Catergory X
Genre: Science-Fiction / Mystery / Thriller
Wattpad Book Blurb:
Evan and Alexander make a disastrous discovery, but instead of using the compound for the benefit of the world, they move to release the pathogen; the very pathogen to which they have the only cure.
When Special Agent Olivia Frey is given the case of her career, it does not take long for her to realize that what she is investigating is no ordinary murder, but something that will be forever etched in history.
The world takes a breath as it realizes its greatest catastrophe, as the gift of reproduction is snatched right from humanity's hands.
Category X means that the world will change.
Will you survive?
Author Links:
Author Interview
1. Please tell the readers a bit about yourself.
Well, I am happily married to the most wonderful woman and we have an eight year old girl that is our world. I am active duty in the US Army, stationed in North Carolina. Currently I have one novel published, The Lost Prince, and I am working on finishing up Category X at the moment. I try to work out and run as much as possible, and in our free time we like to watch movies and go to the beach whenever we can.
2. What types of books do you write?
The Lost Prince is an Epic Fantasy novel and Category X is a Science Fiction / Thriller. I have a few other urban fantasies as well, but I stay mostly in the Fantasy/Science Fiction realm of things.
3. How many books have you written?
The Lost Prince has been finished, the sequel to it is in the works, but probably a year at least from being finished. Category X has become the new priority since I have gotten such amazing feedback about it. It is almost done, with just some finishing touches to go. Other than that, most of my work is short stories or unfinished projects that may or may not ever see the light of day.
4. What movie and/or book are you looking forward to this year?
For the movie I would have to say the new Captain America, and for the book, I have been patiently waiting for the last installment of The Kingkiller Chronicle by Patrick Rothfuss, though, to be honest, I doubt it is coming out this year (does that count?).
5. What type of books do you enjoy reading?
I can honestly read anything. Right now I am reading The Summer Guest by Justin Cronin, and before that I finished up the second book of Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy. I have found some interesting stories on Wattpad as well. If I had to pick a type, though, I would say that Fantasy would take first place.
6. If you were stranded on a desert island what 3 things would you want with you?
1. Flint.
2. A knife.
3. A spile (aka a tree spigot).
The flint for obvious reasons; fire can save your life. A knife because, well, it never runs out of ammo, flint + metal = sparks, and it is a multi-use tool. A spile because fresh water is hard to come by, especially on an island, so let the tree filter it for you.
7. Are you considering a sequel?
It is a little early for Category X to say yes or no. Honestly, if everything goes as planned, yes, but we will just have to wait and see.
8. What inspired you to become a writer?
It was always a dream of mine to write a book, whether it was published or not. So, ever since I could coherently place words onto paper, I have been doing so. Everything else is just icing on the cake.
Excerpt from Category X
“Please state your name,” Olivia said as she took a seat across the steel table from the man. Olivia was not a particularly frightening woman, quite the opposite, actually. She was of average height, sporting a petite build, with brown hair that would have fell past her shoulders had she not worn it up. Most of her co-workers would attest that she was beautiful in more ways than one. She had bright green eyes set in an oval face that was outlined by soft features and lips that would make most men shudder. Olivia looked over the man for a long moment, her eyes never leaving his.
“I am sure that you can guess who I work for,” she continued without pause, easing her way into her role; a role she knew the man was not prepared to combat. “Since you find yourself in a federal detention center instead of a shipping container somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, you believe you are safe…that you have won.” Her eyes narrowed, her demeanor prickled. “I can assure you that you are far from safe. Rendition protocol is for the second-class terrorists, for the ones we don’t care about; for the ones we want to die in some nameless shithole of a country. No, I’m afraid we have much bigger plans for you.”
The man’s name was Daif Ghazi, or such was the name he went by for the last thirty years. Daif did not immediately answer, but crossed his hands atop the table and simply matched her gaze. According to his file he was a stoic man, astute, calculating—in fact, in the last fifteen years alone he was responsible for orchestrating the assassinations of more foreign diplomats than anyone else they were tracking, which made his capture particularly momentous.
“I know you are—excuse me, were—a middle man, working for Ibrahim Ansari,” she paused to let the information settle. “The same Ibrahim Ansari responsible for the sarin gas attacks in Syria a year ago. The same Ibrahim Ansari who orchestrated the attempted attacks on Special Forces led ANA soldiers last month.” She cut her eyes once more from her dossier, her repetition beating into his skull. “The same Ibrahim Ansari that was killed two days ago in Tagab Valley by the very soldiers he attempted to ambush.” The smile that she wished to display did not touch her lips; she only stared back at the man with a silent resolve that few could match.
Daif sat back in the chair, his face unreadable. “I do not know this man,” he said through a heavy accent.
Olivia only nodded, as if she expected as much, and opened a large brown folder that sat between them. After removing various documents, she picked through a few photos, studying each carefully before laying a few in front of the Middle Eastern man. “That man on the left,” she pointed. “That is you, correct?”
It took Daif a moment before he glanced down at the photos. His face remained a mask as his eyes met hers once more.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said. “And that,” she pointed to a smaller man around ten years Daif’s senior who was in all of the photos, “is Ibrahim Ansari, or was, I suppose. So, do you still not know this man?”
Daif’s eyes narrowed. “As I said before,” he responded curtly.
“And how about this one?” she asked as she pushed the last photo in front of the man. It had a young adult male, also of Middle Eastern descent, speaking with an older man just outside of a market in some unknown location.
The man only sighed before looking down at the photo. His face changed, though only slightly, but Olivia caught it. She was young, much too young to be an agent, or at least an agent of her stature according to pretty much everyone at the bureau, but she was as smart as they came, and she closed cases, plain and simple. “I guess you know Khalid.” She paused a moment, scrutinizing his face. “I imagine that it would be near impossible to forget your only son.” Olivia scooped up the pictures and put them back into the folder. She rose from the seat and stepped towards the door before turning over her shoulder. “We have him, you know, and I cannot say that his interview is going quite like ours.” She shrugged. “He got Ronson, and everyone knows that the agency conducts interviews in a more…intrusive manner.”
With that, she knocked on the door twice and it sprung open, but before she left the room, Daif spoke up. “He is only a child. He knows nothing, nothing of importance.”
