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Amazon
Scott Marmorstein
CreateSpace
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: SpiritQuest
ISBN-10: 0615643906
Type: Fiction
Pages: 438
Copyright: Mar 28, 2013
ISBN-13: 9780615643908
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Owen Hunter awakens to psychic powers. His life is turned upside down while the world is thrown into chaos. He seeks answers to help save it.
Owen Hunter is not an ordinary man, but he doesn't know that. Within him are powerful talents and gifts waiting to be discovered.
The world Owen Hunter lives in is about to be turned upside down, without warning. A past he isn't aware of is catching up to him, and holding the entire world hostage.
One bad scenario after another forces Owen into hiding from the police, then from everyone. He is beset with questions that are beyond his ability to answer with logic and reason.
Enemies he never knew he had surface to oppose him at the same time that advocates show up and help him find the answers he seeks. If Owen can't get his answers then the world will be lost to darkness and horror. In this first book, follow Owen Hunter through a maze of questions, amazing paranormal encounters and the unfolding of an epic journey towards salvation for all.
Excerpt
Thud!
“What the—.”
“—Hell was—.”
“—That?”
Owen Hunter craned his neck and stood up part way, peering over Christina’s shoulder. He had completely forgotten the Caesar salad he was in the middle of eating. She twisted around as many of the other patrons were doing. Feathers drifted lazily outside the glass pane of the restaurant, and there was a bloody smear where the bird had hit, or squashed into, the glass. Probably broke its neck, poor little guy, Owen thought. He sat back down.
“That’s so weird,” Christina said. She turned, her brown eyes wide, and leveled her gaze on Owen. Not for the first time he wondered what it would be like if the two of them were dating. He loved her thick blonde hair and soft big eyes, nearly hourglass figure, and dazzling smile. She had an ironic wit about massage clients. Christina’s voice was deeper, richer, and more sexy than most other blondes he had met, and she was almost always chilled out, relaxed. She also looked really cute in her light purple scrubs today. He thought his forest green scrubs looked okay, but didn’t think it appropriate to ask her about it.
“Well, I’m a little grossed out now,” she said.
“Yeah…well, sorry about that,” Owen said, grinning. He couldn’t help but think this was amusing. Forking some more of his salad into his mouth he began chewing through that grin. She closed her eyes and shuddered a moment.
“How can you do that? It’s disgusting,” she said. She wasn’t kidding either. The other patrons of the restaurant were also chattering about the same thing. He finished his bite, swallowed, took a sip of water, and wiped his mouth with the white cloth. This moment could have been funnier if he was eating something with ketchup on it. Instead, he was polite, and if they had a few more work-months together he would work up the nerve to ask her out on a real date, instead of a lunch-date as colleagues.
“I think it’s hilarious! You come to a restaurant, ready to eat, feeling starved, and the last thing you expect is for something gross to happen. It’s like something out of Monty Python or…or, one of those shows like that,” Owen said.
“I’ve seen them all, and nothing like that ever happened,” Christina said. She had arched eyebrows and a little smile played on her lips. Wow, a woman after my own heart, Owen thought. He hadn't watched them all, but had seen a few of the classics. She bit into some of her own salad, apparently forgetting that she was ‘no longer hungry.’
“What! Are you kidding me? How about “One more wafer thin mint sir?” He eats the mint and explodes all over the restaurant,” Owen said.
BOOOOOOOM!
Just then a loud explosion outside the restaurant sounded and the floor beneath their feet vibrated. Water glasses fell off the surrounding tables and shattered on the floor. An older woman across the room started screaming. Christina’s eyes flew open and this time she got out of her chair and ran to Owen’s side, squatting a little. He was paralyzed. Plaster dust fell from the ceiling and landed in his water, which he had somehow grabbed to keep from falling to the floor. He wouldn’t be drinking whatever was in it now. Probably asbestos, he thought.
Minutes later Owen and Christina, along with most of the people at the restaurant, were milling around outside. Owen turned his gaze to the glass window where the bird had smashed into it. It was a crow, lying with its neck in a sickeningly unnatural position. Owen looked a little closer and thought he saw the eye of the crow that was angled up towards him was red, crimson red. Is that blood ? Christina tugged on him and he stood up again looking around like everyone else. He heard murmurs from some but couldn’t make out what they were saying. The smell of burnt rubber and oil was overwhelming. His body threatened to reject his salad after all, and what was supposed to be funny minutes ago was suddenly very serious. Someone raced up to him, grabbed him by the arms. He was an older man, shorter than Owen by at least a foot, and was also bent forward somewhat. The stranger directed his question to both Christina and Owen.
