Free The Silver Ring by Robert Swartwood Page B

cheeks. “Sir, are you all right?”
    “What do you mean?” He then remembered punching the wall. Maybe he had broken his hand after all, maybe it was busted up in a bloodstained mess. Then he thought again about the power source and asked if it was damaged.
    “Yes,” she said hesitantly, “it’s been damaged.
    The tapping was getting closer, louder.
    “Look, sir,” she said, “we have to get out of here. Quickly.”
    “Why? This is my ship, what’s happened to it?”
    “I … I don’t know, sir. But—”
    “Can the power source be fixed? Can we at least get some light in here?”
    The tapping was louder, closer, but he still heard her sudden gasp.
    “What is it, Jenny?” he asked.
    “Sir,” she said, “we have to go. They’re coming.”
    “Who’s coming?”
    “I don’t know, sir, but—”
    “What about the lights?” he demanded suddenly. He was tired of this darkness, wanted nothing more to do with it. He thought briefly of the body he had found, of how awful it must look, and decided before he did anything else he wanted to see Jenny’s face.
    “Sir,” Jenny said, “the lights …”
    “Yes? What about them?”
    The tapping was very close now and it seemed to come from everywhere. In his mind he could see Jenny’s expression of horror as she wanted to get away from there. Whatever the tapping was it had something to do with what had happened after they had landed.
    “The lights are on, sir,” Jenny said, quickly, and he could feel her grab his arm and begin to pull. “Now come on, sir, we have to get going!”
    “But—”
    The tapping became even louder. He could hear breathing now, too, breathing that sounded inhuman, alien. He felt his face for just a moment, just an instant, and remembered when he had first woken up, remembered the two small things stuffed down his throat.
    Jenny’s hand was no longer on his arm, and somewhere behind him in his own darkness, she began to scream.

 
Continue reading for an excerpt from Robert Swartwood’s supernatural thriller The Calling .
 
 
When eighteen-year-old Christopher Myers’ parents are murdered, something is written on his bedroom door, a mark in his parents’ blood that convinces the police the killer has targeted Christopher as the next victim. To keep him safe, he travels away with his estranged grandmother and uncle to the small town of Bridgton, New York. And it’s in Bridgton that he meets an extraordinary young man who has come with his father to stop an unrelenting evil. Soon Christopher learns of the town’s deep dark secret, and how his parents’ murder was no accident, and how he has been brought to Bridgton by forces beyond his power—forces that just may threaten the destruction of all mankind.
     
     
  Praise for The Calling
 
 
“ The Calling is a powerful, gripping and terrifying novel, the sort that possesses your whole life while you’re reading it; it’ll stalk you through the day, and inform your dreams. Swartwood has delivered a novel that will become a classic.”
— Tim Lebbon
     

 
     
    Prologue
     
    L ife isn’t fair.
    It’s an old adage, a tired cliché, but you know this to be true. You’ve known it all your life, ever since you were a boy.
    Like when you were forced to eat all your Brussels sprouts before being allowed to leave the dinner table. Or when you twisted your ankle on the first day of middle school practice and couldn’t play soccer for the rest of the season. Or when you asked Lydia Mynell out and she said no and then avoided you for the next two weeks, which you later admitted was a pretty impressive feat in itself as your lockers stood side by side.
    Life isn’t fair, but who said it would be?
    Your parents certainly didn’t.
    Not your father, an intelligent, hardworking man who has been laid off three times from jobs at which he excelled. A college graduate, he now works as an assistant grocery manager at the local Giant, earning much less than he did at all of his