CHAPTER 3 - JANE

CHAPTER 4 - DONNA

CHAPTER 5 - JANE

CHAPTER 6 - DONNA

CHAPTER 7 - ERIC

CHAPTER 8 – SAFE HAVEN?

Other books by Sam Fires

About the author

CHAPTER 1- JED

   Only a few noticed the first sprinkles penetrate the cloud. Partly because the sprinkles were too minute to be seen and partly because people were too wrapped up in their everyday lives to notice.

   And they had been told to expect sunny skies on that day.

   The last day of Jed’s career as a meteorologist was perhaps the most eventful he’d ever had. He would have called it ‘saving the bizarre for last’.

   He’d been working in the profession for nearly thirty years and had become accustomed to the daily routine and the growing mundaneness of it. Once in his younger, more ambitious years, Jed would have hoped to have been witness to some great anomaly or have contributed some world stopping invention to the field of meteorology. Something that would allow him to take his place in the halls of fame among the likes of Beaufort and Hadley. But he seemed to be doomed to fade into the background. Once this would have troubled him no end. But now, he had reconciled himself to the lack of prestige.

   But what was happening today would have elevated Jed to the history books, had he lived to report it.

   Suddenly, his anemometers started registering a mass increase in wind speed, snapping him out of his melancholic reminiscences. The readings were off the chart, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Jed strolled around outside, looking to the heavens, as though expecting a sign. White clouds floating amongst a blue ocean looked down at him, giving no hint of what was to come.

   Jed winced as he felt a sharp sting on his forearm. He swatted at it, figuring it to be a bug bite.

   But when he looked at his arm, he could make out the tiniest incision as though a needle had penetrated his skin.

   Jed would later feel the sting of a thousand needles, red hot and relentless.

   His body still hasn’t been found.

*

   Donna rolled the tiny little pill around between her fingers, as though trying to glean some hidden meaning from it. I seriously hope I’m not going to spend the rest of my life dependent on these little bastards. Donna popped the pill into her mouth and downed it with a swig of gin and tonic.

   “You really want to be taking that with booze?” Josie had just finished serving a customer and had moved down the bar to Donna, disapproval etched on her face.

   “Can’t you just be glad I’m taking them, Mom?” Donna retorted sarcastically.

   She and Josie had been friends since high school and even though they had gone their separate ways career-wise, Donna had always found time to catch up over a drink at the bar Josie owned… which seemed to be happening more and more frequently. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be? Like work?”

   “Not anymore” said Donna. “I had a bit of a meltdown in the office today trying to find the stationery.”

   “It can’t have been that bad,” offered Josie half-heartedly, all too aware of Donna’s mood swings over the years.

   “I may have elbowed one of the editors in the face by accident.”

   “Ah. Shit. So, what did they say?”

   “Something along the lines of ‘I think you’d better go home, Donna’.” She tried to keep her voice nonchalant, but Josie would see through that. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t have a job tomorrow.”

   “I really think you need to speak to someone,” offered Josie, for what felt like the millionth time.

   “And say what? Doctor, can you stop me from turning into a fucking basket case?”

   “Donna, it’s bipolar. It’s manageable.”

   “Well, it doesn’t fucking feel like it.” Donna shouted so loud some of the bar folk turned in her direction. “This is how I’m going to be for the rest of my life. I’m not going to feel better. I just need to get used to that.”

   Suddenly, Donna felt she needed to be somewhere different. Anywhere where people weren’t passing silent judgment on her.

   “Donna!” Josie called after her.

   But she was already out the door.

*

   “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now venturing down one of the more neglected parts of Los Angeles, an overgrown desert that may have once held the foundations of some bygone civilization, a hamlet, maybe even a mass grave …”

   “Okay, cut!”

   Eric Lander stopped talking, waiting to hear whatever demoralising putdown his cameraman Leo had to offer. I bet Hitchcock never had to deal with people trying to clip his wings.

   Leo set the camera on the ground and ran his fingers through his hair, his exasperation coming to the surface. “I’ve got to say, Eric, I can’t understand why we’re going to all this trouble. Folks don’t want to see Planet Earth: Los Angeles style.”

   “It’s for my showreel,” explained Eric. “People want to see a naturalistic side to my work.”

   “If you were David Attenborough, maybe. But this? This won’t sell. Producers, they’re like wolves. They can smell amateur on you. I still think we should show them the music video we shot…”

   “No.” Eric’s voice echoed through the deserted wasteland, the volume surprising both of them. “The only way I would show that footage to anyone is if I was wanting to plan my death by embarrassment.”

   “I’m actually quite proud of that footage,” said Leo indignantly. When Eric didn’t offer anything further, Leo walked over to him, each step feeling heavier than the previous. “Look, buddy. I’ve enjoyed doing this with you. We’ve held onto this dream for what, six years now? We’ve got talent to offer. And I’ve been holding out for a big break just like you. But if it was going to happen… don’t you think it would have by now?”

   Eric didn’t even want to consider that possibility. “What are you saying, Leo?”

   “I’m saying perhaps we should consider knocking it on the head. It was a nice little dream while it lasted. Passed the time. But maybe we need to join the real world. Find something with more of a future.”

   But life as a filmmaker was the only future Eric had envisioned. Without it, he had no idea how to define himself.

*

   Never thought chasing down a perp would feel so damn mundane.

   All of Jane’s actions; pinning him to the ground, straining herself to prevent an escape, slapping on the handcuffs and then marching the suspect to the car, all her movements were precise and robotic, as though she had completely given herself over to muscle memory.

   She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about that. Sometimes, she felt thankful that she had fallen into a pattern of behavior that yielded no surprises. On the other hand, Jane felt that maybe she wasn’t fulfilling her full potential. She’d had so much hope when she became a cop, the chance to really make a difference in the world. And it felt like that chance was constantly being kicked into the long grass. She’d long given up any hope of making detective. There had to be something for her to strive for. But that would require something to change. She would have to change.

   And what are the odds of that ever happening?

CHAPTER 2 - ERIC

   Eric made his way back to the car, thinking over his ‘career’, if he could call it that.

   I’m a filmmaker, he told himself once again, repeating the affirmation like a mantra. I’ll be one until I die.

