“Ah, hell,” the sheriff sighed, swiping a hand across his face in frustration. “Okay, thank you for your help. I’ll take her back to her room now.”
“I can get an orderly to take her,” the technician offered.
“No, this is something I need to take care of.”
“I know you’ve already told me to mind my own business, but . . .”
“She’s a dangerous, deadly fugitive, son. That’s why she’s trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. I let her go, she’d slit your throat, and you wouldn’t have even see her coming.”
The technician blanched and nodded understanding. The sheriff felt real bad telling the kid such a huge fabrication, but he needed to keep him from asking any more questions, or questioning the sheriff’s lawful right in treating a person in a manner that most would deem against civil liberties.
“I would be much obliged if you’d let me borrow that floating gurney over there. Might make transporting her a site bit easier.”
“Sorry, sheriff, but I couldn’t if I wanted to. Its movement is limited only to what you saw. It was programmed that way to prevent kids breaking in and stealing it for joy riding, which they used to do plenty back in 2025 before programmers got more savvy.
The sheriff sighed heavily again, and then moved to retrieve Chloe from the gurney. He hefted her in his arms and then cringed when she moaned. She was waking up, which meant it would be soon also. He had to find a way to render it static before that happened.
He left the lab, all but decided that a midnight boat ride to the deepest part of Big Sandy Lake was in order, when he passed the critical care ward. A grin spread across his lips, as a crazy thought started weaving its way through his mind. He laughed at the simplicity of the idea and then turned and headed for the critical care waiting room. “If this works, I can declare myself a bona fide genius.” He stopped walking, brows knitted in thought, “Hmm. I guess I’d better find a safe spot to settle until you wake up,” he murmured to Chloe, “and then we’ll see just how eager that thing really is to get out of your brain.”
Half-hour later, Chloe’s eyes fluttered open, and for about a minute, the sheriff thought that the entity was gone. The gaze that looked up at him was frightened and unsure, but within another half second, the gaze changed back to impudent and defiant.
“Get me out of this sheet,” it hissed, wriggling Chloe’s body aggressively, which made transporting her tricky.
“I plan to,” the sheriff stated, and the body stopped squirming. “Since I want Chloe returned to her friends unharmed, I’m willing to find you another host.” The sheriff said, in what he hoped was a convincing tone. “After all, we all discussed it among ourselves, while you were . . . well . . . sleeping and we decided that you don’t really hurt your hosts unless they decide to play twenty questions with you or act counter to your will.”
“I just want to have fun,” the entity concurred, docility replacing the impudence.
“Exactly. And that’s exactly the conclusion we came to; however, since you can’t have fun with Chloe, and we don’t want Chloe dead, the only solution is to offer you another host.”
The entity eyed the sheriff’s visage with suspicion, but the only way to know for certain if he were being honest was to look in his eyes. His tone spoke of truth, but it knew that the true gauge was in the eyes; however, the sheriff seemed determined to keep his eyes pinned on their current course. The entity would have to trust that the sheriff was telling the truth. It relaxed, putting itself in the sheriff’s arms – literally. After another moment, they entered another, darker corridor, and then into a dimly lit room.
“Why are we here?” The entity squirmed.
“This is where your new host is sleeping. Now be quiet, or you’ll waken him and everyone else, and then he may balk and raise the alarm.”
Again, the entity could detect no deceit in the sheriff’s tone, and yet could not see into his gaze to measure the level of truth. “How will I transfer to this host when I am wrapped up like the ancient mummies of old?”
“Well, here’s where the trust gets a might sticky. You’ve trusted me to find you a new home to live, and now I have to trust that I will be able to release your hand from the sheet,” the sheriff whispered, “without you trying any funny business. Can I trust that you’ll not try to hurt me or Chloe?”
“I have no need but of a new host. You and Chloe may go away unharmed.”
The sheriff released his breath in a relieved whoosh and then laid Chloe’s body down on the floor. “Stay there, while I get some scissors.”
The sheriff quickly and quietly rifled through the drawers and was relieved when he found a pair of surgical scissors. He went back and knelt down beside Chloe. “I’m going to cut the material just enough for you to free your hand, and then lift you up next to the sleeping body. All you have to do it touch it, right?”
“This is correct.”
“Okay, here goes then.”
EPILOGUE
October 2061
Wind River, Wyoming
“Want me to leave you alone, Mrs. Novelist?” Dalian bent and kissed Kat on the neck.
“Hmm, that’s lovely,” Kat purred, and then took a deep breath to regain her equilibrium. She needed to write, or Janet was likely to stop publishing her books. Writing had never been difficult for her before, but so much changed for her since arriving at Dalian’s ranch, and she was simply a different person. That meant new experiences from which to draw upon for her writing. “No, sweetie, you don’t need to leave me alone.”
Dalian pulled his chair from in front of his computer and settled next to Kat. “What are you working on?”
“I thought I’d start our story now, especially since there’s so much snow on the ground that any other activities are on hold.” She smiled, but something in her gaze made Dalian’s brow quirk.
“Something’s bothering you?”
“I want to start our story, but there’s so much that happened, I simply don’t know where to start, and with everything a jumble in my brain, I’m having a difficult time making sense of it all.”
“Well, you’ve definitely got a story worth telling. Not that anyone would believe our story to be true.”
“Possession. Wow! I still get the shivers thinking about how close Chloe came to dying with that thing inside her brain like that.”
“Have you heard from her, by the way? Harvey said she rang up at the house a couple of weeks ago, but when she didn’t get hold of you, she said she’d call back.”
