Desert Horizon: Preview

Good morning, everyone! As I suffer through the painstakingly long process of getting the Dierock 88 audiobook approved by Audible, I figured it was time to shine some more light on Desert Horizon, and what better way than to post a excerpt from a chapter!

Writing this book has been a blast, and I truly believe it is my best writing yet. I've learned a lot of lessons getting through Dierock 88 and Paradiso, and while this is a completely different type of book, I am excited to share my growth.

With that said, here is the scene. As always, keep in mind things are subject to change upon release. ;)

DESERT HORIZON EXCERPT:

They approached the camp in a fishing skiff, landing just a kilometer west to avoid cartel lookouts.

No one said a word as they trekked through mangroves and mud as thick as the humidity. The sounds of the jungle— birds, amphibians, insects— all singing a different song in places unseen. It felt like a setting of an action movie, and Ransom half expected the Predator to appear.

They emerged upon the camp, a shantytown with sagging, dew-soaked tarps and various groups surrounding cookfires or solar lanterns. Many languages phased in and out of ear shot— It was an odd thing, to see so many different people from different places all within a five-acre camp. Spanish families holding plastic bags, Haitian men whispering with alert eyes. Chinese migrants checking their phones.

“Shit,” Eddie began. “It’s like the Mall of America.”

Children darted between tents, barefoot and kicking around empty water bottles. A Spanish man, perhaps in his fifties, left one of the few nice tents sporting a striped polo tucked into khaki shorts.

“My amigos!” he called. “Welcome, welcome.”

An unsettling feeling crawled up Ransom’s skin as every pair of eyes in the camp turned their way. Suddenly, everyone with a phone or any who immediately stepped away for privacy seemed like a threat.

They’re sending us into a death trap.

“Don’t like this,” Terry remarked. “Not one bit.” He spat out the dip in his mouth, eyeballing a suspicious, North African man who lingered too near.

“Dr. Du Monde!” Reece started towards him, his large white grin stretched from cheek to cheek. “Thank you for allowing us here. I promise, there will be no trouble.”

“Si, Si,” the Doctor replied. He leaned forward, whispering something into Reece’s ear.

His smile faltered. “Yes, of course, but not here.”

The Doctor gestured for Reece to follow him.

“Wait here. This will take just a moment.” He snapped his fingers. “Cowherd, be my backup.”

“Backup?” Cowherd muttered, following after them.

They vanished within a tent, leaving the team standing cautiously at the Camp’s center, every eye and phone pointing in their directions like loaded guns.

“Didn’t know Marines made such good Car Salesmen,” Eddie quipped, drawing a few chuckles.

Ransom cracked a grin, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the tent. Since his conversation with Dray, he couldn’t shake the feeling of edge— there was a game being played around him, and he needed to figure out who the players were.

Terry frowned as he surveyed their surroundings. “Let’s settle over by those palm trees. Got a nice wall at our backs from the shack behind ‘em. Keep your guard up.”

“Roger that,” Conner agreed.

They started moving, quickly coming to a pause as Eddie began swatting the air, cursing out a spider. “I’ll tell you what,” he said after. “Those Conquistadors we’re out of their dang minds.”

“Lope de Aguirre,” Terry shared. “A Spanish Conquistador who was dubbed ‘El Loco’ after murdering his superior during the search for El Dorado. Even killed his own daughter.”

“Jungle is the mindkiller,” Ransom joked.

Eddie whistled as they each sat down, front towards enemy. “Jungle is the ball killer, too.” He dramatically did some adjusting. “Not enough baby powder in the world.”

“Aren’t you from Texas?” Connor asked as he wiped his arm across his sweaty forehead.

“Eddie is from East Texas,” Ransom answered. “This is South Texas.”

Eddie flipped him off. “Very funny.”

Ransom glanced over at Dray, who sat quietly, his eyes distant. He hadn’t said much since they landed in country, and the looks from the other guys suggested they had all noticed.

An NGO Worker— Young and European, a Swedish flag on her shirt— approached them carrying water bottles. “You boys look a bit parched.”

“Why, yes, ma’am I am.” Eddie snatched two, taking one for himself and handing the other to Ransom. It was clear he had, at least to some degree, finally been released from the rookie jail cell.

“Thanks, Brother.”

Ransom regarded the NGO worker, a poster girl for the Scandinavian blue eyes and blonde hair. He could see the looks on her from the migrants, obvious and uncaring in their longevity.

“Young Lady,” Terry kindly opened. “You carry?”

She looked at him quizzically, smiling politely. “Apologies. I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“A gun,” he explained.

Her face turned cross, lips pulling tightly together. “We have protection, and the Cartels don’t touch the workers.”

“He ain’t worried about the Cartels, Sweetheart,” Eddie warned.

“If there is a danger here, it is you Americans.” She left in a huff, joining another worker to animatedly talk and point in their direction.

“By golly,” Ransom drawled in an imitation of Eddie’s Texan accent. “I think she’s talking about us.”

“I tell you what,” Connor joined in. “Think you’re right.”

Eddie shot a suspicious look towards Ransom. “Since when the hell are you funny?”

“I read your diary,” he quipped.

Terry interrupted them, coming to a stand. “Alright, Jokers. Here they come.”

They all joined him on their feet as Reece and Cowherd left the tent, the former stern faced under his aviators, and the latter oddly pensive.

Connor loudly slapped a mosquito on his neck, cursing.

“SITREP,” Terry demanded.

Reece smirked, his hands spreading out wide. “They wanted reassurance that we aren’t meddling. The Doctor pulled some strings— Camp Bravo is going to have Badio wrapped up like a present on Christmas day.”

“What a guy,” Eddie muttered.

“So, we’re meeting them here?” Terry inquired. His tone had taken on a worrisome note.

“No,” Reece revealed. “Same plan, they’ll just know we’re coming. No resistance. Get in, grab him, get out.”

Yeah, right.

Terry laughed, looking away as his tongue pressed visibly into the side of his cheek. “You better hope there’s no resistance. If even one of my guys gets hurt because of your politicking, your ass will be a star on a certain wall in Langley.”

His grin dropped, teeth biting into his lips as he glared. “You think I’d set myself up to be shot at? I just kept us from walking into a lion’s den, draped in steak.”

“Yeah,” Terry shot back. “You better fucking hope so.”

Cowherd leaned over as if struck by a bolt, gagging loudly as yellow liquids rushed from his mouth. Reece jumped back, cursing at the vomit that had splattered his shoes.

“Ooh,” Cowherd managed. “Starting to taste like my days with Seventh Group.”