THE GREAT AWFUL

KAYLAN DOYLE

Description

When Devastation, Plague and Inhumanity attack, a young woman struggles to survive... Who to Trust? Who to Kill?First Book in the Dystopian REIVERS' INCURSION thriller series by KAYLAN DOYLE.........Katie Davis and her mother are alone the night a series of earthquakes rocks their isolated home. In the valley below Katie's house, an erupting volcano spews lava, incinerating everything in its path. Power grids explode and communications systems fail. The earthquakes force an ancient meteor up through the earth's surface, bringing yet another disaster. Something ... far greater than nature ... is responsible. Katie and her mother have no way to know the police are dead. No way to know inmates have escaped from jails and institutions and that people are fleeing populated areas. For years, Katie has asked why they hide. For years, her parents have refused to explain while her military father trains her in weapons use and combat skills, with the expectation that she will protect her emotionally fragile mother. Like the malevolent meteor, Katie's training surfaces ... with deadly intent. Pushed to the breaking point, how far will she go? What is she willing to do to survive?

Informations

• Publié par: Chronicles Publishing
• Date de parution: 27 juin 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780991012312
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Published by CHRONICLES PUBLISHING LLC PO Box 8459, Kirkland, WA 98034 © Copyright 2014 by Kaylan Doyle ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Kaylan Doyle A Chronicles Publishing Original
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
www.MoreThanPublicity.com Book Cover Design by © MoreThanPublicity Book Cover Artist © Lora Lee Book Cover Interior Pages Illustration by © MoreThanPublicity
Publishing History Chronicles Publishing/Paperback edition/September 2014 Chronicles Publishing/eBook edition/April 2014
ISBN-13: 978-0-9910123-1-2 ISBN-10: 0991012313
Published & Released in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
MORE BOOKS BY KAYLAN DOYLE
Science Fiction Space Opera
SURVIVORS’ DREAMS
The Kra’aken Dynasty Chronicles
“A breathless rushing for the bus read.
Urban Fantasy
BIJOUX MAJIK
CONTENTS
More Books by Kaylan Doyle
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
About Kaylan Doyle
DEDICATION
To Bill
“It’s the little things”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would need an additional novel to thank everyone who helped me bring this story to publication. You know who you are, and you also know how much you are appreciated.
For those of you familiar with the Treasure Valley, I’ve taken some liberties with locations, landmark placements and distances in order to make the story flow more smoothly. Thanks for your understanding. This is a work of fiction and any and all errors are completely mine.
Special appreciation to the following people:
For technical advice on subjects ranging from geology through weaponry – Bill Cole, Steve Johnson, Ken O’Keefe, Bill Windham.
For Linda Lamb, Linda Kovik-Skow, Joyce O’Keefe, Susan Schreyer, Lisa Stowe – who plodded through the rough draft, then again through the revisions – heartfelt thanks! A deep genuflection to MaryAnn Hightower for her sharp proofreading eyes.
Many, many thanks to Lora Lee for my awesome cover art.
To Lyn Thornton – for hours contributed to wading through various drafts, and listening to me read aloud. Thank you, Lynnie!
To my husband, Bill … who cooked, and cleaned, and kept the household going while providing unwavering support and belief in me.
Last, but in no way least – huge thanks to Shannon Aviles – without you and your expertise, there would be no book. You are the best!

