Today we are having a chapter reveal for CALL SIGN KARMA by author Jamie Rae. This book is available now and some teasers are below.
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Chapter One
There was
zero chance of survival—for either of us.
The
thought caused my insides to twist as I stood, paralyzed staring at the blazing
inferno. I watched in shocked horror from the window of the control tower as
the jetfueled flames fed on his body, still strapped inside of the cockpit.
Tonight
the distant flames were from a bonfire that danced happily in celebration of a
holiday, but their flames were close enough to ignite the memories. Memories
that still fueled my nightmares. A familiar chill skated down my spine.
I slammed
down the beer bottle on the table next to me and looked away from the flames.
Sweet honey lager splashed out and onto the cover of my tablet that sat on the edge
of the table.
The tablet
called to me. I couldn’t help but reach for it, my shaking hand nearly knocked
over the beer bottles that surrounded it. My index finger hovered over the screen.
The damn arrow glowed as if challenging me to touch it.
Go ahead Tink, watch me one more time.
I
swallowed the boulder-sized lump in the back of my throat as I accepted the dare.
My finger tapped the start button and instantly dropped me in the middle of the
nightmare that had consumed and wrecked my life.
"Altitude.
Altitude. Pull up. Pull up." The unemotional, mechanical female voice of
the jet’s warning system rang out.
Her words
rattled in my head like a pinball looking for its escape. I studied the altimeter
screaming toward two thousand feet.
"Pull
up," her empty voice commanded. Each time she repeated those words, my stomach
lurched. That voice, that command, still haunted me.
I squeezed
my eyes closed unable to stop from reliving that day in the tower and how her
robotic tone had sent everyone into a panic. I stood frozen, unable to do a
damn thing as the jet continued its nosedive.
My own
weight crushed me as if I were being pushed down by the forces of a hard turn
in the cockpit. I gasped for oxygen, my lungs rebelling as the image of the jet
pitched down. I began counting between breaths to keep from passing out the way
they had taught us in pilot training.
Three.
The sound
of calm breaths from video filled the air. The ground rushed closer as the jet
blitzed toward fifteen hundred feet.
"Pull
up," the voice repeated. "Pull up."
Two.
I leaned
forward and my lips parted as if I were going to retch, but nothing spilled out.
I forced each breath to prevent me from blacking out like Colin. His calm,
sleeplike breaths seeped from the tablet’s speakers, haunting me in its
wavelike rhythm. I held the tablet tight in my hands. The breaths were the last
sound that I’d ever hear from him.
"Pull
up! Pull up!"
A giant
green arrow flashed across the video. It acted as a forewarning of the jet’s impending
impact. My entire body shuddered as adrenaline thrust through my veins.
I wanted
to choke the aloofness from her tone. To the jet’s warning system it was just
another jet. To me, it was my world coming to an end. She may as well have
tacked the word ‘idiot’ onto her feeble attempt of a warning.
The
military Humvees scrambled on the screen like cockroaches escaping the light. I
was paralyzed. I couldn’t do anything to prevent it from happening then. Why
did
I still hope I could
stop it now?
"Pull
up!"
I closed
my eyes.
It was too
late.
"Pull
up!"
One.
I opened
my eyes. The ground rush on the display was exactly how they described it in
pilot training; the world blossomed as earth ripped through to meet you in the cockpit.
Her vacant
voice instructing him to pull up was the last thing to ring out right before my
life shattered. Everything exploded into a bright blinding haze on the screen with
a blaring detonation. The blood cooled in my veins.
I flipped
the tablet cover and traced my still trembling finger along the lines of the worn
material. I had stolen the video from my father’s files the night after the
funeral. I had watched it a thousand times, each time reliving the horrors of
that day.
But
tonight, once was enough.
Tonight, I
had to figure out how the hell I was going to climb into the cockpit and fly
the jet that killed my brother.
* * * *
The annual
Fourth of July fireworks filled the sky right on cue. Red sparks showered down
as the blue lights twirled across the backdrop of an onyx sky. It used to be
our favorite family tradition.
A wave of
guilt washed over me then pooled deep in the pit of my belly. How was it fair
that I was standing here watching the fireworks, while Colin was buried six
feet deep?
The
reflection of the flashing lights off the ocean blinded me. High pitched screams
and loud blasts shook the windows behind me as I leaned on the banister of my deck,
watching the show, alone.
The silver
ones that whistled were Colin’s favorite.
