Singularity by Eldon Farrell - #CoverReveal
Singularity Publication date: August 14th, 2018
By Eldon Farrell Genres: Dystopian, CRIME, SUPERHERO, THRILLER
Nathan Miller owns the streets of Union City. A rogue detective protected by a corrupt establishment—his rule is absolute. But nothing lasts forever.
Someone has betrayed him and now blog sensation Alexis King knows things she shouldn’t. Coming after Nathan she threatens his authority, giving the elite cause to question his worth.
To protect his reign, Nathan must silence his betrayer before Alexis learns enough to topple him. But he’s no longer the only thing to fear in the rotten underbelly of 2035. His search uncovers an evil preying upon the displaced beyond the city wall—making Nathan the next target.
Outside Jitters Coffeehouse, Nathan took a sip of his high-octane brew before he cinched the collar of his trench coat tighter. It wasn’t enough to keep the wind from biting at the flesh underneath as it whipped up Carolina Street.
He stepped to the curb and saw the wall four blocks north. The new American dream.
His melancholy was interrupted when an unmarked cruiser pulled over to the curb next to him. The window slid down, and his partner said, “Time to roll, Miller.”
Nathan downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp and tossed the cup in a wastebasket before lowering into the cruiser.
Quinn Baker gave him a sidelong look from behind dark shades and offered a smile. “Good to see you, partner. You enjoy the time off?”
“What do you think?”
Quinn chuckled as they pulled away from the curb. They took the road south to twenty-seventh then hung a right toward the station ten minutes out on Campbell Avenue.
“I miss anything?”
“Same old shit,” Quinn said, “You know how it is.”
“Any leads on the bastard who squealed?”
“No, not yet.”
They turned onto Stephenson Ave without slowing—to the dismay of pedestrians on the corner.
“Don’t worry though, we’ll find them,” Quinn said.
“Fucking right we will.”
Turning the strobes on, Quinn pushed the accelerator down and ran the light at the corner. They turned a sharp left onto Broadway Ave before a quick right onto Franklin Road. Quinn doused the lights.
“Mind if I ask you something?”
Nathan clenched his left hand and nodded.
“We’ve been riding together for two years and the whole time I’ve been wondering something. Why the hell you live outside the wall? I mean, South Providence? Seriously? You clear more than enough to move on up, so what gives?”
The road rose over the railyard, and they left the grim spectre of the wall behind. As they passed over the two-twenty highway, Nathan said, “I was born in South Providence long before the wall—why should I move?”
Quinn slapped the wheel. “You shitting me? You might sleep better for starters. Fucking animals out here.”
“This is my hood.” Nathan smirked. “I sleep just fine.”
Quinn shook his head. “You gotta be the only guy I know who chooses to live out here, surrounded by the displaced.”
“Let me tell you something about the goddamn wall, Rook,” Nathan said, “It was a bad fucking idea to start with, and it hasn’t improved over the years. Walls like that have choked the life out of decent neighborhoods all across this country. How we ever allowed Americans to become refugees in our own land . . .” Nathan whistled as he trailed off. “Shameful.”
“Rising waters and the big one out west,” Quinn said, “Sixty-five million people is a lot to relocate. The resources just aren’t there.”
“So much for the American dream,” Nathan said, “Forget the tired, poor, huddled masses—every man for himself now, that it?”
They drove in silence until Quinn took a left onto Third Street. “You weren’t home last night?”
“Was getting marching orders from Logue,” Nathan said, “I’ll fill you in.”
Quinn made a face. “Later, Singh wants you in his office first thing.”
“Thought you’d like that,” Quinn said, “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“And what does the captain want?”
Quinn swung the cruiser onto the lot and pulled into a spot out front. “Maybe he wants to welcome you back?”
They shared a laugh as Nathan got out.
Omar Singh waited behind a scratched glass window.
His office looked out at the warren of desks that made up the detective pool known affectionately as the Clubhouse.
He shuffled paperwork as Nathan darkened his doorway. After a moment, he set it aside and said, “Take a seat, and close the door.”
Nathan obliged then waited for him to begin.
Singh steepled his fingers and narrowed his gaze. “Have you anything to say?”
Nathan glanced away and shrugged.
“So, that’s how you want to do it then? Fine.”
He opened a folder on his desk. “This is the official report on your suspension. As you’re no doubt aware, IA found insufficient grounds to uphold it.”
Singh slapped the folder shut. “They may have cleared you, Miller—but I haven’t. You have a history as long as my arm of complaints against you. Allegations of misconduct, excessive force, bribery, you name it. So, why should I reinstate you?”
Nathan stared back at him.
“I could fire you right now, and there isn’t anything you can do about it. Your union is behind me, Miller. They feel you’re more trouble than your worth.”
“You know what, Captain?” Nathan said, “I don’t give a shit what the fucking union thinks.”
“Tough guy, huh?”
Nathan licked his lips. “Fuck you.”
He stood up and turned to leave. “Sit down, Miller. I haven’t dismissed you yet.”
Nathan stared at him with contempt.
“I said sit the fuck down!”
Nathan took his time before he complied.
“Jesus,” Singh lowered his voice as he asked, “Just what the hell happened to you?” Pointing to the window, he said, “You used to be one of the best detectives out there. I’ve read your file—you were exemplary once.”
Nathan didn’t rise to the bait.
“Fine,” Singh tapped the folder and said, “I’m not going to fire you—yet. For some reason, I believe you can be exemplary again, so I’m going to give you that chance. This is it, Miller. Step out of line one more time, and you’re out of here. Are we clear on that? You get so much as a parking ticket, and you’re done. You have no room for error. I know you’ve seen The Ransom—press this department doesn’t need. Even the brass protecting you will agree with that. So be glad I’m on your side. Get out of my sight, and don’t make me regret this.”
“Some reason?” Nathan straightened from his slouch. “Would you like me to tell you the reason you’re keeping me around, Captain? The Commissioner—your boss—has instructed you to do so. Isn’t that right? He wants me on the street. He knows you need me out there. It must really get to you, huh? Wanting me gone so bad but being unable to do a fucking thing about it. Getting the gutless union and IA behind you and still . . . just powerless. So please don’t act like you’re doing me some fucking righteous favor here. You’re not—you’re doing what you’ve been told to do.”
A sinister grin played across his face. “I’m fine with that, Cap. But, just so you know, I’m gonna continue to do what I do out there. I’m not changing a goddamn thing for you.
“You want to fire me?” He removed his badge from his pocket and held it out to him. Singh didn’t take it. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Turning his back to Singh, he strutted to the door.
“Don’t think I won’t do it, Miller. I don’t care who has your back.”
On his way out, Nathan added, “The last captain thought like you too. You’ll notice he’s not around anymore.”
Eldon Farrell was born in Guelph, Ontario, growing up just down the road in Brantford. A designated professional accountant, he’s a graduate of both Fanshawe College and Laurentian University. He still resides in South Western Ontario together with his lovely wife Emily and their young son Connor. An avid reader and writer of suspense fiction, he is a lover of language and an unapologetic fan of DC Comics.
Eldon's website: https://eldonfarrellauthor.com/
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