Sonarr

By Timothy Neal and Adam A. Smith

When the asteroid blazed out of the atmosphere and buried itself in the ocean, it took Lieutenant Nathan Stone’s new sonar system, his naval career, his hearing, and any hopes of a normal life with it. Driven into isolation by the painful legacy left by the asteroid accident, Stone discovers a new gift he must learn to control; a new ally in the form of a dark-masked man; and a new identity as Sonarr.

Now Stone must use Sonarr’s powers and identity to right the wrongs set into motion by the asteroid. Racing against time, he must save the life of a friend critically injured by the same accident and prove his own innocence in the face of unjust and corrupt accusations.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483541754

Book preview

Productions

Chapter 1

Nate Stone parked across the street from the tiny convenience store, leaving the air conditioning blasting as he surveyed the area in front of him. Heat rose from the pavement in shimmering waves, making the deserted street look warped, out of phase. He checked his rearview mirror. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No sign of trouble, no sign of the thugs who were harassing his friend. Nothing. He studied the street again, this time more intently. Whoever the men were, they were not around now. Although deserted, Bay Street looked good, a far cry from the rundown, crime-ridden avenue it had been just three years earlier. Stone felt no small amount of satisfaction as he visually inventoried the boulevard and then turned his attention to Ed Thompson’s small shop. The Bay Street Convenience Store was one of the businesses Nate Stone and other concerned citizens had invested in as part of a downtown renewal project. This area of town had been written off as unsalvageable by virtually every honest businessman in town, but thanks to the renewal project and hardworking citizens like Ed Thompson, Bay Street was now clean, with several new shops in operation. Business was steadily improving and the last year had been unexpectedly profitable.

As Stone continued his perusal, he noted that the convenience store windows were bare, with no sign of the lively displays Thompson normally used to attract customers. Ed always took great pride in his window displays, updating them every other day as part of what he called his Mayberry Marketing Plan. Initially Stone had ribbed Thompson about the handwritten signs and drawings, but Ed was adamant. I want people to be at home when they come here, friendly like. I want them to feel like Aunt Bea would shop here. And Ed was right. The store’s simple, homespun warmth and the friendliness of the proprietor won people over from the start. Now, seeing the bare windows, Stone knew something was definitely wrong. He pulled the key from the ignition and got out of the car, once again scanning the area before crossing the street to Thompson’s place. As he drew close, he heard an annoying sound coming from a small speaker at the upper corner of the store to the left of the front door. With each step closer, the buzzing whine intensified. By the time he reached the main entrance, the persistent squeal felt as if it was drilling a hole in his temple. Stone jerked the door open and stepped quickly into the cool interior. Thankfully, the sound was all but inaudible once the door closed, and Stone breathed a sigh of relief at his escape from both the clamor and the heat.

He took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off the back of his neck and forehead as he looked around the store. The normally bustling aisles were empty. The only other person in the shop was the cashier, a scruffy young man Stone had never seen. Stone walked over to the counter and waited a moment, but the clerk did not glance up from his comic book. He watched Hi, I’m Raymond pore over the graphic novel, absently scratching his belly where it protruded from beneath his untucked shirt. Stone waited a moment more then quietly spoke.

Is Mr. Thompson in?

Yeah. The greasy-headed lad did not lift his gaze.

I’d like to see him.

Yeah? Who are you? Still reading and scratching.

Nate Stone.

Just a minute. Glancing resentfully at Stone, the young man pushed himself off the counter. Slowly, carefully, he rolled the comic book into a tight cylinder then slid it down the back of his pants as he meandered to the back room. Stone watched him waddle away in disbelief, flabbergasted by the clerk’s rudeness, disheveled appearance and utter stupidity. He reached over the counter and closed the unattended cash drawer, letting out a long hiss and consciously releasing the tension in his shoulders and fists. There were so many things wrong with this picture, he didn’t want to count. He could not believe how much this once-cozy store had changed. He did not try to hide his concern when his friend emerged from the back.

Nate Stone! You old sea dog, how are you? The big man grabbed Stone’s hand in a hearty shake, pumping it hard and clapping Stone on the shoulder.

I was better before I arrived here.

Thompson’s smile faded for an instant, and his eyes shifted back and forth quickly as he scanned the room. Come; let’s go in the back where we can talk.

