G is for God is Dead Part VI

© Can Stock Photo / Zeferli

Author Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this segment out. Had some issues with Word on my computer and wound up having to do a complete reinstall. 

What follows is a brief foray into the world the four boys from my post apocalyptic series inhabit. A world of unrestrained brutality where death lurks at every turn, where the only law was the firepower one carried, and the only hope was for a swift death followed by a dreamless sleep. 

Click here  to be notified when the story updates.

Read the story from the beginning. Click HERE!

G is for God is Dead!

Part VI

On a lonely country road four boys reach the edge of reality.

“Where are his followers?” Window said, spreading his arms wide as he slowly turned around in the deserted church. “Where are these true believers?” Window stopped, having turned all the way around until he was facing the priest once again. His arms still outstretched he glanced left and right.

“Are they hiding in the shadows”

“They’re here,” the priest answered, “they’re all around in fact, don’t you see? It’s the second coming. As it said in revelations twenty, twelve, and thirteen.

The priests voice rose as he quoted the passage, “And I saw the dead, the great and the small, standing before the throne, and books were opened; and another book was opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged from the things which were written in the books, according to their deeds. And the sea gave up the dead which were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead which were in them; and they were judged, every one of them according to their deeds.” As the echo of his voice faded into the shadows the priests turned to the windows at the front of the church.

“They have come to be judged,” he whispered as he crossed to the window and gazed out at the growing crowd of the undead who waited yards from the front door.

“This guy’s off his rocker,” Einstein said as he twirled his finger around his ear.

“You’ll get no argument from me," Meat said as he watched the deep shadows around the statue. They had to get out of there, fast, the sanctuary they sought would not be found here.

“You need to leave,” the priest said as he turned from the window and stepped to the door, “the time of their judgment has arrived.” The snap of the lock being drawn back was loud in the church and the priest was opening both front doors, allowing the light of the setting sun to push back the shadows as briefly glimpsed objects scurried about frantically to escape the encroaching light.

He stepped through the door, his arm spread wide as he approached the undead who stood waiting.

“Welcome my children,” he said, “you have found your salvation, your journey has come to an end.”

The undead remained rooted in place, watching the priest with cataract coated eyes, those that were lucky to still have them. If this was salvation Meat didn’t want any parts of it.

“Let’s get out of here,” Meat said before turning to the deeper shadows crowding the back of the church.

“Where are we gonna go?” Einstein said, turning to watch meat as he vanished into the gloom. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

“What choice do we have,” Meat shot back, his word punctuated by the sound of a door opening.

Window and Billie-Bob remained rooted in place, watching the priest as first one, then another of the undead approached him with staggering steps. The priest stepped back, keeping his distance as more of the undead followed him into the church.

“That’s right my children, come to me, you have been abandoned by the one you followed, left to wander aimlessly, lost in the wilderness of ignorance. I have found the one true god, here in this little church, he has spoken to me as he will speak to if you will only open your hearts to him.”

The priest stepped through the door backwards, his arms upraised, palms out as he spoke in a fevered voice and the undead followed him in an orderly manner.

“Dammit, come on, let’s get out of here,” Meat said, breaking the trance Window and Billie-bob had fallen under as they watched the priest leading the undead into the church.

“Let’s go,” Window said, pulling at Billie-Bob’s arm as he turned to follow the others. Billie-Bob followed reluctantly, struggling to pull his gaze from the spectacle that was playing out in the church behind them. The crowd of the undead was growing as the priest continued to cajole them to follow him into the church. Spreading out to fill the emptiness.

The shadows enveloped them, slithering across their bodies as it wrapped them in ebony embraces.

“That’s right my children, accept the eternal life the one true god has to offer you. Embrace his essence for the god you once followed is dead, and another has risen to take his place.”

To be continued!

The four boys featured in this story appear in my post apocalyptic coming of age series available from Amazon.

Book one

 ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

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Free Read Friday: G is for God is Dead Pt V

© Can Stock Photo / Zeferli

Author Note: What follows is a brief foray into the world the four boys from my post apocalyptic series inhabit. A world of unrestrained brutality where death lurks at every turn, where the only law was the firepower one carried, and the only hope was for a swift death followed by a dreamless sleep. 

Click here  to be notified when the story updates.

Read the story from the beginning. Click HERE!

