A new story - and you're all invited

Hey gang,

It's been awhile. How's everyone doing?

I'll get right to it with this post. One of the things I love about writing is the community; the feedback, the friends I make, talking about writing, all of it. That's the real win for me. Also, something I've been experimenting with this year is non-traditional ways of getting my writing in front of people.

With that in mind, I'm trying something new. Over the next six months or so, I'm going to share my latest story with you — Jane and Cooper save the world (working title) — in REAL TIME, one chapter at a time, straight to your inbox.

Jane and Cooper Save the World is a sci-fi thriller about two retired agents whose quiet life is shattered when they’re violently attacked… by themselves

I hope you'll help shape the story with me and read, comment, suggest, push, poke, prod, all of it. This is your chance to go on this writing journey with me. Full disclosure, I have no idea where this story is going to go.

So far, it’s got everything you’d expect from one of my stories: weird plots, fun characters, sharp dialogue, and at least one moment where you’ll go, “Wait, WHAT?”

I’d love your thoughts as the story rolls out. Got a theory? Favorite line? Totally confused by something? Think you know where it’s going? Have ideas for the plot? Let me know! You can always find me on Instagram @michaeljamesauthor or email me at studioreadwrite@gmail.com.

Let’s do this. Together.

Jane and Cooper Save The World.

Chapter 1

Somewhere between washing the dinner plates and humming along to the R.E.M. song coming from the speakers, Jane realized something was wrong. It was the sort of wrongness she hadn’t felt in half a year; a tickling sensation in her stomach that she thought she’d left behind in her old life, a sensation that meant she was in danger.

They’d been found.

Her body reacted before her brain could catch up. She let the plate fall into the soapy sink, killed the music and dropped to the kitchen floor with her back against the cabinet, her forearms still slippery with dishwater. All active vanished, and she operated on instinct. At no point did she consider that she was imagining things. The fine hairs on her forearm were standing up and her stomach felt sick, and that was enough for her. If she wasn’t the sort of person who trusted her instincts, explicitly and completely, she’d have been killed long ago.

Everything seemed as it should be, and she experienced a moment of embarrassment from her spot on the kitchen floor. Dusk had settled on her peaceful, suburban neighborhood and somewhere in the distance she could hear the faint buzz of a lawnmower. The giant clock hanging beside the fridge ticked along happily, unconcerned by her momentary bout of paranoia.

Had she imagined it? Was this nothing more than old habits coming to life, frustrated with disuse? On shaky legs, she got to her feet and allowed herself a weak chuckle. When Cooper got back, she’d tell him what happened and they’d laugh together, and his silliness would act as a balm for her intensity, as it always did.

He’d gone into the backyard to take the trash into the shed. At this time of night their property was drenched in inky blackness. Leaning forward to peer out the window over the kitchen sink, she tried to see if anything was happening. Dimly, she could make out two shapes moving quickly in the deep recesses of the backyard and she again heard a series a thumps as they exchanged blows.

Cooper was being attacked.

It happened the way it always did. Her subconscious brain put together the pieces and now it was her job to act. All uncertainly vanished. Someone was attacking her husband in the backyard. The initial noise and movement outside must have been what tipped her off. And she’d wasted at least 20 seconds sitting on the kitchen floor.

Underneath the counter where they kept the copper pans, a small service pistol was hidden snug in a compartment at the top, and she reached in and grabbed it. With a practiced click, she released the magazine and checked. Full rounds. Outside, she heard a crash which was almost certainly the sound of someone being thrown into a shed. It had been some time since she’d killed anyone, but if Cooper was hurt, she wouldn’t just fall off the no-kill wagon, she’d leap off.

The backdoor stood open and if someone was attacking Cooper, she realized there could be more than one person, and someone could be waiting for her to exit. No way to tell. But waiting here while her husband was potentially murdered wasn’t an option, so she dove through the backdoor, hoping her aggressive move would buy her a few seconds.

With practiced efficiency, she tucked and landed in a roll and pivoted to face the house, gun up. No one waited for her. She turned to the back of yard.

