This excerpt is from a thriller/suspense novel I wrote a few years ago called, The Shadow Effect. August and Eliseo work for a company called Intelli-Trace, as bounty hunters for stolen technology.
Turrel is an information broker that stole an interrogation formula. Justin is his partner who betrayed and murdered him. Pt7 is the name of the formula that rips the memories from one person, allowing them to be seen by another. Justin is taking bids from terrorists and drug cartels.
August retrieved a vial from Justin's hideout and decided to see if he could use Turrel's memories to track Justin...it was a trap.
The Shadow Effect
Intelli-Trace Contagion Lab
The Pt7 pulsed cold pain up the vein in August’s arm. He pulled back reflexively and looked at Eliseo who watched him warily.
“August?” Eliseo asked.
August’s squeezed his eyes shut; his face pulled into a grimace.
Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea…
August’s body bucked violently from a blow to his jaw. His head snapped viscously to the left sending flashes of pain throughout his mind. He opened his eyes and saw that he was in the abandoned warehouse where they’d found Turrel’s body. August ran his tongue over the jagged split in his lip and tasted the saltiness of blood. His entire body ached; his gut, back and torso throbbed with pain.
August tried to move but realized he was bound to a chair with duct tape immobilizing his arms and feet. Another blow, this time to his stomach, forced all the air out of his lungs, and he doubled over in pain and struggled for breath.
Someone off to his right spoke. The voice sounded out of breath but familiar. August craned his head to the right with great difficulty. Through the haze of pain, August’s looked through Turrel’s eyes, back in time, and focused on Justin’s sweating face.
“It worked,” August gasped. “It worked.”
His eyes, wide open, weren't looking at Eliseo. He wasn’t in the Contagion Lab anymore. Eliseo's voice echoed from far off.
“I see the warehouse,” August’s said. He tried to focus on Eliseo’s voice, but it faded farther away from him as he slipped deeper into the memory.
“I do hope you eventually get to experience what our friend Turrel is going through,” Justin sneered. “My only regret is that I can’t be there when you finally feel this pain.” He swung again, the blow sending shards of pain through August's ribs. “That is for the one you gave me in Venezuela,” Justin said.
August could barely make out Justin’s face. Turrel hadn’t had the strength to hold his head up for very long, and so August’s view was limited to what Turrel had seen with his head hanging low against his chest.
“I want you to see someone,” Justin said. August felt his hair being yanked back, and Justin turned his head to face a mirror. In it, August could see Turrel’s face, confused and in pain, looking back at him. August moaned, his mind cranking, trying to process his thoughts separate from the memory.
August twisted, trying to get out of the chair, but Turrel’s body didn’t react to his movements. A surreal claustrophobic sensation gripped August. He tried to concentrate on looking at Justin, but Turrel had kept his gaze to the right and behind Justin. August clenched his teeth as another blow slammed into his gut.
“And that one is for screwing up my plans in Peru,” Justin said and spat.
Turrel’s emotions kept surfacing in August’s consciousness. Fear and anger mingled with August’s own. Again August tried to look at Justin, but Turrel had kept his gaze from Justin’s face. He had been concentrating on the wall behind Justin as if trying to mentally escape the onslaught his body was suffering. August cried out when one of Turrel’s fingers was broken. The pain was excruciating, boring its way into August’s mind.
Justin jumped at him, wrapping his hands around his throat. August’s lungs screamed for air. August felt the panic that had ripped through Turrel’s mind. August felt the world start to slip, go black. Suddenly Justin let go. August coughed, gasping for breath.
Turrel looked away from Justin again and August felt the panic give way to something else, a quickening in his stomach almost like surprise. August forced himself to concentrate on what Turrel saw. August took in a makeshift office with a desk and papers or drawings tacked to the wall. August saw the other men in the room—Victor and others he had seen at the Venezuelan mines. They were laughing and shouting. He could make out some of the laboratory equipment as well as a uniform of some sort that lay draped over a chair at the far end of the room. Something tickled at August’s consciousness, but he lost it when Justin pulled out an old-time straight razor.
They'd found Turrel with his throat slit.
Justin held the razor in front of him, wiggling it gleefully. “You be a good messenger now Turrel,” Justin said. He raised his arm, swinging the razor in an arc.
August shouted, his eye registering the peculiar glint of light on metal, before the razor slashed down. His body bucked against the chair back
The most incredible cold shot through him taking his breath away.
“August!” Eliseo yelled and raised the fire extinguisher again.
August thrashed out of the chair gasping with surprise. His shivered with shocking cold. Hands trembling violently, August moaned. He rolled onto his side, grabbing at his throat. He half expected to see his hands dripping with blood. Shaking with residual adrenaline and fear, August grasped his head with his hands trying to contain the throbbing.
“Am I back?” August asked hoarsely and staggered against the counter.
