The Zach Tragic Experience – A Near-Future Bad Luck Thriller
Summer in the near-future city of Forgotten Tokyo is rough for Zach ‘Tragic’ Lejeune. People are out to frame him for murder, kill him for business, and generally bring hurt to his doorstep. Unfortunately for them, Zach Tragic is also a corollary to Murphy’s Law: things that can go wrong, go wrong around Zach. Can the troubled troubleshooter avoid the vengeful lawyers, illegal guns, and mysterious circumstances of his everyday life in Forgotten Tokyo?
Follow Zach in his first book, Zach Tragic in Forgotten Tokyo. Coming at the end of summer, just in time for murder!
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Want to see some other books? How about the far-future short story collection, The Generators Sequence or the contemporary supernatural YA thriller, Garbage In, Demon Out!
Enjoy this except from his first story!
“You are responsible for everything. Now you’re gonna pay up, Tragic.” Rufus said. Rufus wasn’t his actual name, just what everyone in Toranomon Downs called the short thug. That was about the time his fist hit my nose. I was expecting it and took the punch. It still hurt like hell.
“Hold on there, Rufus. I brought you in to see Zach on an understanding.” That was Saito, my lawyer. A good lawyer is necessary in any line of work in Forgotten Tokyo, but especially in my line of work.
“This gaikoku only understands one thing, my fists.” Rufus was not the wittiest of local tough thugs. He was, however, very tough. I was not about to take another fist in the face. I caught Rufus’ wrist and twisted it around. No mean feat when you are sitting in a cheap, used office chair and the guy hitting you is standing yet still barely above eye-level. I pulled Rufus into his swing, my left hand carrying his left hook around in front of me. I pulled him up short and kicked out with my foot, tripping up his. Rufus went sprawling on the floor as my used office chair glided back on the old caster wheels. He landed with a loud smack, like landing belly first on a concrete floor.
“Mr. Lejeune, please, there is no need for violence.” Saito said. I looked at him with my best high eyebrow, questioning look.
“Saito-san, I value your advice as a lawyer, but seriously? I’m hardly being violent. Aikido isn’t a hard art.” I said. I began to have my doubts about my lawyer’s counsel.