Author: C.R. Hinckley

The Zendo Agreement (Part One)

/ C.R. Hinckley / Leave a comment

The office was dark, smelled of an animal cage needing cleaning. Oldman sat in his large EV-chair. His considerable bulk blotting out the large oval window in front of him. He watched as debris from the latest mesosphere battle streaked by the platform, cutting through what was left of Earth’s atmosphere, flaming out and into the oblivion below. Umber clouds obscured most of the surface, but Earth’s visible areas glowed orange and brown from the raging fires.

Chet Hunter stood in the doorway behind him and cleared his throat. The air inside was barely breathable, the oxygen set too low, the stink tangible. The android guard turned toward him, its eyes lit-up yellow as it scanned him for weapons. Yellow beams of beta particles lit him as he smiled and nodded, as if the contraption cared about such pleasantries.

“There goes what was left of Stellar Nine Space Station. The Chinese are cooked, too.”

“Stellar Nine. Shame. I saw her launched. She was a beauty.”

“Well, not anymore, eh? Earth is done, now. Platforms, like this one, is all that’s left for us…survivors.”

“There’s always Alpha Centauri. But you hate worm holes.”

“Yes. Too unpredictable. I don’t want to end up on a farm in Musca.”

“I’d pay to see that. You riding a six legged trog.”

“We’re through here. The Velations are too powerful, their technology too great. They’ve won the battle already. Earth is toast.” Oldman turned and sneered at Hunter. “The 21 day war, they’ll call it.” He eyed Hunter up and down, scanned him with his auto fan-laser. “What have you got for me?”

Hunter held out his hand, revealing a tiny heart shaped silver locket and chain. He let it dangle for a few seconds, then took a few slow steps forward and placed it on the desk.

Oldman the Junker hummed, took out his magnifier and gave it a scan. “Hah. Silver. Small. This is all you have after two weeks of spending my money, using my best EV Gig?”

“This and the pile of battle junk on the dock.”

Oldman pointed to an air screen scanning the weighed cargo. “Yes, more or less three tons, I see.” He poked at the locket with a metal pointer. “Anything inside? It scans hollow.”

“Nothi-.”

“When you found it, I mean. Perhaps there was something…huh?”

“Empty.”

“Arrrg. Worth maybe a few ounces of oatmeal.” He tossed it over his shoulder onto a pile junk electronics. “All this fighting, all this lovely debris for you to gather. Why are you wasting my time? I should have sent an android seeker for all the good you’ve done me.”

The android laughed, its yellow eyes flashing in rhythm to the metallic sounding guffaws.   

Hunter gritted his teeth, felt his hand tighten on the grip of his obliterator, but held his place. “I searched her cell thoroughly. Besides, you said anything she had. I can’t be held accountable for taste.”

Oldman leaned toward Hunter, his face an intense grimace. “She had what I was looking for ten hours ago, you pirate.” He turned to his android. “Search him.”

“He already did that.”

The android lit him up again.

“Besides, if I had anything to hide you think I’d bring it in here?” He turned to the android. “You better have that setting on low or I’ll melt your joints.”

The beam shut down. The android turned to Oldman. “He’s-b c,clean, bloss.”

“Nice voice-box there, Sluggo. You do poetry readings?”

“Now manually search him.”

The android stepped closer to Hunter, a low grrrr emanating from its voice box.

“Woof woof, Sluggo.”

The android fingers were Teflon slick, but were clumsy as they fumbled around Hunter’s body. It made him smile, knowing this goofy android couldn’t detect a rocket in his pocket, let alone a small ribbon of ancient micro film in his collar.

Sluggo squared up and took a few steps back. “No-ting t-to reput, B-Boss.”

Hunter smirked. “I know a guy can fix that voice module”

Oldman waved his arm dismissively. “It’s a stock program. Listen, I want you to go back out into the thick of things. Bring me that girl. What she holds is very valuable. It could mean everything.”