   He had to make it work. He had spent the last twelve years with this single-minded goal lodged in his head. He’d sacrificed opportunities and relationships. They had all been secondary to his dream. Leo was the only one who still tolerated him. If he gave up now, then it would all be for nothing. He would have spent nearly half his life chasing down something that wasn’t meant to be.

   I swear this is probably going to be one of those days where it feels like the sky is falling.

   But the sky wasn’t falling.

   It was turning crimson red, the clouds bloodshot.

   It was a sight unlike anything Eric had ever seen before. And at first, he found himself appreciating the ethereal beauty of the sky. He was so captivated by the visuals that it was a good few moments before he noticed something emerging from the sky.

   Birds?

   Birds would have been the safe answer. Birds would have been the logical answer.

   But what happened over the next few minutes defied logic.

      “Ow, bastard,” muttered Leo as he waved his hand in the air.

   “You all right?” Eric looked away from the sky.

   “I’m fine,” said Leo, inspecting his Hawaiian shirt. “Probably just a mosquito.”

   There was a tiny hole in his shirt. He undid the top three buttons and felt around his shoulder where there were a series of small red spots.

   Eric moved closer, tempted to bring his fingers up to investigate the tiny spots, but stopping just shy of doing so. “What you been doing to yourself? It looks like tiny needle pricks or something”

“Nothing!” protested Leo, affronted.

As Eric leaned closer, he felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck. He looked back at the sky, then looked down at the left sleeve of his leather jacket. Within the creases of the sleeve, he could make out tiny little specks of…

   “Sand,” said Eric, picking some up with his thumb and forefinger. “Red sand.”

   Eric rubbed the specks between his two fingers, the action making tiny craters on his digits. “The fuck is this?” he showed the strange marks to Leo.

   And then they both felt it. It came sharper this time, like tiny knife points making surgical incisions in their skin.

   And then they saw it.

   Countless specks of sand began to hail down on them and now, the sensation wasn’t just stinging. It was burning. As though they were being impaled by a thousand red hot needles.

   “We’ve got to get back to the car. Now,” said Eric, backing up slowly. “NOW!” he shouted, breaking into a run.

   The sandstorm suddenly picked up, as if in response to their pursuit and it rained down on them, relentlessly. Eric’s leather jacket provided him with some protection, but Leo’s Hawaiian t-shirt was slowly being microscopically hacked away.

   Just as they got to the car, Eric began running back.

“Where are you going?” Leo called after him.

   Eric returned barely a minute later clutching the camera with such care and protection as though it were his firstborn. Leo stared at him, open-mouthed. “You have got to be shitting me.”

   “No, I’m not. This is the closest thing I have to a livelihood.”

*

   Eric and Leo drove slowly down the road, taking in the chaos around them. Conversation between the two had been sparse, partly because any words would be drowned out by the noise of the sand pelting down on the car, but also they were dumbfounded by the strange turn of events.

   Eric’s mind was racing, trying to form theories and ideas as to the nature of the bizarre anomaly. Mother Nature finally collecting the environmental bill? A government conspiracy to get everybody shitting themselves? Or maybe it was an alien invasion? Each explanation that ran through Eric’s mind was more absurd than the last.

   “I don’t get it,” said Leo, disbelievingly. “Where did it come from?”

   “Fuck knows.” Eric refrained from sharing his theories with Leo, lest he come across as a complete lunatic.

   “I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Leo, trying to make out the road ahead through the hail of sand that audibly bounced off the windshield. “It’s like something out of a horror movie.”

   That jolted Eric into action. He reached into the backseat for the video camera and turned it on, pointing it through the passenger window, zooming in on the cars, the buildings, the entire panorama of this haunting vision.

   “The fuck are you doing?” asked Leo, keeping his eyes on the road.

   “This could be important footage,” justified Eric, adjusting the settings on the camera to get the clearest picture, wanting to capture every little detail.

   “You never cease to amaze me,” said Leo disbelievingly. “We could have an end-of-the-world scenario around the corner and you would still try to play Steven Spielberg.”

   And that’s when they heard the crack.

   It was only a small one, in the center of the windshield, but it made both Leo and Eric jump in their seats.

   As Eric moved the camera closer, he could see a tiny speck embedded in the glass, vibrating, almost as if trying to break through.

   And finally, it did.

   The windshield shattered and a swarm of glass particles and sand started attacking the two terrified passengers, trying to penetrate their clothes and get to their skin.

   Leo slammed the brakes on hard, tried to back the car up and reverse it away from the storm. And the car did move, albeit not in the way Leo expected.

   It took several seconds for Leo to realize that the tires weren’t grinding against tarmac, but in thin air. It took Eric a few seconds less to notice that the pavement and cars were now seven feet below them.

   The pair lost all track of time as the car was sent hurtling through the air.

   Eric’s stomach lurched as though he was on some kind of reverse roller coaster.

   Time seemed to slow down for Eric, a fraction of a second passing. And in that time, it dawned on him that this could well be the moment he would die. And in the few seconds of real time, he tried to reconcile himself with that fact.

   Maybe I’ll be like those filmmakers who are only discovered and appreciated after they’re dead. He wasn’t even surprised that he found gallows humor a comfort.

   He didn’t have time to close his eyes before the car finally impacted with something solid and his world went black.

CHAPTER 3 - JANE

   Goddamn sand, Jane mumbled as she marched the perp back to the car. She swatted at the specs of sand flying through the air like she would a swarm of flies.

   Jane hadn’t given much thought to the storm. Sure, it was perplexing, which she couldn’t explain, but she took the same attitude to the storm as she took with everything that wasn’t directly involved in police work. She pushed it into the background.

   As she marched the perp forward, Jane began to realize it wasn’t going to be as simple as that. People were running around the street, working themselves into a frenzy like she’d never seen before.

   Jane was becoming increasingly worried. She had helped break up enough riots and dealt with enough looters to recognise the foreboding signs of mob mentality. But taking on the world single-handedly wasn’t an option.

   As she made it back to her squad car with the suspect in tow, the storm picked up speed. The streets were rapidly emptying. People were taking shelter in the nearest shops and bars. More than once, Jane was forced to shield her eyes with her free arm but she was finding it hard trying to keep the prisoner restrained with a single hand, so she pulled out her shades and put them on. They provided some protection from the battering sand particles but she could feel the tiny specs bouncing off the glass and hear them trying to penetrate.

