On April 8th 2024 at 1pm Pacific time, we are having a watch party! It is the official launch party for my latest novel Team Whisper and YOU ARE INVITED! It is completely free to join on these platforms:

Telegram

Facebook

Youtube

Twitter / X

Rokfin

The Launch Party schedule is:

Listen with us to the first two chapters of the professionally recorded audiobook followed by an in depth interview with the Author, me, by the Driving to the Rez panelists!!  This preview is rated pg-13 for strong language, sexual innuendo, alcohol and drug abuse.  This book is intended for adults and deals with adult issues of power and the ways we block our memories, skills and abilities.

You can already purchase the book at these outlets:

Audio book

Paperback

eBook

See you LIVE at the watch party!

Here are the preface and first chapter for your enjoyment:

+++++

PREFACE TO THE NOVEL

Yes, this story is indeed a novel. However, it is based on true people and events. I have changed locations, roles and created supporting fictitious characters and scenarios for them to interact with.

This novel is dedicated to Monkey, Weasel, Gazelle and Bear, as well as little Panther. I hope you all get to read it and find your way home if you haven’t already.

I wanted to explore what it would have looked like if this wonderful group of children had recovered all their memories and skills as adults, organized themselves and truly embodied what they all thought they were as kids, “superheroes to the people of Earth”.

This book is also dedicated to all the kids and young adults who went through or are going through the MK-Ultra projects as well as The School. I have met many of you. You are seen, and you are acknowledged. I hope this book shows you the way out of victimhood.

I use the term “MK-Ultra” to depict the many projects around the world which make sleeper agents and living weapons. The School, not its real name, was developed to create an atmosphere that convinced strong and unbreakable psychic children that they could become “Real Life Superheroes of Earth”.

This book is written in a way that does not feed the energy of victimhood, but instead breaks through it and allows the individuals to see how others have journeyed through their trauma and into happy and empowered lives. A journey anyone on Earth can join on and complete.

Strong language is used and it is not politically correct. It is, however, a tool of inspiration and empowerment.

Of course, as it is one of my books, it is also a love story.

I Benz

Chapter One

SQUIRREL

Something was banging at the window. He opened his eyes, rubbed them, focused and looked to his right. A huge raven. 

Weird. The ravens in the desert were mostly a smaller type, Chihuahuan.  This one was easily over two feet beak to tail.

He closed his eyes again and felt sobriety trying to wake him up. 

“Not today,” he said out loud and sat up, pushed his long hair off his eyes and looked around. There was no raven at the window.

To his left, a naked woman, about his age, in her early thirties. “Ah shit,” he moaned and got out of bed. No pants.

“Shit.”

He grabbed some pants from the trailer floor and smelled them. Yup, they had a few more wearings in them. 

He put some water in the pan and onto the stove. Coffee, he thought.

In the distance, behind majestic buttes that had been photographed a thousand times, the sun started to rise. 

He poured the hot water into two cups that were mostly clean and added some vodka to one of them. He took a good few gulps and added some more vodka, and a bit more coffee, then walked to the bed at the back of the trailer.

The woman was getting dressed. Sandra? Yes, her name was Sandra. It was good manners to remember the woman’s name.

“Here you go, some coffee.” He said, handing her the second cup.

She smelled it and handed it back. “It’s OK, I have some coming.” 

He was puzzled. 

“My ride is coming. I ordered some coffee too. I got one for you as well. Black.”

“Oh, yeah. Well,” He pulled the old dusty curtain out of the way so she could look out. “I don’t think anyone is coming.”

The woman, Sandra, looked out, “Oh shit. Where the fuck are we?” She looked back at him, “oh.” She said as it dawned on her that she may have slept with the wrong guy. “Are we at the reservation? Are you an Indian?”

“Native American.” He corrected her.

“You don’t look Indian.”

“Native American.”

“Oh right, yes, sorry. I forgot the politically correct term. Yes, you don’t look Native American.”

“Josh Tracksbears.” He said and bowed.

Sobriety knocked on his brain, so he took another swig of ‘coffee’.

“Those rides don’t come this far into the rez. I’ll drive you to town.”

She got up, reached under the window and he saw she had been charging her phone. She pulled the charger out, put it in her handbag and looked at the phone screen.

“It’s on its way.”

He didn’t know what to say or do. Usually, he would drive the woman home or town, back to the bar sometimes, but waiting with her in his trailer for a ride that would never arrive, was a first.

He walked back to the kitchen and looked in the fridge, wondering if he should try to make her breakfast or something. There was nothing edible in there. He closed the fridge door.

“That’s no way to treat a woman,” his grandmother’s voice rang in his ears. He took another swig from his cup.

“Oh, the tracker just vanished. I don’t see the car getting closer anymore.” The woman said.

“Listen, Sandra, it’s best that I take you back. If we see a car coming the other way, I’ll flash them, and we can check to see if it's your ride.”

