Welcome Charles E. Yallowitz with Chasing Bedlam #Scifi #Dystopian

Charles Yallowitz has a new book out, the second in his Shattered States series. Take a look below to see what this wild ride is all about!

Return to the Shattered States

for a tale of love between a woman & her jeep!

Cover Art by Jon Hunsinger

Cover Art by Jon Hunsinger

Lloyd and Cassidy’s last adventure was to honor a life. This time they are out to end one.

It was a normal, violent mission to Texas that should have had nothing more than beer-induced hiccups. That is until an old enemy makes off with Cassidy’s jeep and most of their gear. Needless to say, she’s pissed off and challenging Lloyd for the psychopath of the month award. With the mouthy serial killer by her side, she is going on the warpath from Dallas to Miami even if it means declaring war on the drug cartels.

So strap in for another wild ride through the Shattered States and learn why you never mess with Cassidy’s jeep.

Available on Amazon for 99 cents!

Want a taste?

“So your boss thought she could send assassins to kill the Riflemen,” the black-haired leader says, earning a cheer from his men. A firm smack to the prisoner’s head silences her gurgling attempt to deny the charge. “Nothing you say can prevent the inevitable. Don’t go thinking that pet serial killer will save you either. The idiot brought a paintball gun to Texas and thought he’d win a gunfight? I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. All we need to do is find the body and we can collect the bounty on him too. Guess you’re lucky that he’s wanted dead and you’re wanted alive by that warden up north.”

“I’d be careful, boss,” a sword-wielding gang member warns. She leans away from the angry glare, but rolls up her sleeve to reveal a sloppily stitched wound. “While this one isn’t as tough as her reputation says, she can still hit hard. Lost two men before we restrained her and three more are nursing broken balls. Maybe we should use some of our tranquilizer stash and keep her sedated.”

“No reason for th-” Top Hog begins as he runs his hand across the prisoner’s forehead. He rubs his fingers at the sensation of something sticky between his fingers and looks closer to figure out what he has touched. “This scar is fake. Made from glue or something. Are you sure this is Cassidy?”

“She was with Lloyd Tenay at the bar,” a one-eyed man replies in a shaky voice. He shifts from one foot to the other when everyone else takes a step away from him. “You told us to look for him and a blonde woman. She had the denim jacket, the forehead scar, cursed a lot, carried two pistols, and even has the correct tramp stamp. Everyone was calling her Cassidy after she drove up in the blue jeep too. We made sure that everything checked out, boss. Even bribed the bartender and two waitresses.”

Sweat beading on his face, Top Hog draws his large gun and presses it to the prisoner’s temple. He leans around her, his eyes repeatedly darting toward her hands to make sure they are still bound. Lifting her white shirt, he sees the unique tattoo that the widespread stories mention Cassidy getting a little less than a year ago. The design is two pistols back to back with vines of bone curling around and binding them together. A strange discoloration catches the gang leader’s attention and he rubs his thumb along the woman’s side, pushing his weapon harder against her head to prevent wiggling. He swears that he feels a seam, so he gets a dirty fingernail beneath what turns out to be a flesh-colored sticker. Top Hog yanks it off and shows it to his men, the prisoner biting her lower lip to avoid screaming. He can already see that the tattoo is smeared from where he has touched it with his meaty fingers.

Enraged and embarrassed, the gang leader is about to kill the fake Cassidy when he hears distant rock music. Within seconds, he realizes that the source is getting closer and is soon joined by maniacal laughter coming over a crackling megaphone. With a snap of his fingers, Top Hog orders one of his men to take the prisoner to his office while the others run for the exit. Nobody gets very far before a blue jeep, which has been outfitted with a wide battering ram, smashes through the front of the warehouse. The vehicle leaves a gaping hole in the wall, which is made worse by hooked chains on the rear bumper that catch and tear more of the obstacle down. The jeep continues at full speed through crates, shelving units, and the slower gang members whose deaths are celebrated by honks of the horn. Tires screech as the driver hits the brakes and gets the car to spin, the move appearing to have no purpose beyond making those inside dizzy. With an embarrassing thud, the vehicle hits the back wall and hisses to a stop.

The gang have already drawn their weapons and are cautiously approaching the jeep when the sunroof opens. Bullets fly at the blonde figure that leaps out, the projectiles creating so many holes that the top half of their target falls off. The legs of the cardboard cutout are casually tossed to the floor before the shriek of a megaphone makes everyone cringe and cover their ears. With the tattered remains laying face up, the frustrated criminals realize that they have destroyed another Cassidy decoy. They are about to inch closer when the jeep briefly roars to life and a man inside begins making engine noises. The sounds change to the exaggerated screams and detailed begging of those whose parts are still stuck to the scuffed battering ram.

“So that was your plan, Cassidy?” Top Hog asks with a chuckle. He turns to see their prisoner is trying to roll away and fires his gun into the air to stop her. “Two decoys, so that you could get the drop on us. Guess you thought more of us would get run over. You still have thirteen of my crew standing and you’re cornered in that jeep. Now, the only question is if I send a piece of you back to the Duchess as a message that she should stay out of my business. Damn northerner needs to stay out of Texas’s business.”

