‘Outlivers’ chapter two – Too Rich For Use
THE BUS STOPPED outside a stone and brick building in the heart of the city. Eight floors high, a hotel, in the old days, one girl said. The other teenagers roamed up the steps as if on a sight-seeing trip, trying to take it all in. Theia hung back. She scowled at the building.
“Smile girl,” said an old woman with her hair dyed blonde, the skin on her cheeks stretched tight from the face lifts, “your life’s now charmed.”
But Theia didn’t feel charmed. Or charming. She stalked up the steps and through the front doors into the lobby. Escape. That’s all that mattered. But there were too many people. Enforcers would be on alert, looking out for her, the girl with the cuts and bruises, the one they had to drag on the bus.
The entrance hall glittered with mirrors and chandeliers. Theia smirked when she caught a glimpse of her reflection, bruised and scruffy.
A group of adults yelled at the trainees, getting the girls into one line, the boys in another. She hung around, waiting, examining the doors, the windows, movements of the guards and the instructors. No chance to run. Sit it out. Wait for the moment. [continue reading…]
‘Outlivers’ chapter two – Painful Warrior
THEIA WOKE with eyes black from the beating, dried blood on her cheeks, lips swollen and raw. She ran a hand over her face to explore the bruises, tender to the touch. Workfair day, and her fate was already sealed – her legs too sore to move, never mind run.
She rolled over on her mattress and listened to the rain pattering on the tiles, dripping through the rafters of Soho’s gym. In the distance a church bell tolled the hour and she counted the chimes, willing them to stop so she could turn over and go back to sleep. Six. Seven. Eight already?
She hauled herself out of bed, every muscle protesting, and pulled on her training clothes: black, baggy cotton trousers and shirt, rough-cut, functional and hard-wearing. There’d be no pretty dress, no revealing outfit. She’d wear her training gear, loose-fitting and lumpy, sweat-soaked and shabby. Bruised and scruffy – they’d never take her, not like this. [continue reading…]
My latest novel ‘Outlivers,’ a dystopian sci-fi tale for adults and young adults alike, was released on 18th October and is not live on Amazon, iTunes, Smashwords and most other good ebook sites. (It’s not on Kobo at the moment, but they are having all sorts of problems just now…)
Here’s the back cover copy as a taster:
Theia McKai is seventeen, defiant and deadly – an irresistible force in a stagnant world where the old enslave the young.
In a city ringed with fences and choked by surveillance, a privileged, elderly elite owns everything – and everyone. The long years of the outlivers drag on as they cling to power and wealth, refusing to die.
When martial arts prodigy Theia McKai is selected as a ‘companion’ for 200-year-old Rupert Geryon, minister for security, her every instinct is to run, resist, refuse.
Hypnotised, tortured and beaten, she faces a stark choice – submit to the desires of a monstrous old man or fight back and endanger everyone she loves.
Theia risks all to expose the truth about her world. But before unleashing change, first she must confront her greatest enemy. And win the ultimate battle.
Inside herself.
‘Outlivers’ chapter one – Spark and Stone
THEIA RAN HER fingers through cropped hair as she took measure of the man, his bulk and ferocity. Twice her age, double her size, the prize-fighter taunted the crowd, beating his chest in defiance. The man strutted across the ring inside the metal fight cage, a wall of brawn and muscle, sluggish and predictable.
She pushed through the crush of bodies, jostling with her elbows, wrestling her way to the front. Brenan’s hand on her shoulder tugged her back, shouting above the uproar. “He’ll kill you. Back off.”
“From a fight? Never.”
“He’s a savage.”
“That’s why I’ll win.” [continue reading…]
‘Lost in Thought’ Chapter Four – The Man in the Black Balaclava
Bernard Dubois called his lawyer. “This man Trescerrick, he’s on the board, he’s a shareholder, but he’s still an employee. Draws a salary like the rest of us. He has to tell us the algorithm. It belongs to the company.”
He was in his rights, the lawyer told him. But how to enforce those right? “You may need to take legal action. If he holds out.”
“That could get messy.” [continue reading…]
My latest novel ‘Outlivers’ launches on 18th October – and there’s an interview about the writing of the book, the characters, themes and lots more available here on Michael Long’s superb Scifan site. There’s also a giveaway running on the site so if you’d like a free ebook copy of ‘Outlivers’, please check it out.
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Jane Austen reworks, hacks and rehashes seem to be all the rage – so I thought I’d try my hand. I’m not a big fan, though (I refused to read Mansfield Park while at University studying English Lit – made it through 50 pages and hurled the book against the wall) so I’m taking a different approach. Warning – spoilers ahead.
In the first book of the series Maximilien de Robespierre leads a peasant French army marching barefoot and armed with pitchforks. They invade England, capture all the characters from the Jane Austen novels, liberate the walk-on servants from their lives of neglected servitude, and guillotine all the pretty young things and the dandies in possession of a good fortune in the public squares of our towns and villages.
In the sequel, Robespierre’s army breaks out of the bookworld and invades our reality. This time they guillotine anyone who’s ever appeared in Hello magazine.
Publication dates yet to be confirmed.
‘Lost In Thought’ Chapter three – Daniel
From the lane outside the cottage came the cries of children on their way to school. Luke glanced at the clock on the wall. They’d be late. They had to get to the top of the hill, meet the bus for Bodmin, change there for Plymouth.
He found Daniel’s school bag on the piano in the living room. He gathered up books scattered across the floor and the pencils arranged neatly in a row, according to colour, on top of a drawing pad. Luke shoved the things into the bag, something for the boy to read on the bus, while they hung around at the hospital, then ransacked the kitchen for a packed lunch.
He took the boy’s hand and led him into the narrow, cobbled lane of the Cornish fishing village. Luke glanced at the flaked paint on the window ledges, the frames, the fascia board and felt the same slug of guilt he did every morning, heard the same nagging voice in his head telling him to get it sorted. Then he remembered yesterday’s letter. He didn’t have to worry about fixing up the outside walls. Not any more. It wasn’t his house. Not his problem.
Jeannie Powell waved as they made their way down the lane. “You’ll be late for school,” she called out.
“Not today,” Luke said. “Off to Plymouth, see the consultant.” Daniel’s big day. At the hospital. With the important doctor. Or psychologist. Luke wasn’t sure which. He thrust a hand into his pocket to make sure he had the letter confirming the appointment. Jeannie called out “good luck,” and Luke hurried Daniel along. Father and son hurried past The Shipwrecker’s Arms, where the smell of stale beer still lingered in the air, and turned left up the main road, past the school where lessons had already started, and on towards the main road.
As they left the village, Luke realised it was the first time he’d been outside Porthelyar in more than a month. By land at least. If you didn’t count the sea. [continue reading…]
This morning, in my email, I got a note saying my novel ‘Lost In Thought’ has been nominated for the BigAl’s Books and Pals 2012 Readers’ Choice Awards in the thriller/suspense category. Needless to say, I’m delighted and excited, humbled and nervous.
I’ll admit, I’m not totally sure about the categorisation as a thriller. I sometimes call it a ‘psychological thriller’ as it’s the closest to an accepted genre I can come. But in truth, I see more as a tongue-in-cheek psychological thriller. It’s more comic than dark-and-broody. But it does take place in a coma patient’s subconscious, so it’s certainly psychological. In a weird kind of way.
Anyway, there will be voting, over on the BigAl’s site, running from March 18 to April 1st. Please feel free to pop over there are VOTE FOR ME! VOTE FOR ME!