   “I’m not going back to jail!” he screamed, struggling with renewed vigor. “I’ll die first.”

   Don’t tempt me. Jane slammed the suspect against the hood of her cruiser and took in the surroundings through an increasingly red tint as a blur of sand pecked at the windows of the cars…

   The cars… In their haste to get away from the sandstorm, people had abandoned their vehicles. Up ahead, Jane could make out a line of cars with open doors. All blocking her path.

   Jane choked back her frustration and spoke into her radio. “Officer stranded. In need of assistance.” She waited for a reply, but crackle was the only response.

    Sensing her distraction, her prisoner took his chance. He flung his head backwards, catching Jane on the chin and she stumbled to the pavement, landing flat on her back.

   He took off down the street, hands still cuffed behind his back. His head darted in each direction, unable to ward off the specks of sand flying around his head.

   By the time Jane got to her feet, the perp had already put a wide distance between them.

   The specks were flying in all directions now, obscuring everything.

   Flushed with embarrassment, Jane reached for her holster, tempted to fire at him. But the suspect was already disappearing from view. There was no way she could get a straight shot at this distance,  and what if she ended up hitting a civilian by mistake?

   Keeping her weapon pointing forward, Jane moved ahead, taking tentative steps. She was determined not to lose her catch.

   She fleetingly wondered whether the bizarre storm would ease or intensify but pushed the thought to the back of her mind. Don’t focus on what you can’t control. Do your job and get the little bastard.

   Jane picked up her pace until she was sprinting into the sandy chaos, as though she was in a Roman arena preparing to take a sword to a rival gladiator.

   Unfortunately, more and more cracks appeared on her sunglasses with each step, but she didn’t dare take them off.

   Everything in the street was slowly being swallowed up in a reddish fog. She could hear groaning coming from somewhere further down the street. No person could make a noise like that. Maybe it’s the storm?

   When she happened upon the source, she realized the storm would have been a better option.

   She’d found her prisoner. Only he wasn’t running away any longer. And he wasn’t lying on the ground. He was flattened against the side of a department store window, several feet up above her, as though some invisible hand was holding him in place. The groans coming from his broken jaw buried themselves into Jane’s soul, a sound she would never forget. Goodbye, beauty sleep. She gulped in hot red air, unable to will herself to look away from the nightmare taking place above her.

   The red specks were careering through the air and had now formed a circular pattern, almost as if in coordination… directly towards the perp. They buried themselves into his body with such ferocity the likes of which Jane had never before seen in her life. In an instant, his entire torso was covered by the specks and within seconds there was more sand than man flattened against the window.

   Pretty soon there was nothing there at all.

   Jane’s stomach threatened to implode. Poor fucking bastard. No way for a man to go. She held her hand over her mouth, willing herself to remain in control.

   What had been a mild breeze suddenly intensified threatening to lift her off her feet. Thinking quickly, Jane rushed towards the nearest lamppost, wrapping her arms and legs around it, unwilling to let go even for a second lest she share the same fate as the perp.

   As she clung to the lampost, with her chin tucked in against the storm, Jane prayed she wouldn’t suffer the same fate as the perp. That she wouldn’t be dissolved into a nothing. Jane looked around at the sand bouncing off the buildings. She wondered if they would hold or if the sand would wear away at the bricks like water down the mountains.

   Already, she could feel her arms starting to weaken. I could be here all day. What if the storm went on for hours, or even days? Would the sand do its damage before her endurance gave out? Human endurance had no place in the harsh, unforgiving sandstorm.

   Deciding that she couldn’t spend all day clinging to the pole, Jane looked around for anything that might offer her some longevity.

   Although the air was saturated with sand specks, she noticed that only a few sections were actually concentrated particles flying in close proximity to one another, united by a singular mission. The same particles that killed the perp. Jane figured that as long as she didn’t get caught up in the groupings, she might be safe. She hated betting her safety on a weak assumption, but it was all she had to work with.

   All those years at the academy. Those worst case scenarios, those life-and-death situations, just to be taken out by a fucking red beach.

    I am not dying here. I’m getting through this.

   Just as she made the affirmation, Jane noticed a body lying in the middle of the road a few feet away. She was torn as to whether to go and help, at the risk of being blown away. The decision was made when she realized the body was lifeless, riddled with thousands of miniscule holes.

   It was the last image her left eye would ever capture as the lenses of her sunglasses finally began to crack and the pain from what felt like an onslaught of tiny needles drove into her left eye, her entire socket becoming a fireball of pain, scorching every nerve in her body. She opened her mouth to scream, but her anguish was drowned out by the gushing storm.

   It took every ounce of resilience to maintain her grip on the post. To not allow herself to get swept away.

   Her mind flashed back to the perp again and his grisly demise. No way I’m ending up like that.

CHAPTER 4 - DONNA

   Maybe this is another side effect of the meds?

   Donna struggled to take in the rapidly changing scenery around her, the weird sandstorm and people scattering everywhere to avoid it. It was only when she had received a frantic phone call from Josie demanding she get back to the bar or find somewhere safe that she knew it wasn’t a hallucination.

   Why do I feel so calm? Donna’s stoic demeanour sharply contrasted with the alarmist reactions of everyone around her. Maybe this is my kind of environment. Now the world looks as crazy as it usually feels to me.

   Donna shook off the calming wave. No, that’s just your meds talking. You need a clear head if you’re going to get through this, Donna.

   First thing she needed to do was find some kind of shelter. She had seen several people heading through the nearest door they could find, and she might have followed suit. But when everyone has the same idea, someone always ends up losing out. In one bar, Donna could see the cramped space inside, people squashed in like sardines, trying to find comfort among strangers but probably only finding claustrophobia. If I have to choose between a catastrophic, skin-burning sandstorm or an oxygen-robbing confined space, I’ll gladly choose the former.

   This belief began to waver as Donna continued trudging along the street, lifting up her arms to prevent sand from flying into her eyes or mouth.

   As she walked, she saw the bodies of those unfortunate enough not to have found shelter, lying on the streets or in doorways, frozen in their last horrific moments of living. It was hard to tell how long they had been out there for. That could be me in a few minutes.

   Not for the first time since she started her trek, Donna pondered the point of her arduous trek. The struggle began to sap away at a will Donna wasn’t sure she possessed anymore.