“It’s Ruth. My name is Ruth. But it was sweet of you to think you remembered my name. Very cute. Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but maybe you can tell a girl you are an In… Native American next time, before you bring them out to the middle of nowhere.”

“Tall, dark and handsome doesn’t do it anymore, huh.” He said, but the woman didn’t respond. She was clearly nervous and agitated. She kept glancing back at her phone, as though watching it might make her ride appear again. 

Josh started feeling claustrophobic. He took another swig and stepped out of the trailer. The sun was a fist above the horizon now. He felt panic rise inside him. The woman followed him out, putting on her sandals on the steps behind him. 

He started walking toward his truck, an old Ford F100 with a three on the tree. 

“There it is!” Shouted the woman, Ruth, behind him. 

In the distance there was a plume of dust, getting closer. Whomever that was, was driving fast. Over 100 miles per hour. And having fun. He went back to the trailer and sat next to Ruth on the steps.

“Listen,” she started, “I don’t remember coming here. I remember us dancing at the bar and that’s it. It’s nothing new,” she added, “I am sure we had a great time.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, I’m not used to hanging out this long with guys in the morning, you know? I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I was trying to compliment you or something.” 

He noticed needle marks on the back of her knees, on her arms, and her neck. 

Shit. He thought. He didn’t want to know about her story, he didn’t want to know she was an addict, or hear of her habits or what she did in the morning. 

He took another swig and let the perception of details become unimportant. He nodded and looked at the car which was closer now. It was a brand new black Jaguar F-Type. As it got closer, it looked like a wild animal on a hunt. It eventually reached them, slowed down and came to a full stop. 

Every cell in Josh’s body started ringing alarm bells. He took another swig. Something unfamiliar, unlikely, was happening and his PTSD was kicking in. That’s what the quacks had told him his symptoms, voices and visions were.

The door opened, a short, thin woman got out, long black hair tied behind her back, sunglasses, carrying a tray with two hot drinks. She was holding a large, iced coffee in her other hand. She walked up to them, handed Ruth the coffees and took a long drink from the straw in the ice coffee.

“Ruth?” She asked.

“Lorena?”

The woman nodded. “I’m your ride.” She said, finishing the ritual.

The sunglasses then turned to him. He sat, unmoving, staring at her like she had come out of some alternative reality where Jags, with attractive young women inside, drove onto the rez and talked to him. Technically, she hadn’t talked to him yet.

A bark brought him out of his trance. 

“Do you mind if I let my dog out?” She asked him.

“Go ahead,” he said, and watched the woman, who was dressed in black pants and shirt, go to the Jag. 

She opened the back door and a fully grown standard poodle jumped out and started the important work of sniffing everything. The dog had pompoms on its head, tail and legs. It looked ridiculous. 

“What’s her name?”

“His name is Fufu.”

Josh shook his head disapprovingly.

Suddenly Fufu bolted and ran into the distance. 

The sunglasses turned back to Josh, “you’ve got squirrels around here? I didn’t think there were squirrels in the desert.”

Josh choked on his “coffee”.  Images that had plagued his mind for years flashed before him. Him, running with four other kids, in black armored suits, he could feel the weight of equipment on his back, and he carried what looked like a sci-fi gun. A voice, the same voice as this driver had, saying, “keep up Squirrel, you can do it!”

“You can ride in the front,” the woman told Ruth, opening the passenger door. “My dog takes the back.”

“I didn’t think you drivers were allowed to bring dogs in your cars.” Ruth said. 

“We drivers don’t come onto the rez either. But here we are. You can always refuse the ride and try to get someone else in here.”

“No, I don’t mind dogs. I was just surprised.”

Josh watched Fufu the cartoon poodle disappear into the distance. 

He wanted them to leave, but he couldn’t exactly make them go until the dog got back.

The woman walked around to the driver’s door, opened it, put down her iced coffee inside and pulled out a leash. 

Not much good would that do. The dog was gone. He thought.

He felt his senses heightened and his sight focused on her hands. She was doing something with her hands, almost like typing or drawing in the air. He then saw strands of energy all around. Strands on the woman, the Jag, himself, Ruth, all of them. The rocks, the sky, the desert, strands were everywhere. He saw the woman grab one tiny little strand among all of them and pull on it. He followed the strand into the distance, and saw it ended on the dog, who was now running back.

“I guess the squirrel got away,” she said, emphasizing the word “squirrel”. 

He got up off the steps and back into the trailer, closing the door behind him. He grabbed the bottle of vodka and drank over half of it. He held onto the edge of the kitchen cabinet, expecting to pass out. For an alcoholic, he didn’t really have much tolerance to alcohol and half a bottle was guaranteed to put him out. 

After a few minutes the Jags’ engine started, and he heard it leave his awareness.

He didn’t pass out. He took another few swigs and finally felt the floor hit his face.

++++++

That’s it for the first chapter! See you at the party on the 8th of April 2024.

Purchase book here:

Audio Book

Paperback

eBook