G is for God is Dead!

Part V 

On a lonely country road four boys reach the edge of reality.

He was only dimly aware of the others as he slowly approached the outstretched figure shrouded by deep shadows. In those shadows he saw movement. A primitive dance that kept time with the steady beat of his heart as the shadows slithered with a sinuous ease across the animated face of the statue.

It was nothing really, just plaster of paris, and paint put together to represent the embodiment of a religious belief. It couldn’t hurt him. Could it? The thought whispered through his mind, but there was no comfort in it. Something had inhabited the statues, creating a semblance of life for purposes that were a mystery.

Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away as the smile on that immobile face turned down into a frown.

“What’s wrong with you?” Window said as he turned the younger boy to face him. Billie-Bob’s eyes strayed to that shadowy face, seeking the comfort they all sought.

 The slap sounded like a gunshot that echoed in the shadowy corners of the church and Billie-Bob blinked several times as awareness blossomed. The tenuous link he’d established with that which inhabited the statue was severed by Window’s act and he looked around at the others as if he were seeing them for the first time.

“Are you okay?” Meat asked and Billie-Bob numbly nodded his head. He was okay now, but there was no telling what might have happened had he reached the statue. Looking around the abandoned church he felt it again, reaching out from those dank corners, caressing his thoughts with a chilled touch that sent icy fingers dancing the length of his spine. They were not safe here.

“I don’t know what it was,” he said, searching for the right words to convey what he’d felt, “but it was trying to get me to come to it.” He finished with a shudder, his eyes drawn once more to the immobile shape of the stature dressed in a shadowy cloak.

“We can’t stay here,” Einstein said as he spun his head around trying to look into all of the shadowy corners at one time.

“What is wrong with you two?” Window said, “we’ve got shelter, and in case you hadn’t noticed there’s a shit load of the dead waiting for us outside.

“They’re right,” Meat said, “I can feel it too, there’s something here that doesn’t belong, something we don’t understand.” Meat turned to the window and glanced out at the immobile crowd of the undead who stood around the church in a dense crowd, all eyes focused on the building they were hiding in.

“Then what are we gonna do? We can’t just walk out now.” Window turned back to stare at the statue.

“No, not now, but maybe tonight.”

“How will we get through them.”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, we need to create a disturbance that will draw them away, give us a chance to escape.”

“You have to leave, now!” The priest shouted from the shadows, he stepped into view, no longer the submissive, diminutive, type.  Now he was assertive, his voice confident, full of the conviction of his belief.

“He doesn’t want you here any longer.”

“Who doesn’t want us here?” Window said, turning on the priest who refused to be intimidated.

The priest pointed at the statue, “he lives. He is the embodiment of Christ and he only allows those who believe to be in his presence.”

“That’s not how I was taught,” Meat said.

“And you see where it got him,” the priest shot back, “this is the dawn of a new age, his second coming, and only those willing to submit to him will be forgiven.”

To be continued!

The four boys featured in this story appear in my post apocalyptic coming of age series available from Amazon.

Book one

 ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

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Click the link below to grab your copy today.

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Free Read Friday: G is for God Is Dead Part IV

© Can Stock Photo / Zeferli

Author Note: What follows is a brief foray into the world the four boys from my post apocalyptic series inhabit. A world of unrestrained brutality where death lurked at every turn, where the only law was the firepower one carried, and the only hope was for a swift death followed by a dreamless sleep. Inspired by Stephen King's Dark Tower series. Roland Deschain was the last gunslinger, one of these boys is destined to become the first.

Click here  to be notified when the story updates.

Read the story from the beginning. Click HERE!

G is for God is Dead!

Part IV

On a winding country road four boys reach the edge of reality.

“It’s nothing, really, just the wind, and all that, there’s nothing at all in the shadows,” the man finished, jerking his head around to the right as he continued to search the shadows. “Or maybe it’s a nightmare that’s slipped its moorings,” he whispered more to himself as he turned from the four boys to continue his search of the darkness that had grown to fill the church with a palatable sense of approaching doom. They were trapped between the undead waiting outside, and a shadowy presence that inhabited the church. Why were the undead waiting? What invisible force was keeping them at bay? The questions begged for answers that were not immediately forthcoming.