“Are you a doctor or nurse?”
“I’m a massage therapist. What happened?” Christina was apparently in shock and unable to answer, only nod.
“There was a car bomb, man! And the person in the car didn’t make it, but there’s a young girl, probably fifteen…she aint breathing! You at least know CPR until the medics get here?”
“A car bomb—a fucking car bomb? How is that possible? This is Philly for Pete’s sake! This isn't Belfast! We don't live in L.A.,” Christina yelled. Apparently this was the sort of thing she needed to hear to wake up out of her shock. It was also the straw that broke the camel's proverbial back, she seemed to have entirely lost her shit. Owen agreed, though he hadn't lived here his entire life, he knew this was about as pleasant a place as it got. Still, he couldn't afford to think about that just now, someone needed help, and he was determined to do what he could.
“Yeah…show me the way,” Owen said. The old man darted off quickly for his age, and as Owen ran to keep up he realized that, somehow in all the confusion he had forgotten completely about the meals they had ordered, though his stomach rumbled at him. He guessed he could always come back here later and pay for his food, and for Christina's, just to be sure it wasn't on his conscience later.
Owen caught up with the old man in no time. The heat pouring off the still burning car (which seemed to have just turned onto the street) was intense and the girl had been flung to the sidewalk and against the brick wall of the building where he now stood looking over her.
Indeed she wasn’t breathing, and one whole side of her body was burnt nearly to a crisp. Her father was on the other side of the car, his body propped up by the building he was unconscious against. Christina started sobbing, apparently out of her depth here. Owen took that into consideration. She wasn’t calm under extreme pressure.
He leaned down over the young girl while the other man hopped around from foot to foot praying to Jesus rather fervently. Owen brushed the dark brown hair out of her eyes and away from her mouth, then parted her lips. The right side of her lips and face were completely burnt, and she was bald on that side as well. Taking a big breath and pinching her nose, he forced air into her lungs. Next came his hands at her sternum where he applied steady pressure to her chest and pumped three or four times. I'm sorry, he thought, so sorry, just please live. He bent back over her and pinched her nose. He was just a little more forceful on one of his pushes to her chest and he heard something snap.
“Fuck! Wake up! Come on…come on girl you can make it!” Tears streamed down his face and his body began to shake. The ambulance and police cars had rolled up behind him with deafening volume that he somehow couldn't hear. The rushing of blood in his ears was too loud, blocking out all other noises. Men and women in professional scrubs and fire suits, police officers surrounded him and someone gently took him by the arm, pulling him away. Owen stood nearby watching in numb horror. Bringing out the paddles, one of the guys ripped open her tank top and applied some jelly on her sternum and the swell of her exposed breasts—she wasn't wearing a bra, so Owen looked away.
“Clear!” The other medic, a woman, placed the paddles over the chest and the little machine made that 'Wiiiiing' sound. There was another sound and the girl’s body jerked up. They did this a few more times but couldn’t get a pulse. The girl was dead.
Standing, Owen scanned the crowd, searching for Christina. Spotting her, he seemed to glide to where she stood. Somehow his feet and legs deserted him, leaving behind only ghostly limbs that managed to keep him upright.
“She’s dead,” he told her. Christina lowered her head, and silently wept. Whether it was for safety or for some other reason, Christina grabbed his hand and they walked away together. Owen felt disgusted with himself for not saving her, and horrified by what he had just seen.
What normally took ten minutes to walk halfway back to work seemed to take them years. Each step was slow, deliberate, pensive, and filled with tension. All was clearly not right with the world. Every time someone shouted across a street, or a horn honked, Owen and Christina found themselves jerking their heads in that direction, coming to a standstill. She stopped and Owen stopped with her, still holding her hand. Holding her hand sent no shocks through Owen’s body, signaled no impulse that she was anything more than a sister to him, in fact. Less than forty-five minutes ago he’d fantasized about going on a real date with her, and now…nothing. Hadn’t he thought she would be fun to get to know? It didn’t matter anymore. Whatever spark he thought was there in the beginning wasn’t there now, and probably never was.
She turned and looked at him, wiping tears from her pretty eyes. Eyes he suddenly seemed to see through in a different way.
“When is your next client?” Owen looked at his phone. His next client was thirty minutes ago. Oh man, he thought.
“I think I need to call the Spa and tell them what happened…I’m thirty minutes late.”
“I’m done for the day. Calling to cancel the rest of the appointments and heading home. I’m sorry…that she died,” Christina said. Owen nodded his head. He was sorry too.
