As promised, here's the prologue of my latest novel, No Escape. Sample chapters to follow over the next few days.
By Anthony Izzo
Captain Ernie Nevitz didn’t like the assignment and wanted to drop his cargo as soon as possible. His wife, Felicia, was due to pop with their third child and he’d been out of contact her while on this ship. Due to the nature of the assignment, the crew hadn’t been allowed contact with family. The Navy had recruited him because he knew how to keep his mouth shut; he did his job and didn’t question the brass.
As the ship drifted down the St. Lawrence River, Nevitz thought of having a girl this time. He loved his two boys, but he couldn’t help thinking of the Barbie jeep he’d bought for his unborn daughter. She’d grow into it and he hoped Felicia wouldn’t be too pissed about it.
There was a storm coming in. The latest forecast had them hitting it in less than half-an-hour. The steel gray clouds and choppy water told him they were going to get it hard. The first rumble of thunder echoed a moment later.
Nevitz’s second in command, an angular, hawk-faced guy named Gill, stepped beside him. Gill’s expansive, wrinkled forehead twisted his features into a frown. Man his age shouldn’t have that many wrinkles, Nevitz thought.
“Gill,” Nevitz said. “What’s the good word?”
“Sir, problem with the containment hold.”
Nevitz glanced at him, and in the glow of the bridge’s instruments, Gill looked like a specter.
“What type of problem?”
“An error message. Our tech people are working on it.”
“If they can’t fix it?”
“There could be a breach.”
“There could be a breach.”
“Go full arms. How many men on the door?”
“Triple it. But don’t cause a panic.” They had Marines on board in the event of something like this.
“Aye Aye sir.”
Gill took off, his long strides somehow reminding Nevitz of an ostrich. Not ten minutes after Gill left, an alarm wailed. “Goddammit, this had better be an error.”
Nevitz headed below deck to the containment room, unsnapping his holster along the way. His Colt automatic was ready – just in case.
Entering the containment control room, he squinted at the white light that seemed to stab his eyes. Once his eyesight adjusted, he went to a computer monitor, where Gill stood over the shoulder of a seated soldier.
“Gill, what is this? Am I going to miss by baby girl’s birth?”
“Sir, they’re out.”
Nevitz felt his blood temperature drop. “Tell me the door’s still in tact.”
“That’s failed, too.”
Automatic weapons barked from down the corridor and Nevitz knew they were in trouble.
Nevitz took out his Colt automatic. Gill and the two other sailors in the room grabbed Colt AR-15s from a specially installed rack on the wall. Because of their cargo, nearly every part of the ship had been outfitted to store hardware.
Screams echoed in the hallway. One of them high and wet sounding.
“Gill, open the hatch.”
“We’re trapped rats in here. We’re going to fight our way out and get to the bridge.”
Gill put his hand on the hatch’s wheel. The other men crouched, ready to open fire.
Nevitz nodded, and Gill swung the steel hatch open.
Based on the carnage he saw, the captain knew two things: he would never see his wife again, and he was going to die horribly.