“He’s crazy,” Window said, dismissing the old priest as he vanished into the thick gloom.

“Shhh,” Einstein said, “not so loud, he might hear you.”

“So, who cares?”

As the other three were dealing with the priest Billie-Bob had been watching the statue behind the altar. There was something about it that touched him in a darkly primitive place where old fears roamed unfettered through narrow corridors. Something that wasn’t quite right, aside from its size.

Window’s shout drew his attention, and when he looked away, just at the very edge of his peripheral vision, he spotted movement. The statue had moved, and he took several steps back as fear washed over him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. It had to be his imagination. It wasn’t possible for the statue to move. He focused his attention on it, watching for even the slightest sign of movement but the shadows were thick, and details were scarce.

He could move closer, but no, it was safer to remain where he was. He looked away, this time focusing on the statue and was rewarded with a slight nodding of the head. It had to be the shadows playing tricks on him.

Retrieving a flashlight from his pack he turned it on and played the narrow beam across the statue’s face, those clear blue eyes sparkled in the soft light. First one eyelid, then the other, closed and he took several steps back.

“Guys,” he whispered as he struggled to come to terms with what he had just seen. They were still arguing among themselves after the priest vanished into the deeper shadows along the side of the church.

Then he felt it on an emotional level, something reaching out to him, caressing his thoughts as it sought what? What was it searching for?

Do you believe? The question formed and he looked from the statue to his friends. They were the only thing he had ever believed in. The only thing he found he could trust. You couldn’t even trust adults in this new reality, it was every man for himself, and as the youngest member of this quartet he had experienced that disregard first hand. Most of the adults he’d met in his short life were focused solely on their own needs and wants.

You can trust me, a sweetly sinister voice whispered in his mind and he found himself drawn to the statue like a moth to a flame. He was aware the others had stopped arguing, their focus shifting from the priest to him, as they each in turn, spun around to watch as he slowly approached that living statue.

“Billie-Bob, what are you doing?” Window shouted.

The young boy failed to answer as he slowly approached the statue, one hand outstretched, reaching for those clear blue eyes locked with his as that inner voice soothed his terror. Quelling his fear, blanketing it with a spreading numbness that slowly washed through him.

With its numbing embrace came understanding as Billie-Bob shed his well earned doubts about humanities purpose and its future.  They had come to witness the dawn of a new era. Those who had gathered beyond the walls of the church, drawn by that which inhabited the statue, the undead were to be the chosen ones.

When he and his brother first arrived at Bremo Bluffs, they had been taken in by a husband and wife who had lost their children to the awakening. Their presence helped soften the blow of that loss, but the couple had found more solace in the bible, in particular the teachings of revelations and the passages that dealt with the rising of the dead. For them the awakening was not the end of society, but the beginning of a new age.

Did that mean they were doomed to an eternity of damnation?

“Come to me,” that sinister voice whispered in his mind, and he did, against his own will, unable to stop himself. 



To be continued!

The four boys featured in this story appear in my post apocalyptic coming of age series available from Amazon.

Book one

 ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

Now only $0.99

Click the link below to grab your copy today.

ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

Become a member of my

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Free Read Friday: G is for God Is Dead Pt III

© Can Stock Photo / Zeferli

Author Note: What follows is a brief foray into the world the four boys from my post apocalyptic series inhabit. A world of unrestrained brutality where death lurked at every turn, where the only law was the firepower one carried, and the only hope was for a swift death followed by a dreamless sleep.

Click here  to be notified when the story updates.

Read the story from the beginning. Click HERE!

G is for God is Dead!

On a winding country road four boys reach the edge of reality.

It took all four of them to do it, but they managed to move one of the heavy pews at the back the church, sliding it across the wood floor with a loud screech, shoving it tight against the double doors, effectively blocking them before they stepped back to admire their handiwork.

No sounds came from beyond the closed doors, there were no listless slaps of dead flesh against the barrier, no moaning, no crushing weight as hundreds of the undead tried to get into the church where fresh meat was hiding.

“What’s going on? Why aren’t they trying to get in?” Billie-Bob said, crossing to one of the windows where he took a quick peek outside. The undead stood in an immobile crowd more than fifty feet away. Watching the church silently as the sun shimmered on their cataract clouded eyes. It was like looking at a group of people who were wearing mirrored sunglasses, and the image left Billie-Bob more than a little unnerved.