“I guess I’ll go to the Spa and just…tell them in person what happened,” Owen said. “Maybe they’ll cut me some slack for being so late. At least I’m sure my client will.”
“Ha! Are you kidding? These rich bitches out here get pretty upset no matter what’s going on. They ‘pay good money’ for our services…the least we could do is be on time. But whatever, screw ‘em. I am traumatized,” Christina said. Owen nodded, but silently he felt this was a bit of a cop out on Christina’s end. He suddenly felt even less attracted to her and wished she would just go home. She was traumatized? She hadn’t tried to give CPR to a burnt and dead child and then cracked one of her ribs in the process. What the hell was she so traumatized by? Owen was ready to get away from her. She’s self-absorbed, and I never noticed it, he thought.
“Right, well…okay then. Get some good rest. I’ll let everyone back at the Spa know what’s happened and see what else there is to do,” Owen said.
“You already said that,” Christina said.
“Said what?”
“You’ve said you would tell everyone at the Spa what happened.”
“I did? Oh…I guess we’re all a little traumatized,” Owen said.
“Yeah…well, hey…don't be more late than you need to be. And if you get a chance, text or call me later okay?”
“Right okay,” Owen said. He’d had her number for a couple of months since she joined the Spa but he had only texted her once or twice for massage related issues, and once or twice to get together with some of the other therapists that worked there for group outings to restaurants and movies.
“Hey Owen,” she said.
“What?”
“What you did…it was brave,” she said.
“Oh…thanks,” he said. “I better get going. Stay safe okay,” he said. Christina nodded and brushed a little of her blonde hair out of her eyes, the wind had been busy blowing it all around and she looked strange when her hair was out of place. Or maybe that was just his imagination. The smell of burnt rubber and fumes was strong even from this distance of the restaurant. He picked up his feet and began walking briskly away from Christina towards the Spa.
On his way back to the Spa Owen thought about what a strange day this was turning out to be. He was shaking, and every time he thought of the little girl he shook harder and tried not to cry. He picked up his pace and began running. After all he really didn’t want to be any later than he had to be and there was a lot to tell Sheeley, the front desk receptionist. He had to apologize to the client, and later he would be explaining and apologizing to his manager. He hated explaining himself to people, but he had to do that sort of thing. The irony was he didn’t have to work here, or ever work at all if he wanted to globe-trot and sleep with a bunch of random women--he could have done that long ago. His uncle was a billionaire after all, and his godfather. Samuel Tucker Hunter rarely called at Owen’s request, as they had endured long-winded arguments in the past about his parents.
This thought made him tremble more as he was running. Just as Owen turned the street corner, the Spa within site, he smashed into a young homeless man. The homeless man fell onto his back, a sign clutched in his hands.
“Hey you asshole! Don’t you know they’re coming! Read my fuckin’ sign man!”
“Sorry, I just didn’t see—.”
“We’re all gonna die man!” Owen took a careful look and did a double take. The man had dirty blonde hair and green eyes, a short spiky beard, and heavily resembled the lead singer of Nirvana, the late great Kurt Cobain. The man made a very intense face, as if he were trying to pass a gallstone.
“It’s ON you! Bro, it’s ON you! They’ll kill us all! Read my fuckin’ sign!”
“Your sign’s upside down,” Owen said. This man was clearly insane, but he turned the sign right side up. It said,
THE END BEGINS CURIOUSLY.
This day couldn’t possibly get any stranger could it? Who would set off a car bomb on such a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon anyway? Owen shrugged more at his internal questions than at this guy's sign. He had no idea what it meant, and he had no idea what the guy was even talking about in the first place. He supposed the sign referenced something biblical, which was definitely not in the province of his imagination or belief.
“Sorry dude, I don’t believe in Jesus and the apocalypse or whatever it is,” Owen said. He looked down at the guy who was just bending his knees and scooting on his butt, probably scraping new tears into the fabric of his ratty blue jeans.
“You…just get away from me man before that fucking thing crawls on me!” Owen began running again. It seemed like that man’s green-eyed gaze could have cut through steel, and it gave Owen quite a fright…somehow lingering in his memory as he ran. By the time he reached the Spa he could barely open the door as his hand was shaking so badly. You let that homeless guy scare you didn't you?
