Bounceback

By Michael Hollins

After the drug-related kidnapping of her teenage daughter, Mona must alter from cowering San Diego housewife to vengeful Tijuana nocturnal narco hunter in hopes of finding her daughter alive.

She must gain strength and skills to locate her daughter by shedding her crippling fears. Along the way, she is beaten down and weakened, but an uninvited cathartic encounter with a stranger incubates the transformation she must painfully grow through to become the aggressive deadly force needed to save her daughter.

Complications arise when she is jailed in Tijuana for murder and gets picked as a pawn by dirty cops to lead a drug operation overthrow.

Ultimately, she must eliminate all drug ring kidnappers and dirty cops or she and her daughter face certain death.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496945563

Michael Hollins

Michael Hollins is a screenwriter from the UCLA Writers Program. He began learning creative writing from Victor Miller (Original Screenwriter of Friday the 13th) and, after attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, has used technical writing and hands-on mechanical skills to develop programs to destroy wholesale chemical weapons, environmental cleanup of contaminated nuclear sites, and glassification of high level plutonium wastes. He presently is working with International Physicists to develop clean and limitless energy for world consumption for the next thousand years. BOUNCEBACK was first written as a screenplay and is in active Hollywood circulation along with THE ICE, a 19th century seafaring story, and PLASMA, a science fiction journey. He lives in Orange County, California with his wife, Susan, and they enjoy watching the creative growth of their plethora of children, step-children, and grand kids.

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2014 Michael Hollins. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/15/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-4557-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-4556-3 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter One A Short Return To Hell

Chapter Two The Peace Accord

Chapter Three Ultraviolet

Chapter Four The Amazon

Chapter Five The Lawn

Chapter Six The Decision

Chapter Seven Discharge

Chapter Eight The Touch Screen Portal

Chapter Nine Detour

Chapter Ten Shorty

Chapter Eleven Refreshing Drink

Chapter Twelve Confirmation

Chapter Thirteen Guilt And Bad Guys

Chapter Fourteen Comida Casa

Chapter Fifteen Sight For Starved Eyes

Chapter Sixteen Little Schoolgirl

Chapter Seventeen Maserati

Chapter Eighteen The Kids Are All Right

Chapter Nineteen Random Data

Chapter Twenty Lost Luggage

Chapter Twenty-One The Chop

Chapter Twenty-Two The Invitation

Chapter Twenty-Three Black & White

Chapter Twenty-Four Gravity Of An Inferno

Chapter Twenty-Five Fate And Small Coins

Epilogue

About The Author

This book is dedicated to all teachers who brew creative juices in their students.

My teachers are Victor Miller, Hunter Frost, and John Doolittle.

A special thank you goes to my wife Susan for her tolerance during the long writing nights.

CHAPTER ONE

A Short Return To Hell

Julie was glad she was almost out of there, almost free. She had escaped the violence. She knew she looked like Hell, but it would all work out if her plan, brief as it was, worked out. She just had to get away before anyone showed up. Start the truck- no keys. Damn, major damn. Out she jumped and ran through the dusty turnaround courtyard at a walled residential compound. A walled compound- a rare sight in Tijuana. She raced toward the kitchen door, propped ajar with the legs of a body. Blood dripped down the step. Three bodies of armed Mexicans sprawled dead of gunshots on the ground; she jumped over one of them to get in. She was splattered with blood. Determination trumped fear as she patted down the dead Mexican inside the doorway, looking for the keys, rolling him over, reaching through his pockets. Nothing found.

She looked through the deep shadows and saw the important body, the source of her fears. She paused despite her haste, and warily rose to approach. She squatted down on one side of the body, anxiously searching his pockets. His stomach rose with a silent inhalation while she looked all around quickly, still reaching into pockets. She retrieved the truck keys and relaxed her fear.

Suddenly his arm swung- he grabbed her ankle. She screamed and jumped back, but his grip was locked. She jumped back again which pulled the body to its side and allowed the man to clutch her ankle with both hands. He growled through clenched, bloody teeth.