“They’re just standing there,” he said, glancing back at the other three who stood shrouded in the deep shadows of the church. Behind them he saw a shadowy figure hanging from the wall.

“What the hell is that,” he said as he pushed past the others, the undead momentarily forgotten, as he walked down the center aisle towards the statue of Christ on the Cross that dominated the wall behind the pulpit. The statue was more than double the size of an average person. Painted with immaculate detail, the eyes were full of sorrow and seemed to follow them as they trooped down the center aisle towards it.

“God is not dead,” Window said in an obvious attempt to inject some humor into the situation, “he’s right here.” He approached the statue, staring up into the haunted eyes, noting the crown of thorns and how each one appeared to pierce the flesh, each drawing a line of blood that followed the creases of the forehead like a network of  rivers flowing among the mountains.

He was reaching up to touch the face when a booming voice shouted. “Don’t touch it,” stopping his hand several inches from the carved cheek.

All four of them whirled around, weapons drawn as they searched the shadows for the owner of the voice. Sunlight streamed through several skylights in the vaulted ceiling, creating shafts of light that spawned even more shadows for any would be attackers to hide within.

“Come out where we can see you,” Window shouted, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement.

“If I do will you shoot me?”

“Only if you mean to harm us.”

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“That’s easy for you to say, after all, you’re the one who came into this church armed.”

Window looked from one to the other and with a shrug slipped the forty four that was his birthright into its holster, yet his hand never strayed very far from the sandalwood grip as he turned back to address the disembodied voice.

“I’ve put my gun away, it’s safe to come out.”

“Do I have your word?”

“Of course, you’ve nothing to fear from us.”

There was a moment of silence as the unseen interloper considered what Window said.

“I’ll take you at your word.

A man appeared from the deep shadows gathered along the left wall, small of stature with a bald head, he wore the garb of a priest as he stepped into the light shining down from above.

Meat approached him with his hand out, “we’re not here to cause any harm,” he said as he got closer enough to the man to spot the white collar at his throat. “We were just running from the undead and picked what looked like the safest spot.”

The man laughed nervously at that, his head on a swivel as he searched the shadows all around him.

“It’s far from safe here,” the man said, finishing with a laugh that bordered on the cackle of insanity.

Window shot him a knowing look and Meat understood he would never fully trust the man who appeared from the shadowy depths of the church.

“Are you the priest for this church?” Einstein said as he stepped forward, following the man’s gaze that was constantly searching the shadows all around them. “Are you all right? Can we help you find what it is you’re looking for?”

“Who says I’m looking for anything?” The man shot back, pinning Einstein to his spot with a penetrating stare.

“I was just saying…” Einstein’s words faded under the priest’s withering stare.

From the shadows came the sound of movement and the man spun around to confront whatever lived in that deepening gloom. It sounded like something being dragged across a coarse surface. Soft, almost imperceptible, the sound multiplied as it grew to surround them.

“I told you, not now,” the priest shouted into the shadows and the sound faded to silence.

“What is it?” Window said as he stepped forward, moving Einstein aside, “what are you hiding from us?” He pulled his revolver as he searched the shadows for the source of the  sound.

To be continued!

The four boys featured in this story appear in my post apocalyptic coming of age series available from Amazon.

Book one

 ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

Now only $0.99

Click the link below to grab your copy today.

ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

Become a member of my

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That's 2 complete novels and a 

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Free Read Friday: G is for God is Dead Pt II

© Can Stock Photo / Zeferli

Author Note: What follows is a brief foray into the world the four boys from my post apocalyptic series inhabit. A world of unrestrained brutality where death lurked at every turn, where the only law was the firepower one carried, and the only hope was for a swift death followed by a dreamless sleep. Inspired by Stephen King's Dark Tower series. Roland Deschain was the last gunslinger, one of these boys is destined to become the first.

Click here  to be notified when the story updates.

Read the story from the beginning. Click HERE!

G is for God is Dead!

On a winding country road four boys reach the edge of reality.

Going around was a preferable option that would add another day to their trek. While it was not a real inconvenience as they were well stocked for an extended trip, and were quite capable of living off the land, there was something about the whole situation that tickled his curiosity.

Why? The question begged to be answered, why would they hang their priest?