Two figures struggled, clasping each other by the upper arms. The porch light barely penetrated the darkness, and she wasn’t confident enough to discern which of the figures were Cooper to take a shot. Both figures were the same height and build. Screw it. She’d knock them both unconscious and sort it out after. Better Cooper get a concussion than a bullet would. Although she was hardly dressed for combat – wearing only slippers, a white tank top and pyjama pants—she rushed forward.

As she raised her gun to hit the nearest person on the back of the head, the other figure slipped under his shoulder, and swung around to apply a choke hold. There was a noise like breaking sticks and the second figure dropped to the ground. The shape that remained looked at her, breathing hard.

Cooper.

His brown hair was pasted to his head and he breathed hard from exertion. There would be time for hugs and fear later, but right now, she was firmly in business mode.

“Any others?” she asked, swinging her gun as she surveyed the backyard.

“No, just the one,” he said. He bent over to catch his breath.

“Status?” It was obvious, but habit and training had fully kicked in at this point. Always check the status of the enemy. As she spoke, she continued to scope the backyard for potential threats.

“Eliminated.”

“Check, Cooper.”

“Jane, he’s dead.”

She glared at him. “Check.”

Cooper shot her a look but crouched to lift the figure’s wrist to feel for a pulse.

“Dead. Confirmed.”

Her heart began to beat normally, and she lowered her gun. “What the hell, Cooper? Who attacked you? Who is this guy?”

“I don’t know. I got to the shed to put out the trash out and he jumped me. He came at me with a stun baton.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, I disarmed him.” Cooper bent to pick up the weapon. It was thick and ugly, much larger than any stun baton she’d ever seen. He pressed the activator and sharp blue sparks spat from the top and she could smell burning ozone.

“I’ve never seen one like that,” she said.

“Me neither. Must be forty thousand volts chugging through here. This would have killed me in an instant. This could kill an elephant.”

“Okay.” She tucked the gun into her pajama pants, where it sagged. “First things first.” She out up and gathered him in a hug. He smelled faintly of the garlic from dinner. In his hug was the only place she ever let her guard down and now that the moment was over, emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

“I was scared for you,” she whispered.

“Me too,” he said, hugging her tighter. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that the counter gun? From the kitchen?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Really not a great choice for the situation.”

She stepped back. “Are you seriously giving me shit for this? I ran out to save you. I’m wearing ladybug slippers.”

“I’m just saying. A rolling pin would have been better suited for the circumstances.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s dark out. The backyard is small and that means close quarter fighting. You’re going to want to emphasize melee over ranged. Even dead cattle prod guy knew that.”

She gestured between the backyard and the body. “This? This is not the right time for a mission debrief. Just grab the body, Coop, and try to be quiet about it. I saw the Glover’s light go on next door and you just know he’s dying to see what’s going on. I’m not sure how we’d explain away a a corpse to that nosy old thing.”

Cooper bent at the knees and hoisted the body over his shoulder. While not large enough to stand out in a crowd, Coopers entire six-foot frame was solid muscle and he lifted the body with ease. Even two years from active duty, they both kept themselves in shape. He’d let his hair grow out since they’d retired and now it hung shaggy down his face, curling around his ears.

It was hard to keep her brain from spinning. Since that last, horrible month that neither of them could remember, they’d been retired. They walked away from the job, told everyone to kiss their ass, and went into hiding. It seemed incredibly unlikely this was simply a random home assault Cooper had accidentally stumbled into. Besides, they lived in Canada, in a suburb outside Toronto. Random assaults didn’t happen here.

They lived in a narrow duplex that was longer than it was wide, and everything inside had a snug, homey feel that now felt alien against the violence of the night. She’d never looked at her house while, ‘on the job’, and now that she was in active threat mode, she couldn’t stop seeing the flaws, the places that were perfect for attack.

