Author: chiendeptrai

Part 1 The salt spray felt good on my face, a sharp, clean sting that cut through the cloying cloud of expensive perfume and quiet, derisive laughter. I was an island. That’s the word the source material used, and it was right. I stood on the polished teak deck of a yacht so large it…

Part 1 My world runs on a ticker tape. 8:00 AM, Hong Kong exchange. 9:30 AM, NYSE open. 4:00 PM, the bell. My life is a series of calculated acquisitions, leveraged buyouts, and hostile takeovers. I am Richard Sterling, and my office on the 54th floor is a glass-walled command center where I move markets….

Part 1 The first sound wasn’t the gunfire. It was the static. A burst of it, sharp and electric, that sliced through the humid jungle air and right into my ear. Then came the voice. “Haze to all callsigns… Contact, contact, contact! Ambush, three directions! We are… taking heavy fire… enemy strength is… fifty, maybe…

PART 1 My name is Sarah Martinez. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I look like I’m about to ask for prom directions. I stepped off the bus at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, clutching a worn duffel bag and squinting into the thin, gold light of early morning. The air was soft, humid, and smelled like damp…

Part 1 The October air in the Cascades has a bite that gets in your bones. It’s a wet, penetrating cold, and it’s the first thing I remember about that day. The second is the silence. I’m Emily. I live with my Grams in a cabin that’s been in our family for four generations, tucked…

PART 1 “Unlike some people, I picked a real career.” My sister Emily raised her champagne glass. The crowd at her perfect, glittering wedding laughed. I smiled until my cheeks ached. Her words felt like a slap, sharp and clean, aimed directly at me. I was “some people.” I sat at Table 9, the one…

Part 1 The morning sun at Fort Braxton cut long, sharp shadows across the parade field. It was 0600. The air was crisp, smelling of cut grass and diesel. I stood at attention, just one in a sea of 200 soldiers, my fatigues pressed to a razor’s edge. Every crease was a line of discipline,…