He didn’t appear to have suffered any other wounds, his clothes though dirty, looked to ve well maintained.

“What do you suppose happened?” Window said on his right as Meat watched the clearing ahead for any signs of life.

“Hard to say,” he answered with a shrug, his gaze never straying from that clearing.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Window said as he started down the road ahead of them.

“Maybe we should just go around,” Meat said, stopping the younger boy in his tracks.

“I agree,” Einstein offered, “I think it would be better if we just went around.”

“What do you think?” Window said, shifting his gaze to Billie-Bob who was whispering to himself, his voice soft, indistinct, the words running together like a chant.

“Who me?” Billie-Bob looked up startled, shrugging as he shook his head and lifted his hands, palms up. “Doesn’t matter to me which way we go.”

“It’s settled then, we’ll go through,” Window said before turning on his heel and striking out.

“Wait,” Meat said, “I don’t think it’s safe.”

“Where is it safe?” Window shot back, turning to face the other three boys, “tell me that, where in this world is it really safe, because you know what, I want to go there. I’m tired of always being afraid, always having to be cautious so we don’t disrupt the others, or draw their attention.” Window’s voice rose as he continued, closing with a shout of frustration. “Where is it safe?”

Several birds took to flight from the trees above them squawking in protest with raucous cries. Window stood before them, like them, nothing more than a kid lost in a world that no longer cared. Sure they were armed, and they certainly knew how to use the weapons they carried, but beneath their grimy exteriors, they were nothing more than children shouldering a burden that had been forced on them.

As the echo of Window’s voice faded into the distance, and the startled birds had settled elsewhere, from the forest on their right came the steady sound of someone’s approach though the dense blanket of leaves that covered the forest floor.

All eyes turned to the forest, hands dropping instinctively to the butts of  their weapons. In this new age, when a stranger approached, it was best to be ready for anything.

A spot of white materialized from the gloomy forest depths as those steady footsteps drew closer. A person emerged from the shadows, staggering towards them, more details becoming obvious with every passing moment. She might have been beautiful once, but not anymore. Long blonde hair, that which remained, hung in filthy strands around a face marbled in shades of gray and black. Her mouth hung open, exposing blackened teeth that had probably once been perfectly straight and white. Her eyes burned with a preternatural light, shimmering in the shadowy depths as he mouth worked in hungry anticipation of sinking those neglected incisors into warm, living, flesh.

She was one of the undead and they slipped well worn pistols from leather holsters as she reached the edge of the road. Window fired, the sound of his forty four shattering the stillness, sending a flock of birds into startled flight as the heavy slug slapped her in the forehead, stopping her forward momentum as it shattered her skull and pulped her brain.

She dropped to the ground instantly as what remained of her brains splattered against the tree trunks behind her.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Meat yelled as he turned on Window. “Now everyone within a four mile radius knows where we are.”

“Who cares, let em come get us, I’m ready for them.”

Meat saw the truth in the younger boys eyes, for all his bravado he was as scared as the rest of them.

As if in answer to Window’s boast the sound of more movement came from the forest around them. More shapes emerged from the shadowy depths, staggering into view, drawn by all the noise Window had made.

“We better get going,” Widow said as he turned to flee down the road. The other three followed as more than ten of the undead staggered onto the cracked pavement of that narrow ribbon of road. Followed by even more that seemed to inhabit the entire forest around them.

Where had they come from? Meat had time to wonder as they drew closer to the church flanked by two other buildings. They were in the middle of nowhere, far from any major cities, there shouldn’t be that many undead in the woods around them.

When he chanced a look back he saw the road covered by a staggering crowd of the undead.

Window reached the church first and without hesitation he smashed open the door. After the last of them hurried through he closed it and with their help used whatever was lying around to barricade it.

To be continued!

The four boys featured in this story appear in my post apocalyptic coming of age series available from Amazon.

Book one, ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

Now only $0.99

Click the link below to grab your copy today.

ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

Become a member of my

readers group and get a

free starter library.

That's 2 complete novels and a 

collection of short stories.

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Free Read Friday: G is for God is Dead!

© Can Stock Photo / Zeferli

Author Note: What follows is a brief foray into the world the four boys from my post apocalyptic series inhabit. A world of unrestrained brutality where death lurked at every turn, where the only law was the firepower one carried, and the only hope was for a swift death followed by a dreamless sleep. Inspired by Stephen King's Dark Tower series. Roland Deschain was the last gunslinger, one of these boys is destined to become the first.