Ignoring the gnawing in her stomach, she ran back into the house to clear off the kitchen island. It was covered in the detritus of dinner, as they’d barely started cleaning up before the attack and, not worrying about the mess, she scooped up an entire armful of dirty bowls and plates and dumped them into the sink. Several broke with a crash, but she was beyond caring.

In the next room, the living room overhead light was on, and anyone who was looking to shoot them could easily do so through the wide, uncovered, picture window. She dove into the living room, rolled, and came to a stop beside the couch. With a quick crawl, she maneuvered to the edge of the window, grabbed the drapes and heaved them shut with enough force that she almost ripped them from their moorings. That done, she killed the lights, leaving only the glow from the kitchen.

Cooper threw the body onto the island with a grunt and rolled it onto its back. The person, male from the looks of it, was dressed in a black tracksuit and his face was covered with a black ski mask. His legs hung over the side.

“Decent-sized dude,” Cooper said.

“Get the mask off.” Jane walked around to the other side of the island. The nagging tickle was back in her stomach. Something was so wrong about all of this. So very, very wrong.

They’d always known a night like this was a possibility. In their line of work, they’d made enemies. Lots of enemies and it didn’t seem unreasonable that some would come looking for revenge. Frustrating, because they’d been so careful. New identities. A new country. Even though the circumstances of their leaving remained a frustrating and confusing blank space for the both of them, this should have worked.

Cooper pulled at the mask. Jane’s heart pounded, her chest tight, but her face stayed locked in its usual aplomb. She never let anything show.

The mask slid up to reveal a familiar chin and her breath caught.

Higher. The curve of a jaw she’d kissed a thousand times.

The nose. The mouth. The cheekbones. Her mind began to scream even before the last of the fabric peeled away.

The mask came free.

Jane recoiled as if struck, her body jerking back a step. Control shattered. She gasped, a raw, wounded sound, and clutched the edge of the counter to keep from falling. The room swam.

It was Cooper.

Dead.

Waxy, pale skin, neck bent at an unnatural angle, but him. Not similar. Not approximate.

Him.

The silence between her ears roared.

“Huh,” Cooper said, after a long, stunned beat. “I did not see that one coming.”

“How?” Her mind reeled as she tried to process what she was seeing.

“Reconstructive surgery, maybe?” Cooper leaned forward to inspect the other Cooper more closely. And although it made her nauseous, Jane forced herself to do the same.

It was him, but... not. The face was rounder, for one. More weight. This Cooper wore his hair shorter and had coarse facial hair. Her Cooper was always clean-shaven. It was way too easy to describe someone by their facial hair, and neither of them could quite let go of all of the habits of the past. Tonight had proven that. Look how easily they’d both slipped back into casual murder. Cooper wouldn’t see it like that. He’d say they were, ‘taking care of the situation’, or something similarly professional. Both of them had ways to give themselves distance from the things they did.

She pulled this Cooper’s ear back, but the skin was unbroken. Nothing on his neck or jaw, either.

“No scars,” she said. “If this is surgical, it’s the most thorough job I’ve ever seen.”

“Check his thigh. Your birthmark.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Cooper rolled the man’s waistband down. Her Cooper had a small, quarter-sized birthmark on his hip. She blinked at what she was seeing.

So did this one.

“Why would they fake the birthmark?” Cooper whispered. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t know.” She couldn’t stop staring at her dead husband. And even though she knew that her Cooper was safe, the unreality of the situation crashed into her, and she had to grip the edges of the kitchen island.

“Jane?” Cooper rushed to her side, taking her by the waist.

“I’m okay. This is so weird.”

“He’s got to have something on him, some kind of clue. Check his pockets.”

Jane leaned in to reach into the man’s track pants while Cooper wrestled his top off. Underneath, the man wore a plain grey t-shirt. She fished around but both pockets were empty.

“Well, what even the hell?” Cooper said. “Look.”

He gestured at the man’s left forearm. On it was a tattoo of a raven perched on the inside of a noose.

“I don’t have a tattoo like that,” Cooper said. “Why would they go to all the trouble of adding the birthmark if they were going to leave on this remarkably banal, early-90s, emo tattoo?”