Though close to panic, she had learned the passion needed for an effective attack, and she kicked in his head with her free foot. With wild eyed vengeance and unhindered gnarls she repeatedly kicked him. His grip remained locked but finally released as he passed out.

She sprang back through the room and turned a corner into the house, gripping the keys.

CHAPTER TWO

The Peace Accord

A few whirlwind months before, life flowed easily for Julie. She was a tennis champ in her San Diego high school and her dream of becoming a sponsored tennis professional was getting closer with each tournament. Close up in the Southern California sunshine, Julie was athletic with a natural beauty, no makeup, short brown hair. She had smiling crystal eyes that accented her drive, and at the moment she was dressed in a smart tennis practice outfit on the court with racquet and practice balls in hands.

Right behind her was tennis coach and director of Athletics, John Steele, strong build, kind, direct. If only her mother Mona had known him after her first husband (and Julie’s dad) had died in Afghanistan. Instead, she married that creep BJ. But to the business at hand, Coach, as he was known by all students and parents alike, had both hands on her wrists guiding her arms in a slow motion tennis serve with a special twist of the racquet at the top of its swing. Good, Julie! You almost have it. A little more curl at the top of the swing and you’ll curve that ball more. Go. His words were always encouraging.

He jumped back and Julie tried the new serve. She aced it just over the net and the ball twirled its bounce out of reach of the student opponent. Coach beamed with his usual enthusiasm, just the right amount. You got it girl. Julie Bodel, you’ll make that pro dream. Here come the sponsors and world travel! I can see it now.

Yea! She grinned and jumped up twice.

Do it again, same twist. Julie tossed the ball up and as it rose, floated, and descended, her back motion was perfect. Another beautiful serve and the smile on her face showed the world it was good.

Her mom Mona was 38 and could be beautiful, but she wouldn’t show it, not these days. Her look these days was of worry. Eyes down, don’t make waves. The few years she had been married to BJ had left her feeling alone and paranoid. At least he had moved most of his belongings out and had initiated a divorce. After that disastrous mistake of a marriage, she might begin to feel like herself again- it seemed like forever since she started needing help for depression. Did pills from the doctor make it better? She didn’t know.

She pulled two plates and utensils from the cabinets and stirred vegetables for dinner. A roast was in the oven- a favorite of Julie’s.

Julie barged in from school in her tennis outfit, beaming. Mona’s mood lifted like sunlight. Hi Gum Drop, how was it?

Julie automatically helped set the table using her tennis racquet as a platter, bouncing a ball with it between loads. Way good, Mom. Coach is helping me with this curve-serve thing. It makes the ball bounce different than you think, way trick.

Nice. The tournament’s when?

Thursday. It’s pretty big, a lot of schools.

Count me in. Take a quick shower. Dinner’s ready when you’re out.

Julie turned to leave, bouncing her tennis ball. Back in a flash!

Mona’s preparations stopped when she heard the sound of a car with deep-throated exhausts park in front. She froze with concern. Her front door opened.

BJ entered along with his attitude. He saw the last glimpse of Julie going down the hall. He looked her way a moment too long.

BJ had a harsh look, black hair, goatee beard, and a small but distinguishable birth mark under one eye. Out of Mona’s earshot, he occasionally sniffed his cocaine-runny nose.

Mona made minimal eye contact with him. OK, I made dinner. I guess I’ll add a plate.

BJ’s eyes lit up and he offered, I come in peace!

He held up a wine bottle and forced a smile.

Mona saw that familiar shallow look and dared to say, BJ, You shouldn’t be here. I can’t take this any more.

Mona, I’m being nice, though I shouldn’t be. I thought this wine might… settle things down some.

But then he heard the shower water begin running. I’ll open it in a minute. I’ve got some computer work first.

You wanted the divorce. You said you’d be out already. Your straggling just draws it out. Why is your computer still here?

He dismissed her concern. Tomorrow. Everything will be out tomorrow.

Mona held firm. I’m changing the locks. You’ll have to come in the afternoon when I’m here. Do it early while Julie’s still in school.

BJ noted the hostility- this was getting into his territory of expertise. He stated, I’ll do it when I want.

Mona knew she had pushed it dangerously far.