VIEWER DISCRESION ADVISED-This is a full page excerpt from my upcoming debut novel, entitled Molasses Suite. Chapter 1/Page 1

Mandroid

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“Git out that car nigga!” An officer with a raspy voice and southern drawl jumps out of the police cruiser with his weapon drawn.

It is Monday afternoon, the 12th of May. Deuce's car is resting on its rooftop, almost against the curb, following a violent and chaotic high-speed chase.

There is just enough room for Deuce to escape. He hears the voice as he ducks to avoid the rapidly growing flames and grabs his bag from the back seat of the limo.

Come back here Ed, you damn fool! The car is gonna blow! It's too late, and this shit ain't worth it, shouts another voice from a distance.

Deuce struggles to replace the manhole cover while trying to hold up his wounded passenger with his free leg. It is worth the extra time to cover his tracks since he will not be traveling alone. Not to mention, the fact this is an older man who is wounded and fading in and out of consciousness.

The condition of the sewer is living up to its name, but Deuce knows it is his only way out. He also knows it is just a matter of time before the fire is extinguished and they discover there are no bodies. The chase will then resume.

“Captain, he got away. There are no signs of the driver, or his rider. He gave us the slip. We have the car, but it's badly burned. This guy drives like a freaking programmed Mandroid, or something. We couldn't keep up with him for shit.” Detective Fine relays the information over the police radio.

"I don't know what happened to cause him to lose control of the car like that. He sure was giving us a run for the money." Detective Clinksdale stands looking at the charred remains of the vehicle, scratching his head.

Back in the sewer, Deuce knows he has to reach safety. Safety, but where? He knows the city like the back of his hand, but is underground. No street signs down here.

After traveling for some time, Deuce looks at the old man. “Let's rest at the next exit. I need to take a look outside.” He lowers the older man's arm from around his shoulder, climbs up the exit ladder to the man hole cover, and takes a quick look outside. He then climbs back down to the old man resting on the ladder. I'm one lucky nigga, or this old man is one fuckin' giant Buddha doll by his damn self. Either way he was happy as hell.

His short peek outside revealed a familiar neighborhood street sign, just two blocks away from his uncle's place. Now the only trick is to get the old man up the ladder, across the street undetected, and into his uncle's care.

“Unc! Check this shit out! He's hurt! Uncle Eo, he's hurt really bad. Check this out. I went to pick him up like you said, right? When I got there, I found him like this.”

“Help me get him onto the couch.” Says the uncle.

“Uncle Eo, who is this guy? I brought him back cuz I've never lost a client. I wasn't about to let them bullshit cops take me like no sucka. They chased me for about twelve miles. Right before them ghetto birds got in the sky. Cuz you know you got about t-minus ten minutes before they're right over your azz. Lights, cameras,...To be continued.