Category: Sketch of Sam Monroe

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 8.2 – Sigil

    We continued as if a trail of corpses wasn’t piling in our wake. Thornton’s fatal call never came. Stateside communication was as mundane and technical as ever. Was there some glitch that made ‘Langley’ miss the HAG – I log? Our minds…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 8.1 – The Roots are Thirsty

Lucas was even less thrilled about waking earlier than early. He stumbled to the spook tent with all the enthusiasm of a snail approaching salt. It took what would otherwise have been a comically epochal span of time to realize the gravity of the…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 8.0 – Night Ops

‘As if we had a choice.’ I mused to myself as dawn tickled its way up my hammock pegs. The haze of sleep dissipated slowly. I wanted to lay there and sway forever in the sticky morn. My wish would not be granted. Cooks…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 7.9 – The Arch-Druid

The satellite view was deceptive. Google maps reveals an impressive looking patchwork of highways in the Mato Grosso and all throughout Brazil. Labeled with such bureaucratically soporific appellations as MT 101. Yet, these thin lines stretching like gossamer serpents to overgrown pioneer towns were…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 7.8 – Babylon Ex-Nihilo?

Ah, the rain…it was after all a rain-forest. Though we were careful to embark during a season that was dry relatively speaking…the problem was that we were speaking relatively. We were coping… swimmingly. That is we were in essence swimming. Though everything was waterproofed…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 7.7 – Anarchy

In an era when Brooklyn dentists go on Safari, I suppose that even our mad expedition was doomed to be tainted with training wheels. I lost my coffee buzz at the same moment that I watched a bright glint arc its way over our…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 7.6 – A New Answer

“Je ne savais pas que tu parlais français. ” I groaned. “Wha..what ?” ” I didn’t know you spoke French. ” Fabres voice was muffled by the fog of sleep. ” Huh… ” ” You were just humming an old French tune. In near perfect…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 7.5 – The Daughter of a Whore

  Dispensing with any sort of quackery I’d simply shouted, “Get out of here. This is my home. I am an Englishman and this is England!” After all the noise had settled and Betty had ceased whimpering I winked at Jones. He was still…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 7.4 – Those Aren’t Dentists

I blinked stupidly in the harsh sunlight. O good. Lobo was heading over. I’d long ago grown weary of his perpetually critical outlook. There was only one cunt in this camp that had the divine sanction to be cynic sovereign. “You are taking these…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 7.3 – HAG – I

It was cold in the spook tent. I was in a cryogenic womb made from space age canvas, fiberglass, and fans. It was dark save for the glow of monitors and the Christmas light array of blinking LEDs. There in cramped quarters we traced…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 7.2 – Kurâmã

I never got those Cubans. I felt better as predicted. There was also a fresh distraction to take my mind off physical woes. It was the oddest thing. Watching the natives avoid Hoyt. Apparently there wasn’t a medicine strong enough to purge whatever demon…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 7.1 – Precious American Fluids

I awoke with a start. I was no longer floating. As I sat up I noticed that we had landed in front of a settlement. Various porters were conveying our gear to what I assumed was the village square. There had already appeared a…