Hunter turned to go. “The girl. Right.”

“And Hunter.” Hunter stopped and turned to Oldman. “If I find you’ve been cheating me, hiding something…the girl, perhaps…” Oldman glared at Hunter.

“Me? Cheat a master criminal like you? Come on….I’m an open book.”

(To be continued…)


If you like this, follow the link BELOW to my Audible book, Dreaming Wide Awake. It’s about a psychic detective and his trusty sidekick, as they solve a murder and get stalked by a deranged villain.

https://www.audible.com/pd/B09K4LBFG7/?source_code=AUDFPWS0223189MWT-BK-ACX0-282082&ref=acx_bty_BK_ACX0_282082_rh_us

More Fun from kirkus!

/ C.R. Hinckley / Leave a comment

If you follow the link, you can see the great review of my latest novel, Dreaming Wide Awake. The story of a slightly psychic PI who unravels a mystery involving the secret government Stargate Project, (a remote viewing program) and finds it leading to the trail of a possible serial killer.

https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/–15/dreaming-wide-awake/

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dreaming-wide-awake-charles-r-hinckley/1138665005;jsessionid=0FCF465689B1935457B1818411AE7EFD.prodny_store02-atgap08?ean=2940165376535



https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08T9ZMFSV/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0

Deppea Splendens (Revised)

/ C.R. Hinckley / Leave a comment


The two men dripped sweat after the short chase. They sat in the broiling patrol car, hot and miserable, in the mid-day heat. Officer Barrett wrote in his log.
 
The prisoner looked up and smiled. “Hey hombre, they say if you breathe in the smoke of the burning Deppea splenden plant, you will come face to face with the demons that hold you back. They are hidden in a world of shadows, far away from the life you truly should be living. You know what I’m talking about?”
 
Officer Barrett kept writing in his book and didn’t look up.
 
“You know, that gentle nibble, the irritation gnawing at you until it bites at your soul?” 
 
Officer Barrett wiped sweat from his brow with a white handkerchief, and glanced in the rear mirror at his prisoner. Another nut case, he thought. Why do I have to be out here sweating my ass off for some crazy ass just because he doesn’t know enough to stay out of the midday heat?
 
He looked at his prisoner in the rear view. A dirty, smelly, short, wearing torn clothes, a week old beard. He didn’t have any stuff on him. No contraband, no pills no weed. No easy way to make a few extra bucks selling it on the market. How else was he going to afford that new pickup truck?
 
“You got illegal plants, Golton?” Barrett asked.
 
“Illegal? That plant? No. Extinct in the wild, very endangered world wide.”
 
“Extinct huh?”
 
“The smoke sets you on a journey you wouldn’t believe.”
 
“I know you don’t have anything on you, unless it crawled out your ass. And I ain’t going there.”
 
“I know where to get it. Close by.”
 
“I don’t smoke amigo. But you keep talking, I’ll book you on more than just being a public nuisance, spend more time in lock up. Understand?”
 
“I can get it for you now. You see what it can do.”
 
He squinted into the rearview. “I can see it does wonders.” Barrett chuckled as he wrote in his log.
 
“You see what I mean? I have an offer for you that could change your life and all you do is write in your little police book. Why don’t you look around, Hombre? People are living other people’s lives.”
 
Barrett put the logbook down, glanced in the side-view mirror for oncoming traffic, and then merged the patrol car onto the single lane highway.
 
Golton made a clucking sound with his tongue and rested his head against the back door. The desert heat penetrated the car and washed over the men in rippling waves.
 
“Hey Hombre, how about turning up the air in this bucket?”
 
“Don’t worry about it, we’ll be at headquarters in fifteen minutes.”
 
“You telling me you don’t have air?”
 
Barrett said nothing. Golton kicked the seat and slumped down.
 
“You kick that seat again and I’ll close your window.”
 
