Another in a continuing series of blog tours featuring authors and stories from Splashdown Books, your source for the finest in Christian speculative fiction, and publisher of my novels The Muse and The Seer, and my short-story collection Odd Little Miracles.

This week, we’re introducing Devil’s Hit List, the third volume in Frank Creed’s action-packed near-future dystopian cyberpunk extravaganza, The Underground, following Flashpoint, which I reviewed here at Frederation and enjoyed very much, and War of Attrition.

From the back cover:

The One State has contracted the Ash Corporation to produce virtual-e, a brainwave technology chip so highly addictive that it’s eventually fatal.

The chip is used in the hottest new entertainment product that will hook any who experience it.

Calamity Kid and his crew fight the production of virtual-e and get backing from the Body of Christ to run an operation to keep the chip from being marketed in North America.

But how far can the underground heroes get when the global government and a megacorporation work together?

Let’s find out! Here’s an excerpt from Devil’s Hit List


Forty minutes into the trip, the semi’s driver downshifted and made a couple of sharp turns, swinging the long truck around. He parked and killed the engine only one time, so we stayed still and sensed our surroundings. From the smell and the noises it was clear he was fueling.

“It would have been nice if he’d have taken care of this business before our big trip,” I said in a hushed voice to my companions wedged in the belly box.

“Professional drivers are used to scheduling fuel stops,” said Legacy. “We’re just lucky to have caught a lift so soon. I bet they didn’t have much time to prepare for us.”

We lay awhile trapped in our own heads. Dread sat on me like an elephant.

“I’m sure you brought a full pack of gum. Can I borrow a stick?” asked e-girl.

“No, but you can have a stick.” I twisted around to dig it out of a hip pocket.

More waiting. Other semis came, filled and left. This had to be a truck stop.

About the time my comshades showed that it had been thirty minutes since we stopped, Legacy lost it. When all was quiet around us, and without a word to anyone, he popped our hatch and wiggled his way out of the belly box into the evening’s dim light.

I could contain my fear no longer, and hissed, “What in Heaven’s name are you doing?”

“Something’s wrong.” His knees hit the pavement.

“We’ve not been given the clear signal,” stated Lethe.

From what I could see out our door, we were parked in the second of six fueling bays. Only the first bay contained a parked semi.

Legacy had just crawled out from the belly box when the bullet thumped his coat at his chest—and I could tell it was a big bullet, because his loose duster punched him on the sternum.

This is why we wore Kevlar. No gunshot sounded. Sniper.

Legacy blurred from there. He rolled and came up in a crouch, a pistol in his hand. He fired once.

Barren slithered onto the concrete pad. “C’mon, y’all. Somethin’s all skunky. We need to get to cover.”

Legacy squat-walked from beneath the trailer to the passenger side of the truck.

I was afraid of being out in the open, but also knew that this truck had become our death trap. As I eased from the box a woman stepped out from around the trailer’s front tires and snap-kicked Legacy’s jaw.

His head reeled backward. He staggered away from her and held his hands defensively.

Again, she snap-kicked at his head.

This one Legacy batted aside with an elbow as he spun inside her limbs’ thrash. His right hand clotheslined her throat.

She went down hard on her back, her head thumping like a melon on the pavement.

Barren dove on her, pinning her arms to her sides as I approached, cradling the briefcase in both my arms. “Hello. We’ve not been properly introduced, but I’m Calamity Kid.”

Her eyes narrowed. I took her look to mean she’d already known who I was. I looked around and found no witnesses, so I popped a pistol and tranqed her under the chin.

She went still.

Barren checked her pockets. Only a few clips of ammo.

“We’re clear,” said Legacy.

Lethe took a closer look. “I know her.”

“This is not the time for talk,” said Barren, and dragged the attacker beneath the trailer where he stuffed her into the belly box.

e-girl wiggled out like a worm on a hook. “Oh, I’m afraid this doesn’t look good.”


Frank Creed’s Homepage:

Frank Creed’s Blog:

Frank’s Facebook Page:


Devil’s Hit List at Amazon (print):

Devil’s Hit List at Amazon (kindle): 

Lost Genre Guild:

Check out the other fine stops on the Splashdown Blog Tour:

R. L. Copple

Kat Heckenbach

Diane M. Graham

Travis Perry

Paul Baines

Caprice Hokstad

Keven Newsome

Robynn Tolbert

Ryan Grabow

Greg Mitchell