   This storm was untameable. Nothing could stop it, that much was clear. It was hacking away at the street and at people, with no apparent respite.

   Maybe I should just stop. Though the notion should have alarmed her, she found a soothing calm in the idea of no longer struggling, just lying down in the middle of the sidewalk and letting this newfound nature take its course.

   She knelt down on her hands and knees, the growing layer of sharp sand threatening to burn away the fabric of her clothes. Maybe, here, in the street will be my grave. Am I going to be buried along with so many others? Will anyone even know I died here?

   Part of Donna wanted to care enough to find out. But she was already being seduced by the promise of peace…

   …which was shattered by a loud crunching crash in the distance, snapping Donna out of her self-destructive stupor.

   Curiosity took control and she found herself taking off in the direction of the sound, her mind racing as to what carnage might await her, all thoughts of giving up temporarily pushed into the background. For now.

   When she arrived at the origin of the sound, she couldn’t decide whether it had brought her back to reality or severed the last tethers.

   A vehicle had crashed and had rolled onto the sidewalk, it was lying overturned on its roof. A moan came from inside the car.

   Donna approached the vehicle, trying to get a closer look for possible survivors.

   Peering through the shattered windshield, she could make out two figures, both men, both appeared to be unconscious. Cuts and bruises covered their faces and bodies.

   They were so still Donna was certain they were dead. But then the man in the passenger seat gasped out loud, gulping in air.

   “You’re all right?” she called out in an attempt at reassurance, before quickly realising that the gasping man probably felt anything but all right. “What’s your name?”

   “…Eric…” the man spluttered.

   “Listen to me, Eric. We need to try and get your friend out of there, he’s not looking too good. What’s his name?”

   “Leo. His name’s Leo.”

   “Okay, Eric. What about you? Is anything broken?”

   “No, I don’t think so.” But he grimaced at even the slightest of movement.

   “Can you get out?” asked Donna.

   Eric shifted in his seat, reaching for his seatbelt. Finding it, he clicked it open, instantly slumping against the battered roof and shattered glass.

   “What do I do about Leo?” asked Eric.

   “We’ll have a better chance of getting him if you’re out here helping me.”

   Every movement was a struggle as Eric tried to manoeuvre himself out of the wreckage. Finally, he was free. But as Donna reached forward with a hand to help him up, she noticed he was holding a video camera.

   “Is that important?” she asked.

   “It might be,” said Eric, catching his breath.

   “Right, let’s get your friend out.”

   The pair moved around to the other side of the car, driver’s side. The window glass was broken and Eric reached inside and gently tapped Leo on the cheek. “Leo? Leo, listen to me.”

   Leo murmured. Blood was oozing from his eyes and ears.

   “We’re going to get you out bud, but you need to …”

   Before he could say anything more, a gust of wind blew against the car, with such force causing it to shift where it lay, rocking it on its roof, like a child’s ride.

Undeterred, Eric tried to reach through the thin layer of red sand, but he was forced to quickly withdraw his hand, as though he had put his limb into a raging furnace.

As if on cue, the specks started picking up speed. Donna hated herself for what she was thinking right now, but self-preservation ruled. “We should move.” She grabbed Eric by the forearm as if to drag him along.

   “No!” he shouted, shaking her off. “I’m not leaving him.”

   “We’ll come back for him later, I promise,” Donna shouted back through the noise of the wind. “But if we stay here, we’re going to get caught up in this and then we won’t be able help him. Come on.”

   Resistance finally giving out, Eric reluctantly followed alongside her, clutching the camera to his body to shield it from the sand.

   They made their way along the street in an ever increasing chaos, with windows breaking and cars being blown down the street. Donna would have been grateful for the sight of just one person.  I wonder how many are left?

   As the pair turned a corner, Donna could see one life the storm was struggling to claim.

   A woman in a police uniform was waving her gun about erratically while her arm was wrapped tightly around a lamppost, her other hand was covering her left eye. It was a bizarre sight.

   Donna ran over, stopping in her tracks when the officer turned the gun on her. “Who are you?” the officer screamed, and Donna could see blood seeping beneath the fingers covering her left eye. “What do you want?”

   Neither she nor Eric said anything, unsure what could be of relevance given the current situation. “We’re just trying to survive,” Donna said finally. It was the only fact that seemed to matter right now. Donna stretched out her hand, making sure the officer could see it was empty and she was unarmed. “Come on. Let’s try and find some shelter.”

   Realizing she had few alternatives, the woman took Donna’s hand, clasping it tightly, as if grateful for the touch of another human being. The three made their way down the street, Jane keeping her gun pointed forward.

   “I’m Donna, this is Eric.” It seemed ludicrous to be making formal introductions in the midst of the sandy mayhem. Donna wondered about any other survivors they might come across. She questioned how trusting they could afford to be in the apocalypse.

“I’m Jane,” she yelled back, sensing that an introduction was the right thing to do.

   “In there!” Eric pointed toward an underground parking garage. The three ducked in, just as the storm roared into its next level of ferocity.

   Once they made their way into the deserted space, Donna and Jane slumped where they stood. It felt like they had spent a lifetime fighting their way through the storm, the hot air pulling at their bodies so that they had almost forgotten the simplicity of standing up straight. Jane’s legs instantly buckled, and Donna tried to ease her fall.

   Eric remained standing, looking out into the street where everything was now coated with red dust. “We should go back out,” he said. “My friend’s out there.”

   “You go back out there, you’ll die,” warned Donna. “I said we would get him later.”

   “You can’t just expect me to leave him.”

   “Look,” said Jane, finally taking her hand away from her face, revealing the bloodshot left eye from which a few specks of red sand fell. “We don’t know what this thing is, where it came from. All we know is it’s killing people and turning LA into a fucking red beach. I bet there are a few thousand people who would rather be in your shoes right now. Most people haven’t been this lucky. You want to go back out there and squander that? Be my guest. Or you can stay here, and we wait it out until we’re in a better position to find out what the fuck is going on. We need survivors, not martyrs.”

  A huff from Eric told her he accepted her reasoning, even if he didn’t agree with it.

CHAPTER 5 - JANE

   “All right, be honest; how bad does it look? And now would not be a great time to tell me you’re squeamish, cause I really don’t need you puking on my shoes.”