The two men stared at each other in the mirror.
 
Golton broke eye contact and hummed quietly the Spanish song, De Colores as he turned away and looked out the window. Distant, low mountain tops gleamed in the desert sun. Sequoia cacti dotted the sparse landscape. The occasional tumble weed blew across the road. Heat waves blurred the horizon.
 
“I see a few lonely plants out there, Hombre. But none like the Deppea. She has the most beautiful flowers of any plant, more beautiful than the cactus flower. It’s purple. A deep, deep purple like you’ve never seen. I can take you to it.”
 
Barrett smiled into the mirror.
 
Golton frowned. “Hey, these cuffs are hurting my wrists. Why don’t you fix them at the next stop?”
 
“Next stop for you is the jail.”
 
“Before that, I have to pee.”
 
Barrett started to roll up the rear window.
 
“No, no! Please the air is all I need!”
 
The rear windows came back down and Barrett smiled into the rear view mirror.
 
“You piss in this car and you’ll be cleaning it up.”
 
Golton Nodded. “You have a heart, Amigo.” 
 
They sat in silence for a mile or so. Golton coughed and sighed, then said, “The first time I tried the plant, it was such a beautiful day. We were at my Cousin Celia’s house, in the back yard. Under some trees there. She pulled out this small piece of the dried Deppea. The air was thin and dry too, that day. Some clouds were trying to roll in from the foothills, but the sun was keeping them away. Celia, she lit this little weed and pulled a shawl over us to breath in the smoke. I coughed and choked, Amigo. Oh, man my throat closed up and I could hardly breathe. That was when I saw her. She came to me under that tree. She appeared to me first from a silver cloud and took the shape of a beautiful woman with long flowing gowns. She had flowers in her hair. I said to her, where do you come from? And do you know, she looked right at me with those stabbing eyes! Her eyes sparkled like little silver sparks from a blade, like tiny bits of sun. I have always been with you, she says. Then she spread her wings and covered me, took me in her arms and…”
 
Barrett looked at Golton in the rear view mirror. “She took you for a ride, huh?”
 
“No man, she made me see. I saw my life the way it should have been instead of the way it is now. I was a different person. I was me, but a better me.”
 
Barrett pulled his aviator glasses down his nose and glanced at Golton. “You weren’t a screw-up anymore? Good dream. Too bad you can’t live it, huh? Live in a dream.”
 
Golton looked away in dismay. “Most drug trips just kill a few thousand brain cells, yeah? You wouldn’t understand even if I told you the story. You’d just laugh. People like you always laugh at things.”
 
“At drug addicts? Nah, I’m not laughing at you Golton, I’m laughing with you.”
 
Golton began to cough. He gagged and choked and tried to catch his breath.
 
“What are you doing back there?” said Barrett. He pulled off to the side of the road and got out of the patrol car. Opening the back seat door, he leaned in to see to Golton. “You pull anything and I’ll -”
 
The spray hit him squarely in the face. Barrett shot up straight and put his fingers to his nose and mouth. A fine, dark purple power covered his fingers. The earth began to spin. Round and round it went until he could no longer hold on, until he staggered back and fell to his knees. His eyes crossed and his eyelids closed.
 
“I forgot to tell you, Amigo, it comes in powdered form, too,” Golton laughed.
 
Barrett was rigid on the ground. His body convulsed once, and then went limp.
 
“Oh, shit, Amigo. Don’t die on me. I still have to get you off the road.”  Golton dragged Barrett around the back side of the cruiser and lay him face down in the dirt. He removed the keys to the cuffs and unlocked them from his wrists. “These cuffs hurt, amigo.”
 
Golton went through the deputy’s pockets and found cigarettes and matches and lit one. In the front seat he found a bottle of water and drank it down. Water droplets tickled his nose and he rubbed his fingers under his nose and wiped. When he pulled his fingers back he saw they were purple. “No!” he said out loud and looked in the rear view mirror. The purple was in his nostrils and on his fingers. “Shit, shit!” Golton wiped his face on the deputy’s shirt. He found Barrett’s hanky and used it in each nostril, but it was too late. All he could do now was wait.
 