“Actually, that young woman was the bait and I was the distraction,” Lloyd announces from inside. With a gleeful laugh, he opens one of the doors and yanks it back when the gang shoots at him. “Well shit. That was my favorite power window button. Anyway, people make that mistake all the time. You see, bait draws you in and, at least here, allows the real predators to follow you back to the previously hidden hideout. Not even a sign to help us out, which is very rude and unaccommodating. Now, the distraction’s job is to keep you looking in one direction while a mischievous maiden of mayhem prepares her new toy somewhere else. Don’t bother running, boys, because she’ll take that as an insult.”

Top Hog and his men turn toward the hole in the wall, which has exposed them to the large parking lot. The sun forces them to squint at the lone figure standing behind a loaded mini-gun, the weapon glinting in the midday light. Clouds move across the sky, which makes it easier for the gang to identify the denim jacket and blonde hair of their enemy. They take a few shots at the distant woman, but their bullets either miss completely or bounce off several riot shields that are strapped to the weapon. A slamming car door causes them to jump, but they turn in the wrong direction and are unable to stop Lloyd from racing toward the prisoner. Wearing orange pants from his time as a prisoner and a red shirt with a lightning bolt, the black-haired serial killer seems like an obvious target as he scoops up the young woman and dives behind a box of grenades. Suddenly afraid for their lives, Top Hog and his men attempt to scatter and hunt for cover.

“I hate moving targets,” Cassidy growls.

And don’t forget how it all started in CROSSING BEDLAM!

Also on sale for 99 cents!

charles

About the Author:

Charles Yallowitz was born and raised on Long Island, NY, but he has spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world. After his wife decided that she was tired of hearing the same stories repeatedly, she convinced him that it would make more sense to follow his dream of being a fantasy author. So, locked within the house under orders to shut up and get to work, Charles brings you Legends of Windemere. He looks forward to sharing all of his stories with you, and his wife is happy he finally has someone else to play with.

Blog 
Twitter: @cyallowitz 
Facebook: Charles Yallowitz 
Website 

Andrew P.Weston: GUARDIAN ANGELS Book Tour

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In a series of terrifying events, otherworldly beings intervene to save innocent lives.

The world community reacts with relief as they realize that guardian  angels may in fact exist, and they are diligently protecting us.

But there are those who would seek to stop what they feel is a threat  against their livelihoods. How far will some go to battle the Guardians?  Is the fairy tale over before it even begins?

Guardian Angels is a powerful and compelling story about the catalyst  that has the power to unite society in the hope for a better future. The  spark of hope is fragile—can it last?

Excerpt:
Luigi decided to toast himself and his accomplishments again. Finding  his glass empty, he rang the bell for a top up, and continued to gloat,  firmly believing he was beyond accountability.

When the door to the study opened a few minutes later and Gianni, the  housekeeper, came in with his favorite Black Pearl Louis XIII cognac on a  silver tray, he insisted the old servant stay with him and drink to his  success. “Come, Gianni, stay, celebrate with me. Good times should be  shared with trusted friends.” The gesture wasn’t missed by Gianni. At  fifty-five thousand dollars a bottle, the cognac was one of the most  expensive in the world, and he quickly poured a generous helping into  two glasses. As he handed one to his boss, he paused momentarily to  savor the bouquet of the blended flowers, fruits, spices, and the deep  amber color of the aromatic liquid.

“You’re looking particularly pleased with yourself today, young Sir. Good news?”

“It’s the very best of news, Gianni, and one that appears to be  maturing with age.” He replied without looking away from the screens.

The old housekeeper tossed down his drink in one and shuffled to stand  deferentially behind his employer. He listened as yet more reports of  the suffering caused by the missile detonations were announced. “That  mess doesn’t look like there’s much to be happy about, Sir. Surely that  doesn’t please you, does it?”

“Aah, Gianni, sometimes, when you need to make a point, you have to  catch your enemy’s attention,” Luigi replied. “You have to ensure they  not only respect you, but fear you. I’m pleased because I’ve done just  that. Wouldn’t you agree, my old friend?”

When no reply was forthcoming, Luigi naturally assumed the old housekeeper must have been unable to hear his question.

Turning in his seat, he felt a peculiar throbbing, tingling sensation  in his teeth and sinuses. “I said ‘wouldn’t you agr . . . .’” Luigi’s  voice choked off in his throat as he caught sight of Gianni’s eyes. The  distinctive, familiar, lazy old eyes of his longtime employee seemed to  be undergoing some kind of metamorphosis. Gone was the semi-vacant,  un-focused faraway look he always seemed to display as he pottered  about. Instead, Luigi was looking into the hardest, most piercing eyes  he had ever seen, eyes that seemed to glow with an inner furnace to  match the cold look of rage chiseled onto his face.

The shock made him drop his glass onto the carpet, spilling about three  thousand dollars worth of the deep amber nectar. Transfixed he watched  as Gianni’s body straightened, grew, and bulked out.