Eliseo stared at him with wide eyed shock. “Are you okay?”
“Eli,” August forced a smile. “I think you just saved my life.”
Eliseo swore under his breath and threw the extinguisher on the floor at their feet. “I thought you were dying, you idiot,” he shouted. “What happened?”
“August?” Eliseo asked.
August’s squeezed his eyes shut; his face pulled into a grimace.
Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea…
August’s body bucked violently from a blow to his jaw. His head snapped viscously to the left sending flashes of pain throughout his mind. He opened his eyes and saw that he was in the abandoned warehouse where they’d found Turrel’s body. August ran his tongue over the jagged split in his lip and tasted the saltiness of blood. His entire body ached; his gut, back and torso throbbed with pain.
August tried to move but realized he was bound to a chair with duct tape immobilizing his arms and feet. Another blow, this time to his stomach, forced all the air out of his lungs, and he doubled over in pain and struggled for breath.
Someone off to his right spoke. The voice sounded out of breath but familiar. August craned his head to the right with great difficulty. Through the haze of pain, August’s looked through Turrel’s eyes, back in time, and focused on Justin’s sweating face.
“It worked,” August gasped. “It worked.”
His eyes, wide open, weren't looking at Eliseo. He wasn’t in the Contagion Lab anymore. Eliseo's voice echoed from far off.
“I see the warehouse,” August’s said. He tried to focus on Eliseo’s voice, but it faded farther away from him as he slipped deeper into the memory.
“I do hope you eventually get to experience what our friend Turrel is going through,” Justin sneered. “My only regret is that I can’t be there when you finally feel this pain.” He swung again, the blow sending shards of pain through August's ribs. “That is for the one you gave me in Venezuela,” Justin said.
August could barely make out Justin’s face. Turrel hadn’t had the strength to hold his head up for very long, and so August’s view was limited to what Turrel had seen with his head hanging low against his chest.
“I want you to see someone,” Justin said. August felt his hair being yanked back, and Justin turned his head to face a mirror. In it, August could see Turrel’s face, confused and in pain, looking back at him. August moaned, his mind cranking, trying to process his thoughts separate from the memory.
August twisted, trying to get out of the chair, but Turrel’s body didn’t react to his movements. A surreal claustrophobic sensation gripped August. He tried to concentrate on looking at Justin, but Turrel had kept his gaze to the right and behind Justin. August clenched his teeth as another blow slammed into his gut.
“And that one is for screwing up my plans in Peru,” Justin said and spat.
Turrel’s emotions kept surfacing in August’s consciousness. Fear and anger mingled with August’s own. Again August tried to look at Justin, but Turrel had kept his gaze from Justin’s face. He had been concentrating on the wall behind Justin as if trying to mentally escape the onslaught his body was suffering. August cried out when one of Turrel’s fingers was broken. The pain was excruciating, boring its way into August’s mind.
Justin jumped at him, wrapping his hands around his throat. August’s lungs screamed for air. August felt the panic that had ripped through Turrel’s mind. August felt the world start to slip, go black. Suddenly Justin let go. August coughed, gasping for breath.
Turrel looked away from Justin again and August felt the panic give way to something else, a quickening in his stomach almost like surprise. August forced himself to concentrate on what Turrel saw. August took in a makeshift office with a desk and papers or drawings tacked to the wall. August saw the other men in the room—Victor and others he had seen at the Venezuelan mines. They were laughing and shouting. He could make out some of the laboratory equipment as well as a uniform of some sort that lay draped over a chair at the far end of the room. Something tickled at August’s consciousness, but he lost it when Justin pulled out an old-time straight razor.
They'd found Turrel with his throat slit.
Justin held the razor in front of him, wiggling it gleefully. “You be a good messenger now Turrel,” Justin said. He raised his arm, swinging the razor in an arc.
August shouted, his eye registering the peculiar glint of light on metal, before the razor slashed down. His body bucked against the chair back
The most incredible cold shot through him taking his breath away.
“August!” Eliseo yelled and raised the fire extinguisher again.
August thrashed out of the chair gasping with surprise. His shivered with shocking cold. Hands trembling violently, August moaned. He rolled onto his side, grabbing at his throat. He half expected to see his hands dripping with blood. Shaking with residual adrenaline and fear, August grasped his head with his hands trying to contain the throbbing.
“Am I back?” August asked hoarsely and staggered against the counter.
Eliseo stared at him with wide eyed shock. “Are you okay?”
“Eli,” August forced a smile. “I think you just saved my life.”
Eliseo swore under his breath and threw the extinguisher on the floor at their feet. “I thought you were dying, you idiot,” he shouted. “What happened?”
Okay, so techinically someone else died before the scene...and August just relived it...but that's what I got, people. Take a peek at the other great entries over at Tessa's Blurb.
See you guys on Wednesday...until then, Go Write!
Photo by laszlo-photo.