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Headstones above empty graves litter Sarah Morganâ€™s family tree. No matter how they died: drowning, car wrecks, soldiers in war, few left enough behind to warrant a coffin. In Saraâ€™s opinion this was an oddity, but nothing more. And then a close relative disappears in a pool of blood, an old man, like a harbinger of doom, appears on her doorstep, and she is dragged into a world of terror--where reality--as she knew it--no longer exists.
The grounds of John Peterson Hospital covered almost two square city blocks. Located on the west side of Dallas, relatively new, it already had a growing reputation for excellence in vascular by-pass surgery. Among those in the medical profession, it was also well-known for its high salaries and good working conditions. These last two attributes were the main reason Sarah Morgan, RN, felt fortunate to be employed in its surgical intensive care unit. She enjoyed working as a nurse, and had worked for less pay in the past. However, now she was a single parent and needed the larger income to cover her and her daughterâ€™s living expenses.
From the left side of the hospitalâ€™s main entrance, for the convenience of wheelchair patients, a cement ramp slanted down to a wide sidewalk. For those who could walk, a row of stairs led off to the right. Although quite able-bodied, Sarah never bothered with the stairs. The ramp pointed in the direction of the employeeâ€™s parking area, and she preferred the quicker route.
Her shift over, Sarah started to leave, but was reluctant to trade the cool, air-conditioned building for the outdoors. Late afternoon air waited to smother its victims in sweltering heat. Sarah paused at the large glass doors. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself and then hurried out into the glaring sunlight. It felt like a furnace. She knew it would. Hot air radiated up from the asphalt, rising in searing waves about her legs, and she walked faster.
In the distance, she could see her 1996 white, ram van parked in the last row against a tall chain-link fence. Employees parked much further from the hospital than did the patients. It was a long walk in the heat.
A small, gray cloud slowly teased its way across the blue expanse of open sky, mocking the parched earth below, but Sarah knew it only held an empty promise of rain. There had been no dark clouds for over a month; no summer storms to cleanse city pollution from the streets or turn dying lawns green.
It was a hot, miserable, Texas July. Even the occasional wind gave no relief, stirring dry dust into dryer air, leaving Dallas hotter than before.
One lone cloud was an insult of nature.
I have done little so far in my life. I graduated from H.S., spent a few years in collage, from which I did not graduate, and now hold a very low paying job. I am such a regular guy that I donâ€™t know what to say about myself. Hey, people seem to like me. Thatâ€™s a plus.
Move over Stephen King, thereâ€™s a new sheriff in town. And Then There Were None, is a chilling tale written with nuances so subtle you are not sure if in fact the story is fiction. The characters have depth and scope far beyond the usual horror story. From the moment you see the first page you are compelled to keep turning. This author not only has a way with words, he plays emotions like a violinist. Jonathon Clemmer is a new star on the rise. Watch for him, you will not be able to resist his thrilling tales.-- Dee Carey, Wings-ePress Historical Fantasy Author, www.adeecarey.com, Fox in the Mist
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
No. of Pages: 340
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