Kill Writer

By Nelson Lowhim

Jim is a soldier in the most elite unit in the American military. Black ops. Cleans up his country's dirty laundry.
He loves it, loves working on his own, loves that he's good at it, loves that he's ridding the world of evil, one bad guy at a time.
Missions on the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan, sniping through gullies and crosswinds. It's tough work, but someone's got to do it.

One day he's handed a mission: easy kill.
He stares at the folder.
He knows the man.
A friend.
This isn't right.
He sets out to discover the truth, and realizes that he's asking the wrong questions. When he asks the right questions he learns that the choice he has to make may be the hardest one of his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eiso Publishing
• Release date: Dec 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466191099

Nelson Lowhim

Lowhim served in the US Army as a Green Beret Engineer and graduated from Columbia University. He's been published in LA review of LA, Nine Line Anthology, and Afterwords. Born in the bubbling cauldron of Tanzania, where he picked up his first pen at the age of two and chewed. He's progressed much since then. He wrote his first story at 5, a knockoff of all the prince-saves-princess stories he'd read at the time. Life did not rest. It took him to India, then frigid Michigan. The shock, according to parent-sources, was a character building exercise. Lowhim, however, only remembered clenched fingers trying to write. Shorts about teen angst kept him going. Soon he was hitchhiking the mountainous American West where the outlaw locals kept his journal full of color. It wasn't long before he joined the US Army where the detritus of Babylon only furthered his literary ambitions. Iraq wasn't done with him. He would return, an engineer in 5th SFG. When he returned from this trip, he finished his first novel. Released upon the world, he attended Columbia University. He spent his free time writing and working with other authors. He graduated and has since been penning some of the most ambitious novels this side of that Pluto rock. Lowhim currently lives with his girlfriend in the Bronx. You can visit his blog at: http://nelsonlowhim.blogspot.com/ And you can sign up for book deals here: http://eepurl.com/DX2In His novels are: When Gods Fail (the series), The Struggle Trilogy, Tree of Freedom, and CityMuse

Book preview

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Kill Writer

By Nelson Lowhim

Copyright 2012 Nelson Lowhim

Eiso publishing

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead or otherwise, is purely coincidental.

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The plane lurched to the right as it took off. The winds were gusting up to thirty-five miles an hour. Jim held a doggy bag and leaned forward. He was strapped to a flimsy canvas and metal seat inside the hollowed out plane. He hated flying, and he especially hated stomach-churning flights like these.

There was a mission to think about, but his mind fluttered above the conversation he had with his oldest son several days ago, Stateside. It was inane to think about family at a time like this, but he couldn't help it.

His son had interrupted him right as he was getting comfortable with his wife. Last minute coitus before this last minute mission.

Dad?

Yes, son? He shifted away from his wife, not naked, but in no condition to let his son under the covers.

I can't sleep.

Well lie down and count to a hundred, you'll be asleep before you know it. Jim said.

Jason, his son, stood in place, squirming. His son's dirty blue eyes and blonde hair bounced back and forth.

I was thinking about something.

What? Jim asked. He was supposed to make these moments with his family better. Too much snapping, the Chaplin warned him, wasn't good.

School.

What about school?

The teacher... Mr. Cotter...

The teacher what? Jim asked. Jason never had issues with teachers. In fact, he was one of the best students in his class. Made Jim proud.

He said the Army was killing people.

Jim paused, took a breath.

Who? he asked.

Mr. Cotter.

Jim hadn't met any of Jason's teachers this year. Or any of his other son's teachers, but he should have known that such a subject would come up. He just hoped that this teacher wasn't too liberal. After all, the Army killed plenty of people, but it was for a greater good.

What did he say?

That our government was killing people.

Well. Jim paused. What did the teacher mean by people? It was a word with a broad definition. How was Jim to word a view of the world, its tougher parts, so that a child could understand? We only kill our enemies, Jim finally said.

He said we didn't know for certain.

Jim felt his anger rising. The teacher must have known that he had a class full of soldiers' kids. What was he doing saying such things? Jim took a deep breath. He felt that his son should have some idea about how hard they tried to be sure that their intelligence was, and how much they tried to make certain that they didn't kill innocents. He knew he was fighting an uphill battle; it was the media that twisted the war to look like something it was not.

Listen, son, you should know that we don't just kill anyone. We kill the bad guys. And if we didn't fight them there, the war would come home. It would be right here. Jim pointed to the floor as he spoke. He stared into his son's eyes. Jason didn't look away; he never looked away. It was a characteristic that perturbed Jim, and also made him proud. Understood?

I do.

That what?

We only kill bad people.

That's right, and if we didn't, more innocent people would die. Americans.

Jim stared at the stripped-out inside of the plane thinking about the conversation. His son understood and it was important to Jim that he did. When he bid them goodbye, he was certain that he saw a strong pride in his son's eyes. That made what he did, the sacrifices, that much more worthwhile.

Now for the mission, Jim thought. He had to make sure his mind was right. The plane lurched again, and Jim took in deep gulps of air to calm his nerves down.

The green light came on and Jim stepped forward, shifting his weight. The Commander had entrusted him with his first lone mission; he had to do well tonight. The polyester material from his pack grated against his thigh. He looked at the jumpmaster standing next to him as