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Watch the Wreckage

Watch the Wreckage

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 101+ 5-Star Reviews

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A Future Where Trust in Drones is All That Stands Between Life and Oblivion

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "A thrilling, post-apocalyptic adventure that keeps you guessing with every turn. The drones are as fascinating as the characters." - Barnes & Noble review

If you enjoy:

🚁 High-Stakes Drone Warfare

🚁 Dystopian Survival in a Ravaged Future

🚁 Thrilling, Edge-of-Your-Seat Action

...then Watch the Wreckage is for you.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "A gripping dystopian thriller that explores survival and trust in a world falling apart." - Reader Review

What's Inside This Bundle:

🚁 The Drone Keeper: A man’s desperate attempt to survive using drones in a fractured society.

🚁 The Graceless: Fragile alliances and shifting loyalties in a decaying world.

🚁 From the Edge: Survival isn’t guaranteed—especially when trust falters.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "Shaw's ability to craft tension-filled scenes made this impossible to put down!" - Amazon Review

Sample Chapter

In the blackness, I stand on the rocky ledge, and the world is silent. No reflection of light off lakes or oceans—nothing for miles. There used to be a massive body of water here, home to sharks that were the stuff of nightmares. I’ve seen the digital recreations. The Helicoprion had a lower jaw full of rotating razor-sharp teeth—a creature that, frankly, I’m glad is extinct. I can’t imagine swimming with those monsters.

A shudder runs through me as I think about it. I’m up here, relying on a topographical readout to keep me from falling into oblivion, listening for the sound of my drones, but there’s nothing. Not even a whir. The usual desert sounds—owls, coyotes, even crickets—are long gone, extinct like the sharks. Only the cockroaches are left, because of course, they never quit.

I hear Anabelle's voice crackling in my ear. “Glenning, are you still out there?”

I hate it when she uses the breakthrough call like that. What if I were in the middle of something—important? Chuckling to myself, I respond, “Yeah, give me five more minutes.”

“I’m not your mom. Don’t give me the five-more-minutes line.”

I sigh. “Just a few more calibrations. There’s a wind from the east. You see that on the radar?”

She barely pauses before rattling off her answer. “There’s a windmill 5.98 kilometers southeast. But you knew that. I saw you enter the data before you left.”

Of course she’s right. She always is. But something feels off. I close my eyes, letting out a breath. This job keeps me away from everything I despise—politics, human drama—but sometimes even the drones can’t drown out that gnawing feeling in my gut. Something is happening.

I check my oxygen levels. 92. Not bad, but not great. Time to head back.

But as I walk toward the airlock, I sense that something—out there in the distance—is watching me.

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