Robot Viking has an excerpt of Delta Green: Through a Glass, Darkly, the novel of modern-day horror and conspiracy by Dennis Detwiller that’s now in its last few days of fundraising.
Adolph Lepus spat into the ashes and considered the ruins of room 311. Poe had been here, all right. Every piece of furniture in the room was either shattered by an explosion or so pock-marked with submachine gun bullet holes that it was completely destroyed. Nothing, not even the floor beneath the scorched rug, was left intact. The window was blown out onto the walkway. A mirror had exploded on the mantle and was spread about the singed rug in a million glittering pieces. The bureau on which the mirror once sat was a wet hunk of shattered wood, all splintered edges and black soot. It looked like someone had stuffed it full of black powder, lit the fuse and stepped back to enjoy the show.
The wall next to the bureau was studded with over forty black bullet holes―just that one wall. Every other area in the room was also pierced dozens of times. An end table had been thrown against a wall so hard that no single piece was more than six inches long. The front door had blown inward and a chain lock from that door had been found embedded in the wall eight feet away.
One hundred and fifteen 10mm rounds were recovered at the scene by the police, including four from two of their own men―the general consensus was that there were more rounds laying about, waiting to be found. One had been located over a quarter mile away in a tree across the highway, reported by a person standing at the bus stop nearby when it hit. An MP5/10SSD in full automatic mode was the main culprit. Silenced, suppressed. Poe had changed nothing about his modus operandi except to upgrade his weaponry. The last time they had clashed, the old man had been humping it with an MP5 in the usual 9mm; Lepus knew because that time, they had pulled slugs from two of his men’s heads.
Poe had been using anti-personnel grenades. He didn’t need a report in the field to know they were M61’s, Vietnam vintage. How could he forget? It was how Lepus had lost his teeth.
A clear picture of Donald Poe, sweaty and crazed, smiling a madman’s smile. A feeling of helplessness, the taste of metal in his mouth.
“You say nothing, Lepus. You say nothing. You say nothing or the birds will be picking you out of the grass for weeks.”
Click here to read more. And click here to reserve your copy of the limited hardback edition of Through a Glass, Darkly (with a free ebook copy) and help make sure it happens!