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3 FREE Chapters, 20-22, of The God Key, Book I
Posted on March 30, 2014 at 7:14 PM |
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FREE: Chapter 19 from The God Key, Book I
Posted on March 30, 2014 at 7:12 PM |
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FREE: Chapter 18 from The God Key, Book I
Posted on March 30, 2014 at 7:11 PM |
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FREE: Chapter 17 from THE GOD KEY, BOOK I
Posted on March 30, 2014 at 7:07 PM |
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FREE Chapter 16 from The God Key, Book I
Posted on March 30, 2014 at 7:01 PM |
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Begin PART II Chapter 16 Hit this link: http://www.thegodkey.com/blog/2014/03/30/FREE-Chapter-16-from-The-God-Key-Book-I.aspx?alt_id=PF2T1-F1A33-7D5&ts=635318038185258037 |
FREE - Chapter 15, THE GOD KEY, Book I
Posted on February 6, 2014 at 1:27 PM |
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Chapter 15, THE GOD KEY, Book I: Return of the Nephilim by John R. Fogarty Chapter 15 Dave
wouldn’t hear about the detective’s death until the following day, by which
time he would have other, more urgent concerns—namely, his head injury. The
full extent of the damage was only now beginning to reveal itself. It started with
a series of dreams—extremely vivid dreams—of the silhouette he’d seen outside
the museum. Now, here it was again: standing at the mouth of the recovery room
hallway, watching him. No features or details of any kind, only a nacreous, pearlescent
outline, like the absence
of matter; a blank; a hole. The same one he’d seen watching them
from Fayette Alley, just before the . . . . . . then it
was gone, as abruptly as it had appeared. That was when
the intern returned. The giant, who’d
been grinning at him from the hall earlier, was now leaning into the doorway of
the recovery room, and—this time—leering at him. Dave didn’t know
whether to leer back at him, say something, or prepare to defend himself—but
with a concussion? Against a Goliath? Not likely. He’d have to find a weapon of
some kind, try to disable or at least stun the guy before he— —crossed the
room in two long strides, wrapped his gigantic, six-fingered hands around
Dave’s throat and began throttling the life out of him, choking him to death
right there in the recovery room. As he squeezed, the giant bent down and
exhaled the most noxious, sickening breath Dave had ever smelled, right in his
face. “Goddammit,”
Dave gagged, but all that came out was a wet, glottal sound. Worse, he couldn’t budge the man’s hands. They were huge: the wrists were like
small tree trunks, while the hands themselves looked like Virginia hams—only
bigger. All the SEAL training in the world wouldn’t make a dent in this guy. Then, the
monster leaned even closer and spit something at him—into his face. His mouth, to
be exact. The creature spit something hard and metallic into his . . . ( . . . key?) . . . mouth, and
he knew without looking, the way one does in dreams, that it was an
old-fashioned skeleton key, with a skull at one end. Dave tried to spit the
thing back out but couldn’t. He was going to choke to death on a damned key. Panic shot into his chest just as the giant stopped throttling him,
smiled and . . . began vomiting on him. Only it wasn’t really
vomit.
It was a mouthful of . . . . . . photographs? Yes: 35mm color
photos. The missing
Roswell photographs. Dave watched in
numb disbelief as the long-lost photos poured from the giant’s mouth. His
revulsion peaked when the giant released him, picked up the soggy,
puke-spattered photos and began stuffing them back into his mouth. “My Glh . . . God . . .”
Dave choked. “God?” the giant
managed, still munching on the photos. He chewed the last of them up, swallowed
them down, and added, “Huh, God’s dead.” Dave was
incapable of a rational response. He lashed out with both fists, hammering at
the giant’s Adam’s apple, hoping to crush the larynx or break the hyoid bone,
but missing every time. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t connect. It
was like being in a bad dream. He needed a weapon, something to hit him with— The phone! Dave glanced at
the bedside table. Holding his breath, he rolled over on his side, reached for
the phone, and . . .
