The Untruth Hunters

The Untruth Hunters: A Trilogy

What’s the worse that can happen after one too many whiskey and codeine cocktails? Apart from death, that is.

For Travis Hunter the answer comes in the promise of an adventure. A physical challenge, or so he believes, to take his mind off his soul-searching and self-harming tendencies.

But, the experience proves to be so much more.

Now, unwittingly recruited into a small team of misfits, he’s embarking on a mission to rescue a bunch of scientists from a remote, Caribbean island. Among the hostages are his own parents, reported dead by government sources many years ago.

Conspiracy, lies and power struggles – Travis Hunter must face these and more in a bid to uncover the greatest deception of his life, else he’ll be forever a Hunter in name only.

Part One – The Invit@tion

Part Two – The Dying Island

Part Three – The Real Conspiracy

tiExcerpt from The Invit@tion:

I saw him again, the same khaki-clad stranger that I’d seen on umpteen occasions that week – at the station, at the off-licence and once that time on the street corner opposite my home. Hovering at the peripheries of my vision, never close enough to distinguish his features. And now his distinctive helmet stood out amongst the bare-headed swarm of people in the waiting room, like a raging pimple announcing its arrival at the most inopportune moment. But, unlike the pimple, he vanished into the crowd the moment his appearance registered with me, in spite of my efforts to track him down.

“Mr. Hunter? Did you hear me? I do have other patients to attend …”

I looked up at the figure stood before me. His folded arms and pursed lips warned me not to waste any more of his time.Thoughts of my pursuer abandoned, I muttered an apology, barely audible though it was, and with a roll of the eyes, he snorted.

“You’re very lucky Mr. Hunter, very lucky indeed,” he said, shaking his head, “If you persist in this interminable spiral of neglect, your body will shut down. There are only so many times it can stand resuscitation.” It was a sobering message, delivered with clinical precision that gave no heed to softening the blow.

“You may leave now, but let this be the last time we see you here.” He handed me the paperwork and walked away, briefly closing his eyes to expel me from his mind.

Suitably chastised, his emotionless tone struck a chord with me, so much so that with my head hanging low I left the hospital, jumped in the first free taxi and headed home, insisting under my breath I would change. Granted, I’d always suffered from self-esteem issues and had been ravaged by self-doubt and endless neuroses, but I’d always managed to overcome – or at least disguise – my fears with the unwavering support of my family.



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