My heart
pounded at the thought of my tenderhearted brother. I squeezed my eyes tightly
together to try to force out tears, but nothing fell. Not a single drop. I had
cried so much that I had become numb to the pain.
My phone
vibrated in my back pocket, interrupting the fireworks display. The ringtone of
magical chimes followed. I sighed loudly—this was not a call I wanted to take.
Ignoring
my mom wouldn’t make her go away. It would only make her more determined. It
was like she had a beacon implanted in my brain to know when I was thinking
about my Colin’s accident. I pulled my phone from the back pocket of my cutoff jeans
and growled.
Pink 1 flashed across the screen.
My thumb
hovered over the ‘Off’ button, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it.
She would
know that I had dismissed her call. My mother knew everything, except when I
didn’t want to talk, or maybe she knew, but that still wouldn’t stop her until
she ‘heard my voice’. It had gotten even worse since Colin’s death.
A chime
alerted the arrival of a new text message.
I forced
myself to look at the screen and read the words—
He loved you.
I let out
a long drawn out breath. Her words were always the same.
I picked
up the bottle of sweet brown lager and gulped it. All of it. I reached for another.
I twisted off the lid, and spun the tiny metal cap across the deck.
I wanted
to feel Colin’s pain and grief for a life he’d never have. But I couldn’t shed
any more tears. I was empty. Broken. There was nothing left of me. The only
thing that kept me putting one foot in front of the other was the determination
to prove that his death was not due to pilot error. I would prove it, or die
trying.
The phone
buzzed again.
Pink 1.
I
swallowed another drink before I surrendered and answered the call. "Hey,
Mom." I said, my
voice higher than usual in a failed attempt to mask my misery.
"You
okay?" she asked with her usual cautious tone.
"Yeah,
I’m great. I’m heading to Krusty’s for dinner," I lied. "Can I call
you tomorrow?"
"I
wanted to hear your voice, sweetie, and wish you luck."
Luck? I
needed a helluva lot more than luck. Tomorrow, I started training to fly the
jet that cremated my brother.
"Thanks,
I’m excited," I said as another lie slipped off my tongue.
It was
becoming easier to fib to my mother. They just popped out one after another. I
was never dishonest as a child, but now it felt like I never told anyone the
truth.
"I’m
looking forward to getting started." The words sounded sweet, but I’d need
another lager to wash out the bitter taste. So much for being a pillar of
honesty.
"Oh,
Tinklee, you are such a liar," my mother said. "I know you’re
nervous. Who wouldn’t be? I’ll be there, in spirit, and so will he."
Her voice
was warm and tender, as if she were smiling through her tears. She sniffled
loudly. She was okay with her tears.
"Okay,
I’m losing the connection. I gotta go."
"I
can tell you don’t want to talk so I won’t keep you. I’ll see you soon. And remember
sweetie, keep your circle—"
"Stop
Mom, I’m twenty-two, enough with the positive affirmations."
She
ignored my plea, "If you keep your circle positive, you’ll attract good
Karma."
I rolled
my eyes and held back a sigh out of respect to the woman who spent thirty-six
hours in labor for me.
"Besides,
age doesn’t matter. I love you, baby girl. You’ll always be my little Tinklee,"
she said. Her voice danced when she emphasized ‘little’ and ‘Tinklee.’
I couldn’t
help but cringe. She’d screwed me with that one.
A
blond-haired, blue-eyed fighter pilot trying to make it in a man’s world
couldn’t be taken seriously with the name Tinklee Pinkerton.
Good
job, Mom. You rock.
Author Information
JAMIE RAE is a New Adult and Young Adult author. She writes with one goal in mind--create stories with a positive message that will stay with the reader long after they've finished reading.
Jamie is an avid reader and loves discovering stories with a great hook, though she will not eat, sleep, or speak until she reaches the end. The Harry Potter years weren't pretty!! Convinced that her Hogwarts letter was lost in the mail, she keeps a watchful eye for owls hoping her children will have better luck!
In her other life, Jamie Rae is an orthodontist, and literary agent. She keeps her heart overflowing with love as a mother of three and has perfected the art of nomadic living as a military spouse and Air Force veteran. Jamie has a passion for critters of all shapes and sizes and you can often find her sneaking them into her own home or volunteering for rescues.
AUTHOR LINKS:
Website: https://www.jamieraewrites.com/
Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/JamieRaeAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JamieRaeWrites
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