   Donna leaned in close. The eye was completely destroyed. It was as though someone had driven a knife directly into the socket and twisted it.

   “It looks…” Donna struggled to find the vocabulary to match the sight before finally settling on, “…Okay?”

   Jane scoffed. “Don’t bullshit me, honey. It’s alright, I can take it. I’m officially a fucking cyclops, right?” She managed a mirthless chuckle. “Still, thanks for coming along when you did. I’d have probably lost both eyes had I’d stayed out any longer.”

  Jane took out a pocketbook and pen. “This is some crazy shit going on. We need to be organized. This storm…” she began writing. “This is some highbrow Mother Nature retaliation or something. People get caught up in a snowstorm, they take all kinds of steps; they clear roads, coordinate traffic. You don’t really worry about losing too many people. But this? Never seen anything like it in my lifetime. And probably not in anyone else’s lifetime. I don’t know how we can work around it. So, until some bigwig with a desk comes around and tells me otherwise, we’re going to need to work out as much as we can about this fucking storm.

   “Now, as to where it came from… fuck knows. Environment fighting back, toxic clouds, aliens invading, the list of possibilities is endless. But what we do know is it turned the sky red… which doesn’t really help us one iota. So, I’m presuming everyone felt the burning sand, correct?”

   Both Donna and Eric showed the marks on their clothes and skin caused by the microscopic incisions.

   “Okay, we need to find some way to protect against that. Padded clothing is probably the best bet for now.”

   “’Padded clothing’?” repeated Eric incredulously. “That’s seriously your best defence?”

   Jane glared at him pointedly. “It’s the only one that’ll be easily available to us. There’s plenty of clothes stores around here we can raid. And I didn’t get round to reading the Idiot’s Guide to Sandstorms from Hell yet, so forgive me if I’m not a fountain of knowledge.”

   Jane turned to Donna. “You seem like a fairly sensible woman. What are your thoughts?”

   Donna blinked. “Who, me?”

   “Can you see anyone else around here fitting that description?”

   Donna couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bothered to ask for her opinion, or at least hold it in any esteem. “I say we try to make contact with someone in government, or some sort of official. We need people to help set up boundaries. I saw looting everywhere.”

   “That doesn’t surprise me,” remarked Jane, nonplussed. “When the world goes to shit, people aren’t far behind.”

   “Have you heard from anyone?” asked Eric.

   “Can’t say I have” said Jane. “I tried getting them on the radio, but I lost the signal.”

   “What do you think they’ll be doing?” queried Donna.

   “Well, knowing these fat cats as I do, they’ll probably be taking care of their own, retreating into whatever jewel-encrusted shelter they own. For now, I say we either wait until the storm passes or work out some plan on how we’re going to get through it.”

   “And what do we do if the storm doesn’t pass?” asked Eric.

   Jane shrugged. “Then we’d better start getting used to calling this place home. Yeh, we don’t have any food or water, but at least it’s shelter. Even so, it mightn’t be long before someone else discovers this nice little hideaway. Whatever resources we have, knowing what we know about human nature, do you really think we’re going to share with just anybody?”

   Neither Donna nor Eric answered.

   Jane continued. “It’s best if we can find another place for shelter. One that will allow us to stock up and isn’t so accessible to others. Hide out until someone in authority turns their minds to something other than self-preservation.” She sighed. “There’s no way around it. We have to go back out into the storm.”

   “Hold on” interjected Eric. “I think there may be something.” He looked at the camera and turned it on, playing back the footage that he’d recorded shortly before the car took flight. Jane and Donna crowded around on either side of him to watch. The lens was focusing on a series of particles that were flying in unity, slowly gaining traction in the air before heading towards the car’s windscreen.

   “It… it seems to be attacking the glass,” observed Donna.

   “So what exactly are we saying?” asked Eric, pausing the video. “That this sand is attracted to glass?”

   “Unless you can think of another rational explanation,” said Donna.

   “Donna,” Jane chimed in. “I saw a man practically eaten by a sand cloud. Rational has gone out the window.” She tapped her finger just below the socket where her left eye should have been. “So, that would explain why the cloud targeted my sunglasses. If the storm gets riled up enough, it targets glass specifically. It’s not much to go on. But it’s a start. Nice job, Eric.”

   Eric smiled perhaps a little too widely. He couldn’t help feeling a sense of gratification but dropped the smile when he remembered their situation.

   “So, the moral of the story is, if you’ve got glass, you’re fucked. Make sure you don’t have any items on you containing glass. Also, if we’re going out there, we’re taking a risk. The only things we get to decide are what we’re risking it for and how for long we’re risking it. When we go back out there, we need to have a solid idea of where we’re going and what we’re doing.

   “So, does anyone know where we need to go? Because I could do with a pharmacy right now.” Jane winced as she pressed her face around the socket. “I’ve just had my eye gouged out. I need painkillers, and ideally something to stop it from turning into an infection. We also need food. There’s a convenience store nearby, assuming nobody has beaten us to it.”   Jane narrowed her eyes at Donna and Eric. “By the way, I am aware of the irony of a cop encouraging you to loot, so don’t bother pointing that one out.”

   “Leo,” said Eric suddenly. “We need to get Leo. He’s still out there.”

   “Okay, Okay,” said Jane impatiently. “So, we start at the pharmacy, then we go to the store, then we get your friend. Capiche?”

   Donna and Eric both nodded.

   “Good. Get some rest for the next thirty minutes. God knows we’re gonna need it.” She hoped that her steely resolve would disguise the fact that under her fake calm there was a slowly building volcano of fear and doubt.

CHAPTER 6 - DONNA

   When the three finally ventured outside again, they stepped into a world changed.

   The storm had certainly died down. The air was still but continued to radiate heat around them. There was no concern about anyone being swept off their feet. But they were under no delusions about this perilous calm and that death could only be minutes away.

   The world now seemed to be permanently basking in a red glow. Throughout the streets, there was an uneven beach of piles of red sand. “Whatever you do, don’t touch any of this shit,” cautioned Jane.

   “Why, is it dangerous?” asked Donna.

   “I don’t know. How badly do you want to find out?”

   As Donna glanced at the sand piles, she noticed limbs sticking out, the skin in the process of burning away. That could have been me.

