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    TROUBLE - A Justin Seaborne Duology
    TROUBLE - A Justin Seaborne Duology
    TROUBLE - A Justin Seaborne Duology
    Ebook109 pages1 hour

    TROUBLE - A Justin Seaborne Duology

    By Bruce Gaughran

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    About this ebook

    Novella - Justin Seaborne is a good man. He is also a troubled man because he lost his way. Complicating the situation is a past that haunts him every day. 

    "The Omega Factor" 
    Justin is going through another personal meltdown. When an international crisis occurs in a little Maine community, Justin, a nuclear physicist, is needed to help mitigate the pending catastrophe. With disaster looming for the Northeastern seaboard, can he shed old ghosts, and with them, the albatross hanging around his neck? 

    "Special K is not a Cereal" 
    Justin wakes up in an alley reeking of booze. When the police arrest him for the murder of two close friends, no one believes in his innocence. The evidence is overwhelming. How can he prove his innocence if he doesn't remember what happened?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBruce Gaughran
    Release dateFeb 20, 2019
    ISBN9781386890560
    TROUBLE - A Justin Seaborne Duology
    Author

    Bruce Gaughran

    Who is Bruce Gaughran? A. "River Rat" B. Retired business professional with too much time on his hands C. 'Survivor' of SERE training D. Published author who has written  fiction and non-fiction stories for over twenty years E. All of the above (and so much more) If you answered 'All of the Above', you are correct. And each is a story waiting to be told. Bruce Gaughran has published "2074", a SciFi novel, and "Staff of Rhah", a Fantasy novel: > "Brown Water Red Blood" - a novella - is a four short stories and one poem of his experiences as a member of the Mobile Riverine Force in the Mekong Delta Region of the Republic of Vietnam plus four other stories related to the 60s and 70s. > "TROUBLE" - a novella - is a Justin Seaborne Duology. TROUBLE has been adapted for the stage and was performed on February 11-14, 2016 by the Marshall Area Stage Company. Published short stories and poetry include: > Living and Dying at the Sam's Club > Almost Perfect > The Age of Innocence > A Cat's Tale > Will I Ever Find Some Peace - a poem about his experiences in Vietnam > A Patriot Found His Home > The Nine Stages Bruce lives in northern Georgia, is a member of the Chattanooga Writers Guild, and leads the North Georgia Writers Group. He is currently writing "Shattered", a Nazi war crimes story focused on Treblinka. Bruce's The Writer's Corner Website:  http://www.brucegaughran.com

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      Book preview

      TROUBLE - A Justin Seaborne Duology - Bruce Gaughran

      1.  Wakeup Call

      Sunday, January 13

      At 4:17 AM, the phone rings. Justin, dog-tired and hung over, believes it is the alarm and knocks it to the floor with a flick of his arm. When the ringing continues, he rolls over and struggles from the covers. This had better be good, he warns the caller.

      Look out the window, the voice whispers.

      Who—who is this, Justin growls, having a difficult time saying the words through his cottonmouth.

      Dr. Seaborne, look out the window. Do it now.

      Justin considers hanging up, but something in the caller's voice makes him roll out of bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he realizes how much his head hurts. 

      Never again, he mumbles, but as soon as he says it, he knows it is a lie.

      Justin unlatches the window and pushes it open. He gags and almost loses everything in his stomach as he gets a whiff of the strong odor permeating in from Frenchman’s Bay. Justin covers his nose with one hand and reaches out with the other to close the window, and in doing so drops the phone that was cradled in his neck. The phone lands on his big toe. Dammit all to hell!

      Justin reaches down to massage his throbbing toe, but loses his balance. His forehead clips the windowsill as he tumbles to the floor. I’m okay—I’m okay, he mumbles as he rubs his head with his knuckles.

      A breeze from the open window distracts him. The air almost feels warm. It’s January in Maine and yesterday’s high was 20 below zero. It couldn’t have changed that much.

      Justin remembers the phone caller, rights himself, and reaches for the phone. Okay, you’ve got my attention.

