DARK EARTH

​The first book of The Dark Earth Trilogy.

When a solar storm destroys all of modern technology, new lovers Nick and Leni are stranded thousands of miles apart. They journey separately through an increasingly dangerous and hostile world, hoping to find each other again at Nick's cabin in Nelson, British Columbia. Leni, trekking north from Colorado, joins forces with Jim, a stranger with a tragic past. Nick heads west across Canada, becoming guardian to an orphaned boy, and finding an unlikely ally in a motorcycle gang. However, more than a reunion awaits them in Nelson. Hank Sokoloff, Nick's nemesis from the past, has commandeered all of the supplies and enslaved the locals to his will, jeopardizing the town's very survival.

SAMPLE CHAPTER:

(Caution: VERY mature language!)

​The biker took another step forward, his huge fists knotted. His friends formed a semi-circle around Nick, blocking him in. "Just give us the bike and we might let you out of here without any scars."
​     The frustration that Nick had struggled to control boiled over, filling his body with a volatile mix of adrenalin and rage. He also took a step forward. "What the hell? No. You can't have it. Fuck off!" A small voice of reason in Nick's head whispered for him to retreat, but was drowned out by the furious buzz of hot blood pounding in his skull.
​     The tall biker blinked. One of his compatriots pulled a club from his back pocket. On the end of the club was a chain, which he began to spin. The evil noise infuriated Nick further. He looked at his rusty Honda, and then back at the gang. "How fucking pathetic," he spat. "You scary biker boys want this piece of shit? Really? Next thing, you'll be stealing mopeds from teenaged girls."
​     An ugly biker with a ratty Fu Manchu started for Nick, but the leader threw out an arm, holding him back. Nick knew he was going to be beaten within an inch of his life, but still the anger spewed out of him. He scanned the group. "What, do you guys choreograph your 'menacing stance'?" he snarled. "Tall ones in the middle, little ones on the end? Very aesthetically pleasing, I gotta say."
​     The scarred man stared at him, his eyes seething. No one moved. Slowly, the corners of his mouth turned up. He grinned. Then he began to laugh. The sound echoed off the stone walls as the other gang members looked at each other, confused. Their boss was now bent double, holding his stomach as he roared. Gradually, they started chuckling. One of them, a bald man with a huge belly, elbowed the ugly one in the ribs. "You'd look awful pretty on one of them mopeds, Red Dog."
     "Piss off, Jackson," said the other man, grinning.
     The lead biker finally reined in his laughter, wiping tears of hilarity from his eyes. "You got some steel ones, my man. They clank when you walk?" He thrust a large tattooed hand toward Nick. "Name's Rooster."
​     Nick was stunned. Hesitantly, he shook Rooster's hand. "I'm Nick. Hell of a way to meet you." The anger had drained from his body, leaving him shaky. He tried not to show it as the rest of the gang introduced themselves.
​     "What you doin' here?" Rooster asked, throwing a heavy arm around Nick's shoulders. "Everyone else is gettin' the hell outta town, but you, you're headin' in."
     Nick gave a small laugh. "I've got a leak in the tube of that crappy bike you wanted to steal. Just trying to find a patch kit or a new tube."
​     Rooster looked down at him with a wide smile, his teeth crooked but white. "Hell, we can help you out with that," he said. "And sorry 'bout the bike, man, but we're a little short on wheels. The newer ones crapped out on us during the solar flare." He pointed to the truck's open door, where his men had been unloading boxes. "Tell ya what. You help us with a delivery, and we'll get you back on the road."
​     Nick saw the cartons were stamped with food labels. The bikers were strapping them to their motorcycles. Just then, another gang member pulled up, a small trailer hitched to the back of his Harley. "Holy shit, it's a bitch getting through traffic with this goddamn thing," he said, and then noticed Nick. "Who's this?"
​     Rooster introduced Gunner to Nick, and told Gunner the story of their standoff. The new arrival hooted with laughter, his grizzled beard shaking, and he pounded Nick on the back. "Way to go, man!"
​     Nick helped the men load the trailer. After he again put air in his tire, they tied three cartons to the back of the Honda. "Where're we taking these?" he asked Red Dog, hoping it wouldn't be too far. He didn't think the tire would last more than a few miles.
​     "Goin' into Old Town," Red Dog said. "We been helpin' out our Quebec chapter on a project when all this solar shit came down." He tied the last box onto his own bike, and got on. "You comin', Ghost?" he yelled to a cadaverous man with acne scars.
​     Ghost ambled over. "Hey, how 'bout you ride bitch this time?" he said in a foghorn voice.
     "My bike, my throttle," Red Dog said stoically.
​     "Asshole," Ghost muttered as he mounted the pillion seat, bending his long legs awkwardly onto the pegs. Nick got on the Honda, checking the balance with the extra load. It seemed stable. Starting the engine, he pulled out in trail of the gang, bemused as to how he had gotten into this.
​     The motorcycle convoy traveled quickly through the warehouse district, following a labyrinthine path that avoided most of the clogged roads. Smoke filled Nick's lungs and ash stung his eyes as they passed the fire at the shipyards. Arriving at the base of the wall that surrounded Old Town, they roared up a steep lane and entered the narrow maze of cobblestone streets. Nick could feel the tire getting low again. Fortunately, it was just a few minutes before the bikers pulled up behind one of the ancient beige buildings of the Urseline Convent.
​     A door opened, and out stepped a tiny woman, her gray hair cut simply and reading glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. "Bonjour, my friends," she said in French-accented English, a welcoming smile on her lined face. "You are right on time."
​     Rooster had dismounted and now towered over the woman. Taking her hands gently, he said, "Of course, Sister Camille. We promised we would." Two other women came out the door, both plainly dressed. They greeted the men warmly and started taking the boxes the gang unloaded, toting them inside. Nick unstrapped his own load, bringing over a carton.
​     Sister Camille eyed him with curiosity. "You do not look like one of these frightening motorcycle men," she said in a lilting voice. She laughed, indicating the gang with a toss of her head. "They act like bad men, but really, they're very good. How is it that you ride with them?"
​     "Well, it's a long story, Sister," Nick said, charmed by the woman's gentle interest. "But to keep it simple, we just met, and they're gonna help me with my bike so I can get back to British Columbia."
​     "Ah, that is where they come from too," she said. Her eyes became solemn. "We have many young students here at the convent, and the local Lucifer's Horsemen offer us much assistance, despite their absurd name. We depend on the charity of the faithful to survive. It is especially important now. A lot of the girls are . . . abandoned here? No, that is not the word. They are having to stay because their parents cannot get into the city." Although Sister Camille's words were worried, her face remained serene. Peering up at Nick, she asked, "You will go with these men to Vancouver now?"
     Nick pondered this. "I don't know," he said. "I'm riding with another person, so it depends on when they're leaving."
     "If you do, you will have good company. I will say a prayer for your safe journey." The small woman turned away to direct the rest of the unloading.
     Nick stood back, watching the respectful way the rough motorcycle gang interacted with the nuns. He was still off-balance from the altercation and rapprochement earlier, and everything seemed unreal. Shaking his head slightly, he smiled. I wish Leni was here to see this, he thought. ​She told me once she'd been too naïve and trusting of people, but this might've restored her faith in humanity.

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