Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

I am a hunted man.

Pause.  Rewind.  Zzeorrrrwrt!  (That’s my rewinding noise; don’t judge)

I’m at the gym, hitting deep in the pocket with each squat, activating those ham-hock muscles that molesty soccer moms love to grab and claw.  I rack the bar, and I hear a chorus of screams outside the building.  I run over to a window.  A smoking helicopter spins across the horizon, a desperate soldier clinging to one of its skids.  As it spirals into the ground and erupts into a giant fireball I flinch back, covering my eyes with a raised forearm.

What the ballsack is happ—

Someone turns on the TV.  A panicked anchorwoman is blubbering news through mascara-mingled tears.

“—tlanta, Hong Kong, London, and—”  She raises a hand and touches her right earbud, her eyes flicking to-and-fro.  She looks back at the camera.  “I’ve just received word that Washington D.C. has failed to repel a massive assault.  Beta-males have—” she shrieks in terror, and a chinless, testosterone-free face snarls into the camera.  The screen changes to technicolor bars underscored by a “PLEASE STAND BY.”

Beta-males.

FUCK.

People start murmuring, hunched in that particular manner that people adopt when they know they’re targets but can’t see their enemy.  I’m backing up as well, and I grab a preacher-curl bar, scanning the area and trying to—

The lights go out.

I hear crumbling drywall and a ferocious hiss.  I spin toward it—in the dim light I see arms bust through a wall and grab a bro, pulling him into a dark abyss.  To my left, a soccer mom screams as she’s yanked off her feet and dragged into a broom closet.  Ceiling panels burst open, and a horde of beta-males drop down onto two chicks and a dude, entangling them in a mess of pasty, untoned limbs—it’s like watching a flood of human diarrhea.

I sprint for the door, blattering a beta-male with my curl-bar.  It’s no use—my escape is cut off by a snarling mob of thin-dicked dorkbags.

I hold the curl bar up, backing slowly away.  Grunts and slobbers sound from behind me.  I spin around, and I realize I’m done for.

I’m fucking surrounded.

“What do you want?”  I try to keep my voice from shaking, can’t quite manage it.

One of them says in a nasal, questioning voice:  “Um, to make you one of us?  There are benefits you can’t conceive of?”

(Everything phrased as a question, even though these fuck-mallets are full-grown men.  Not surprising)

“I’m not a musclehead,” I reply.  “I’m a Daywalker—I can pass as a jock, but I’m a nerd at heart.  I know the difference between chaotic evil and lawful neutral.  I can deliver a detailed analysis on the difference between comic books pre comics code authority…and after.  For Christ’s sake, I’ve rolled twenty-sided dice and understand what it means when people say To Hit Armor Class 0!  You don’t have to—”

The lead beta-male points at me.  “Um, I can clearly see the lines between your biceps, shoulder, and triceps?  Your torso forms a v-shape?  I don’t see a reason to spare you?”

“No—that stuff is superficial!” I’m sweating and shaking.  My voice trembles with desperation.  “I’m telling you, don’t—”

And then by some freak twist of chance, my cock flops out of its harness and pokes through my shorts.  The head dangles by my knee like a limp snake.

A voice from the mob yells, “HE’S HUNG LIKE A TYRANNOSAURUS!  KILL HIS ASS!”

I start swinging the curl-bar, smashing skulls and blowing out knees.  I thrust it into a beta-male’s mouth, pushing forward and forcing it out the other end of his head.  I grab a barbell off the squat rack and hold it before me, using it as a barrier to push a bunch of them back like a pack of zombies.

“RAAAAAAHHH!!!!”

Only one option left.  I reach into my pocket and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

A flash-bang arcs through the air, clunking across the floor and landing by my feet.

BOOM!

My vision is filled with a white wash of color, and I try in vain to blink it away.  My hearing’s shot; all I can hear is a steady EEEEEEE which fades into stutters of disciplined rifle fire.  As I regain my senses, I become dimly aware that beta-males are dropping by the handful. 

An angry woman screams, “HURRY UP AND GRAB HIM!  GIVE ME AN EGRESS!”

The fire picks up, and I see beta-males twisting and dying from well-placed shots.  Someone slings me over her shoulder and I see a quartet of gunwomen surround us in a diamond-shaped formation.  They cut a path to the front of the gym, then dash into the streets.  I’m stuffed into the back of a black SUV.  The team of beautiful soccer moms slip in and slam the doors shut.

“Thank you,” I gasp.  “I was about to—”

“Shut your mouth, whore,” the driver snaps.  “You speak when you’re spoken to.  Be prepared to be used like a cheap Costco pie crust.”

Never in my life have I been this happy.

The adventures of Man Whore Kent Wayne continue!  😀

 

Are you being persecuted by a backlash of aggro beta-folks?  Individually weak but horrifyingly strong as a collective?  Never fear!  Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here:  Vol. 1 on Kindle.  Vol. 2 on Kindle here:  Vol.2 on Kindle  Vol. 3 on Kindle here:  Vol. 3 on Kindle  Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here:  Combined Edition  #kindle #kindleunlimited #sciencefiction #scifi #books #novel #book

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