Outtabounds

My newest thriller (and my first adult novel for several years) is just about ready for release. It’s called Outtabounds, and it’s about a legendary ski patroller who–after he’s fired from a large, destination resort, and with his knowledge of avalanches and explosives–decides to take revenge upon the patrol, the mountain, and the resort. I’ve been working on it for a long time–years, actually–and I’m jazzed to finally have it done.

Here’s an excerpt:

NEWMAN Chopperwas twenty-two, with dreams of becoming a paramedic. He was brash, confident, and aggressive to the point of being overbearing. A self-acknowledged expert on every topic, he had an opinion on everything and an over-inflated sense of his own importance.

Newman was known for standing at the top of the ski lifts when he wasn’t busy, feet apart, hands on his hips, smiling at passing guests as if saying, Relax and have a nice day now, folks: Mickey Newman’s on the job . . .

With a grin, Chase remembered the time a patroller radioed for a snowmobile to transport an exhausted guest from a remote hillside. Hearing the call, Newman had gone running for the nearest ‘bile, jumping onto the machine like Batman into the Batmobile. The ‘bile was parked at the bottom of a steep incline and Newman gunned the throttle to make the climb.

Unfortunately, someone had left the ‘bile in reverse. It shot backward, throwing Newman up and over the windscreen. His coat sleeve caught on the throttle and the snowmobile dragged him flapping and flailing across the slope before finally slamming into a tree.

Chase rolled his eyes.

Ah, he thought.

Mickey Newman . . .

JADEN JEX, on the other hand, was as nice a kid as Chase had ever known, though it was said he had the thinking power of a potted plant. Chase had heard one patroller claim the kid had “to think to breathe.”

Jex loved the beauty of the mountains, and he loved gazing about and admiring the view as he skied. It was not unknown for him to become so enthralled with the scenery that he’d forget to look where he was going. The patrol jester claimed there were few trees on the mountain he hadn’t skied into.

Once, while doing avalanche control (and for reasons no one had been able to explain) Jex had been assigned to carry a pack of explosives. It was strictly against patrol policy and common sense to “catch air” while in uniform. But when a tricky jump presented itself, Jex had been too tempted to resist. He flew over the bump, but then caught an edge on the other side. He tumbled head-over-skis down the slope with his pack of explosives, completely out of control and expecting to be blown to smithereens.

When he finally rolled to a stop, he desperately tried to rid himself of the pack–flapping, fighting, flailing in the snow–completely forgetting the waist strap that held the pack secure until he finally fell exhausted to the snow.

The other patrollers laughed themselves silly.

Chase rolled his eyes. Newman and Jex . . .

The two patrolmen, Chase thought, were as different as gravel and grapes, as different was any two men could be. But their hearts and intentions were in the right place.

Ben’s right, Chase thought. It’s going to be an interesting day . . .

 

Look for Outtabounds toward the end of October, 2018.

Shark Bites

 

I givJansen Printe a lot of talks, and one of my favorite bits is a comedy routine about scuba diving with sharks and manta rays. Even though “Demon’s Treasure” is a taut, young-adult thriller, a few jokes from my routine slipped in. The other day I received a note from a young reader who’s heard me speak; he laughed out loud when he remembered the jokes in the book from my talk.

Here’s an example:

. . . Nick also explained that sharks were known to bite into a person and then, not liking the taste, spit them back out again.

“So even if one does sink his teeth into you, it doesn’t mean he’s going to finish the job.”

“Yeah,” Jansen replied, “but you’ll still be full of holes.”

Without missing a beat, Nick said, “But that’d be awesome!”

“What? Why?

“Well, if that happened to me, I’d just plug my nose and blow real hard and the air would come whooshing out of all those little holes. Voila! Human Jacuzzi!”

Brother . . .