In New Sci-Fi Conspiracy Thriller, Enter A Terrifying Realm of the UFO Phenomenon
Excerpt, video, and book description included in this new release announcement.
A CUNNING HARVEST by Sci-Fi Thriller Author Daniel P. Douglas Visits the Disturbing Subject of Modern-Day Cattle Mutilations and Rumors of Alien and Government Involvement
In A Cunning Harvest, Simon Peralta returns home for a funeral and hears condolences and more. Rumors swirl about cattle mutilations and black helicopters, then the sheriff implicates him in a gruesome murder. Soon, shadowy agents arrive, determined to keep Simon from finding the real killers and discovering the shocking truth about a troubling and deadly mystery.
But has this cunning harvest crossed a gruesome and frightening new threshold, adding humans to the list of victims? Explore that grisly prospect as you follow a young museum curator, Simon Peralta, who returns home to his family's ranch in New Mexico.
Upon graduating high school twelve years ago, Simon traded the confining world of his youth for the promise of new worlds to explore through college and career. Finally, a way to engage his curiosity and to shed inner demons about his gay sexual orientation.
Now, with the passing of his grandfather, he returns home for the funeral and reenters a world that is both familiar and suddenly more terrifying than ever.
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Enjoy this excerpt:
"Inside the Mountain"
Thunder drummed above the Manzano Mountains and rolled away from towering cumulus clouds, the embryo of an afternoon monsoon storm. On the high plains of New Mexico, nature demands respect. Stark contrasts between mountain forests, grassy plains, and the arid midland where junipers, cacti, and sage thrive together, mark razor-thin boundaries for what survives in this wilderness. Still, life in many forms permeates the terrain, having found a niche on the land of rocks and sand which lie beneath a pillar of bright sunshine and a cathedral of rapturous blue skies.
Underground and deep within the mountains, another world exists, created by men desperate to ensure the United States Government survived any threat or technological challenge, whether emanating from another country or even beyond Earth.
During the decades after World War II, their excavations grew and occupancy spread along the entire Manzano range and beneath the Sandias to the north. In the 1990s, the original portion of the base, an area used to house the nation’s nuclear weapons, closed. The materials moved to nearby Kirtland Air Force Base where a new storage facility awaited them. People thought that marked the end of Manzano Base.
Instead, it was just the beginning. And now, 70 years after it commenced operations, Manzano Base thrived, defying the boundaries of nature and hiding from the world above.
“Yes, sergeant,” Gene Brooks, a fortyish civilian, said with a Georgian drawl into his desk phone. “That is precisely the point.” He glanced up at his co-worker, a narrow woman with auburn hair named Eleanor Finch. Her pale, expressionless face made her look deceased.
Nodding, Brooks continued. “Let’s hope the drone didn’t have a video card, but even if it did, we can always attribute our actions to predator tracking. End of story.” He hung up the phone and stood. Above his head, horizontal bundles of pipes and conduit connected his dark, concrete burrow to thousands of others including Finch’s, which was next door.
“Did he acquire the chopper?” Finch asked.
“Oh yeah,” Brooks bellowed. “The crew waved as he raced by. Said they drop-kicked the kid back a few minutes.”
“So, he’ll have no memory of the chase.” Finch’s blue eyes blinked as she gazed at touchscreens arrayed in front of Brooks.
“He won’t, but the drone pilot will.”
If Finch were a celery stalk, then Brooks was a russet potato. He stood, elevating his stocky frame, which he had dressed up that day with a burgundy polo tucked into gray slacks. A black nylon utility belt, carrying multiple pouches, ammo, and semi-auto pistol, encircled his waist, overhung by a flabby gut.
“I suppose we still need to visit the sheriff?” Finch asked. Part of the same company, she dressed like Brooks, but added a green fleece vest. Manzano Base always made her feel cold.
Brooks nodded. “But first—”
Finch held up her hand. “I know, I know.” Her voice sounded plain and pleasant, like that of a smart device, but at the moment, it contained more than a hint of annoyance. “First, we need to speak with Major Asshole.”
While Brooks belly laughed, an alarm flashed and buzzed on one of his monitors. He stepped closer and tapped the screen.
“Message from Orion Command,” Brooks said, placing his right hand on a glowing glass plate embedded in the surface of his desk. It scanned and matched his fingerprints and palm.
Finch zipped up her vest and folded her arms. “Well, we’ve been waiting for this. Damn, it’s like an icebox in here.” She looked at the floor, studying a frayed corner of a dark brown carpet square, then said, “What did they say, Gene?”
“To expect another kill tonight.”
“Where?” Finch asked.
“Not far from the last one.”
“Huh, coming back for seconds.”
Brooks nodded. “They must be real hungry.”
“Yeah, well….” Finch widened her eyes then closed them. “They’re always hungry.”