“Oh, Lord, Dalian, I’m sorry. I meant to tell you that I rang her back that afternoon, after I saw she’d called. I also spoke with her yesterday.”
“And? How’s she doing? I expect being taken over by a crazed it thingy can take a toll on a body.” Dalian quipped, but couldn’t control the uncomfortable shiver that ran up his spine at the reminder of all that happened.
“Well, she said she’s extending her stay in Greece.”
“Extending? Damn, she’s already been there for five months.”
“I think it’s a man.”
“Ah, well then, more power to her. She needs someone to help keep her mind off of what she went through.”
“Yeah, no kidding. If it weren’t for the sheriff’s quick thinking, she could have very well become a permanent part of the Big Sandy Lake bottom, and no one would have ever known.”
“His conning that entity into transferring habitation into a comatose patient was a stroke of genius, but even more fortuitous was that the family pulled the plug the very next day, thereby eliminating any threat whatsoever of a sudden recovery. It’s all too amazing, and definitely hard for my brain to comprehend – even after all of these months.”
“From what the sheriff told me, he was shocked when he found out that he’d picked the perfect match. He just figured that a vegetable brain wouldn’t be controllable, and so it would live out its existence in abject misery. Definitely not having any fun. But when they pulled t
he plug and the brain died . . . well, the only thing that the sheriff and I could figure, is that without life, it can’t exist. So, we’re assuming it’s gone. Where it went, I don’t figure we’ll ever know.” Kat nodded and Dalian continued, “How are you planning to write about all that happened without implicating us in those particular events?”
“I figured that I would change the names of the people involved, spice it up here and there or tone it down, whichever is needed to keep it from being too recognizable as our lives. I certainly don’t think that the men that visited your ranch while I was here would be interested in reading a romance, even if it is technically a romantic thriller.”
“Good point. In fact, I don’t think that anyone involved in the investigation is likely to read a romance, and if they do, they aren’t likely to view it as fact.”
“Right, they will probably see it as inflating events just so I can sell the book.”
“Exactly. After all, it is fiction. Feel better now?” Kat smiled a genuine smile and gave her husband a kiss of gratitude. “So, what about the title? Are you still going to use the one I suggested?”
Kat smiled, “Whispers of the Heart? I love it. In fact, your title is the only thing I am certain about at this juncture. I want to write about all that took place, but where do I start?”
“I’d start the story at the beginning. Unless the beginning would be too painful to put into words.”
Kat smiled and shook her head, “No, writing is very cathartic for me. Putting all that happened onto paper will get it out of my head, where it doesn’t need to be. You know, you may end up being an invaluable asset to my career, if you continue feeding me such marvelous ideas.”
“Just trying to help, ma’am.” Dalian tipped an imaginary hat and then stood, returning his chair to his computer desk. “Something tells me that the biggest help I can give you right now is to get out of your hair and let you write.”
Kat laughed, “You’re probably right. I promised Janet that I wouldn’t let my move out here inhibit my work; and since I owe her a new book before the end of this year, I’d best make some form of a start as soon as possible. After all, a chapter a day a best seller makes, right?”
“I wouldn’t have the first clue, but sounds reasonable to me. Have fun, baby.” Dalian gave Kat another kiss and then turned to leave. “Want me to close the door?”
“Nah, it’s not necessary. Once I get into a zone, it’s hard for noises to distract me.”
Dalian smiled, turned, and headed downstairs. Kat waited until his footfalls receded and then turned to face the computer again. “Start at the beginning,” she whispered. She lifted her fingers and placed them on the keyboard, then closed her eyes for a moment, composed her thoughts, and began typing.
CHAPTER ONE
March 2059 Covington, Georgia
“I’m coming.” Adrianna murmured and then rolled over, nuzzled further beneath the quilt, and drifted back to sleep. A few moments later, the chimes sounded again, twice in succession, and Adrianna opened her eyes, rubbing the fatigue away. She started to poke her husband, in hopes he would crawl out of bed on this chilly morning, but her elbow met empty space. She glanced over at where he generally slept, and then at the clock on the nightstand. Seven o’clock, the bright red digital display read. Odd, she thought, as she threw the quilt back and slid to a seated position; Stephen is usually home from work by now.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Barbara Woster is an educator, editor, and an author. She resides in Oregon with her husband, Tim. They have eight children between them. Her children inspired her to write, and it is to them that all of her books are dedicated, with much love.
All works by this author
Fate’s Intervention (Romantic Comedy)
Love Through Time (Time Travel Romance)
Edge of Insanity (Paranormal Thriller)
Dreamer of Destiny (Romantic Drama)
Whispers of the Heart (Romantic Thriller)
Freepetopia (Juvenile Adventure for ages 7-12)
Questions or comments? [email protected]
For additional titles by this, and other, authors, visit www.LiteraryAdventures.weebly.com
Cover courtesy of YahooImages
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[1] These are the most up-to-date ratios related to resuscitation as of the printing of this book.
[2] If You’re Going Through Hell, by Rodney Atkins. Release date 2006 by Curb Records.
[3] Jeffrey Dahmer: WI. Convicted of 15 murders; Carroll Cole: Murdered 16 people. David Berkowitz: aka ‘Son of Sam’. Convicted of six murders; Ted Bundy: Murdered 35 women in six states. (information obtained from: http://www.ranker.com/list/famous-american-serial-killers)
[4] Dancing with the Stars is a reality television show that debuted in the U.S. on ABC, June 1, 2005.
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