Click here  to be notified when the story updates.

G is for God is Dead!

On a winding country road four boys reach the edge of reality.

Were it a different time and place the sight of four boys on a camping trip would elicit a smile as many recalled doing just that when they were young. Their packs slung across narrow shoulders, the pockets of their cargo pants bulging with the necessities for the trip.  An adventurous trek into the wilderness away from the safety of home, even if it was at the very edge of the backyard where the forest waited in gloomy anticipation.

There was one notable difference, and it was in the way they moved. They weren’t bunched together as a group of boys normally would be. Shouting to let the world know they were alive. This group was spread out in a formation familiar to anyone who has ever served. Keeping to the edge of a road covered by a dense layer of dead leaves, the safety of a narrow ditch within easy reach.

Their obvious wariness belied the innocent nature of their trek, their heads always on a swivel as they kept watch on the forest that surrounded them. The well worn handles of various weapons within easy reach of hands that appeared at first to be idle, yet moved with a determined grace.

For them this was not a different time and place, this was their reality, having grown up amid the brutality of a world turned upon its head. This was the time after. Though they had heard the stories from the days before the dead walked. None of them had ever experienced the convenience of a fast food restaurant, the overwhelming sight of a fully stocked supermarket, the safety of a secure home.

“Did I ever tell you about the Zombie who wanted a girlfriend,” Billie-Bob, the youngest member of the group called out from his place at the rear.

“Keep it down back there,” Meat, the boy in the lead replied, turning around to walk backwards as he and Window, the second boy exchanged shrugs. There was a preternatural stillness about Window, who was not much younger than Meat. They both viewed the world through a thousand yard stare that was so out of place on a face so young.

In the distance ahead several structures along the side of the road emerged from the forest. Nothing more than a wide spot in the road, but it was the first sign of civilization they had seen this day. The last little town they had passed through had burned to the ground some time in the past. The fire leaving only the charred remnants of the foundations that once supported the buildings. With no fire department to respond the inferno had consumed the small village.

Window spotted something ahead and pushed forward to tap Meat on the shoulder. Dropping to one knee they tried to make out what it was hanging from the tree limbs interlaced over the road.

“I don’t like this,” Window said, his hand dropping to the butt of the revolver protruding from the holster on his hip.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t like,” Billie-Bob said. He was the only one in the group who could get away with riding Window, who shot him a dirty look.

“Let’s get closer,” Meat said and as a group they rose and quickly covered the distance between themselves and that object.

As they got closer the smell alerted them to what it was. It was the stench of something dead that has lain in the sun for too long. For them it was a familiar smell, one they had grown up with, marring the fresh clean scent of a wilderness that has moved on to leave the remnants of civilization behind.

More details emerged as they got closer and from the canopy of interlaced branches above them hung the dead body of an older man. His neck had obviously been broken, the head sitting at an unnatural angle, the eyes open and watching as they neared.

“It’s alive,” Einstein, the fourth member of the group said with obvious distaste. Unlike the others he had grown up in a secure compound along the banks of the James river, so he was unfamiliar with the brutality of the world in which they lived. He was the smartest in the group, earning the nickname he carried.

“Not for long,” Windows said as he drew his revolver.

“Don’t,” Meat said, putting his hand out to stop him, “there might be others nearby.”

From the dead man’s neck hung a crudely drawn sign.

“God is dead.” Billie-Bob read the sign out loud. It was then Meat spotted the white collar around the man’s neck. He’d been a priest.

Why had he been hung?

Meat turned his attention back to the buildings ahead, and spotted the small church, its white siding shimmering in the noon day sun. The answer lay there, he was sure of it, he just wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer it.

To be continued!

The four boys featured in this story appear in my post apocalyptic coming of age series available from Amazon.

Book one, ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

Now only $0.99

Click the link below to grab your copy today.

ALL ROADS LEAD TO TERROR

Become a member of my

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That's 2 complete novels and a 

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Free Read Friday: Billy, The End

Read the entire story from the start:  BILLY

Billy

Instantly they were transported to the black depths of that gloomy forest, Sarah was clinging to his hand as he ran through twisted branches that reached out to snatch at his clothing. Ahead of them, in the distance,  he saw a square of soft yellow light that offered safety from the creatures of the night that crashed through the forest all around them.

