Thursday, July 16, 2020

This Week's Excerpt - The Gray Men Trilogy

I wrote The Gray Men trilogy in 2015. It's an action-filled thriller with supernatural elements. Today's excerpt is from the first book, Storm Rising. The entire trilogy can be purchased here in one volume. The individual books are also for sale.

Also available at Amazon


Chaos.

Pain. 

Death.

The Gray Men have lived among us for centuries. They exist to cause suffering. Now they’ve gathered to strike again, controlling the minds of ordinary citizens and turning them into vicious killers.

For years, The Guild has resisted the Gray Men. Their agents have been waiting for the Gray Men to appear once again. John Marshall is one of these agents. Armed and trained by the Guild, he discovers the Gray Men are gathering followers and preparing to wipe out anyone not on their side.

An explosion set off by followers of the Gray Men begins a chain of violent attacks in John's hometown. John realizes that nowhere is safe as the Gray Men and their followers spread panic and death like a contagious disease. 

John takes his family and goes on the run. As society begins to break down, John must keep his family safe while carrying out his mission to fight the Gray Men.


Storm Rising

Copyright 2015 Anthony Izzo


They had come to kill her. Trina was sure of that. She stole glances in the rearview mirror. The drive-in speaker blared fuzz in her ear. On screen, Liam Neeson chopped a terrorist in the side of the neck. The last night of the season at one of the last remaining drive-ins in the state. A little relaxation is what she'd hoped for. Now she had to deal with the killers. 

Not that she wasn't ready for them; she had a Sig Sauer P220 in the glove box and a pistol grip shotgun under a blanket in the back seat. Not to mention two K-Bar knives strapped on her person. She reached over, popped the glove box, and took out the Sig. She set it on her lap. On screen, Neeson was blasting two guys to hell; she liked his style. 

They'd trailed her here in a black Ram pick-up. Hadn't done a great job of it, as she'd spotted them a quarter mile back, matching her moves. Now they were parked two cars behind her, at least two of them that she could see sitting in the cab of the Ram. They were Larsen's men, of that she was sure. What she didn't know was how they'd caught her scent; it didn't matter now. She'd have to deal with them.

The bad thing about these fucks was that they didn't care. A public place meant nothing to them. They'd shoot you up in a day care center. It didn't matter as long as they found the target. Larsen wanted her dead. She'd almost caught up to him near Albany, but he'd slipped away. Now he'd set his dogs on her. 
She peeked in the rearview mirror. On the second screen behind her, they were showing some animated flick. There would be a lot of kids. Trina basically thought kids were booger and fart machines, but she didn't want to see any of them dead. When the men came for her, she'd have to draw them away somehow. 

She glanced at the Subaru parked next to her. The young couple inside were locked up in a make-out session. The guy had a hand under his girl's tank top. At least someone was enjoying the drive-in right now. 

She looked in the rearview. They were still watching the movie, both of them wearing sunglasses.
Subtle, fellas. Why not just throw on some black trench coats, too?

It was about to go down. Time to move. 


Trina stepped out of the Acura. She shut the door. Her Sig Sauer was in a shoulder rig under her jacket.

It was warm for early October. Seventy degrees at this time of night. A lukewarm breeze blew across her face. She started down the first row of cars. The snack stand, with its giant neon hamburger sign, stood a few hundred feet from the screens. Beyond that was a white stucco building that housed the restrooms. 

That would be the place to go. 
She glanced sidelong at the truck and saw them step out. There were three in all. A big bald guy with the sleeves cut off his flannel, a lanky guy with motor-oil slick hair and aviator shades, and a woman shaped roughly like a tennis ball on toothpicks. 

She crossed the road that bisected the drive-in and passed the snack stand. The greasy smell of movie popcorn drifted from the stand. It made her stomach rumble. 

They would be about fifty feet behind her. She risked another glance, concerned about giving herself away. The trio walked side-by-side. 

The bathroom was lit by sodium vapor lights. Even in early fall, moths fluttered in the lights.  The crowd had gathered around the snack stand, leaving the bathroom empty. 

Trina went into the ladies room, took out the Sig. She ducked and checked the stalls for feet. It was unoccupied, so she took the first stall and climbed onto the seat, balancing her boots on the seat in a squat.

She waited.





 

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