I had a request from a faithful Twitter fan for a piece of the new novel. Here’s the introductory bit. This is the one that gave me such consternation about the idea of “too much pace,” but not until later in the story.

Enjoy!

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A quarter mile from Lamesa, Jack could tell that he was up for disappointment. Over the past two weeks, he had steeled himself as if he were headed for a concentration camp, expecting to see people starving, people dying in the streets because there just wasn’t enough edible material to go around. But there were no people, and that he wasn’t prepared for.

Coming down the slight rise on the northeast side of town, Jack could follow Main with his eyes all the way to the south end. There were five buildings. Two were bars, one of which could provide entertainment as well, for a price, usually crabs or the clap. One dealt used cars and was surrounded by a large lot, one boarding house, and one general store.

No movement caught Jack’s eye. No sound, hardly a breeze to catch his sweat and cool his skin. The town was dead. Jack dropped to his knees and prayed.

“Christ, that’s twice in two days,” Jack said to the empty road. Ten years ago that was common, but since Izzy and Char were killed it hadn’t happened outside of a handful of feeble attempts. Char would have been twelve now.

Jack pushed himself back up off his knees and walked in silence toward town, pushing away the thoughts of his daughter, ignoring the warm splash of blood as it splayed across the memory of his wife’s body lying dead still on the beige carpet. All that blood soaked into the edges of his consciousness, even as Jack stared blank at the clouds and tried to empty his head. Road dust floated around him, stale and sour. (more…)