Souls on Fire

By Jay Williams

AIDS activists resort to terrorism in the action-packed mystery SOULS ON FIRE. In Austin, Texas, circa 1985, terrorists attack a bank and slaughter innocent civilians while stealing cash. Their motivation for this and later assaults is not devotion to a religion, not revenge for some event, nor out of greed. Their outrage stems from the police and society treating them as less than human. They have AIDS. They have decided to follow the Viking belief that it’s better to die in battle than helplessly in bed. Lt. Neil Kenny, a movie-addicted detective of the Austin Police Department enlists the help of his friend Jim Greenwald, an ex-Green Beret, CIA operative, to help him track down these violent people who use military tactics to raid banks and police stations. The violence escalates and soon copycat attacks happen in other American cities. Will authorities capture or stop these terrorists before more attacks paralyze the city? Buy SOULS ON FIRE to enjoy a fast-paced thriller and discover the surprising conclusion.

Review By K.C. Finn for Readers' Favorite:
Souls on Fire is a short work of mystery fiction packed with tension and terror and was penned by author Jay Williams. In this novella-length action tale, we first meet a duo of specialists in Austin: police lieutenant Neil Kenny and his friend Jim Greenwald,former Green Beret, CIA operative. The pair combines their skills and knowledge to track down terrorists with blood on their hands and military precision in their minds: those who have combined bank robbery with the senseless slaughter of the innocent. The year is 1985, and the motives for these blood-driven killers turn out to be a lot more complex and difficult to handle than most as America faces the peak of the AIDS crisis.

Conceptually speaking, this is a fantastic look at homegrown terrorism,discrimination and a unique motivation for violence and bloodshed. It's hard not to come down on both sides of the argument as author Jay Williams presents us with real people doing both bad and good things.Williams's characters are fully rounded people with emotive pasts and realistic skills, tough to develop in such a short and fast-paced thriller. As the mystery unfolds, so do the complex social relations and beliefs at work, making this a great action thriller on the surface,with a whole lot more concept and emotion swelling up underneath. Souls on Fire is a fantastic taste of superb potential from author Jay Williams, and a highly recommended read for fans seeking a quick read filled to the rafters with content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jay Williams
• Release date: Sep 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463466216

Jay Williams

When not ranting about society and its ills, Jay writes short stories for literary and men's magazines like ''The Stake,'' ''SingleLife,'' ''A Carolina Literary Companion,'' ''Aura Literary/Arts Review,'' and others. He has penned three eBooks: TAX BREAK, WINGS OF HONOR and SEX and the AMERICAN MALE.Besides writing activities, he likes to say he's done it all (although it's possible he exaggerates like in his funny short stories). He's flown airplanes as well as jumped out of them at over 800 feet; he's brewed beer as well as drinks it whenever he can; he has traveled overseas as well as around the US. However, his favorite leisure activities include hiking the National Parks, watching hockey/football and listening to live music in Austin.

Book preview

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, dialogue and events are all products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. License note: Thank you for buying this e-book, please do not re-sell it or give it away. If you really liked it, support the author by buying another copy and giving that instead.

Copyright Jay Williams 2019. All rights reserved worldwide.

Smashwords Edition

(Cover by Angie Alaya, pro_ebookcovers at Fivrr.com)

Table of Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

About the Author

More books by the Author

CHAPTER I

If only she had planned better.

A small bead of sweat gathered force as it rolled down her cheek and finally dropped off her chin as a wave of salty surf. The wave splashed into the ocean on her blue jeans, which she wished had been a pair of cutoffs instead. As Cindi January sat in the oven she called Billie, but which everyone else called Volkswagen Bug, she cursed her stupidity and bad planning. If only she had thought about coming to the credit union a little bit earlier, she could have strolled inside to sweet air conditioning instead of sweating it out in this can in a long line of cars waiting to get up to one of two harried tellers. Of course, those tellers at least got to sit inside with the air conditioning.

Cindi looked around the large gathering of idling metal hulks and noticed that almost every single car in the two serpentine lines had their windows up. Air Conditioning. Billie had air conditioning until last February when Cindi’s boyfriend yanked it out while working on the engine.

Bad for the Bug, bad for the environment, he said.

Yeah. And sitting in a bug-shaped piece of metal in sweltering Texas July was bad for her wardrobe and complexion. Cindi looked at her nose in the rearview mirror and frowned. God, by the time she reached the shade of the overhang, four cars away, a humongous, red zit would sprout on the tip of her nose. And when she finally pulled up to the speakerphone, the teller would look across the pavement toward her and recoil in horror as the monstrous zit asked to cash a check. If those four cars behind her hadn’t trapped her in this line, she’d pull out right now and come back later to the ATM in front of the building. Assuming she could find her card. Instead, she cranked up the radio and listened to the new tune by the Slimy Clothespins. At least she still had music for entertainment.

After her line moved up one car, she dabbed her finger in the pool of sweat that had accumulated on her arm and bent over to draw a face on the vinyl of the passenger seat. It didn’t have a smile. Just as she drew the right eye, a loud explosion shook her small car. She jolted forward and frantically looked for the source. There was no damage around her, but it had to be somewhere nearby to make such a sound, she thought. She then noticed the black plume that began to drift above the credit union. The explosion must have come from the front of the building. Cindy was about to get out of her car to cautiously stroll around to the front to satisfy her rubberneck instinct, when she noticed movement to her right.

