Crash Landing

By Chris Towndrow

The Gulf War, 2004. A wounded American helicopter pilot stumbles into an Iraqi house. His mind is fractured, yet galloping.
The inhabitants watch him warily as he shelters from the searing heat—gabbling, bleeding—avoiding known enemies and waiting for colleagues to rescue him.
Has he met friend or foe?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Towndrow
• Release date: May 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005493899

Chris Towndrow

Chris Towndrow has been a writer since 1991.He began writing science fiction, inspired by Asimov, Iain M Banks, and numerous film and TV canons. After a few years creating screenplays across several genres, in 2004 he branched out into playwriting and has had several productions professionally performed. This background is instrumental in his ability to produce realistic, compelling dialogue in his books.His first published novel was 2012’s far-future, post-war space opera “Sacred Ground”. He then changed focus into Earth-centric, near-future sci-fi adventures, and the Enna Dacourt pentalogy was completed in 2023. In a similar vein, “Nuclear Family” was a venture into post-apocalyptic fiction.He has always drawn inspiration from the big screen, and 2019’s quirky romantic black comedy “Tow Away Zone” owes much to the films of the Coen Brothers. This spawned two sequels in what became the “Sunrise trilogy”.His first historical fiction novel, “Signs Of Life”, was published by Valericain Press in 2023. With a number of excellent reviews, this Western romance has been his most popular title.In 2023, Chris returned to his passion for writing accessible humour and will devote his efforts to romantic comedies. Three such scripts are currently in development.Chris lives on the outskirts of London with his family and works as a video editor and producer. He is a member of the UK Society of Authors.

Book preview

Crash Landing

Crash Landing

A short drama

Chris Towndrow

© 2023 Valericain Press

Twenty yards away lay sanctuary. He had to believe that—a refuge from those he knew were coming for him.

He limped on.

The street ahead was quiet, above the nascent rushing and ringing in his ears. His head swam, and his eyes struggled to focus, but still, he tried to cast glances around. Any second, a hostile could appear.

He stumbled as a torn length of flight suit snagged his right foot.

‘Fuck.’

He was almost at the house—the end of open ground. Behind him, scrubland stretched out into the Iraqi desert, now blotted again by torn metal. Across the landscape, his steed was now just a statistic, a crumpled remnant of the war.

Blood spatted from his head onto the sand.

He thudded hard into the rough stone wall adjacent to the door. He glanced around, then rolled through the half-open doorway and into the dim room. His eyes flared, pupils widening.

‘Hello? God Jesus. What is this place? Hello?’

He walked in further, holding his head in pain.

‘Hello? Ow.’ He winced.

An Iraqi man of about forty-five appeared from an adjoining room, then a woman—his wife.

The soldier jolted a little. He held out a hand, cautioning calm. ‘Howdy. Sir, ma’am. American.’ He tapped his chest. ‘You speak English?’

All he got back were blank looks.

‘You