Golton sat on the front seat with the door open and stared across the vast emptiness of the desert plane.
 
A small dark cloud lingered in the distance. Soon the cloud was rising up. And he could see her coming. On a silver galloping horse-cloud she rode. Her teeth were bright white and clenched, her hair flowed back furiously in the wind. In an instant she was there. Her wind steed was screaming. Dust flew up into his face. She sat on the thundering horse cloud as it reared up before him. Her shadow cast him into darkness and the wind blinded him with sand.
 
“Have mercy!” he pleaded.
 
She leaned forward on the swirling horse-cloud and spread her wings.
 
“Forgive me mother! I am a wicked man! Please. I know I’ve not done what I am supposed to do. I’ve failed you! Please!”
 
Her voice rang out. It tugged on him like an electrical current. It yanked and pulled his flesh, yet was smooth and comforting to his soul. A voice, other worldly in gravity and charm, grounded him, pinned him to the floor of the Mother Earth and opened him like a frog on a dissection table.
 
“You are. No more, no less than eternal truth has created.” she said.
 
She picked him up in her arms and carried him far across the desert to a small oasis covered in olive trees. There she gently placed him by the water. When he turned to her she melted away into the sand and with her, the light of the day was gone. 
 
He was alone in the heavy, clawing darkness until a distant light appeared. It came close and was carried by a beautiful dark haired girl. She sat down next to Golton and looked into his eyes.
 
“Who are you?” he asked.
 
She smiled a perfectly white smile and offered him a cup. “Drink. It is what you have made.” He tasted what was in the cup and knew it to be his life, and he spit it out. Bitterness crept inside him and he felt cramps in his stomach.
 
“Do you not like it?” she asked.
“It’s bitter. I made this?”
She smiled and took off her clothes and stood naked before him.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
She turned and walked into the water and disappeared beneath the black surface.
 
“Wait. Come back,” he yelled.
 
He knew in his heart she wouldn’t be back. He knew he was all alone. His whole life was spent alone. And he felt the stillness of this. Then he felt something very hard come to him. Not on his body, but in his mind. It was hard and final and useless, and he knew it was death that he felt. Death, like the sand under his feet, was all around him and made up everything he saw. For the earth and death were the same and made of the same things. All things were living and dead at the same time.
 
Golton hunched down at the edge of the water and heard whispers. Voices from everyplace and no place. Pieces of words that filled his heart with heaviness. The whispers of what he could have done with his life, whisperings that meant nothing and everything. Empty and meaningless words pinched and bit at his arms and face. Echoes of choices made or ignored long ago. Regrets filled his heart and came out of his mouth, like vomit, black and hot. He knelt down and sobbed them onto the ground. Regrets flowed from his eyes as he moaned and cried.
 
The sound to his left was love lost. The sound to his right was a wrong that could have been righted. The wind gently blew sand toward him, and in those grains, he knew, were the thousands of lost hours he’d spent doing nothing, being nothing, thinking nothing. Wanting only for pleasure, for food and drink. Golton wished to all the knowing grains of sand that he could have those wasted moments back. That he could make something of his life, if only he could have one last chance. “Please, let me have one more try!” he cried. He closed his eyes and held himself against the fury. Then all was still, and black. He grew instantly tired and fell asleep.
 
Golton awoke to a thundering voice. “Get out!” Officer Barrett pulled Golton from the car and steadied himself as they walked into the police station. He strained to open his eyes. They stung and itched as he tried to concentrate on his official tasks.  
 
“I don’t know what stunt you pulled on me, Golton. But you’re screwed. Assault on an officer!”
 
