Oil to Ashes 1, "Picnic" (Linc Freemore Apocalyptic Thriller Series)

By Lee Brait

"As usual his morning commute took him past that simple wooden cross, planted above the pit with the charred sides. And as usual Linc's stomach turned at the thought of it happening to the next child."

Apocalyptic Science Fiction Story. 44 pages (10.795 words)
Oil To Ashes Part 1, 'Picnic' - Introducing Linc Freemore

The war on terror has escalated to a nihilistic brawl for oil. Brutal and incessant gang violence now rules the headlines. Is it a forecast for the end of justice and consequence?

For Linc Freemore, another drudge at the office, another broken promise looms. He stumbles on a savage crime, half-done. Unarmed. Deserted. In a tranquil wood, the kind of place he longs for time with his family. Today filled with violence and despair. Should he bolt for safety? Or viciously defend, his own brand of justice?

Linc discovers how deep he's willing to dig for a stranger. How far he's willing to blur the lines.

Contains Graphic Violence.
Early editions were titled "Picnic".

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Brait
• Release date: Sep 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301330591

Lee Brait

Born 1970 in a serene valley city, the middle child in a family where I realized much later that I wasn't actually the least favorite, the closest I got to an apocalypse was a fog over the river so thick you could almost swim in it. And as a ten year old Science Fiction fan and wanna be computer programmer, my most creative attempts at programming in BASIC code on my Dad's Timex/Sinclair ZX-81 barely triggered a foreboding error message, never mind the end of the world.I somehow fumbled my way through school and made it out the other end a success: clueless but still alive. My four year degree included a Bachelor of Science in Computer Science with a 1 year post graduate thingy on the end. During that time I discovered a natural affinity for both explaining things and for writing technical documentation.It turns out novels are harder.Twenty years and thousands of foreboding error messages later, I managed to escape my unfulfilling cubicle dugeon and I now live with my partner, Debbie, and our two Burmese cats/idiots where I run a small business from home.I enjoyed reading the great post apocalyptic stories so much that my own version seemed to devise itself. For me the scariest apocalypse is the one most likely to happen. I took plenty of inspiration from real world conflicts and the creative end of my brain converted itself from solving problems to inventing dilemmas. My evolution to fiction began with a series of three apocalyptic stories, Oil To Ashes 1, 2 & 3.After some people told me they liked it, it looks like there will be more.Maybe one day I'll be able to say "based on a true story"?Anyway, welcome to the oil wars. You can dip your toe in the cauldron for free with Oil To Ashes 1.

Book preview

OIL TO ASHES

Part 1

'PICNIC'

A Linc Freemore Story

Lee Brait

PUBLISHED BY:

Lee Brait at Smashwords

Copyright © 2014

6th Edition

www.LeeBrait.com

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

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As usual his morning commute took him past that simple wooden cross, planted above the pit with the charred sides. And as usual Linc's stomach turned at the thought of it happening to the next child. A white cross by the side of a highway is common enough tragedy. A busy day interrupted for a fleeting moment by the thought of somebody's loss. Maybe a mother, maybe a son. And then gone again, like fleeting thoughts do. Back to today's agenda, or brooding over some impossible task they set or the goal posts they keep moving.

But the photo of the little boy atop the cross, the ragged edges of the pavement, the chunks of concrete and rock that disrupted the otherwise symmetric crater. The daily reminder of scattered body parts, screaming children and parents standing, watching, not knowing which way to run.

Nobody had expected a mortar shell to land on a suburban school route. Not the first time, anyway.

A road crew had tried three times to repair the hole and each time parents had formed a circle around it until the crew gave up and left. Not yet ready to hide their wound.

The rains had formed a glassy pool at the center. The level surged and fell like a tide as the rain and sun fought to dominate. Today the level was high and reflected a rutted silhouette from the broken edge of the hole.

The pair of swans were still there. Still working twigs and grass and wind blown plastic and paper into the mound that was becoming their nest. Still hissing and flapping at people who dared walk too close. Linc's stomach settled a little each time he saw them, relieved that some unsupervised dog had not got them yet. Still perched down the side of the crater on their pile of debris, a pair of snowy necks looping out of the blackened pit. An unexpected comfort for many who needed it.

He always slowed to pass this memorial, not caring how many people behind him honked. How can a person rush past a thing like that and think nothing of it?

He turned right at the end of the street and approached the cemetery. Another police funeral. This time 4 boxes draped with stars and stripes. Rows of white gloves snapped in unison against rows of black peaked hats. A three volley salute shattered the thick morning air and was followed by cheers from across the street, ONE!

They leaned on their bikes and cheered again at the second volley, TWO!

They raised their beers and clanked them together with the third volley, THREE!

They started their motorcycles and at the fourth volley cheered FOUR!

What ever the pastor's words, nobody could hear them over the revving motors.

Next to the row of gleaming Harley Davidsons and backed in perpendicular to the curb was a red Smart Fortwo cabriolet. its snub