His path was lit by a soft glow that seemed to be coming from him and he held up his free hand to look at the splayed fingers, each glowing with a soft luminescence that emanated from his flesh.

“Keep going,” she said from behind him as his feet faltered and he slowed in awe at the light that was coming from his own body.

The sounds of trees being torn asunder came from the forest around them, the frustrated thrashing of those shadowy beasts that could do nothing more than keep time with his flight.

“Hurry,” she said and he looked back to see she had nearly vanished into the shadows. Fear blossomed in his heart and the effervescent glow of his body flickered. As it did the night intruded upon the small circle that around them, ebony claws piercing the illumination, adding to the terror thundering through him.

His steps faltered as the glow diminished and the night, filled to overflowing with those ancient things, pressed in close around them. So close they brushed against the bare skin of his arm and he was overwhelmed by a calming sensation that sought to lull him into a more relaxed frame of mind.

That was how they go into you. Not through terror, or fear, or even the promise of respite from all the bad that was going on in your life. No, they slipped in when you least expected them to, when you were drifting in the featureless void between the light of vigilance and the shadowy realm of your dreams. When you were off guard was the most dangerous time of any night.

But once they got their hooks into you it was all over, unless.

As the night pressed in all around them he looked into his sister’s fading eyes, fear battling the sorrow that was once more welling up from that bottomless void. He felt their touch on that deep primitive level.  They were coming for them and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. More claws cleaved the fading light as his terror swelled to overwhelm him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out for her with one hand. A shadowy appendage caressed his fingers, leaving a chill in it’s wake as she slowly faded into the shadows that now surrounded them. The light of safety was too far away, on the other side of a vast gulf of nothingness that seethed with the creatures of the night.

“It’s okay,” she whispered in his mind, “I will always love you,” the words were so alien coming from her. Words she had never once in his memory spoken, and the realization struck him with the force of a physical blow. He loved her too, as only a younger brother could love an older sister.

The light that had been waning suddenly flared as his love for her infused him with renewed strength and a desire to save her. Those shadowy things were overwhelmed by the pulse of light, several becoming trapped in its glow, their misshapen figures devoured by the light that turned them to ash upon its touch.

She came back to him, gaining more substance, fed by his love for her. Her grip tightened on his hand as he turned and ran through the shadowy depths with her in tow, straight for the small opening that offered them an escape from this place of shadows. Around them the forest crackled as those shadowy things fled in the wake of the light that burned from him.

Reaching the opening he dove through, into he light and the safety if offered. At the last moment her hand slipped from his. He bounced onto her bed once before rolling off the side onto the floor.

“Sara?” he called out as he scrambled to his feet and looked around her empty room, his gaze coming to rest on that poster.

“No,” he screamed as he attacked the poster on the wall. Jamming his hand into the shadows, coming up hard against the unyielding surface of the wall behind it. He had failed and the shadows had gotten what they wanted. Sara was still trapped on the other side, and he couldn’t get to her.

“Sara,” he screamed as his rage was deflated by the helplessness of a six year old. He had been crazy to think he could do anything to change what had happened. Sorrow overwhelmed him as he dropped to her bed and cried into her pillows that still carried her scent.

From outside came the sound of a car door closing and he pushed himself up from the bed, climbing down he crossed to the window and saw his father walking up the short walk to the front door. Turning from the window he crossed her room to the hallway, and took the stairs down to the first floor. His footsteps heavy with sorrow and bitter disappointment.

“Hey sport, let’s go, Sara’s awake, she wants to see you,” his father said and he stopped to state as him, his mouth hanging open.

“Don’t just stand there catching flies with your mouth hanging open, let’s go, Sara’s waiting. I wanted to call but she insisted I bring you to the hospital.”

“Sara’s okay?” Billy said as he slowly approached his father who stood by the front door. From outside came the sound of Mr. Winslow cutting his grass, and the Baker kids still playing.

She was okay? They had made it? But what happened at the end, when he lost her hand?

“She’s not one hundred percent yet, and she’ll have to stay in the hospital, but she woke up this morning.”