“Nothing about this makes sense. Who would even come after us like this?”

Cooper counted on his fingers. “Russia. Either of the Korea’s. China. India. Iran. I think Mexico is still cool with us, so not them.”

“But why now?”

“Maybe it took them this long to find us? We still don’t know what happened to us that last month.”

“Maybe.” She bit her lip, unable to look away from the body.

“Regardless, Jane, we have to go. We’re burnt. We leave tonight.”

“Wait.” Jane felt like the situation was moving too fast. “Just wait. We can’t just grab our go bags and burn the place.”

“Oh, don’t even worry about that. I wired the basement with a high-burn phosphorus. When I trigger the detonator, it will burn super hot and inwards – only the immediate house is taken out, see? No danger of the fire spreading.” Against all possible reason, he gave her a thumbs up.

She glared at him with flat eyes. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Right? I couldn’t believe it was real either. I ordered it from Denmark. Some of the stuff they’re doing there with incendiaries is mind-blowing. Really cutting-edge stuff.”

“Not that.” She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Why would it be that? You wired the house?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“When you went to Niagara Falls.”

“Mm-hmm. And the detonation? How is that controlled exactly?”

“I got an app on my phone.” He fished it from his pocket and waggled it at her.

“Someone made an app to set off detonators?”

“It’s a niche market, for sure. Probably why he charges so much for it. It’s actually a subscription service, and--”

“Cooper,” she groaned.

“Don’t worry, it’s still reasonable. A hundred bucks a month for detonation piece of mind is a bargain. Yes, it is. You absolutely don’t want to cheap out on your detonators. Remember San Marino? This basically pays for itself.”

“I need you to stop talking. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Oh please. You’re telling me you didn’t plan an exit strategy?”

“We promised, Cooper.” She crossed her arms. “We promised we’d be normal. We’d live normally. Normal people don’t wire their houses with a high-burn phosphorus. Normal people don’t kill clones of themselves in the garden after dinner.”

“If anything, it’s a doppelganger. I’ve never ever heard of any government getting close to clone technology.”

“You continue to aggressively miss the point of my sentences.” She took a deep breath and pushed her hair back. “I wanted this to be over.”

“I know. Me too.”

“But it’s not, is it?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“You think they found us?”

“Someone found us.” Cooper gestured to the body. “I have no idea who. I can’t figure what possible advantage this would give anyone. Why not just send an assassin? Why make him look like me? Was he going to take out a library card in my name?”

Jane bit at her lip, thinking, while Cooper continued to search the body for clues. Finally, she spoke.

“We should take him to Richards.”

Cooper looked up. “For real? You want to go that route?”

“If anyone can figure out what this is, it’s him, and he owes us.”

“Everyone owes us,” Cooper shrugged. “Bit of a hike to Montreal, though. I think that’s where he’s holed up. I suppose if we leave now, we can be there by two or three in the morning, maybe grab a motel or something. How much cash do you have in your go bag?”

“What makes you think I have a go bag?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Jane.”

“Fifty thousand,” she sighed.

“Across how many currencies?”

“Just the main ones. US. Euro. Yen. Pounds.”

“I have seventy-five. Enough to handle whatever we need to handle.” He glanced at her and she could read the trepidation in his eyes. “You’re sure you want to go to Richards? If we’re burning the house down... wait. Are we burning the house down?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Cooper, you can play with your toy and burn down our house.”

Cooper pumped his fist and mouthed, ‘yes’ before continuing.

“We can leave fake Cooper here for the fire to take care of. They’ll just assume it was me anyway. We’ll be dead again and we find a new place to hide. Vancouver or something. Why go hunting for trouble?”

She frowned at the body. “Because someone out there is trying to kill my husband.” She cracked her knuckles. “And I’m going to make sure whoever it is doesn’t survive the week.”

***

That's it, gang! What'd you think of chapter 1? What's going to happen next? Who is Richards? Why are duplicates of Cooper attacking them?

Tune in next week to find out :)