   She noticed that Eric was looking over the camera which had been tucked away in his bag. Ever since he had recovered it from the car wreckage his fingers were constantly flexing as though he was waiting for an opportunity to start recording the chaos around them.

   Donna looked over to Jane, who seemed to have taken on the role of leader, a role that obviously came naturally, considering her job. She admired how the woman was able to remain completely unflappable in the wake of the storm and the loss of an eye. Donna couldn’t imagine herself maintaining such composure under the same circumstances.

   They turned into the main street, the ground crunching beneath their feet. Many of the windows in the bars and stores were in various states of destruction. Some only had scratches, others had small holes in them, many had been blown out completely.

   But the most disturbing sight was the bodies. Corpses littered the streets, nature’s destruction on display for the world to see, their clothes and skin singed and charred, their torsos rapidly disintigrating.

   “Jesus fucking Christ”, murmured Eric. Donna prayed that they didn’t find his friend in a similar state.

   When they arrived at the pharmacy, although the window had been completely destroyed, the display shelves had provided something of a makeshift barrier preventing the sand from getting into the store.

   Jane slowly opened the door, beckoning for the others to follow. Inside, many of the shelves had already been raided, with most of the painkillers already gone, much to Jane’s disappointment.

   “I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and assume neither of you have had any experience in the medical profession?” Donna and Eric shook their heads. “Shame, cause looking at what’s left, I don’t know if I can tell what’s going to take the edge off and what’s going to make me dull as a board.”

   Donna flinched at that comment. For a long time, she had resisted medication, even when the doctors, therapists, her friends and family had suggested it. Everyone was telling her to take it. But Donna had held off because she’d done her research and wasn’t entirely on board with the idea of potentially turning herself into a zombie. And though her loved ones meant well, she believed they were only advocating it so that it took some of the responsibility off of them. She could be right.  After eleven years of navigating my mood swings, I can’t really blame them.

   But for the last four months, she had been taking medication diligently and had dealt with the thankfully only minimal side effects. Over time, she had come to accept them as a necessary evil.

   As Donna looked through the back of the pharmacy, trying to check for something that could pass for bipolar medication, she couldn’t find anything that could help her.

   “Everything all right?” asked Jane, noting Donna’s panic-stricken face.

   “Just trying to find some decent meds,” managed Donna without turning to look her in the eye.

   “What you looking for?”

   The question came like a wrecking ball. When it came to her bipolar, Donna had taken to holding back on some of the finer details, mainly avoiding using the word ‘bipolar’. The people she had told had never said much beyond a few phrases like ‘Oh, I see’ and ‘You can’t let it define you’ and the grating ‘Oh, that’s a shame’. Instead, their body language did all the talking, and Donna could remember how many of them had tensed up, as though standing next to her was like standing next to the sun. And after that, while people hadn’t entirely gone out of their way to avoid her, they hadn’t made any effort to include her either, as though she was contagious. Like she was a wild animal they weren’t sure how to behave around.

   Donna wondered whether Jane and Eric would follow suit. “…my condition,” she finally said, adopting a ‘fuck-it’ mentality. They’re only going to cotton on if I start playing up anyway.

   Jane could clearly see she was holding back. “Listen” she said, soothingly. “It’s not my business what you’ve got to deal with. You don’t want to tell us, fair enough. But I intend on keeping everyone I find alive. And the more I know about what people need, the better I can do that. So, if there’s anything you can tell me that will make that job so much easier for me, now’s as good a time as any to share it.”

   For a brief moment, Donna gained the courage to dive into the abyss. “Bipolar” she said, trying not to make it sound too serious.

   Jane nodded her head while Donna tried desperately to read her, looking for some sign of disapproval or alarm, but found none. “Okay, well, we’ll see what we can find. If you feel anxious or if you have any particular triggers, just let me know, okay?” After a pause, she added sardonically, “But probably best not to wait until we’re at crisis mode before telling me.”

   Either she’s taken a masterclass in bullshitting or she really isn’t that bothered. Either way, Donna appreciated her pragmatic suggestions.

   The best they could acquire from the pharmacy were a few painkillers and some bandages, one of which Jane wrapped around her head, concealing her wounded eye.

   Looking through the convenience store, they recovered some food packets that would expire within the next two weeks, and in lieu of the lack of bottled water, they had had to make do with energy drinks. “We’ll be bouncing off the walls,” grumbled Jane. The tinned food was completely gone too. Not that they could take much with them, anyway. They didn’t have the means of transporting a large stock of food. And nobody volunteered to test out the possibility of navigating a cart down the sand-ridden pavement.

   “This should keep us going for a day or two before we hit the panic button,” remarked Jane. “Now comes the hard part.” She turned to Eric. “We need to get your friend.”

CHAPTER 7 - ERIC

   It had only been a few hours since Donna and Eric had left Leo trapped in the wrecked vehicle, but Eric felt as though years had passed since they had last seen each other. Perhaps it’s the changed landscape which is giving me the illusion of time having passed.

   It occurred to Eric that he wasn’t sure how bad Leo’s injuries were. For all he knew, Leo could have been at death’s door. What if he dies before I can get to him? Eric tried not to fixate on that thought as they all headed for the car, manoeuvring around the sand dunes like they were some surreal obstacle course.

   Much to Eric’s relief, the car was where they’d left it. “Leo?” barked Jane. “Leo, can you hear me? My name is Jane Benson. I’m a police officer. I’m with your friend Eric. We’re going to try and get you out of there.”

   No reply. A cold pit materialized in Eric’s stomach.

   Jane kneeled down, trying to get a good look inside of the car.

   “There’s no one here,” she said.

   “What?” Eric got down on his hands and knees and looked into the car. The driver’s seat was empty.

   “Are you sure this is the right car?”

   “Yes, I’m fucking sure,” snapped Eric, flustered. He stood up, anxiously looked around the street, as if hoping for Leo to pop out and reveal himself.

   But they were alone. And Leo was gone.

   “He’s dead,” Eric muttered. “He’s fucking dead.” He paced about on the spot, trying to imagine a scenario where Leo might still be alive, then turned on Donna. “This is your fault. We shouldn’t have left him.” He strode towards her, fury building. “We shouldn’t have fucking …”

   “Hey! Back off!” commanded Jane, placing herself between Eric and Donna. “Leave her alone.”