Owen walked up towards the front desk. An enormous man with a rounded face and long wavy hair stood by the front desk. He was in a nice suit, but his muscles were showing through the shirt he wore. The man was standing in profile and the lighting was such that Owen couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but they looked dark to him from here. Even without seeing this man's legs, Owen could imagine they were as thick as tree trunks, and probably just as solid. It gave Owen an impression of a bodybuilder or one of those huge fake wrestlers on television, like Hulk Hogan or someone famous. If it were possible, this man was even bigger than Mr. Hogan, not only in height, but in sheer body mass. He had to be.
“Hello, I’m here to see Christina Sutton for a one hour massage,” the man said. Sheeley, the very woman Owen had wanted to talk to was busy talking to this hulk of a guy.“Oh you must be…” Sheeley consulted the computer.
“Mr. Brewster! She should be back any minute from her lunch break sir, if you’ll fill out this form and be seated over on one of our comfortable chairs she’ll be right with you, I’m sure.”
“Actually, she won’t,” Owen said. He stepped forward, his arm raised up in a gesture to shake the man’s hand. Dolan did not step forward and shake it. Owen dropped his arm, feeling a bit snubbed, but decided not to take it personally. Something was wrong with Dolan’s dull blue eyes, and Owen couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
“Owen what’s wrong? You look terrible!” Sheeley was looking at him with some alarm, the hint of a question in her eyes.
“I…a lot, actually…I was just at lunch with Christina and we heard this—.” Sheeley held out her hand for Owen to stop and picked up the phone.
“Hello, thank you for calling In Knead of Luxury, how may I help you today?” Dolan sat down and began scribbling on his form.
“So you say Christina won’t be coming in mister…?”
“Hunter, Owen Hunter. And yeah…” Owen took a shaking breath in and let an equally shaking one back out. “She’s uh…going home. I’m sorry, she and I were having lunch and a car bomb exploded and I tried to give CPR to a girl but she died and then I ran into a homeless man and…”
“Whoa, whoa, hang on,” Dolan said. “Take it easy, there, why don’t you sit down?” Owen felt his guard go up around this man, but he didn’t know why. He remained standing, as he wanted to talk to Sheeley and tell her what happened in as much detail as he could before he forgot it all. But she was on the phone. It seemed like any time he needed to talk to her she was on the damn phone. Well, that was her job wasn’t it? That’s how she got paid after all.
“That’s right. Yes, we’re about forty minutes north- west of Philly…yes ma’am, you can take ninety-five north, I think your GPS has it correct. Yes, that’s right, Willow Grove Pennsylvania, uh huh…” Ever since the manager put out that coupon, people were showing up out of the woodworks. But some people came from the strangest places, like New York, Miami, and California. Owen thought it was probably a loss for the owner, but it would in the long run prove lucrative. It didn’t affect Owen except that he was busier now than he had been all summer long, and now that summer was coming to a close he was expecting (hoping) that it would get busier.
“So you say it was a car bomb that went off,” Dolan said. Owen was snapped back to the present moment.
“Yeah,” Owen said. “It’s been a hell of a day.”
“Yes indeed, and you said a young girl is dead? How did that happen? Was she in the car?” Owen looked at Dolan, tearing his wild thoughts away from whatever they were thinking about and started nodding his head while looking him in the eyes. Something about those eyes…and suddenly Owen felt something zap up his spine and heard and felt thump at the top of his head. It made him flash back to the, the crow dying against the window. He closed his eyes tightly and felt his shaking stop. He opened his eyes and the world was suddenly a different place.
Owen saw black fuzzy light all around Dolan, encasing him, and something small, like a gargoyle only not exactly, climbing up and through his nose, and another one on the back of his head. Owen thought he was hallucinating. He turned and looked at Sheeley, who was just putting the phone down. The light encasing her was orange and a little dirty looking. Owen suddenly felt very sick, sicker than he could remember feeling in a long time. Maybe it’s the salad, he thought.
“Sheeley, cancel my appointments and make whatever apologies you have to,” Owen said. Sheeley nodded her head.
“You don’t look right, Owen,” she said. “You look sick.”
“I feel it,” Owen said. "Christina isn't coming in...there was a car bomb near the restaurant where we had lunch...I gave..I gave CPR to a young girl who was burnt and dead. I'll tell you more about it later, I gotta get outta here."
He raced out the door without another look back at that awful man, or poor Sheeley. He opened the door of his Honda Fit, but before he could get in, he felt a strong wave of nausea surging through his body. There was no use in trying to stop it, he bent over and puked mostly saliva and a few bright green bits of Caesar salad all over the parking lot. On the drive home he saw people encased in all different kinds of colors, but he didn't see anymore of those gargoyle looking things.
It was a struggle getting into bed and when he did he finally felt the urge to throw up pass.
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