Are we at War tonight?

Guys,

I've set up a way to read my novel, a self-described 'political thriller'.

We follow the lives and story of three teenage protagonists as they experience the turmoil of betrayal and loss, in the face of a Sino-American struggle for freedom.

This is book 1, with a slow release of chapters.

http://awawt.blogspot.com/2007/09/main.html

Your thoughts are valued.

Thank you.

Jaime K



Present :The End of Book 1:/
July/
New Orleans/
Monday/

SUMMER ("S")

If you've ever given chase to a Boeing 767, you might know the sensation of sprinting down the airport tarmac, towed along by the drag resistant aerodynamics of the plane. Those who've ever been foolish enough to attempt the feat would also know that, no matter how fast you may run you can never really make up any ground.

It's also quite obvious that you've lost all sense of conventional judgment and dimension. Take my example. My hair was tousled and unkempt. I was still in my t-shirt top and black sleeping trousers and the chill of the morning had bit me hard. But these things I didn't think about. I just needed to get to the airport.

The moment the bus had pulled into its rank at Terminal 2, I started my sprint through the airport. I wasn't sure how many security check points I had passed or how I managed the stealth to bypass them. True, I had nothing on me; most definitely no metal. But the reason I should have been stopped, was because I didn't have a ticket for the flight to Los Angeles, and I was not intending to fly.

Furthermore, I was running like a maniac who did not know fatigue, because I was blinded by desperation. There was someone I wanted to force off the blasted plane. Unfortunately I hadn't woken up until very late past the hour and as if to confirm that fact, through the windows, I could see that the only Emirates plane scheduled to depart this morning, was starting to pull out of its dock.

It was through these same windows that passengers awaiting their other flights would spy a fifteen year old girl hitting the runway a few minutes later, chasing after the plane that was now slowly taxiing down the median strip. I believed that if I could just cause enough of a stir, someone at headquarters would stop the plane from flying and I would get a chance to talk to Ray.

I screamed out his name at the top of my lungs. Foolishness. I never got close enough. Blue and yellow security uniforms sprung out at me from every direction. I tried dodging and bludgeoning my way through, but too many burly arms were taking random swipes at me. Finally someone grabbed hold of me around the waist. I was thrown to the bitumen floor and pinned down.

And the plane's engine shifted into a higher gear, finally lifting its front paws and soaring into the air. A few hours to get to Los Angeles. And then a few more hours to get to Taiwan.

It would be quite a number of hours later before I was released from the airport confinement area. I would next taken to a police station, and then to a psychiatrist. And finally I would be retrieved by Rafael.

This was a week where Ray, Christian and I became exposed to our first dosage of our media incarnation. We had our faces plastered all over world newspapers. The world had begun to learn the story of the two children who watched as their parents were incinerated in a bomb blast. Victims of an American agenda gone wrong. They would watch as the parents of another, were convicted of conspiracy and sent into maximum security. But the readers of the world couldn't possibly begin to imagine the events of a cataclysmic year gone by that would forever change our lives.

Our plight had unwittingly become the spark for a conflict that had remained simmering below the surface for many years. It was an age old conflict, based on the one thing that history had tried unsuccessfully to overcome; our failure to accept people for who they were. We would disappear from the public consciousness for some time, under the guise of protecting our innocence, our childhood and our freedom.

But this would not be the last time we fronted the headlines.

Many years later I would reminisce on this moment and wonder how things may have changed if I'd actually succeeded in stopping Ray from leaving us. But the truth was that three kids had already caused the political wheels to be set in motion. The roundtables had been set up and leaders, ranging from the so-called free world, to the non-UN approved countries, and especially other lesser known organizations were already conjuring secret plans. The war in the future would involve many nations and from its ashes would rise new guerilla groups and rebel camps.

A rock star, a tennis player and a humanitarian would become the faces of a struggle for the new revolution. It would not have stopped a war, even if Ray had had taken the opportunity to step back off the plane. But now he was well and truly on his way to becoming the Che Guevara of his time.


More chapters posted at http://awawt.blogspot.com/2007/09/main.html