Escape the Corona by going to Carona…
Yesterday, I was talking to Al Stewart and Amy Spector about the virus. It’s interesting having friends in different places around the world. For weeks now, we’ve been comparing news, sharing what directives are given, and so on.
But yesterday, I said we should do a giveaway for everyone who is quarantined (I’m not yet, but I suspect we’ll get there sooner or later). The idea slipped away while we were chatting, but then right before I went to bed it hit me – the city The Maddest of Men and The Lords of Lettuce takes place in, is named Carona.
Had to be a sign, right?
So while sipping on my morning coffee, I fixed a giveaway for The Maddest of Men over at Prolific Works. It runs from now to March 31, so please share it with everyone you know.
The Maddest of Men is a post-apocalyptic story – fitting, right? LOL Though the apocalyptic state is caused by climate change and wars instead of a pandemic. Some people have special powers and have to hide or be…shall we say quarantined? They’re being locked up because common people fear them.
Creed, one of the main characters, is hunting down and bringing in people with special powers. Grayham, the other main character, has special powers. He’s also a mob inquisitor.
It’s a bit bloody…
Grayham stared at his red-smeared knuckles in distaste. A few specks of blood grew larger on the cuff of his shirt as the fabric soaked it up. Fucking typical. He hoped the suit jacket would cover it. He hadn’t brought a spare dress shirt—he didn’t own a spare dress shirt, and he didn’t want to own one.
Cole groaned, the raspy sound amplified as it hit the concrete walls of the empty room. His chin almost touched his chest where he hung in his restraints on the chair. Grayham didn’t want to look at him, but what could he do? The job needed to be done.
“Okay, let’s go over this again. Who did you sell the information to?”
“I didn’t sell any information.”
Grayham felt warmth glow in his chest and stopped to study Cole. The perfection Grayham saw every day was ruined by the smudges of blood. A tooth had been knocked out, making a steady stream of bloodied spittle trickle down his chin. It was a shame. He liked Cole; liked might be the wrong word, but he’d grown accustomed to having him around. He’d even believed he was one of the smart ones. Apparently, he’d been wrong since he’d failed to get paid for double-crossing Cham.
“Did you leak any information about Cham or the firm?”
“No.” The crackling voice sent a trail of cold pinpricks down his spine—a lie. Grayham heard the crunch of his fist connecting with Cole’s nose long before the pain in his knuckles blossomed. He shook out his hand, tired beyond belief of this crap. It didn’t matter, though; he needed to get it sorted in time to get back to the reception. Why he needed to be at some fancy party, he didn’t know, but Cham wanted him there.
Grayham scowled and massaged his temples. The right question, he needed to ask the right fucking question.
Cole spluttered, angry eyes glaring, and then he spat. A blob of blood-filled saliva landed on the shiny surface of Grayham’s left shoe.
Grayham clenched his teeth and watched the small puddle. Okay, time to get this mess out of the way.
And it gets worse from there, but if you’re okay with that grab a copy, and enjoy your isolation the best way possible – by reading!
Is lying to a living polygraph really a good idea?
To prove his loyalty to Cham Hovda, one of the local drug lords, Grayham is willing to do anything—and he does. He helps Cham run his empire by finding out the truth by any possible means. It’s not as hard as it may seem, all he has to do is ask the right questions, and his internal polygraph will tell him if someone is lying or not. And when they lie—well he deals with that too. Life as an inquisitor can get quite lonely, not that Grayham plans on doing anything about it. It would kill him to have to off a lover.
Creed is a retrieving agent on a mission. He is to infiltrate one of Carona’s drug organisations to get to the inquisitor. Rumour states the man with the fiery red curls has supernatural powers; it also says anyone coming close to him disappears. Creed has no idea how he’s going to make it out alive or why his supervisor sent him in without backup. But, when an opening to work as a waiter at one of the drug lord’s parties presents itself Creed sets to work.
In a world where people compensate for the years of bombings and starvation with clinic bought physical perfection a man with crooked teeth and mismatching eyes stands out. Grayham notices the waiter watching him straight away. If he’s there to harm Cham, he’ll deal with it. Creed knows he must get his hands on the inquisitor so when he is invited to the man’s flat he agrees to come even though he knows it might be the last thing he’ll ever do.
Note: This story contains graphic violence, on page death of secondary characters, and sex acts between male adults.
Ofelia Grand 