by A. Anders
Whatever scabs had formed over my shark bites exploded when I hit Thorin’s back. I coughed, wanting to throw up. I was sure that I hurt myself more than I had hurt him, but even then, I didn’t let go.
I shifted all of my strength to my arms. As I did, my legs gave out from under me. I dragged him down with me. As we landed, I heard the distinct clank of dense metal hitting concrete.
I knew that sound. It was my salvation. I looked around in search of it. I found it barely eight feet away. It was the gun. Had it popped out of his belt when he fell? Who cares? As weak as I was, I knew I only had one way to win this fight. So I let go of Thorin’s neck and went after it.
Eight feet. After days of walking and so many senseless deaths, that was all that was left. I pulled away, clawing at the ground. Everything hurt. It didn’t matter. I only had a few more feet.
I did what I could to hold him down as I moved. It worked, but it didn’t work for long. I was still five feet away, and I needed more time.
“No!” Rose screamed.
That couldn’t be good. He had to be getting up. Four feet away, I heard a click. I stretched out my arm. I was still short. Three feet, maybe.
Using every ounce of strength I had, I kept moving. I was burning to know what was going on behind me. I wanted to look, but I knew I couldn’t take my eyes off the gun. I was close. Perhaps two feet, maybe less.
It soon became clear to me what the click was. The click was the beginning of my end. I immediately thought of Kurt standing on the dock, his eyes quickly turning bright red. I couldn’t imagine what caused it. Now I knew.
It was the tightening of blood vessels in his brain. It was an ice cream headache that increased without end. That was how it had begun with all of them, and now it was happening to me.
I looked ahead and found the gun was right in front of me. It was only there for an instant. After that, everything went dark. How long did I have left? Seconds?
I had to make a final lunge. If I missed, it wouldn’t matter. I was on a clock. It was either now or never.
I threw my hand forward and touched it. Now what? I needed to turn and squeeze.
I couldn’t see. I could barely feel it in my hand. But I knew how to shoot a gun. Hundreds of hours of training. Years on the battlefield. It all led me to this moment, a blind shot at a moving target.
I rolled. I thought I was positioned. I couldn’t be sure. My chest, my arms, my back—everything felt bloated and numb. My body convulsed uncontrollably. That was the last stage wasn’t it? The coughing?
Again, it was now or never. Just getting off a shot would be enough. I might never know what happened to it, but why the hell not? At least I’d have tried.
I focused my last ounce of strength on what I thought was my finger. I thought I felt a kick. Maybe I got it off. Maybe I didn’t. Either way, it was time to keep an overdue appointment.
When the moment happened, it was accompanied by a feeling of release. It felt like inhaling for the first time. After that, the darkness lifted. It was hazy at first, but it cleared up quickly. As it did, I heard someone calling my name.
“Ford? Ford?”
It was a woman’s voice. It was comforting. I was happy to hear it, but I didn’t know why.
The colors surrounding me sharpened. I had a sense of familiarity. I had been in this room before. Wait a minute. Wasn’t this the same room?
“Ford?” the voice beckoned again. It was Rose. I was starting to think that I wasn’t dead.
I lifted a shoulder to get a better look, and I felt like my body had been shoved into a light socket. Yep. I was alive. Either that or this was the crappiest afterlife experience ever.
“Ford?” Rose called again.
“I’m okay,” I said, exaggerating my status a bit.
“Oh my god. I thought you were dead!”
“You and me both. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful but, what the hell?”
“You shot him. I think you got him in the chest. He stumbled and fell back. I guess he hit the display or something.”
“Damn! I guess it’s better to be lucky than good. You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Thanks to you. You keep saving my life.”
“It’s because I love you, Rose,” I said, still feeling as if I was under a clock.
“And I’m starting to believe you,” she admitted with a smile in her voice.
I laughed. It hurt. “Umm… I’m going to admit something here,” I told her.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I think I need some help. I’m not feeling so great.”
I was staring at the ceiling when I heard what sounded like a body hitting the concrete. I looked across my chest to see a sight that was as pathetic as my own. Rose was dragging her limp body to me. I smiled.
When she finally stopped, it was in the space under my arm. She rested her head on my chest.
“How’s that? Is that any better?” she asked, catching her breath.
“It’s exactly what I needed,” I said happily.
I was under no illusions about how stories like mine ended, though. I was still losing blood. I had multiple internal injuries. I had already died once today, and the only other living human on the island was lying next to me paralyzed.
The clock continued ticking in my head, but this time, it was a race with whatever drug was in Rose. I didn’t care, though. I had my girl in my arms and what more could I ask for than that?
I leaned my head toward her and stretched my neck as far as I could. She met me halfway, and our lips touched. The move probably shortened my life by an hour, but it was totally worth it. With that kiss from Rose, I was ready for whatever came next, even the unexpected.