“Hey, Amigo. I’m glad to see you’re all right. You went out like a light. I thought maybe you had a bad accident or something.” Golton said, as they made their way to the processing room. Barrett sat Golton on a metal chair and cuffed his hands to the table.
 
“Hey, Amigo. Have I told you about the deppea, the lady in the wind? She comes to me and tells me when things are going to happen.
 
“Yeah? Did she tell you you’re gonna spend forever in lock up?” Barrett said, as he filled out a form.
 
Another voice charged the air. “Barrett, what the hell happened to you?”
A large man stood by the desk.
 
“Nothing, Sarg. I got the wind knocked out of me. Damn little prick hit me with some kind of spray.”
 
“She tells me many things, Amigo.”
 
“Clean up your face.” Sarg snickered and walked away.
Golton looked intently at Barrett, his face as close as he could get, an expectant smile on his face.
Barret did a double take at the toothy, rotten smile aimed at him.  “What are you looking at?”
“Did you not see her, amigo? Did you not see the lady of the desert?”
“I don’t know what you’re a talking about.”
“The deppea! It brings her.”
“I didn’t see anything, now shut up.”
“Wait, are you telling me you didn’t feel the regret, see the things you should have done? The waste of your life?”
Barrett looked squarely at his prisoner. “I don’t waste my time, Golton. I’m doing exactly what I‘ve always wanted to do.”
“But your path. The wrong path! Didn’t you see the mistakes in your life? A way change things? Beg for mercy?”
 
Barrett laughed as he unlocked the cuffs and led Golton to the holding cell.
“Didn’t you want to have another life, be something else?”
Barrett said, “I’m a cop. Nothing better than being a cop. Now shut up.”
 
Golton sat in his cell and wondered what had happened to Barret, why he didn’t feel the same way as he. Then he thought of food. “Hey, what time do we eat?”
 
THE END
 
 
 
 

Infinity 7 on audible

/ C.R. Hinckley / Leave a comment

Solid 4 Stars! ****

A Grown-Up First Contact Story

Infinity 7 is a story about a man casting one arm into the future while gripping a guilt-ridden past, and he’s doing it while battling unforeseen obstacles which threaten a lifetime of achievements and he has to do it in a space environment, which carries it’s own set of problems. Smooth, polished writing, a strong sense of pacing, tension builds well. Both the main character’s grief and the technology throughout felt authentic, as well as the rounded supporting characters. Smart characterization and plausible downward spiral in a scientific research environment. There were a couple spots I found circumstances eddied a bit too long for my comfort, and a loose end with the smarteye camera that I wanted tired up at the end. But the ending, although a bit abrupt, was strong and cleverly done. I’ll be thinking about this story and the concepts it introduced me to for quite some time. Fantastic voice talent performance. Worth listening to this one. I’d read this author again.

https://www.audible.com/pd/Infinity-7-Audiobook/B08CZVKRGJ

Great News, Kirkus Review

/ C.R. Hinckley / Leave a comment

A grounded, riveting murder mystery with supernatural touches.

Great news! Dreaming Wide Awake got a fantastic review on Kirkus Reviews! (Which is not easy to get)
https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/charles-r-hinckley/dreaming-wide-awake/

A private investigator with psychic abilities probes a homicide conviction in this thriller sequel.