   “She said we would come back for him later,” said Eric, scathingly. “She said …”

   “She made the right decision,” said Jane. “If you guys had stuck around during the worst of the storm, you’d both be dead. It’s the reason you’re both standing here with me and not buried alive under all this sand.”

   Not willing to see the logic, Eric was running on pure emotion. “My best friend is dead.”

   “Is he really?” Upon Eric’s quizzical look, Jane continued. “Then why am I not staring at a decaying corpse?”

   “So, what? You think he got out?”

   Jane shook her head. “Based on what you told me, he wasn’t exactly in a position to get himself out of there. So, there are a few possibilities; either he recovered enough to be able to get out and went to find help. Or someone came and helped him out. Either way, there is a chance he could still be out there, and you never know, we might find him later.”

   “Really?” Eric exclaimed incredulously. “That’s your theory?”

   “Eric, in my line of work, no one is officially dead until there’s a body.” When Eric still didn’t give the impression of being appeased, Jane continued. “You think you’re the only one who has lost somebody today? I don’t want to know how many are lying dead across the city. This whole block might as well be one big fucking graveyard.”

Eric fell silent at this macabre thought.

   From out of nowhere, one of the piles of sand suddenly exploded right next to Donna, sending red specks scattering all around them.

   Jane whipped around, looking up and down the street for any signs of life or movement.

   “What the hell was that?” asked Eric.

   “Sounded like a gunshot,’ Jane said. “Stay close to each other.”

   Another rang out. Very close. Then came another and Donna felt the wall behind her crack.

   Then came another bullet, this time finding a target, grazing Jane in the shoulder, causing her to drop her gun. “Fuck!” she screamed. Picking it up, she pointed to the end of the street. “We need to get out of here. We might as well be in a shooting gallery. Go!”

   They barely had time to start sprinting before another shot rang out, striking the sidewalk just behind Jane. Some of the shots penetrated the sandpiles. Others, the bodies in the street.

   Donna found herself freezing, anxiety threatening to overwhelm her. She slowed her pace, trying to think clearly, when Jane grabbed her by the shoulders and marched her forward. “Come on, Donna,” she shouted. “We’re almost there.”

   Within minutes they were back in the parking garage, all panting to catch their breath. Jane was getting another bandage and wrapping it around her arm and shoulder. “I swear to God, this storm is going to hack me to pieces,” she murmured. Once she finished tying the bandage, she looked in Donna’s direction. “You all right?” Jane asked Donna.

   “S-sorry” stammered Donna. “I… I just froze.”

   “It’s fine,” reassured Jane. “No one becomes a survival expert overnight. You’re still here, that’s the main thing.”

   “Okay, I have a few questions,” interjected Eric. “Who was that and why were they shooting at us?”

   “Your guess is as good as mine.”

   “Was that military?”

   Jane cocked an eyebrow. “Why would the military be firing on us?”

   Eric shrugged. “Picking off the weak and vulnerable so that there’s more for them? Orders from above?”

   Jane scoffed. “Please, you’re not one of those obsessives who spends their days going through online forums checking for the latest conspiracy theories, are you?”

   “Well, who else is it going to be?”

   “I don’t know. But I know it isn’t the military. Firstly, they’re not going to fire on civilians for no reason. Secondly, those were intimidation shots. They wanted us to know they could have killed us. If the military wanted to pump us full of lead, they wouldn’t dick around with shoulder shots.”

   Eric couldn’t argue with that, given his own lack of expertise. “So, what do we do now?”

   “Well, I don’t know about you, but my blood sugar needs catering to,” said Jane, unwrapping a chocolate candy bar, breaking it up and passing a piece each to Donna and Eric. “Maybe you can go through that footage of yours. See if there’s anything else we can find out about this shitstorm.”

   Eric took out his camera and started going through the video. Donna walked over tentatively, like a visitor at the zoo daring themselves to get close to a sleeping lion. “Eric? About your friend. I’m …”

   “Look,” snapped Eric. “At the end of the day, it was probably the right decision. And maybe, one day, I’ll see the same point of view as you and Commando Jane. But right now, my best friend is missing, and I have no idea where he is. I’m just hoping he wasn’t caught in gunfire too. It’s the not knowing that gets to me. I hate it not knowing where Leo is, I hate not knowing who just tried to turn me into swiss cheese. And I hate not knowing what caused this fucking storm.”

CHAPTER 8 – SAFE HAVEN?

   It hadn’t taken the figure long to procure the weapons. He was lucky that he was in a position where he could come by them so quickly. Especially considering everything happening with the storm.

   The figure surveyed the street below. No other signs of life. Perhaps the gunfire had scared them off.

   In hindsight, opening fire on the cop probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. But he’d needed to let off some steam. Just the sight of the uniform was enough to make his blood boil. He waited on the rooftops for another five minutes, looking for any further signs of life attracted by the shots and then he made his way down to the street.

   He hadn’t made up his mind yet where he would go or what he would do.

   One thing was already clear; he would be keeping a very close eye on those three.

   He had been curious as to what would happen when he shot the corpse. And now, he noticed something peculiar happening with one of the bodies he had shot and walked over to it, with a mix of apprehension and fascination.

*

   Donna had finally managed to come down from her panic attack while Eric checked over the video footage. Jane slumped against a car door, wincing as she allowed herself to slide to the floor. The day had literally hacked away at her. Jane wondered if she was going to sustain any more injuries before the sun went down.

   Donna wondered about her family and friends, whether any of them had managed to survive the storm. It was the first time Donna had stopped to think about family and she tried to remember the last thing she said to them. She couldn’t remember off the top of her head, but she was fairly certain it was about a disappointment to go with all the other family disappointments. Donna hoped that she would have the chance to take it back.

   Eric looked over the footage, making a mental note of everything he saw. He tried to think of the events of today in the long term, asking himself questions such as ‘how long until everything goes back to normal?’. Then it occurred to him that perhaps it never would. Maybe what had transpired today was going to be the new normal. He wondered whether Los Angeles was the only city that had taken the full force of the sandstorm. What about the rest of the world? Had the entire planet been dramatically re-shaped? Whatever the extent, Eric knew that people would have to adapt in order to survive. And assuming he managed to get his head around needing to just survive, he wondered what part he’d be playing in the new world. Or more specifically, whether the new world would have a part for him to play.