Then he remembered the poster still hanging over her bed.

“Hang on a second,” he said before he turned and raced back up the steps. In Sara’s room he crossed to the poster and pulled it from the wall, rolling it up as the sound of thrashing came from the shadows around the base of the tree. Once he was done he raced down the hallway to the attic doorway. In the attic he searched through the old Christmas stuff piled in the corner until he found what he was looking for. A cardboard tube from a roll of wrapping paper. Sliding the poster into the tube he crossed to the darkest part of the attic and hid the tube behind a pile of old boxes.

As he walked down the steps from the attic he heard a faint clicking coming from where he’d hidden the cardboard tube. It would be safe for her to come home now, and he promised himself that once he got home he would sneak that tube out of the house and bury it somewhere deep in the forest behind their house.

THE END

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Free Read Friday: Billy Part VI

Billy is being stubborn. Only 630 words this week. Apparently he does not want this story to end.  But the end is coming whether he likes its or not.

To read the entire story up to this point click here BILLY!

Billy

Part VI

“We’re home.”

“No we’re not,” she said as she shook her head. “have you looked around, do you know why nothing’s working like it’s supposed to?

Billy shrugged as his gaze was drawn once again to the poster over her bed. The shadows beneath the tree were moving in a slow, sinuous dance, slithering over and around one another with the patience of  one who was certain they would win. They had all the time in the world, and Billy was sure theirs was running out.

“I don’t have much longer,” she said as she lifted her hand, the flesh had grown translucent and he saw the faint outline of the bones of her hand, the dark lines that were the tendons, muscles and veins. In fact everything about her was taking on an ethereal air and the darkness from the poster behind her head was showing through her face. “I’ve been here too long.”

“Where are we?”

“We’re trapped between the ticks of a clock, within a slice of time that will slowly fade to nothingness, the echo of a moment that happened in the past. We have to go back, we can’t hide here much longer.”

The darkness of the poster had grown more pronounced through the reflection of her face and he realized they were both about to become lost forever. Lifting his own hand he saw the poster through his semi-transparent flesh.

“I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be.” She smiled, “I’ll be with you no matter what happens.”

“You promise.”

“Have I ever lied to you, no, don’t answer that,” she said as she held up her hand.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you kill yourself?”

“I,” she began then stopped, searching it seemed for the right way to phrase it, how did one explain the reasoning behind such an act?

“It all started in my dreams,” she said, choosing her words carefully as she recounted her story, “right after Dad got me the poster. They were calling to me, those things that lived in the shadows beneath the tree, and I went to them, freely at first. Later I had no choice, I had to go to them. They owned me then. I knew there was no escape, well there was one way, but it was permanent. When they started threatening to take mom, and dad, and you, I knew I had no options left. I’d entertained them as long as possible but they quickly grew bored with me.”

“What are they?”

Here she shrugged, “I don’t know, really, they always came to me as shadowy shapes that never stayed in one form for very long. I know they’re older than the cosmos. They’ve been around longer than the stars in the sky.”

“Does the light hurt them?”

She shook her head, her shoulders slumped, as her face grew even more transparent, and the shadows of the poster behind her grew even darker.

“We better get going, we don’t have much time left,” she said as she lifted her hand in front of her face and smiled at him through it.

Pushing himself down from her bed he crossed to the poster and stood staring at it for a moment. He saw those dark shapes dancing beneath the tree as a chill danced along his spine. He didn’t want to go in there, not with them, but what choice did he have. If they didn’t do anything soon they would both fade away to nothing.

Taking a deep breath he lifted his hand and pointed at the poster with his index finger. As before he touched the surface of the poster that resisted him for a moment before it slipped past the surface, into that nether region where the shadows of the night waited.

To Be Continued!

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Free for Three

Every doctor her mother took her to when she was a child came up with the same diagnosis. Dissociative Identity Disorder, more commonly referred to as a split personality.


But they were wrong.


On the surface her plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Return home, take the place of her twin sister, and live out the rest of her life in relative peace. Unfortunately even the best laid plans had their flaws. This one involved Margaret’s alter ego Candice, who was hell bent on leaving a bloody trail in her wake. But not even Candice had planned for one simple truth.

The dead always got their revenge.

Free for Three days August 21, 22, & 23.

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Reprisal

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DL6UZKK