. . . woke up. And glanced
around the room. He wasn’t in the
E.R., or Recovery or anywhere near the hospital. He was at some strange house
way out in the sticks, and he remembered: Cyndi’s country home, which she
almost never used. And he was on the living room sofa . . . with Cyndi?! She lay curled
up nice and snug beside him, fast asleep. *** “Hey, Cyn, wake
up.” Dave shook her shoulder. “C’mon, Cyndi . . .” He tried to lean over and
shake her harder, but the dizziness whacked him again; he felt as if he were
swooning. And maybe he was: this woman still had that effect on him . . . she
was so beautiful, so perfect. And she was lying next to him. On her sofa. Just
the two of them . . . Maybe there was
a God after all. She awoke and
stretched languorously, luxuriously, like a cat. “C’mon, Cyn, get
up,” David urged. “It’s eight o’clock.” “Mmmh? Eight?” “Yeah, we gotta
roll or we’ll be late for work.” “Work?” Cyndi
finally came to and sat up beside him. “What time is it?” “Eight.” “In the
morning?” “I think so,”
Dave said, sounding unsure; all he could see was the wall clock. Cyndi leaned
over the edge of the couch and glanced out her living room window. The woods
and fields beyond lay blanketed in blackness. “It’s eight at
night, Nimrod,” she said, with a sigh. “Besides, you’re on leave.” “Vacation?” She turned her
face to him and instead of the wry grin or smile he was expecting, she gave him
only a blank stare. “Hardly that,”
she said, finally. “You must return to Israel as soon as possible.” He blinked. The
wheels within began turning—or tried to. “Did we . . . eh?” “Eh, no, we
didn’t. I merely kept an eye on you so you wouldn’t die. Once I saw you would
survive, I must have nodded off here.” “What about
Attila?” “We picked him
up from your apartment on the way home,” she answered. “Don’t you remember?” David shrugged
one shoulder. “I can’t remember anything.” “He’s sleeping right next to you, on the floor.” She pointed to a spot
next to the sofa. Dave glanced to his right and saw the raggedy old Siamese
curled up below him. Attila was lying as close to him as possible, without
actually being on him. “Little bugger,”
Dave said, surprised at the lump in his throat; probably indigestion. “Oh, I fear you
won’t be seeing Detective Lacy again.” “Huh?” “He was run over
in the hospital parking lot last night. Cut in half, they say.” “What?” “Hit-and-run,”
she said. “So? Are you?” “Am I what?” He
was conscious of a swimming sensation between his eyes. “Going back to
Israel?” Dave paused to
gather what was left of his mind. His brain simply did not want to function:
the wheels within felt gummed up, clogged. The pain medication, probably. “What does that
have to do with Detective Lacy?” he asked. “So you avoid
the same fate,” she replied. “That car is still out there.” “Uh . . . not
right away, no. I’ll worry about God Keys and Doomsdays later, OK? I’ve got an
appointment to keep on Wednesday. With your friend, Galileo.” “But you can’t
move,” she insisted. “Your head—” “—Is made of
stone. Or so my editor tells me. A few bumps here or there won’t matter. Here,
help me up.” “You can’t see
Dr. Galilei today.” He turned toward
her, swaying a bit and blinking, as if hungover. “That’s right,
it’s only Tuesday, isn’t it?” “It’s Wednesday,
all right. But you can’t drive anywhere. You’ve got to can—” “I’ve lost a
full day?
Without a single drink?”
He touched his forehead. “You’re staying
here, on the sofa.” “But Attila
needs his food,” he replied. “And I need my car and clothes and—” “Forget it,” she said. “They’re probably watching your apartment, the
observatory, all the places you usually go. Until we can get a fix on these
people, and what they want, you’re not leaving this house.” “Yeah, but—” “I’ll take care
of things, you stay put on that couch. I’ve got to get us some food, too.
There’s nothing here to eat. Oh, one more thing . . .” She rummaged in her
purse. “Yeah?” “Your doctor
found this on the floor of the Recovery Room, by your gurney. Is it yours?” she
asked, as she handed him the object. It was a
slightly damp, but thoroughly solid, skeleton key. With just a trace
of his saliva on it. “OK, look, I
don’t . . . think I’m feeling . . . all that well, just now. Maybe I should
just go back to my place, crash for a few hours and—” “Just lie still
and do as I say,” she said. And with that,
she took his head in both her hands, planted an incredibly juicy kiss on his
mouth and gave his skull a slight twist. And he was out.
Cold. She pocketed the
key and left. # End, Part One |
FREE - Chapters 12 - 14, The God Key, Book I
Posted on February 2, 2014 at 10:00 PM |
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FREE - The God Key, Book I - Chapters 10 & 11
Posted on February 2, 2014 at 9:57 PM |
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FREE - The God Key, Book I -- Chapter 9
Posted on February 2, 2014 at 9:52 PM |
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FREE - The God Key, Book I: Chapters 7 & 8
Posted on February 2, 2014 at 9:49 PM |
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