Vehicles are parked haphazardly across the center of the road, alongside curbs, doors flung open, engines running. Each one is empty. Max parks the Crawfords’ Ford in front of the Constable’s office, cuts the engine and pockets the keys.

Don’t look panicked. Walk in there calm and cool.

There is no one present to remark on just how panicked he looks. The office is in a shambles. He runs outside, down the sidewalk to the bakery, the grocer, the bank. Each place is empty save for personal items of mysteriously absent inhabitants strewn here and there. Blood thunders in his ears. Max feels his chest tightening. He tries to take a deep breath to slow the sense of doom flooding his system.

Breathe, dammit. Stay calm.

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In Whiskey-Niner-Kilo we get a glimpse of the memories and meanderings trapped in Max Key’s wounded mind. This is a brief speculative fiction, followed by a preview of my upcoming novella novel, The Reaping. The protagonists in each story have southern drawls and tend to cuss quite a bit. Get a copy of Whiskey-Niner-Kilo here, and please, leave a review. Your time and your words will be very appreciated!