The merchant led him back to the office where Ed offered his friend and business partner a seat. Stone was glad to see the office was in better shape, more consistent with the man Nate had grown to like and respect over the past couple of years. Thompson dropped heavily into the chair behind the desk then let out a sigh.

You probably want to know why my sales have dropped off.

Forgive me for saying, but the reason is obvious. The store is a mess, inside and out, and your clerk looks like he wouldn’t notice a shoplifter if one walked right by him.

I know, I know. It has been like this all month. Emil Surrano has been trying to extort protection money from all of us on this street. I can’t keep a decent cashier up front. He’s scared the last three away. I’m lucky to have Raymond. Thompson tried to smile at his own humor, but the smile faded as he gazed at Stone. Surrano seems to think this neighborhood belongs to him.

Well, I can tell him that it belongs to Consolidated Properties. I know; I own stock in the company. Nate’s response expressed a hint of incredulity, but it was not directed at his friend.

Yes, that’s what my rent check says, but he says I should pay him or I’ll be out of business. He’s been posting a bunch of rough teenagers outside every morning to intimidate my customers. Hardly anyone is brave enough to come in anymore. One more month like this and I will have to call it quits. I just don’t know what to do.

Stone sat quietly for a moment. The news disturbed him, and sickened his sense of justice. Although he had grown up just outside the city, he had spent many hours in this neighborhood as a boy, riding his bike, going to the local cinema, buying candy at the dime store on the corner. When his naval career was cut short, he chose to return to the area and open a business office in town. Now he lived nearby, in the same mountain cabin in which he had grown up, passed on to him when his parents died. He was fond of the city and committed to the downtown restoration project. The idea of some criminal trying to hurt his city and his friends made his blood slowly boil. Nate stood. I might be able to do something about this but first you must tell me what that noise outside is.

Ed got up and the two walked out to the front of the store. You can hear that? The promotional material said the speaker can only be heard by young people. I was hoping it would keep those troublemakers from hanging out in front of the store.

It sounds like about 18,000 Hz, with an annoying resonance.

Yeah, that’s it. I’m sorry, Nate. Adults are not supposed to be able to hear it. Maybe if you turned down your hearing aid?

Oh, yeah, I forgot. Nate reached up to his ear and pretended to turn off the already disabled hearing aid.

Why do you have to wear such a thing? You are not an old man.

Nate had rehearsed how to answer such questions without giving away any secrets and not appearing to lie. Damaged my hearing when I was in the Navy.

Sorry to hear that, but obviously the hearing aid helps, yes? Did the Navy pay for it? It looks very high tech.

No, the Navy wouldn’t pay for one like this. My company makes them.

Thankfully Ed accepted his answer without inquiring further. Nate still felt a little guilty because it was a deception, but it was best that no one knew why he really had to wear it. He closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated until the noisy tone stopped. There, that’s better. You may need to push away the kids, but you don’t want to push me out too, do you?

Not at all. I will turn it off the next time you come. You won’t hear it again.

I’ll see what I can do about Surrano.

The two shook hands and then Nate walked across the street to his car. Once inside, he pulled out his cell phone and selected one of the speed dial numbers. He glanced back at Ed Thompson and waved a hand in farewell. Thompson grinned and offered his friend a mock salute before turning to go back to work. On the way back inside, he stopped short, alarmed by the smell of electrical wires burning. Looking for the source, he glanced up and saw some smoke coming from the back of the new high-pitch speaker. Well what now? Has the speaker overloaded or something? He shrugged his shoulders. How could that have happened?

***

Afternoon, Ms. Dayle, it’s Nate Stone. Let me speak to Scott, please. A brief smile crossed his face as he thought about Scott’s assistant. Phyllis Dayle was sharp; the best administrator he knew, efficient to a fault. The Roberts Detective Agency owed much of its success to her sharp eye for detail and unerring instincts. Rumor had it that when the police needed intel on criminal activity and their database was lacking, they called on Phyllis Dayle. Scott was incredibly lucky to have her watch his back. Ultimately, the few who knew Scott Roberts’ secret also knew that the criminal database Ms. Dayle maintained was as much a key to the crime fighter Darkmask’s success as his strength, agility, and sharp detective’s mind.

Nate! What can I do for you?

I need your help.

Scott instantly sobered. Sure thing. What do you need?

"Give me everything you’ve got on Emil Surrano. Where can I find