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 The
Honor Code at the US Air Force Academy is a string of 14 words that
have set a tremendous standard for the institution. We will not lie,
steal, or cheat, nor tolerate among us anyone who does.
 When you
read it, it sounds so black and white. As a cadet, you quickly learn
it's truly a long gray line of moral guidance marching against the realities
of cadet life.
Honor, the
novel I recently completed, takes place
in the near future at the
Air Force Academy. It opens with Cadet Tom Matthews, Honor Officer
for Squadron 37, investigating the possibility a fellow senior
cadet, the
star of the football team, committed an honor violation. Pressure mounts
on Cadet Matthews to do a less than thorough job as he pursues
the investigation.
Someone wants this case to go away and they'll do anything to make
that happen.
An adventure
that begins at the Academy and travels through the halls on Capitol
Hill and into the deserts of Iraq, Honor will leave you guessing on
every page where the conspiracies stop.
For a sneak
peek at this exciting novel in progress, read the following first draft
of the opening scene.
We Will Not Lie, Steal, or Cheat
Nor Tolerate Among Us Anyone Who Does
United States Air Force Academy
Cadet Honor Code
As I looped
onto I-25 heading north, I wondered if there was blood on my Jeep’s front bumper. My heart pounded. I never thought
I’d be on the giving end of a hit-and-run.
My foot pressed hard on the accelerator, and my mind spun in reverse,
reliving the moment in instant replay slowness. I’d been driving
fast through the subdivision, parked vehicles strewn along the street
sides, the driveways empty. It was always like that. Clean driveways
and cluttered streets.
I’d seen him cross the street, then, for no apparent reason,
dart back the way he’d come. Although I braked, the Jeep slammed
into him. I remembered feeling him hit my front bumper, a yelp jerked
out of him as he was spun around. Then his body had smacked into the
bumper of a parked Honda to my left.
I hadn’t thought, just hit the accelerator and got out of there in a
hurry. No one was around, and I didn’t know what to do. I’d made
for the closest interstate on-ramp.
I
slowed my Jeep down, letting cars pass on my left. Should I have
stopped? He had to be dead. Would I have gotten in trouble if I’d stopped? Would
I get in trouble if I didn’t and somebody found out?
Then I got mad, thinking about who would let their dog out on its own in
a busy neighborhood. I mean, whoever did that knew they were taking a risk.
No
matter how smart a dog was, it was still a dog. They just couldn’t
be allowed to walk themselves.
But I still couldn’t stop feeling I’d done something wrong. Even
if he didn’t die, I’d hurt the little guy, bad. On the drive back
to the Academy, I couldn’t stop thinking how it felt through the
car when I hit him, softness and breaking conveyed through steel.
I exited at the sign marked for the north entrance to the Air Force Academy.
I approached the guard shack, slowed down.
The gate guard came out, green battle dress uniform starched and pressed like
only security police would do. He looked at the Academy sticker on my windshield.
It struck me again there might be blood on the front of my Jeep.
The guard looked a long time.
He waved me through, and I went by him, careful to keep my speed below
the ridiculously low limit for the base. As I headed west toward the mountains
and to Sijan Hall, my thoughts slowly relaxed regarding the incident with
the
dog. I felt in that moment as if the base were protection, like it had
hidden fortress walls so the outside world couldn’t intrude ...
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