PROLOGUE
A nnelise huddled on the stained vinyl floor in the corner of the room. The smell of Mommy’s blood on her clothing made her sick; the screams from her mother in the next room froze her mind in terror. Sobs shook her body, tears flooded her eyes, ran down her face. Why would anyone hurt Mommy? A shriek swelled inside her throat.
“Be still, don’t make a sound,” whispered the voice in her mind.
She obeyed, pressing tight as possible against the wall, head down, long hair hanging over her face. She peeked at the man with the huge gun.
He leaned against the far wall. Watching her. Big, bigger than Daddy. She shuddered when his eyes locked on hers.
“Yes,” he nodded. “You’re next. What are you – six? Just the age I like. Za was right. You two are the best bait in the world.” His low chuckle brought the fine hairs upright all over her body.
“No,” Annelise whispered. “Please, no.”
“Shhhh,” said the mindvoice. “Don’t answer.”
“Don’t you want to know why you’re going to die? Are you too little to understand?” The man shoved away from the wall; crossed the room in three strides. One large hand twisted in her hair, dragged her head up. “Your fucking father killed my brothers. Now we kill what is most precious to him.”
He jerked her to her tiptoes by her hair.
Warmth ran down the side of her head, trickled behind one ear.
Annelise pressed her lips together, made no sound.
His eyes wandered, assessed, roamed again.
Her insides froze. Primal instinct told her she was in deep, deep trouble. She held her breath to keep from whimpering, begging, pleading.
“Be still, Annelise. Do not show fear.” The voice in her head spoke again. “It will make him worse.”
Behind the closed door, in the adjoining room, her mother’s screams muted to a gutteral moan. The sound wiped fear from Annelise’s mind, replaced it with burgeoning fire – fury burning hotter and hotter – her mad . No one knew about it – except the voice in her mind. If only my mad could kill this bad man.
He leaned his gun against the wall. With a flash of stained teeth and a leer that pierced her heart like a spike of ice, he gripped the front of her pants and yanked them down.
She tried to cover her nakedness with both hands.
He slapped her.
Annelise’s head bounced off the wall. Her ears rang and black fuzzy clouds filled her sight. Then his hand slid between her legs from her knees to her – nonononono – most private place.
A blast rocked the room; blew apart the front of the old house. A muffled bang followed and red rain splashed Annelise’s clothes, her face and hands.
The bad man no longer held her. The bad man didn’t have a head. A scarlet fountain geysered from his neck. His body turned, crumpled and thumped to the floor.
Annelise’s heart jumped. Happyhappyhappy .
Two men came low and fast through the exploded opening and crossed the room. One stood pressed against the side wall beside the closed door, the other crouched in front of her.
From the adjoining room, a high piercing scream ripped the air.
The man squatting before Annelise snarled, the veins in his temples swelled and pulsed.
She flinched and scooted away, dragging up her pants.
“You’re safe, Leesie. Did he hurt you anywhere?”
With the green and black and brown paint streaking his face; the guns and knives sticking out all over him, Annelise didn’t recognize this stranger. But his voice was Daddy’s.
“No-o-o. S-s-scared me,” she got out just before she started to shake.
“Can you lie on the floor? Hide behind him?” Her father pointed at the dead bad man. “Just for a minute?”
“Mommy’s ….”
“I know, Leesie. I’m going to get Mommy right now. Do this for me baby, please.”
“Mind your father,” ordered the voice inside. “It will help him.”
She got back down in the blood and other awful sticky stuff on the floor behind the dead man’s body. She shuddered, her heart thudded, and tears streamed from her eyes. She tried to be quiet, but she couldn’t control her sobs. I’m safe. The body of the bad man faced her now but it was okay. Daddy fixed him – he’s dead with no head.
“Snake,” Daddy’s friend motioned with his gun.
“The door opens in. Our advantage ….” The bedroom door flew open, bullets strafed the opposite wall, pocking it at man height.
Is Daddy okay? Annelise couldn’t get her breath. She wiggled sideways behind the corpse until she could see. Both fine.
Daddy’s friend held up two fingers pointing at his eyes. Then, indicating inside the room, he added two more, followed by a swift gesture.
Daddy nodded, crouched against the wall next to the door.
Four fingers , Annelise figured. Four more men?
Two figures firing guns charged from the bedroom.
Annelise’s father held a huge knife in his hand. Fast, smooth, like a cobra she saw on TV, he buried the blade between the first shooter’s legs. Twisting the steel, he sliced up and out.
A howl escalated into a high shriek.
On the other side of the door, mirroring Daddy’s movements, his friend cut the second man. A screech of agony morphed into a thin ululating scream.
Guns bounced on the floor, dropped by men now trying to hold in body parts. Yes! Daddy hurt the man who hurt Mommy. And his friend hurt the other one. Goodgoodgood. Blood and pink and gray stuff splattered everywhere and Annelise forgot her tears and cheered. But Daddy wasn’t done.
The gutted men held before them like shields, her father and his friend rushed into the bedroom. Annelise heard a bunch of pop-pop-pop sounds. She scrambled to her knees, heart clogging her throat. Pleasepleaseplease let Daddy be okay.
“Get down. Stay hidden.” The voice in her head snapped at her, like Mommy when she disobeyed. Annelise dropped back into the mess on the floor.
The gunfire stopped, silence descended. Annelise heard her father cursing, low, steady. Heard him say, “Don’t you dare leave me, Sharon.”
Annelise spotted a black handle sticking up from a holder-thing on the dead man’s belt. A knife – a big one, like Daddy’s. She obeyed, stayed low and hidden while she worked the blade free. The mad surged again, roared in her head. Because she couldn’t take his pants down like he did hers, she focused on the place the evil man touched her and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed.
“Leesie,” said her Daddy from the bedroom door. He held Mommy cradled in h