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False World
JJ Dare
The second book in the Joe Daniels' trilogy
continues where False Positive ends as Joe
continues his mission to destroy those who have
destroyed his life. As the world changes, Joe's
search for justice takes on a global urgency and he
races to find answers before deadly answers find
him. In this second installment of the Joe Daniels'
stories, the mystery and thrills are non-stop.
Beginning in a secluded town in the middle of
nowhere, it is not long before Joe is traveling
across the country and, ultimately, across a
collapsing world on his quest for vengeance.
The world is not what you see.
And neither is Joe.
JJ Dare
The second book in the Joe Daniels' trilogy
continues where False Positive ends as Joe
continues his mission to destroy those who have
destroyed his life. As the world changes, Joe's
search for justice takes on a global urgency and he
races to find answers before deadly answers find
him. In this second installment of the Joe Daniels'
stories, the mystery and thrills are non-stop.
Beginning in a secluded town in the middle of
nowhere, it is not long before Joe is traveling
across the country and, ultimately, across a
collapsing world on his quest for vengeance.
The world is not what you see.
And neither is Joe.
False World is one of those stories I couldn't stop
reading until I finished. The intrigue, adventure,
and non-stop action kept me riveted. While it starts
off in "Normal," it is anything but. The unexpected
twists made perfect sense when I looked back. The
action is so fast-paced, you don't want to leave it,
even for a second. Looking forward to the next
phase in the series.
--Stephan Hauer
One of a number of things I like about the Joe
Daniels' novels is the realism. Many of the fictional
situations are based on factual occurrences.
Combine them all together and you have a thriller
that will scare your pants off.
--M. B. Nathan
The author has a way with words. When I am
reading the novel, it is like being a "fly on the wall"
to private conversations and secret thoughts. The
language and nuance of the everyman is reflected
throughout the tale which makes the story touch a
very human chord. The reality of the novel is
disturbing when the world, as if on a bed of
shifting sand, collapses. Could this happen in the
future? Yes, it could. Will we, the human race, let it
happen? Probably, we will. Will there be someone
to save us? Hopefully, and, hopefully, it will be
someone as flawed and ferocious as Joe.
--James R. Belham
reading until I finished. The intrigue, adventure,
and non-stop action kept me riveted. While it starts
off in "Normal," it is anything but. The unexpected
twists made perfect sense when I looked back. The
action is so fast-paced, you don't want to leave it,
even for a second. Looking forward to the next
phase in the series.
--Stephan Hauer
One of a number of things I like about the Joe
Daniels' novels is the realism. Many of the fictional
situations are based on factual occurrences.
Combine them all together and you have a thriller
that will scare your pants off.
--M. B. Nathan
The author has a way with words. When I am
reading the novel, it is like being a "fly on the wall"
to private conversations and secret thoughts. The
language and nuance of the everyman is reflected
throughout the tale which makes the story touch a
very human chord. The reality of the novel is
disturbing when the world, as if on a bed of
shifting sand, collapses. Could this happen in the
future? Yes, it could. Will we, the human race, let it
happen? Probably, we will. Will there be someone
to save us? Hopefully, and, hopefully, it will be
someone as flawed and ferocious as Joe.
--James R. Belham
| Second Wind Publishing, LLC 931-B S. Main St., Box 145 Kernersville NC 27284 Copyright (c) 2008-2009 All Rights Reserved E-mail us |
To be captured again would have been the end of him. He knew that if they caught
him, he would be shackled and bound with absolutely no chance of freedom ever
again.
This thought gave him an extra burst of energy and helped put his aching ribs and
feet out of his mind.
Like wild banshees, Liz and Joe ran until they came to a small gravel road. Panting
and wheezing as they paused, Joe felt like his lungs were going to burst.
“Let’s go,” Liz gasped in between gulping for air. “We can’t stop.”
Trudging ahead, Liz turned and motioned Joe to keep up. Joe’s feet were killing him,
but the prospect of hanging around was worse.
As they came to the bottom of the hill, Liz quickly pulled the leafy covering off the
hidden non-descript pick-up truck. As they jumped in the front seat, Joe felt the
ground tremble slightly and saw the darkened Muveed town’s light come on for a
millisecond before parts of the place rocked with an explosion.
Joe looked at Liz and she looked back at him as she started the truck. “I left them a
little present.”
Liz was quickly turning into Joe’s kind of woman.
“Look in that bag by your feet. I put some clothes in there for you to change into.”
Liz grabbed two water bottles from under her seat. “Here,” she said, still panting
slightly from their run as she handed Joe the water.
Joe swallowed almost all of the water in one gulp. It cooled his parched and aching
throat, but at the same time, it burned like hell. Clearing his throat, Joe’s voice did
not sound as gravelly as it had fifteen minutes before.
“Thanks,” he croaked as Liz floored the accelerator.