“You know, minus all of the blood, this would make one hell of a sex party,” a voice said from across the room.
I turned my head and what I saw made me smile.
“Who was that?” Rose asked unable to move.
“Who do you think it is? It’s the survivor,” I said.
Rose smiled warmly. “Hey, Brad.”
“Hey, hun!” Brad replied with all the charm in the world. “Now, what am I going to do with you two?” he asked, leaning on the door frame.
“You lived?” I asked, stating the obvious.
“I did,” he agreed.
“How?” I continued, barely able to imagine it.
“You’re not the only one who’s full of surprises,” he said, eyeing Rose and me as we lay paralyzed.
Staring back at him, I realized that was all he was going to say for now. If I wanted to know more, I was going to have to live long enough to hear it.
“So, what’s the plan, Brad?” I asked. “You just gonna stand there and watch me die, or are you gonna be the hero and save us?”
Brad gave me a smirk. “That depends.”
“On what?” I asked.
“On whether you’re ready for me to make you moan.”
“Oh yeah, make him moan. Do it. Do it,” Rose chanted playfully.
I knew Rose was kidding but did Brad know that? I wasn’t sure that he did considering the devilish smile he had as he sauntered towards us.
But whatever Brad was thinking, looking around the room, one thing became clear to me. I was the luckiest guy on earth. Not because I had survived this insane game show, but because I had found Rose and I loved her more than life itself.
If Brad could get me back on my feet, I was going to devote every thought I had to getting us off this island. Something told me that staying alive was only going to get harder from here, but I was willing to do absolutely anything to keep Rose safe.
I loved her with all of my being. The question wasn’t if I was going to spend the rest of my life with her? The question was if I would survive the next hour? With Brad, you never knew. But I survived everything so far, and like I said, I was feeling lucky.
*****
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*****
Sneak Peek:
Enjoy this Sneak Peek of ‘It Runs’:
It Runs
(Psychological Thriller)
By
C. Y. Miller
Copyright 2016 RateABull Publishing
All Rights Reserved
*It awakens… Summoned by the will of a powerful psychic, The Red Reaper forces its victims to live their darkest fantasies. If they resist, they die.
In a college town during a record cold winter break, Jon, a lonely professor, wanders the empty campus barely holding on to his sanity. Unable to stay awake during the daytime, he sees a red hooded creature in the shadows at night; immediately after, his twisted desires come to life.
*****
It Runs
J on Manor clutched onto his steering wheel when he heard the crash. Startled out of his quiet appreciation of Bach, he turned to Nicki. Jon and his passenger craned their necks searching the dark country road for what had occurred.
“I think someone hit a deer,” the fit, 32-year-old man guessed.
Their curiosities were soon quenched when a pair of intertwined cars appeared around the bend. One had only lost a bumper, but the other was a mess of twisted metal. Jon pulled his car onto the side of the road and raced to the mangled car to help.
“Are you OK in there?” Jon yelled, brushing back the tips of his unruly dark hair.
“I think so. I think I’m fine” the runner yelled back.
“Coach Thomas?” Jon replied, struggling for recognition.
“Jon, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Jon pulled back quickly assessing the situation. He smelled the smoke.
“Coach Thomas, your car’s on fire. I’m gonna have to get you out.”
“Yeah, help me out,” Thomas agreed smelling the smoke.
Jon rattled the driver’s side door. It didn’t budge. Circling the car, he opened the passenger door and climbed onto the seat.
“I’m gonna take off your seatbelt and drag you out, OK”
“OK,” the coach said preparing himself.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Jon unlatched Thomas’ seat belt and grabbed his friend by the arm. The ease at which his friend moved surprised Jon. But when the coach landed on the ground next to the car, it became clear why.
Read more now
Sneak Peek:
Enjoy this Sneak Peek of ‘Cupid's Touch’:
Cupid's Touch
(Romantic Comedy)
By
Alex Anders
Copyright 2014 RateABull Publishing
All Rights Reserved
* When Ben Bonner 'breaks' Cupid (Jack) it is up to Ben and his would-be love to fix Cupid so the world can fall in love again.
Ben Bonner is a catch. He’s a successful lawyer and he has great friends. But what he wants most is the one thing he can’t find, love.
Ben’s female best friend Carey has a plan. There’s an urban legend that says that whoever lives with Jack, a middle-aged party animal, will immediately find the love of their life. And as luck would have it, Jack is now looking for a roommate.
It works. Jack is the modern day Cupid. Ben meets Anna Henderson, a smart, beautiful, quick-witted woman who takes Ben’s breath away. Ben is in love. The only problem is that Ben ‘breaks’ Cupid before Anna can fall in love with Ben.
Could Ben have really broken Cupid? Could Jack actually be Cupid? And if Ben can’t ‘fix’ Jack, would Anna ever fall in love with him? Will anyone in the world ever fall in love again?