As the years fell away from his face, he realized without a doubt that  he was going to fully shoulder the burdens his choices had wrought.  Before him stood his own personal living nightmare made flesh, dressed  from head to toe in black. Instantly he felt the fire rising within him,  straining for release.

The Guardian stepped forward, making the barest of gestures with his  finger as he did so, and Luigi found himself lifted into the air by some  unseen force. He was held motionless, helpless as a puppet awaiting the  commands of his master.

Nodding at the screens, the Guardian spoke. “Allow me to introduce  myself. I am Andrew, Guardian Lord of Shadow Operations. Did you  seriously think you’d get away with something like this?”

Luigi stared defiantly back, fighting to overcome his shock at the  Guardian’s presence, and surprised at the lack of access to his ability.

“Do what you want, asshole, at least the world sees you as the frauds I knew you were!” he hissed.

“Do what I want? I’d love to, but unfortunately my boss won’t let me.”

Luigi stared impotently back at his nemesis as he strolled closer.

Once he was standing in front of him, the Shadow Lord said, “As for  exposing us as frauds? Well, I really don’t know why you would think  that. We never said or intimated we could be everywhere at once. The  world’s a sad enough place as it is without you adding to it. All we are  doing is trying to help people avoid as much heartbreak as possible.”  Andrew pointed to the repeat bulletins on the screens. “So, once the  world finds out that all this was the deliberate act of some sick and  twisted psycho who didn’t care how many suffered, just so long as he  could score some points, how do you think they’ll react to you, Luigi?”

The point struck home. Luigi struggled in an attempt to slap the  Guardian across the face, to do something to help vent the building fury  inside him.

Helpless, he continued stewing as the Guardian moved so close he was  able to whisper in his ear. “And when they find out about your  abilities, can you even begin to imagine how they’ll react to that? You  worthless, spineless, pathetic little man. I really wish they’d let me  play with you before we throw you to the wolves.”

“Fuck off, asshole, you don’t scare me.”

“Scare you?” Andrew smiled wickedly. “Oh no, Luigi, that’s not my job.  That’s hers!” The Guardian gestured behind Luigi at the same moment he  let go with his telekinesis. Although Luigi only dropped about a foot,  he crumpled to the floor, becoming acutely aware that the strange  throbbing in his teeth was even more pronounced than before.

Turning, Luigi was met with a vision of such barely contained power and fury that he immediately soiled his pants.

Andrew squatted beside him. “Allow me to introduce you to the head of  our investigations branch. This is Victoria, our Lord Inquisitor, and  she’s very pleased to meet you after all the suffering you’ve caused.”

Victoria stood in front of the TV screens, wreathed in a visible static  discharge that blew the circuits of all the electrical equipment in the  office and made the hairs on Luigi’s arms and head stand on end.

Her eyes, so similar to those of the Shadow Lord, intensified in luminosity and turned from grey to white hot.

Luigi shielded his eyes and cowered on the floor in his own excrement. What a fool I am. He thought.

In reply to his thoughts, the Shadow Lord said, “Yes Luigi, what a  murderous, cowardly fool of a man you are. I think the whole world will  agree when they find out, eh?”

Author Bio:
Andrew P Weston was born in the city of Birmingham, in the UK and grew  up in the towns of Bearwood and Edgbaston. He eventually attended Holly  Lodge Grammar School for Boy’s where he was School Captain and Head Boy. He was an active sportsperson for the school, college and a variety of  rugby, martial art, swimming and athletics teams throughout the city.

On graduation in 1977 he joined the Royal Marines fulfilling a number of  specialist roles both in the UK and abroad. In 1985 he became a police officer with the Devon & Cornwall  Constabulary, and served in a variety of uniformed and plain clothed  departments until his retirement in 2008.

Over those years, he wrote and illustrated a selection of private books  for his children regarding the life of a tiny kitten, called, The  Adventures of Willy Whiskers, gained further qualifications in Law and  Religious Studies, was an active member of Mensa and continued to be an  active sportsperson, providing lessons free of charge to local  communities.

An unfortunate accident received on duty meant Andrew had to retire  early from the police force, but after moving to the sunny Greek island  of Kos to speed up his recuperation, he was at last able to devote time  to the Guardian Concept he had developed over his years in the  military and police.

When not writing, Andrew enjoys Greek dancing and language lessons,  being told what to do by his wife, Annette, and hunting shadows in the  dark. He also has a magnificent mustache collection.

Andrew is now contracted to Pagan Writers Press for three books. Fairy Tail, is a short, but dark and gritty erotic paranormal/thriller  with a twist. The second book, Guardian Angels is the introductory book to the Guardian Series, a sci-fi action/adventure epic set in the near  future. The latest short story, Blood Moon, is a paranormal action/thriller  set in the jungles of South America. Further work on the Guardian Series and a new paranormal series, The  Cambion Journals, has been completed and will hopefully be published  during 2013.

Look for Andrew at the following haunts:
Website
Blog
Facebook
Twitter
Goodreads

Buy GUARDIAN ANGELS at:
Amazon
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