He opened the bag by his feet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.
Suppressing a shudder, he remembered this was identical to what he had had on
when he had been arrested for the alleged murder of his alleged wife.
In the cramped front seat, somehow Joe managed to slip the jeans and shirt on
without giving Liz a full-monty show. He winced as he put socks and a pair of boots
on his shredded feet.
Liz noticed his quiet pain. “I’ll take care of your feet when we get to my safe house.
But, before we can go any further, there’s something I have to do,” she said as she
turned down a small paved road and stopped the truck.
Taking Joe’s left arm, Liz felt along the inside until she came to an almost
imperceptible bump. Pulling a sterile-sealed scalpel out of the glove compartment, she
made a tiny cut by the light of a flashlight she had handed Joe to hold.
“You know what this is, don’t you?”
Joe simply nodded. They had managed to plant a gol, a tiny tracking device,
underneath his skin.
“That’s the one I can see,” she said as she flicked it outside. “If they did the ingestible
one, there’s a way to short-circuit it, but I can’t do that here.”
Joe shook his head. “They’ll track me. If there’s any left, we’ve gotta get them out of
me now.”
“Can’t do it here,” Liz paused. “Unless you want me to hook your gonads up to the
truck battery.”
Joe shook his head again. “I’ll wait.”
Pulling back onto the road, the rebels put miles and miles between them and the
people who were coming after them.
Driving all night and day, they shared shifts at the wheel. Neither could sleep when
it was not their time to drive. They were both on high alert.
After hundreds of miles on the road, they finally pulled into Liz’s safe house. As Liz
unlocked the gate, Joe read a small, hand-carved inscription on one of the posts.
Templum Damno.
Sanctuary of the Damned.
him, he would be shackled and bound with absolutely no chance of freedom ever
again.
This thought gave him an extra burst of energy and helped put his aching ribs and
feet out of his mind.
Like wild banshees, Liz and Joe ran until they came to a small gravel road. Panting
and wheezing as they paused, Joe felt like his lungs were going to burst.
“Let’s go,” Liz gasped in between gulping for air. “We can’t stop.”
Trudging ahead, Liz turned and motioned Joe to keep up. Joe’s feet were killing him,
but the prospect of hanging around was worse.
As they came to the bottom of the hill, Liz quickly pulled the leafy covering off the
hidden non-descript pick-up truck. As they jumped in the front seat, Joe felt the
ground tremble slightly and saw the darkened Muveed town’s light come on for a
millisecond before parts of the place rocked with an explosion.
Joe looked at Liz and she looked back at him as she started the truck. “I left them a
little present.”
Liz was quickly turning into Joe’s kind of woman.
“Look in that bag by your feet. I put some clothes in there for you to change into.”
Liz grabbed two water bottles from under her seat. “Here,” she said, still panting
slightly from their run as she handed Joe the water.
Joe swallowed almost all of the water in one gulp. It cooled his parched and aching
throat, but at the same time, it burned like hell. Clearing his throat, Joe’s voice did
not sound as gravelly as it had fifteen minutes before.
“Thanks,” he croaked as Liz floored the accelerator.
He opened the bag by his feet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.
Suppressing a shudder, he remembered this was identical to what he had had on
when he had been arrested for the alleged murder of his alleged wife.
In the cramped front seat, somehow Joe managed to slip the jeans and shirt on
without giving Liz a full-monty show. He winced as he put socks and a pair of boots
on his shredded feet.
Liz noticed his quiet pain. “I’ll take care of your feet when we get to my safe house.
But, before we can go any further, there’s something I have to do,” she said as she
turned down a small paved road and stopped the truck.
Taking Joe’s left arm, Liz felt along the inside until she came to an almost
imperceptible bump. Pulling a sterile-sealed scalpel out of the glove compartment, she
made a tiny cut by the light of a flashlight she had handed Joe to hold.
“You know what this is, don’t you?”
Joe simply nodded. They had managed to plant a gol, a tiny tracking device,
underneath his skin.
“That’s the one I can see,” she said as she flicked it outside. “If they did the ingestible
one, there’s a way to short-circuit it, but I can’t do that here.”
Joe shook his head. “They’ll track me. If there’s any left, we’ve gotta get them out of
me now.”
“Can’t do it here,” Liz paused. “Unless you want me to hook your gonads up to the
truck battery.”
Joe shook his head again. “I’ll wait.”
Pulling back onto the road, the rebels put miles and miles between them and the
people who were coming after them.
Driving all night and day, they shared shifts at the wheel. Neither could sleep when
it was not their time to drive. They were both on high alert.
After hundreds of miles on the road, they finally pulled into Liz’s safe house. As Liz
unlocked the gate, Joe read a small, hand-carved inscription on one of the posts.
Templum Damno.
Sanctuary of the Damned.