Storms of Tyranny

C. J. Clark

Description

U.S. Marine Horace Meyers faces a world in which the U.S. Constitution no longer exists. The SCOTUS serves at the will of the Supreme Commander, and members of Congress accept lavish gifts to keep the status quo. Without constitutional rights, the United States is a faded memory... The nation is now divided into four quadrants, but the Sapros dynasty thirsts for complete control. Political intrigue, moral decay, and growing persecution of anyone opposing Sapros' edicts push the population even further away from fundamental rights. Horace is forced to walk a tightrope between the growing evil and protecting the integrity of his Marines and U.S. citizens as he tries to find a way to bring the tyrant down without endangering millions. The stakes are high in this futuristic thriller!

Sujets

• Religion
• Christianisme
• Military
• War
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Outskirts Press
• Date de parution: 12 février 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781977210388
• Langue: English

Extrait

Storms of Tyranny
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2019 C. J. Clark
v5.0

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-9772-1038-8

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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA


Chapter 1
Monday, January 3, 2056
C aptain Meyers ducked as he entered the lecture hall doorway and removed his wool coat. Distinguished theologians, whose portraits lined the walls, kept a vigilant watch over the budding biblical scholars. Among them, Augustine, Luther, Spurgeon, Henry, Gill, Wesley, and Graham.
God whispered in his ear to ready himself for an answer to a prayer. A blonde female collegiate nudged another student; she smiled at him and tilted her head backward and licked her bright-purple lips. Her darkened eyebrows lifted as she sucked on her middle finger up to her knuckle and winked at him. A stylish gold-plated chicken bone necklace hung on her porcelain neck, drawing attention to an unbuttoned red leather vest and her well-developed breasts. Christian schools differ from years ago , he thought. Lord, she cannot be the one .
“Hi, gorgeous. How about you and me—?” Her mouth fell open as he held his hand up to reject her spicy offer. “Fine. Plenty of hungry men on this campus.”
The smell of Sweet Cannelle cologne drifted in his direction. A woman with a golden-honey complexion peered over her tablet. At last . The female turned her head away. Again, she peeked over her reader, eyes sparkled as she twisted her hair around her fingers.
Be patient . He stood next to her and prayed to make eye contact again. The color in her face deepened, eyebrows raised. Her eyes lifted; a sudden smile dazzled him. Ask her. His heart pounded; a dry, pasty tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
“Are you saving this seat…for anyone?”
“Well, yes…saved…for you.” She slid her long delicate hands down her cheeks. “Uh, you must be the most handsome man God put on this…um…planet. Those dark-brown eyes and black hair.”
“Thank you. Your name is?”
“Do you sing? Deep bass voices sound so sex…sexy…Didn’t mean to blurt out that…”
“At least I made a favorable first impression. Tell me your name preference. Unless you prefer Blurty.” He took a peek at her ringless left hand as he sat next to her. A hopeful sign, although fashionable women may not wear a ring. Doubt filled his mind with imagination. Already married to three husbands, with five obnoxious children who could dismantle a Navy destroyer in under two minutes. Did her master’s thesis in the nineteenth-century tea trade between Bavaria and China and how the industry transformed the course of the Civil War. Owns a Great Dane named Poco .
“Dakota Elizabeth Brown. Introduce yourself. Otherwise, I will identify you by your rank, Captain.”
“Horace Wexler Meyers, United States Marines, your humble fellow student, ma’am.”
“A term of politeness for little—old—ladies.”
“Little old ladies? Certain officers, I am acquainted with might…disagree with you.”
“Correct, they would. I’m not a military officer. Therefore, I am not—”
Humored and fascinated by her comebacks, he gazed into her deep amber eyes. “Yes, you are not a little old lady.”
“What degree are you working on?” She held a pen between her fingers.
Two female students lingered nearby; the redhead flipped her hair in his face. The taller teenager fanned herself as though overheated in the cold room. One way to get rid of the overstimulated pair . A wink should do the trick. They rushed off to find seats near the back. Dakota turned her lips downward, for the briefest of moments—however, long enough. Yes, she is interested .
“Biblical languages and military chaplaincy, for now. What about you?”
“Public safety; my minor is in theological studies. An odd combination.”
“Our common pursuit is fascinating. My duty assignment is at Quantico in security while earning a theology degree.”
“Long drive to the base?”
“Captain.” Suspicion ran through him as a dark-haired male paused by their seats and bowed. Sirens vibrated inside Horace; by instinct, he touched his holster.
The man moved up the incline and selected a seat on the rear-row next to a bald Japanese student with a tattoo of a peacock. Tail feathers crossed her eyelids, cascaded down the sides of her face and along the back of her neck. Without a word, she thrust an oversized tote between them and gave him a hard glare. She reached into the bag and snatched out a ball of mustard-yellow yarn and a set of chopsticks.
“Name is Kyoko. Don’t bother me.”
She glanced behind at the man, who tipped his leather cap. “Do you recognize him? Why did you go on a full-alert as soon as he passed this row?”
“The SpeedTube cuts the transportation time by half. The professor is here. Go with me for a cup of coffee afterward?”
“Changed the subject on me.” Click , click , click , she pressed the button of her pen hard several times; the ink cartridge shot straight up into the air and fell to the floor like a missile failure.
“Lucky for you, I transported extra rocket launchers in case of emergency.”

