Dead Of Winter (The Rift Book II) (46 page)

Whether a purposeful sentiment or not, Billy accepted their respect and tilted an imaginary hat to them. Christopher giggled at his absurdity.

From inside he heard Marcy speak. Her voice was just as beautiful in real life as it had been on the
other side
. And he was at least partially responsible for restoring that beauty back to its rightful place.

He had done the right thing.
The
good
thing.
He lifted his arms to the sky, tilted back his head, and let the breeze whip against his flesh.

For the first time since the death of his beloved teacher, William Mathis cried.

Epilogue

When Marcy Caron opened her eyes to the world a shockwave of energy erupted from her, affecting all in its path…

…in
Virginia
, Corky Ludlow gathered with the other residents of the Mount Clinton Resort by the edge of a cliff to celebrate the life of their recently departed friend. The plan was to watch the sunrise and repeat his name, to promise that his memory would stay with them. But when the sun rose none talked. Instead they all broke down in tears at once – happy tears, tears of hope. None noticed Tom Steinberg, who cowered behind them with his head in his hands, writhing in pain…

…in a small town off I-95 in Connecticut, furrowed away in an abandoned garage, Joshua Benoit awoke from a dream. He clutched his knees tight. He cried for his future, for Colin, for his unborn child…but not for Marcy. Somewhere inside he knew the girl from his past was fine. He rested his head on Kyra’s expanding stomach, feeling for once that everything might be all right despite the pain he still felt and the sound of the undead pounding on the garage door…

…on an island somewhere in the south
Atlantic
, Eduardo Pereira shivered beneath his makeshift hut as a cold rain fell. Ever since arriving at the archipelago everything had gone wrong. Lucia became distant, Eddie Jr. fell ill. He delayed repairs to the
Bendicion
, thinking that if the Virgin really wanted him to resume his course she would let him know. The image of another woman entered his head on that afternoon – not the Virgin, but one that filled his heart with light just the same. The messiah had returned and sent him a message. His shivering ceased and he rolled into Lucia, kissing her deeply, passionately, for the first time in weeks…

…in the dull chill of morning, Sam rested atop a spire overlooking his kingdom. He felt restless and bored. His children milled about below him, rising from their slumber. He gazed down on them in disgust.

Pain seared through his chest. He collapsed and nearly fell from his perch. In a fit of rage he pounded his fists into the wooden platform.

Someone he’d forgotten about had reentered the world.

The witch was awake.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

When I started writing
The Rift
back in 2002, I didn’t know what was going to happen. I had a starting point (the temple of the dead from
The Fall
) and the final scene. What I
didn’t
know was how I would get there.

With that in mind, just as with the characters in these books, the writing has been a journey. The characters from the first installment were ones that I grew to love, but as I started book two (after a prolonged absence) I felt the story needed something different. It needed new characters,
fresh
characters, to help guide the tale in the direction I thought it should go, to bring about the sense of balance that I always wanted this fable to impart.

Enter Billy and Corky. Their creation came as a bit of a surprise to me. I made them to be dedications – Billy to Socrates Fortlow, the main character from Walter Mosley’s
Always Outnumbered, Always Outgunned
, and Corky to Hagrid from the
Harry Potter
series, the giant with a heart of gold. Their characters took off on me, went in directions I never expected. I didn’t know Billy’s past until I scribbled that first scene down on paper. Similarly, Corky’s secret was as much a secret to myself until he meets little Shelly in the kitchen of the Clinton Resort.

To me, the greatest creations are made this way, and these two are the favorites that I’ve ever come up with.
Dead of Winter
is their story, even more so than Josh, Kyra, and the rest of the
Dover
survivors. I hope you found their contributions to the text meaningful and, in a way, righteous.

More than anything,
The Rift
is a tale of poise in the face of both danger and personal weakness. The first book, though one I’m proud of, is really nothing more than an introductory story. In truth, I wasn’t particularly happy with the way it ended. There was no climax, and the story just sort of peters out.

This might have something to do with the fact that originally the first two books were meant to be a single volume. However, the story took off on me, becoming much too long. So that’s what you have here, folks – my complete vision of the primary installment of the series.

Dead of Winter
is, without a doubt, my favorite of the four books. It’s closer to a classic zombie tale than the others, and it has within it a depth of emotion and pain that can suck you in without becoming disturbing. The last two aren’t like that. They’ll shock and anger you and perhaps make you feel depressed by the end. In fact, the ending of
Dead of Winter
may be the happiest one I’ve ever written. For those of you who don’t go for that sort of thing, rest assured this is an aspect that won’t stick around for long.

The third as-to-now-unnamed third book I’m working on as I write this. Hopefully we’ll have it ready for release some time in December of 2011. It will be, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the hardest for me to write, being that it’s painful and more than a little disquieting. You think I put my characters through the ringer now? Just wait. My only fear is that folks who love the first two books won’t like where it goes.

But that’s okay. This is the story I have to tell, and I’m going to tell it my way.

So thank you, my friends, for taking this journey with me. It is much appreciated that anyone would care enough to read this little snippet of my imagination, and even more that you’ve chosen to continue along with me.

Regards,

Rob Duperre

Ellington
,
CT
January 2011