So now with more than just his love life crumbling around him, Ben must win Anna’s heart so that together they can; fix Jack, help the world to love again, and just maybe, live happily ever after.
*****
Cupid's Touch
Chapter 1
Ben looked over at the 33-year-old, elegantly dressed woman who sat nervously across the table. ‘She’s such a delight,’ Ben thought. ‘In 10 years, when all of the other wives are secretly blaming their husbands for the last 10 pounds that they can’t get rid of, Sherry will still be sitting across from me in her pearls. Assuming the manufacturer doesn’t run out, she will still have her shiny blonde hair. She will still be wearing it in a tightly wound bun, and she will still have a stomach tight enough to bounce a quarter off.’
Ben, 37, was just a little older than Sherry, but in lifestyles they were worlds apart. Ben could be content to spend every night at home on the couch. He was the type that didn’t immediately take off his suit when he got home from the law firm. In fact, if Sherry was stuck at the gym, Ben sometimes took off his tie, and then put it back on when he knew she was coming home. The tie wasn’t necessary to complete the ensemble, but he always felt that it had the magical ability to make his butt look tauter, and who didn’t want that?
With her pearls and yoga body, Sherry was the perfect bookend. She wasn’t the professional that Ben was, but she was driven, and where she drove herself most was at the gym.
Sometimes she would come home so sore that she could barely walk straight. Her tightly quaffed bun would be slightly askew, and she would have a look in her eyes that if it wasn’t for the pearls, would make Ben think she had a libido. But he knew Sherry; she didn’t. Women didn’t have libidos in the 1950s and that is clearly where Sherry was from. And if she wasn’t technically from there, her stylist certainly was.
Ben sipped slowly on the last of the red wine. He looked over at his girlfriend who had just prepared a three-course meal fit for a king, and like the queen that she was, she had prepared all of his favorite things.
“Well, that was a nice surprise,” Ben said, wondering if the next course included sex.
“Did you like everything?” Sherry asked with the tense look on her face that usually accompanied Sherry’s unique brand of uptight, 1950s housewife sex.
‘Sexy,’ Ben thought. “No, everything was perfect. You cooked all of my favorite things. You’re perfect. I don’t deserve you.”
Sherry clenched her jaw in that nervous way that she did whenever Ben would make his moves on her. When Ben saw that, crossing his legs was the only thing that he could do to not take her right then and there.
She looked down at her watch.
‘She can’t wait,’ Ben thought. “What’s the matter, Sherry? You keep looking at your watch,” he said seductively.
This was only a formality. He knew what was up. He knew the tie he had worn was always her favorite. He remembered all of the times she would slither up to him and say, “Oh baby, that’s one sexy tie. You know what you can do with that tie?”
Yeah, Ben knew alright. He would then hang it up on the tie slat he removed it from and make love to her like an animal. That’s right, he would do it missionary style. And do you know why he would do it missionary style? Because that was really the only style that he knew.
But Ben knew that knowing more wasn’t necessary because she liked it. All 105 pounds of her liked it, every part of her, from her perfectly manicured feet to her Stepford Wife hairdo. And Ben knew that what they made every other Tuesday (except when she had spin class), was wasp love at its finest.
Ben stared at Sherry and decided that he was ready to go, and he wasn’t necessarily talking about round one of Wimbledon as they would call it (mostly because of the pair’s evenly paced grunting). No, Ben was thinking about taking home the trophy. He was thinking about asking Sherry to be his doubles partner, always and forever more.
Sherry looked around the room almost distracted. ‘Is there another course?’ Ben wondered. I
f so, he couldn’t eat another bite.
“Ben, do you know that feeling when you meet someone and you just know you want to spend the rest of your life with them?”
‘This is amazing,’ Ben thought. ‘Our thoughts are one.’ “Yeah,” Ben said, looking back with a satisfied smile.
“You do?” Sherry replied with relief. “And when that happens, you know that you want the rest of your life to start immediately?”
Ben felt a warm feeling come over him as Sherry spoke. “Ah huh.”
“Oh good. Because that’s why I want you to move out.”
Ben looked at her knowing that her pale, sexy body couldn’t have resisted him much longer.
“Wait, what?” he asked, just realizing that she hadn’t asked him to take her bra off with his teeth.
Ben was thrown back in his chair. The light around him seemed to lower and somewhere in the back of his mind appeared a memory. In that memory a 25-year-old Ben stood in the front row of a rock concert. He wore a leather jacket with fringe hanging from the sleeves and tight leather pants. In other words, he was stylin’.
He bopped along looking at the band and then turned to Bonnie, the sultry 25-year-old brunette with him. Ben leaned over to Bonnie and yelled at the top of his lungs into her ear. “Aren’t these seats great?”