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Authors: Tom Wallace

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Gnosis

BOOK: Gnosis
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GNOSIS

Tom Wallace

 

Copyright © 2011 by Tom Wallace
All rights reserved.

 

This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

Printed in the United States of America

 

Hydra Publications

337 Clifty Dr

Madison, IN 47250

 

www.hydrapublications.com

 

DEDICATION

 

For Amy Reynolds,

whose voice and spirit will never be silenced;

and

Marilyn Underwood,

always and always

Table of Contents

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

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

 

CHAPTER FORTY

 

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

 

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

 

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

 

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

 

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

 

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

 

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

 

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

 

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

 

CHAPTER FIFTY

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

 

Acknowledgment

 

Author’s Bio

 

Samples from other books by Hydra Publications

 

 

PROLOGUE

 

April 5, 1982

 

The only thing Bruce Fowler loved more than having sex with Darleen was smoking weed. Most of his friends would say his priorities were all screwed up, but, of course, none of them were getting laid on a regular basis. Being perpetually horny, it was only natural for those guys to prefer sex over . . . well, just about everything. Not so with Bruce. True, Darleen was a tiger in the sack—by far the best sex he ever had—but as terrific as she was, she simply couldn’t compare to smoking pot. It wasn’t even a close call.

Bruce took his first toke seven years ago, when he was twelve. His older brother, Daryl, was smoking a joint in his room when Bruce barged in unannounced. Daryl asked his kid brother if he wanted to take a hit. Bruce refused. That changed when Daryl called Bruce a chicken. No one called Bruce Fowler a chicken, because Bruce wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything, not even his older brother, who had a reputation for being a tough guy. He grabbed the joint from Daryl’s hand, and before Daryl had time to show him the proper way to smoke marijuana, Bruce took a long, deep hit. The impact was immediate. His throat and lungs burned, he felt slightly dizzy, and his eyes watered, but . . . there was something else happening as well. Something positive, nice, and calming. He had the strangest sensation that he was floating like an angel high above the scene below, looking down at Daryl, who was sitting on the bed laughing at the boldness of his younger brother.

It was a memorable moment in Bruce’s life; a pivotal moment, a life-altering moment. From that initial taken-on-a-dare toke, he swore to make it his life’s goal to find and smoke the best pot he could lay his hands on. It was a goal he achieved with admirable success.

Tonight, with the first drops of rain beginning to fall, Bruce and his best buddy, Carl Osteen, were standing in front of the Kentucky Theatre when Bruce noticed the big car pull up to the curb. The window on the driver’s side went down, and the man behind the wheel asked where he might score some good weed. Naturally wary, Bruce looked at Carl, shrugged, and told the man he had no clue where to buy weed, either good or bad. Of course, this was a lie—Bruce knew a dozen pot dealers in the city. He simply wasn’t about to take a chance that the guy was an undercover narc looking to make a bust.

However, despite his instinct for caution, Bruce couldn’t help but be intrigued. The guy was driving a Lincoln Continental, a pricey car for a narc. And he was dressed in an expensive suit and tie, like a business man or a lawyer. Certainly nothing like the clothes worn by any cop he knew. Most narcs dressed like street bums, hoping to make you think they were ordinary Joes out looking for a score. More often than not, it was the dumb-ass outfit that gave them away. But this guy was different. He didn’t give off a narc vibe, didn’t look like a cop. Maybe he was legit, someone who could be trusted. Bruce was torn, unsure what to do. His gut feeling that the guy was okay waged an interior battle against his fear that he might be wrong. And with so much at stake, this was not the time for an error in judgment. You never roll the dice when dealing with law enforcement.

BOOK: Gnosis
2.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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