Manhattan sleuth Gus Chase’s psychic dreams have helped him close cases. But he believes this ability is fading, which disappoints potential client Sherry Hart. Regardless, she hires him for old-fashioned detective work. Her older brother, Billy Littlefield, is serving time for the murder of a female cashier in Connecticut. Gus quickly learns the circumstantial case against Billy has lingering questions. The initial suspect, for one, committed suicide shortly after the woman’s homicide while a video that aided in convicting Billy has an unexplained glitch. Before Gus makes much progress, he meets a stranger who solicits the private eye’s psychic skills. Evidently, Gus’ “Dream State” can infiltrate a covert group and discover its plot to take over governments via mind control. Surprisingly, this band has a connection to Billy, who endured some type of experiment back in his Army days. Gus and his partner Millar Milner’s murder case may soon swerve into conspiracy territory once it’s apparent the FBI is involved. It seems Gus’ only option in stopping a killer is to rely on his extrasensory dreams. Hinckley’s gripping tale moves at a steady beat. The whodunit hits the ground running, as Sherry hands Gus a file jam-packed with evidence she’s compiled. Likewise, Gus and Mill’s banter over drinks and meals includes discussions about the ongoing case and the pair’s interviews with locals. The book’s dream sequences enhance the mystery; they’re not so much otherworldly as they are filled with tangible puzzle pieces. For example, in one dream, Gus witnesses and experiences myriad things: seeing a strangely familiar man at a podium, hearing a gunshot, and suddenly finding himself in someone’s car with a murder victim. Though the increasingly complicated case strays a bit from the original homicide, the villains as well as their motivations are comprehensible and engrossing. A grounded, riveting murder mystery with supernatural touches.

4 out of 4 stars!

/ C.R. Hinckley / Leave a comment

From: Onlinebookclub.org
https://onlinebookclub.org/reviews/

Dreaming Wide Awake by Charles R. Hinckley is the second book in the August Chase series. The author said his inspiration for this series came from a precognitive experience he had in which a crime was committed. The first novel was a standalone story. In the current tale, although the questions having to do with the current investigation are answered, a major unresolved issue will continue over into the next book. However, it can still be enjoyed on its own. After reading the first novel, Dream State, I found the author’s impressive writing imaginative and thrilling and looked forward to his next story. Therefore, after seeing this one, I seized the chance to read it and wasn’t disappointed in the least.

Written from the first-person point of view, this 339-page crime drama/mystery was thrilling. The tale started with action as Gus witnessed a murder in his dream. Then, as Gus investigated the murder and dealt with Grossman, the twists and turns kept the novel mesmerizing and intense and had me wondering what would come next.

I love books with unique characters. Each character here has their own distinctive personality. Gus and Mill are both believable and likable with obvious strengths and flaws. Gus hates his paranormal gift. Not only does it cause many sleepless nights, but it has cost him his girlfriend. He takes dangerous chances, and Mill does not hesitate to point that out. Mill is a tech-savvy genius with a love for muscle cars, who sold his company for a fortune. He represents a true friend, who is there through thick and thin. Their friendship and witty banter lightened the story and frequently made me smile. It was hard to know who to trust at the beginning of the novel. Therefore, not wanting to provide a spoiler, the villains will not be identified, but they are sufficiently creepy and will make one’s skin crawl.

There was absolutely nothing about this book that I didn’t enjoy. Therefore, I enthusiastically award it a rating of four out of four stars. Readers who enjoy thrillers, crime dramas, mysteries, and paranormal stories will appreciate this novel. Sensitive readers need to be aware there are violence and profanities in the book.


The Small River Man

/ C.R. Hinckley / Leave a comment

I came upon the small man in a dream.

He squatted by a river teaming with fish. As he looked into the rippling waters, I asked him where he came from and he said, “It is a closed system. There was nothing before and something since. The idea was strong, intense and consuming. It took root in the soil of imaginings and grew by way of hopes and dreams, emotions, gradually taking form. This is the eye of man. It sees all in front of it, none behind and certainly not into tomorrow. It’s frightened by things it does not understand, is wary of new events, yet trudges on in hopes of finding sameness, a lack of pain, some joy, perhaps a feeling of enlightenment. Happiness even. It marvels at small acts of physical manipulation. It doesn’t know what’s best for it. And it dies, leaving behind that which it has created.”

“Do you mean to say I was born of an idea and am the eye of man?”

He looked at me with his white and tearing eyes, unable to make out my form and whispered, “Do you have a dime?”

I pushed him into the water and walked on.