      What do you think is happening out there?

      How the hell should I know, snaps Justin. Look, I am tired of your games. Either tell me who this is or I hang up right now.

      Dr. Seaborne, what did you warn the Joint Chiefs of Staff about?

      What? You’ve got to be kidding. Justin shakes his head in disbelief. It was only a theory—nothing more. Now, if you are done screwing around, I’m going back to bed.

      Well, it is no longer a theory, the voice interrupts. You were right and your worst fears are upon us.

      Justin drops the phone and searches for his clothes. He is out the door in less than five minutes.

      2.  Breakfast of Champions

      While driving down 2 nd Avenue, Justin knows he needs to get his head screwed on straight. Turning left at the light and then right again into Dunkin’ Donuts, Justin pulls up to the drive-thru window and orders a jumbo black coffee and a dozen glazed donuts.

      While Justin waits for his order, he reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out his cigarettes, lights one, and takes a deep drag. As the smoke fills his mouth, throat, and lungs, he pushes himself deep into his seat, rubs the stubble on his chin, and mumbles, Ahhhhh. He studies the cigarette for a moment and then laughs. E-cigarettes? Who ever thought people would smoke a battery operated cigarette? Justin was even more surprised when he heard that they make them to taste like Marlboros and even have a menthol-flavored brand. Now that’s crazy, he mumbles.

      After a moment, he sits up, turns on the dome light and looks into the rearview mirror. Justin doesn’t recognize the face. The steel-gray eyes that were once so animated stare lifelessly back at him. The deep lines in his forehead, premature gray hair, and bags under his eyes make him look twenty years older. I look like crap.

      Justin pays the attendant, throws the box of donuts onto the passenger seat, grabs the coffee and uses his thumb to pry open the lid. He presses down on the accelerator, exits the parking lot, and turns onto Hope Street. The first sip burns his tongue. He sucks and blows air rapidly in an attempt to cool his mouth and the coffee simultaneously.

      He reaches over with his free hand and tears open the box of donuts. Between the next two stoplights, he manages to stuff down three of them. Besides booze, cigarettes, and coffee, Justin’s only other vice is fast food. For a 40-year-old man, I’m in perfect health; he tells himself. Justin’s stomach responds by sending acid up his throat in the form of a belch. He grimaces as the bile burns his throat. He throws the rest of the donut back into the box and attempts to wash the taste out of his mouth with coffee. Thinking of the pain he experienced last night in bed, he rubs the area around his heart. Maybe I should join a gym.

      Thirty minutes later, flying high on caffeine and sugar, Justin stops at the security gate for the Oceanographic Institute in Bass Harbor. Frank, the security guard, bends down to the window. Morning, Dr. Seaborne. I hate to ask, but do you know what is going on?

      What do you mean? Are you asking about the 50-degree temperature change from last night and the rotten egg smell in the air? He pauses and takes a sip of coffee. No, not really, I hadn’t even noticed.

      Frank shakes his head and smiles. Always the jokester, aren’t you, Doctor.

      Justin nods his head towards the Institute. Who is down there?

      Everyone but you, Frank quips. Most of them started arriving around midnight. The place has been crawling with people since two o’clock. I even heard that there is some bigwig from D.C. on the way. Other than that, no one is saying a thing. Let me see your I.D. card so I can buzz you in.

      When Frank hands him back the card, Justin reaches over, grabs the box, and sticks it into the guard’s face. Donut?

      Frank laughs and sucks in his stomach. No thanks. You know I am on a diet. If I had one of those, the missus would smell it on my breath when I got home and I would never hear the end of it. Frank’s hand reaches forward as he licks his lips. But, they sure look good. Then he jerks it back and shakes his head. Get out of here with that poison.

      As Justin pulls through the gate, the hangover, coupled with the caffeine and sugar, lets him know he won’t be able to function for long this morning. I need a drink.

      He leans across the seat and flips open the glove box. Justin pauses for a moment as he stares at the half-full bottle of Jack Daniels. "Bite

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