The Wrath of Leviathan by T.C. Weber - Book Tour + Giveaway
Science Fiction (Cyberpunk) / Thriller
Date Published: September 1, 2018
Publisher: See Sharp Press
In Wrath of Leviathan, the second book of the BetterWorld trilogy, Waylee faces life in prison for daring to expose MediaCorp's schemes to control the world. Exiled in São Paulo, her sister Kiyoko and their hacker friends continue the fight, seeking to end the conglomerate's stranglehold on virtual reality, information, and politics. But MediaCorp and their government allies may quash the rebellion before it takes off. And unknown to Kiyoko and her friends, a team of ruthless mercenaries is after them and is closing in fast.
Excerpt
Excerpt
As
soon as they exited the hotel, Kiyoko pulled out her comlink and tried to reach
Pel and Charles via Crypt-O-Chat. They weren’t online. She left a message: Beware Inspector De Barros - Working with kidnappers!
She
wished her sister was here. Waylee always knew what to do, and wasn’t afraid
all the time.
Gabriel
hailed a taxi and they returned to Liberdade. Hungry, they stopped for lunch at
the Ichiban Bakery. It was a small place, mostly for takeout, crowded with
glass-encased shelves and refrigerators full of cakes, pastries, and sandwiches.
The smell of fresh-baked buns made her mouth water. A young Japanese-looking
couple sat at one of the four tables, eating matcha cookies and speaking in
Portuguese.
Kiyoko
and Gabriel ordered thick slices of torta de frango and glasses of juice. He
paid—Kiyoko was broke. “I should sell some things,” she said. “You shouldn’t
have to pay for me, especially now that you’re on vacation and not getting
reimbursed.”
He
held up a hand. “I am happy to buy anything you need.”
They
sat at the furthest of the two empty tables to the right of the door. Gabriel
slid his chair so his back wasn’t to the entrance. “I like to see my
surroundings,” he said.
“Do
you think we’ll have more trouble?” At least they had that adaptive fiber armor
beneath their shirts.
“I’m
never getting caught unprepared again.” He ate a forkful of torta.
“I’m
getting a cupcake afterward,” Kiyoko said.
Gabriel
blinked. “I don’t know how you eat so much and stay so thin.”
“Super
energy. Waylee’s the same way.” She had a bite of torta. The chicken and
vegetables were flavored with garlic and tomato. She lowered her voice. “How
can we find out more about this John Hill guy?”
Gabriel
put his fork down and leaned forward, speaking quietly. “I thought you were
going to run an image search on the Comnet.”
“That
was if we got a photo. Without it, we’d get millions of matches. We don’t even
know for sure he’s American.”
He
nodded. “I am not trained as a detective.”
The
bell on the bakery door jingled. A man in jeans and a leather coat entered. He
wore a rigid plastic mask of some man she didn’t recognize. Kiyoko almost peed
herself. “Gabriel!”
Another
masked man followed the first, then two masked women.
If
I cower, we’ll die, she thought. An
invisibility spell would be ideal. Kiyoko reached into her carry bag and pulled
out her smoke grenade.
The
masked people whipped out pistols and submachine guns. Gabriel reached inside
his outer shirt for his guns. He didn’t have his data glasses on.
Kiyoko
pulled the pin of the smoke grenade and pointed it at the attackers. White
smoke billowed out. She waved it, forming a dense cloud that stank of sulfur,
burning metal, and chlorine.
The
attackers fired, an onslaught of loud bangs. Something hard hit her in the
collarbone, followed by another. A bullet whizzed past her head. People
screamed. Gabriel grunted and shot back, loud rapid bangs.
The
smoke grenade, still belching white, got too hot to hold. Kiyoko chucked it at
the attackers and dove beneath the table.
The
attackers’ masks had eye and nostril holes. Kiyoko pulled out her pepper spray
gun and fired at the four shapes in the smoke, spraying from right to left at
face height. The attackers screamed.
Gabriel
kicked his chair at them, ran, dodged, fired on the move. Noise battered
Kiyoko’s ears—rapid bangs from the attackers’ guns, thuds against the table,
crashing glass all around.
Kiyoko
kept spraying. She couldn’t see the attackers now through the foul smoke and
tears in her eyes. Something hit her right arm just above the elbow. It burned
like a blowtorch.
One
of the attackers dropped, then another, although it was hard to be sure. Kiyoko
ran out of pepper spray and pulled out her stun gun. It was impossible to see
through the white smoke, though. She didn’t want to hit Gabriel.
The
shooting stopped. Kiyoko glanced at her arm. Blood streamed from a hole in the
blouse sleeve. Just below the armor, bad luck.
About the Author
T. C. Weber has pursued writing and music since childhood, and learned filmmaking and screenwriting in college, along with a little bit of physics. Trapped at home during the "Snowmageddon" of 2010, he transformed those interests into novel writing. His first published book, Sleep State Interrupt, was a Compton Crook Finalist for best debut speculative fiction novel. By day, Mr. Weber works as an ecologist and has had a number of scientific papers and book chapters published. He lives in Annapolis, Maryland with his wife Karen. He enjoys traveling and has visited all seven continents.
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