Students sat at cluttered counters and bistro tables as the Java Hut filled. First-years engaged in games and text-talked until their next lecture. Music played from tiny glasslike balls on their necks; colors changed as the tempo varied. They chatted over the weather or current politics with coded nicknames for the supreme commander such as Rattlesnake and Goofy Soup, for his son, the Legatee.
Stacks of solar-power personal transport boards, warm coats, and jackets scattered beside plastic chairs cluttered the aisles. They stepped over piles of laptop tubes and hunted a table. Discarded drink wrappers, half-eaten carrot-kelp bars, asparagus pizza, and assortments of well-used hand wipes made an empty seat hard to pinpoint. A busser drone with an absent tub knocked the trash on the floor and darted off to unclutter another section.
“Do you always accept offers to coffee with a man right after meeting him?”
She traced her finger along the list of beverages on the menu; her brows lifted as indecision reflected on her face. “Chocolate peanut butter espresso with cream. Whom should I trust if I can’t count on a Marine?”
“Armed forces personnel don’t always conduct themselves with honor. A few bring dishonor.” Dark roast black. He made his selection and set the tablet back into the stand.
“My father teaches Greek and Hebrew; he told me about a tall military person enrolled in his classes.”
“What keeps you busy when you’re not studying?”
“Spent many Saturdays riding in equestrian events; the university won the championship four times in the conference and twice in the nationals.” Dakota’s complexion deepened as she coughed. “Anyone significant in your life?”
He interlaced his fingers together and rested his chin on top of his hands. “Why don’t you blurt out and ask me if I am single? Yes, I am.” Good, she is interested .
Her face flushed as she strained to stifle a cough. “Didn’t want to keep you from a wife or girlfriend.”
He moved the condiment stand from one side of the table and stacked the creamers into a pyramid. “Travel around much?”
“No. Born here in Virginia, lived in the same house my entire life. Attended Christian schools. What about you? Any hobbies?”
“No matter how much I dig into the Bible, I crave more.”
“You and my dad would work together.”
“Wasn’t planning on proposing marriage to your—” Why did I reveal my plans too soon?
She remained silent, gaze intensified; her mouth twisted back and forth. A server drone set two plastic mugs of coffee in front of them. “Wait! A marriage proposal to whom?”
Feisty—Dakota stands up for herself. Not a fragile, cowering flower. At least she didn’t jump up and run out the hatches screaming. Encouraged, he decided to explain himself.
“The Lord laid upon my heart to ask if I might sit next to you.”
She rubbed her hands over the sides of the hot mug. “Uncertain how…to reply.”
“Did God ever urge you to interact with someone?”
She poured creamer in the beverage and shrugged.
“Is he speaking now?”
“Yes, he is telling me you are…way past crazy.”
“Do you believe your words? Come on—what is he saying?”
She caressed the gold cross on her necklace. “On occasion, my imagination runs away. First, what did God say to you? Afterward, I will let you know what he told me about you.”
“An obstinate personality. Fine. Stubborn-people management is my specialty.” He ran his finger across one of his ribbons. “This ribbon shows I am a recalcitrant tactical expert dealing with tenacious people. A dare? Good, I will. Though, you must answer my question. The instant I stepped into the room, you gave me a magnificent smile. God said, ‘The woman who sits before you is your spouse.’”
“Your…pickup line is unique. Why didn’t he say it to you in the King James Version? ‘The woman thou hast casteth thine eyes upon is thy wife.’ Israeli