About Me

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Writer, soldier, thinker, and science fiction lover. I just can't seem to find a way to divide my adventurous self of constant outdoor activity and exercise from my nerdy self playing games and going to conventions. So why not just be both?

 I am a young professional living out of Tallahassee, Florida for the past five years. I have been on a deployment with the United States Army and continue to work outside of my other occupations to better myself mentally and physically. My passion for writing is driven by my passion for everything I find entertaining in life, and of course by my friends and family.

Friday, December 19, 2014

One Level Below Hell (Continued 3)



Zack Rogers swiped dried bread crumbs off his shirt. Bits remained out of his sight under the wrinkles of his shirt and in the shadow of his tie. Light grease marks remained as trails from wherever he lay his hands. His note pad and pen wrinkled with various foods’ greases and his digital camera slick with the oils.
He waited outside the police detective’s building. Knowing that James fellow, he would try and avoid Zack, and that’s when he’d get him. Zack wiped his mouth in anticipation, sweat and grease rolled off his lips and cheeks. The sunlight passed through Zack’s thin hair and the beginning of a sun burn was visible on the balding spot on the back of his head.  
Finally a tall wiry black man emerged from the building. Zack sprung up in action closing in on the back of the man. He waited until he was mere feet from the man.
“Detective!” James looked back, and seeing Zack began to move faster. “Detective! Is it true you are completely lost on the Collector Case?”
“We have no case under that name.”
“Sure you do. The Collector, the serial killer terrorizing our local citizens!”
James stopped to face Zack. Zack had a recorder running in his pocket, but that wasn’t the detective’s concern. Zack used his pen and paper for show.
“Look Mr. Rogers, this is a sensitive case. I would appreciate The Insight’s understanding in this situation.”
James tried to start off again, but Zack had him.
“What understanding is that? That the department is completely lost? That there is a rampaging serial killer with no opposition? Or that the police refuse to put in a concentrated effort because of the large Latino population?” The ruffled look in James’ eyes lead to a cracked smile on Zack’s face. James turned in a huff and walked away, but that would be the story Zack would run.