I have several new features I plan to introduce over the next few weeks. The one for today is Bonus Gatherings. It may sound like a contest for my readers to run about nilly-willy collecting bonuses where ever they might find such things, but in reality these will be short bits of fiction that are not found in the book. They are a bonus to my readers to help tide them over until the second book in the series is finished.
As soon as I decided to do this, Calvin jumped right up and asked to be first. And so he is. This is a small slice of life that takes place during the six months between the two novels. Enjoy.
Small white clouds of vapor puffed away from Calvin. They seemed out of proportion to the slow, labored steps he took. This was supposed to be jogging, but it felt more like a fast-paced walk, with all the pain of full-out sprint thrown in at no extra charge.
Too many hours behind a desk had packed on pounds that he wanted to shed. His doctor kept telling him to give up the tacos and beer lunches, but Calvin rejected the advice. Some days, that was the only thing that got him through the endless hours of politics he had to wade through in his service to his country.
A twinge shot up from his knee with each step he took; a souvenir from his time in Panama. He liked to tell everyone that it was an old battle-injury, but the truth of the
matter was that he had twisted his knee running out the back entrance of an off-limits cantina. Thinking about it almost brought a smile to his face. That had certainly been a better time in his life.
Behind him, the twin echoes of his Secret Service escort slapped in rhythm with his own steps. They reminded him that he wasn’t alone. Where ever he went the black-suited agents followed him. As much as Boggs insisted that they were there for his protection, Calvin couldn’t shake the feeling that they were more spy than defender. In fact, the two agents, more than anything else, were responsible for the early morning jaunts. The constant surveillance of him drove Calvin to seek confirmation of his goals.
As if on some cosmic queue Calvin ran past the last of the buildings that blocked his view of the Washington
Monument. Another couple hundred and
he panted to a stop. Tall. Slender. Majestic. It pointed towards the heavens.
The pain in his knee and the struggle to catch his breath both dropped from his
thoughts, replaced by the sense of wonder that seeing this monument always
instilled in him.
The Founding Fathers had certainly gotten it right when they decided, “In
God We Trust.”
As soon as I decided to do this, Calvin jumped right up and asked to be first. And so he is. This is a small slice of life that takes place during the six months between the two novels. Enjoy.
Small white clouds of vapor puffed away from Calvin. They seemed out of proportion to the slow, labored steps he took. This was supposed to be jogging, but it felt more like a fast-paced walk, with all the pain of full-out sprint thrown in at no extra charge.
Too many hours behind a desk had packed on pounds that he wanted to shed. His doctor kept telling him to give up the tacos and beer lunches, but Calvin rejected the advice. Some days, that was the only thing that got him through the endless hours of politics he had to wade through in his service to his country.
A twinge shot up from his knee with each step he took; a souvenir from his time in Panama. He liked to tell everyone that it was an old battle-injury, but the truth of the
matter was that he had twisted his knee running out the back entrance of an off-limits cantina. Thinking about it almost brought a smile to his face. That had certainly been a better time in his life.
Behind him, the twin echoes of his Secret Service escort slapped in rhythm with his own steps. They reminded him that he wasn’t alone. Where ever he went the black-suited agents followed him. As much as Boggs insisted that they were there for his protection, Calvin couldn’t shake the feeling that they were more spy than defender. In fact, the two agents, more than anything else, were responsible for the early morning jaunts. The constant surveillance of him drove Calvin to seek confirmation of his goals.
As if on some cosmic queue Calvin ran past the last of the buildings that blocked his view of the Washington
Monument. Another couple hundred and
he panted to a stop. Tall. Slender. Majestic. It pointed towards the heavens.
The pain in his knee and the struggle to catch his breath both dropped from his
thoughts, replaced by the sense of wonder that seeing this monument always
instilled in him.
The Founding Fathers had certainly gotten it right when they decided, “In
God We Trust.”
RSS Feed
