On Facebook, for my status, I have been posting excerpts from my novel Radioactive Communist Zombies. I've been taking one per chapter. Since Facebook gives you a limited amount you can post for a "status" I've only been able to post small snippets. I chose them to try to give a feel for what the book is about. I've gotten some positive feedback.
Here are the excepts I've posted on Facebook
Chapter One: "You know why I really hated the bastard?" Gomez said loudly, sloshing his drink in the general direction of the bar's TV. The brown liquid almost spilled out, which wasn't a completely bad thing; Gomez had always been a cheap drunk. Judging by the bar he'd dragged me into, his habits hadn't changed.
Chapter Two: The girl was long-limbed and a bit on the thin side. Her skin was the color of coffee con leche and her kisses were as sweet. I know there are people who care about skin color; I've never understood that. That she was brown made no difference to me. She was striking, with lovely black eyes and she made love like a wild, beautiful animal.
Chapter Three: A car zoomed up, scattering the rubberneckers, and squealed to a stop. Three men jumped out, all Cuban but wearing suits and hats like American mobsters. All carried large guns, presumably the "automatic weapons" that were fired in the alley. The crowd evaporated in screams. Liesl pointed at the men and one blew apart like a pile of dry leaves before a hurricane, his gun clattering to the pavement.
Chapter Four: I turned but too late: pterodactyl claws grabbed my torso, wrapped around my body like a fleshy vise, and pulled me skyward, the beating of the wings blowing down on me as the claws held me so tight I couldn't breathe. I didn't know why it just didn't eat me. I was sure it would hurt less than what its claws were doing to me and the way my head was hanging down with the blood rushing to it.
Chapter Five: I had wasted, in his opinion, my father's money and had had the pickup when he claimed he needed it. He used a switch on me for the last time that night. He was red with rage as the willow branch snapped against my backside. And he hadn't even discovered that the stash of whiskey he kept hidden from my mother, the bishop, and--he thought--from me, was missing.
Chapter Six: I smiled up at the sky and let the sun warm my face. But looking up I also noticed the high stone wall topped with triple loops of concertina wire. Spaced towers held guards holding AK-47s. I recognized the curved magazines and the extended front sights from my CIA training. I knew they were a deadly and dangerous automatic weapon provided to Castro by the Sovs.
Chapter Seven: Giancana looked at me when he calmed down. "Can you kill Castro?" "Yes," I said. "I need to know his name." "Fidel Castro!" Giancana screamed at me. "Is that his full name?" Giancana blinked and looked at me. "I don't know," he yelled. "Then I can't kill him." "You can God-damn well try," Giancana screamed. I looked at Luttazzi, who gave me a pleading look. "I'll have to be alone."
Chapter Eight: The fire must have come from an upper window. I saw the orange reflection on the shiny fender of a car and ducked into the busy street. The flames slapped into the cement and splattered the building and cars parked on the curb. I looked up and saw an adept pointing at me, fire arcing from his finger. He was aiming it toward me, the flame crossing the hood of a parked car, leaving a black trail of scorched paint.
Chapter Nine: I heard a crash and a lot of yelling: "DOWN! DOWN! DOWN!" by men used to being obeyed. Almost instinctively I doubled over putting my nose almost on my knees. Suddenly air was on my face and I could breathe. I heard a clap as atmosphere suddenly rushed in to fill a void. Gunfire rang out so close to me my ears screamed afterwards. More shots were fired and I heard something heavy fall.
Chapter Ten: About two A.M. on the seventeenth we were a few hundred yards off Zapata Peninsula, deep inside the Bay of Pigs, with Cuba on three sides of us, east, west, and north. We held position near what had been code-named "Red Beach." It was almost pitch black in the boat, but the men whose faces I could see were tight with emotion. I realized most of these men had been civilians less than a year ago.
Chapter Eleven: The plane opened fire, spraying bullets into the boat. I heard the boat's hull snap with the sound of breaking wood and was pelted by flying splinters. Men screamed as they were shot and the smell of scorched metal, shattered wood, spilt blood, and burning flesh filled the air.
Chapter Twelve: A motion to my right caught my eye. Che was raising his pistol. Three bullets ripped through my torso before I was able to bound over Maria's body, put my hand on his leg, and knock Che out of commission, which was easier than a protection spell for me. I didn't kill him--that would take too much time and too much meta-- but he was unconscious and crumpled to the floor dropping his gun near me.
Chapter Thirteen: The flames washed over me. I felt the heat and nearly screamed with the pain but I was undamaged. I didn't dare breathe, as I'd suck the flames inside. The protection spell protected only my exterior. I was vaguely aware of screams from others, but my eyes were locked on the vortex of fire shooting at me.
Epilogue: My career as a leader of the American Meta Association was long and satisfying. And it was certainly better than working for the CIA.
Except you don't get to save the world from radioactive communist zombies.