Six black-clad men with ominous weapons sprinted through the bushes that lined the driveway to the north of her. They ran to a spot in front of the line of cars and simultaneously began to fire their weapons. Cindy froze inside Billie as she saw rounds from one of the men hit the car ahead of her. Arms flailed wildly inside the vehicle, and she guessed the driver got hit. The men kept firing with the rounds hitting the cars in the very front of the line while also shattering the teller’s window.

Her brain and senses kept telling her to duck down, but her body refused to obey. Even her arms betrayed her, for she felt a tremendous urge to cover her eyes, but her hands refused to budge from the death grip they had on the steering wheel. No, she remained frozen to the seat as if chained. Forced to watch the carnage unfold in front of her. She watched in terror as two of the men turned and faced her and the other cars, weapons poised to fire at will. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement in one of the cars to the side, and the two thugs opened fire. The movement stopped and the two returned to their wary guarding. By this time, the other men had jumped on one bullet-riddled car near the teller window and hastily climbed inside the building. They came back out in what seemed like a second to Cindi, but for all she knew they had been inside for hours. The men yelled at the two monitoring the line of cars, and all six men turned and ran toward Guadalupe Street to the west. Timed perfectly, a white van pulled up and the side door flung open for the escaping thieves. As the last man dove in, someone inside the van threw out a package that landed ten feet away in the driveway. He flung out another one over the top of the van, and it landed a short distance behind the van on the street. The van roared off, wheels spinning, and even before it was out of Cindi’s sight, the packages exploded in two gigantic fireballs.

Smoke slowly blew toward the lifeless University Federal Credit Union and finally reached Billie. Cindi made no attempt to wipe the tears from her eyes caused by the noxious fumes. Didn’t even dab at the small trickle of phlegm coming from her nose. In fact, it would be nearly five minutes before the driver from the car behind hers could pry her fingers off the steering wheel and gently pull her from her car. It took another 15 minutes of calm hugging before she stopped sobbing into the retired man’s shoulder.

She had no idea how long it would take for her to get the images out of her mind from the worst day in her life. If only she had planned better.

It was planned with near military-style precision, Lt. Neil Kenny said to the bartender.

Jim Greenwald grimaced and glared at the young, redheaded Austin police detective. Why is it that every time one of your cases resembles something from the military, you stop by my place?

Neil looked puzzled. He pursed his lips and shook his head. I stop by your place because you’re my friend. It’s only a coincidence that the cases I work on have military qualities.

Jim rolled his eyes and began wiping off the bar with a damp towel. Coincidence, he said, letting the word drift down the bar’s length.

Wait a minute, the detective said, pointing at the bigger man. The Haskins case had nothing similar to the military.

As I recall, I’m the one who had to point that out to you.

Oh.

The waitress came up to her station to place an order, and Jim smiled as the young policeman became silent. Was he being polite because he knew Jim needed to hear the order, or was there something secret about this case the man didn’t want out to the general public? He glanced from the waitress to Neil and back again. Or was he thinking of a good pickup line for the new, cute waitress of The Library?

You know, this could be like The Enforcer, Neil said a few minutes later, after the waitress left.

What?

You know, the Clint Eastwood movie?

Jim glanced down at his watch, then stared at the detective. Amazing! Only took you ten minutes since you walked in to mention a movie.

I thought you liked Clint Eastwood, the lieutenant said, furrowing his brows.

The bartender shrugged his shoulders. Yeah, I like Eastwood, but why must you always link everything you do with movies? It gets very tiring. Not to mention that your analogies suck.

Neil Kenny shook his head and looked sadly at the muscular man. There’s just no pleasing you. First you complain about the military connection, then you complain about movies. You must be having a lousy day.

It was great ‘til ten minutes ago.

The young detective ignored his friend’s comment and pointed at the paper he had brought with him. And look at this. An explosive. Just up your alley.

Jim scanned The Library for the waitress, hoping he could telepathically let her know she needed to return to interrupt this conversation. You cops have plenty of guys with demolition experience. Why don’t you go ask them for help?

Two reasons, Neil said, holding up a hand to count them off. One, none of them have as extensive experience as you. None worked for the Green Berets or the CIA. And two, and most importantly, none of them have anywhere near the intelligent insight you have. They are all just straight-line thinkers and can’t think beyond the strict book rules of the force.

Jim knew this flattery game too well. The young cop had tried it often. He also knew that the best defense against it was an offense. Plus the city budget can only afford so many raises and this way you wouldn’t have to worry about them taking one from you, Jim added dryly, looking at the detective out of the corner of his eye.

Well, that doesn’t hurt either, the redhead said, understanding the resistance. Perhaps with more info he could lure this clever veteran in. Yes, military precision, he repeated, staring at the ceiling. "They blew up the side entrance, ran a car into the

Reviews for Souls on Fire

[JonH · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Short and sweet. I like how it subtly handles PTSD in the main character.