The Final 15 chapters (38 -50) of 24 – of The Hunt For Red November have been written and the entire book has been sent off for editing.
So, while The Hunt is in editing – removing all of my typos, misspellings, grammatical errors, and story line inconsistencies – I thought you might appreciate a look back at Jim Madison’s adventures in OneThreeThirteen (A Presidential Agent Novel Series Book 1).
Excerpt from OneThreeThirteen:
Chapter 1
COLONEL JIM MADISON of the 161st Airborne Brigade zigzagged his way across the darken airfield under a hail of gunfire, towards the B-52 bomber touching down on the runway in front of him.
As he ran, he heard the unmistakable hiss of a bullet as it sailed passed him and ricocheted off the bomber’s landing gear. He tucked and rolled and then jumped immediately to his feet and hauled ass for the bomber once again.
His face contorted with pain as his legs pumped harder than they’d ever done before. Not even four hours earlier, when he’d ran for his life from his very own home. But more than his life was at stake now. It was millions of lives all over America. He had to make that plane.
The bomber would touch down just long enough for him to hurl his forty-eight year old six foot two body on-board. He had one shot at this and only one.
Joint Base Andrews had been under an intense assault for the past four hours. The Reconnaissance teams he’d sent out had been unable to discover precisely who it was shooting at them. But whoever they were, they were well equipped and well trained. And from what he’d observed, the unidentified intruders knew the exact layout of the base. As a military man, he had to hand it to them. They’d done their homework well. A little too well for his comfort. An operation this well planned and carried out had all the ear marks of a traitor. Because these intruders knew, not only, who and where to attack, but when. Owning to the fact that they’d sought out and simultaneously attacked the homes of the base’s commanding officers before staging any attacks on the rank and file.
He, himself, had been awakened by the sound of breaking glass coming from somewhere downstairs in his home.
The small Georgian style house he shared with his wife and son was located at the end of Officer’s Row, and sat kiddie-corner from that of the base commander’s.
Thankfully, no one else was in the house. Both Susan and Danny were away. Susan was visiting her mother in Hidden Valley, California and Danny was camping, with friends, in the Arizona desert near Great Basin National Park.
He’d lain motionless in the king-sized bed, holding his breath, trying to make sure he’d actually heard the sound of breaking glass. Or had he dreamed it? Though he’d never be able to explain it, he knew someone dangerous was in his house.
Stealthfuly, he eased his body from the bed and grabbed his Glock semi-automatic from the nightstand drawer, shoved in a full clip, and started for the bedroom door. Creeping through the narrow darkened upstairs hallway, keeping his back to the wall, he reassured himself that it was most likely a drunken soldier who had mistaken the house for his own or worse a soldier turned burglar.
At the top of the stairs, he peered over the railing and watched as the intruders, dressed in state-of-the-art camouflage gear with night scopes fanned out in a standard search pattern. These were no ordinary burglars, intent on a laptop or iPod. These guys were definitely military.
Realizing he was outnumbered and outgunned, he quietly, returned to his bedroom, locking the door behind him. He estimated that he had about two, maybe three, minutes before they started up the stairs, less if he were careless.
Thinking quickly, he grabbed only what he needed of the things that lay within his path of escape. Since Susan had not been home to scold him, he’d not taken off either his boots or his coat before coming upstairs. Boots, pants, shirt, and coat all lay in a heap at the foot of the bed.
Moving carefully, avoiding every loose floorboard, he crept his way over to one of the bedroom’s two east-flanking windows. “Thank God, Susan wasn’t the fru-fru type,” he thought. Having to claw his way through miles of decorative window fabric would only have slowed him down.
Sucking in a deep breath, he prayed a silent prayer that the window would slide open without making too much noise. He had one leg through the window when he heard the fourth step from the bottom of the stairs moan ever so slightly under the weight of one of the intruders. Susan had prodded him several times during the last year to get that damn step fixed. Somehow, he’d never found the time.
Stepping out onto the roof, he noted the stars were shining brightly. Too brightly! Lights were out all over the base. From his perch atop the roof, he could see yet another set of men, dressed in camouflage gear, entering the base commander’s house. Moments later, gunfire erupted. “Shit, Madison cursed under his breath, this is no God damn drill.”
He rolled off the roof and hit the ground running. He had a destination in mind. A place where the intruders probably wouldn’t think to look for someone of his rank.
“What the hell is going on,” he thought to himself. Bare-chested and shivering in the cold night air, he could hear the steady pop pop pop of automatic weapons fire coming from houses up and down Officer’s Row. Now and then, a woman’s scream pierced the night air. “Damn it! This can’t be happening. Not here! Not on US soil!” Pushing down his fear, he knew he had to get some answers. Find out who, what, when, and why. And had anyone else made it out of Officer’s Row alive?
Having served on the base for seven years, he knew he’d find answers to all of those questions in one place, Central Command. But first, he had to get there.
About three clicks in back of his house was a small park where the officer’s young children often played. He knew it well. It was where Susan went to grieve. Ironic, he thought, that she had chosen to grieve amidst the very thing she craved but could not have. It was no secret, between them, that Susan wanted more children and he didn’t. One was enough for him. Danny’s birth had been a difficult one. Complications from preeclampsia had almost cost Susan her life. Not one, but two specialists had advised against her becoming pregnant again. Besides, not wanting another child, he loved his wife and had no intention of putting her life at risk.
Now that Danny was busy with his own life, Susan seemingly found comfort here among the high-pitched wails and laughter of playing children.
Crawling on his belly through the park, he found a spot where he could pull himself together, get dressed, speculate on what was happening, and plan the one mile run to Central Command.
By
Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders (The Ruby and Jared Saga Book 1)
Jared Anderson (The Ruby and Jared Saga Book 2)
OneThreeThirteen (A Presidential Agent Novel Series Book 1)
Dancing With The Fat Woman
Thou Shalt Eat Dust
A Woman’s Voice: Book of Poems
STALKED! By Voices
The Hunt For Red November 