   Jane had closed her eyes and was just on the verge of dozing off when she saw Donna walking towards the entrance, prompting her back to wakefulness. “Where are you going?” she called after her.

   Donna looked down at the floor as she walked over to Jane, like a child who had been caught red-handed by her parents. “Just taking a look outside.”

   “Well, I wouldn’t go too far. The view’s a killer.”

   Feeling the need to change the subject, Donna asked, “How are you feeling?”

   “Apart from feeling like a human pin cushion?” asked Jane, grateful her sense of humor was still intact, if leaning towards the morbid site. “I’m on top of the world.”

   “Is there anything I can do for you?” asked Donna.

   “Not unless you are going to tell me you can regrow eyes,” muttered Jane, pulling herself up. “Why, do you feel like you need to be doing something?”

   “Well…” Donna glanced around at Eric, who was lost in the recordings. “I don’t want to end up being like the third wheel dragging everyone down.”

   “You won’t be,” said Jane firmly. She softened slightly. “No one expects you to know everything. Sit down and chat.” She patted the ground beside her. “Tell me about what you do.”

   “I was a copywriter,” said Donna. “Not exactly the most useful occupation for what’s happening right now,” she added.

   “I’ve been a cop for more than fifteen years. I’ve seen people who could barely pass as human and I’ve been in situations where life or death was a frequent dilemma. And I’m telling you, nothing I’ve done or seen in those last fifteen years could have prepared me for today. The whole situation is a mess and we’re just trying to get through it.”

   “I just want to do something useful.”

   “You are. You’re surviving. You want to think about being a pillar of society, save it for when we know we’ve got a future to look forward to. For now, you’re surviving. And that’s the most important thing you can do for anyone. So don’t think that running off on your own is doing us a favor. There’s strength in numbers.”

   Donna was a little taken aback by Jane’s accurate deduction about her attempted lone wolf act.

   Jane’s radio crackled, then slowly, a voice filtered through. “This is a distress signal. Can anyone hear me?”

   New energy flowing through her, Jane gripped the radio as though it were a lifeline and spoke into it. “This is officer Jane Benson. Please respond. Over.”

   “We are setting up sanctuaries for anyone who has managed to survive the sandstorm. Locations are as follows…”

*

   Donna, Eric and Jane traipsed over the sandy ground which seemed to have risen since they had last ventured outside. All of them tried to avoid directly looking at the corpses in the street.

   There was a base, overseen by military personnel, offering refuge and guidance to all survivors.

   It had taken a while for the group to find the courage to emerge from the shelter. Eric and Donna had been equally hesitant about heading back out there. “How do I know the second I step outside; I’m not going to be the target for a shooting range?” asked Eric.

   “Honestly, you don’t,” replied Jane bluntly. “But try setting up home in this place without food or drink and see how long you last. At least out there, we have a chance of finding a proper shelter and some supplies so we have a better chance of surviving. If that means I have to walk through hell to get there, I’m game.”

   “I agree,” chipped in Donna, although she did leave out the fact that she was mildly ambivalent when it came to dying.

   “Then we go.”

   It would be the longest walk Jane, Eric and Donna would ever take, with Jane constantly looking up to the buildings for any signs of movement. But as they walked through the sand-covered city, their fears slowly subsided.

   Jane knew she should have felt relief that there was a professional authority still in place. However, this was the type of event that could easily cause panic. Despite being told they would receive all information relating to the storm, Jane suspected that the powers that be were most likely making it up as they went along. No guidelines would ever have been drafted for anything like this. She wanted to believe it would all work out. That everyone had their best interests at heart. But even with a drastically reduced population, there would always be the opportunity for ego clashes, conflict and extortion.

   Eric tried to resist the temptation to film the world around him, reminding himself that the camera was the most valuable thing he had to offer anyone. Without it, his own value went down considerably. He intended to expand on the footage he had already captured. Perhaps if he managed to obtain some kind of protective lens or casing?

   Donna’s mouth was dry. She needed her medication. Though she appreciated Jane’s words, she was all too aware of the complications her bipolar could bring moving forward. There was no room for disorder in a world struggling to craft something resembling order again. Until she could get her hands on her meds, she’d try to bury her feelings deep.

   Donna looked up at the sky, wondering if she would ever see the beautiful blue sky and the sun shining down on her again or if from now on, everyone would be forced to live under the mercy of a crimson haze.

WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

FIND OUT IN BOOK 2 ‘LEVEL SANDS’

(only $0.99)

GET ‘LEVEL SANDS’ HERE

Want a FREE book? Join my mailing list and get BAD BOYS MAKE BROKEN MEN - ‘When God gives you lemons, this bad boy makes bodies fly’

Other books by Sam Fires

MAYHEM & MADNESS

Bad Boys Make Broken Men (The Prequel) - free story

Book 1 Burning Rains

Book 2 Holy Hell

Book 3 Girl in the Sewer

Book 4 We, The President

SCAVENGERS

Book 1 Dog Meat

Book 2 Shark Tactics

Book 3 Sharks’ Fury

About the author

Sam Fires is a poet, writer and best-selling author of his debut novel ‘Dog Meat’, the first gripping book in the trilogy series ‘Scavengers’.

When he isn’t exercising his imagination for ingenious ideas for his next book, Sam can usually be found in his local coffee shop, sipping his oat milk cortado and voraciously reading books, usually in the post-apocalyptic/dystopian genre but also psychological thrillers.

Being a published author was always Sam’s dream, and finally with his three-part series ‘Scavengers’, this has become a reality.

When he doesn’t have his head buried in a book, Sam loves cooking Indian food and enjoys driving his beautiful, bashed-up classic Citroen and of course spending too much time on his computer.

If you want to contact Sam please do so, he would love to hear from you!  hello@samjfires.com

You can also follow Sam on Facebook here: FOLLOW SAM ON FACEBOOK

Review this Book!

It means the world to me that you bought this book. Writing is my passion and I look forward to YOUR feedback. So, if you liked this book, I’d like to ask you a small favor. Would you be so kind as to leave a review? You can leave your review here:

Amazon Review Link – Crimson Rage

Goodreads Review Link

Thanks for reading.

From your friend,

Sam J Fires