The Calling (45 page)

The obvious choice was to head through the woods and try to lose them there. Bobby and the others probably knew this, as did William, so maybe that was why William shouted, “Down the road!” and swerved that way.
 

Fred was right behind him and followed without hesitation.
 

I hesitated though, uncertain. I didn’t understand. Going through the woods would be the better choice.
 

Behind me, the shouting was getting closer.
 

I second-guessed myself and kept going straight.
 

I glanced over my shoulder just once as I broke into the shade and dashed through the trees. Bobby shouted something to Joseph, Curtis, and Melvin, and they took off down the road after William and Fred. Bobby kept going straight for me.
 

I never really understood why Bobby hated me so much. As he was the leader of the pack he roamed with, it would only make sense he’d go after the leader of our pack. Instead he always came after me.
 

Always made sure he had more punches at me than anyone else. But the beatings were never too bad. Not bad enough that my mother would notice. At least Bobby and the rest of them were smart on that end, because they knew none of us would say anything. Because we were nine and telling on them would mean we were babies and we were nine and we were
not
babies.
 

I guess, though, I did know the reason deep down.
 

Angela, Bobby’s sister, was almost a year younger than me. Eight years old wasn’t much, but she was pretty, that was for sure. And though I wasn’t in love with her, I did like her to some extent. But I guess she liked me even more and Bobby knew this and hated the idea of his sister liking a little brat like me.
 

I ran full out through the trees, dodging limbs and leaves. I’d been roaming through here as long as I’d been alive and knew the way pretty good. Then again, Bobby had been roaming them even longer and he knew them better.
 

I was chubbier than most kids my age, but not fat, and somehow I was able to run pretty fast for my size. But sometimes it wasn’t fast enough. I hoped it would be this time.
 

Through the trees out into the clearing towards the pond and open field. There was a wooden bench there by the pond, something that looked as if it’d been there since the beginning of time, and I wished some adults were sitting there now, because only adults made Bobby stop, made him slow down and smile and try to act like a decent young man his age.
 

But there was no one there. I was alone, just me and the huffing and puffing monster behind me, who sounded as if he was catching up.
 

I sprinted through the field, towards more trees, my bare feet smashing down the grass. I briefly wondered where William and Fred were, how far they’d gone and whether or not Joseph, Curtis, and Melvin had given them any punches yet.
 

“Come on,” Bobby shouted, eagerness in his voice, “I just want to talk!”

Heading into the trees that would take me out onto Harris Road and to the safety of houses and adults, I glanced over my shoulder only once, hoping and wishing and praying that Bobby would trip, that he would fall on his face.
 

Only it was me who tripped.
 

Right over my own stupid feet and then I was down, skidding across the grass and burning my chest.
 

Bobby was on me a second later, his knee digging into my back and his hand pressing my face into the ground.
 

“Aw, poor baby,” he said, laughing, and pressed my face even harder until I could hardly even breath.
 

I did whatever I could to get him off, kicking and bucking and waving my arms, but it was no use. My eyes were squeezed so tight I couldn’t see anything but white dots in the dark and I started to cry—I started to cry just like he wanted me to and I hated myself for it.
 

Then, suddenly, his hand and knee were gone.
 

For some reason I didn’t realize this at first, and just lay there, my face pressed into the grass, still kicking and bucking and crying.
 

“Ethan, get up.”
 

It wasn’t Bobby’s voice.
 

I raised my head, tears in my eyes, and saw my Uncle Grant standing a couple yards away, putting most of his weight on his good leg. He was dressed in his work clothes and had his arms crossed, scowling at Bobby.
 

Sniffling, I stood up and wiped my face. Glanced behind me and saw Bobby standing there, his hands behind his back, like he’d just gotten there and didn’t know what was going on.
 

“Are you all right, Ethan?”
 

I looked at my uncle and nodded once.
 

“Well, Robert, what do you have to say for yourself?”
 

Bobby had nothing to say for himself. He stood with his hands behind his back and stared ahead, a slight knowing grin on his face.
 

“Well?”
 

“Well what, sir?”
 

I slowly walked towards my uncle, who continued standing there with his arms crossed.
 

“I think an apology is in order.” My uncle’s hand fell on my shoulder, and he gently turned me around to face Bobby. “Come on now, Robert, tell Ethan you’re sorry.”
 

Bobby’s eyes left my uncle’s and stared straight at me. It wasn’t so much a stare as it was a glare. He opened his mouth and I saw his teeth gritted together.
 

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice complete ice.
 

I wasn’t sure which I hated more, being beaten up by Bobby or my uncle saving me. Because now the anger in Bobby was just going to boil, and the next time we met up the beating would be even worse.
 

“Okay now. Why don’t you run along, Robert, before I feel the need to call on your parents.”
 

Bobby’s eyes shifted back to my uncle and for a moment he did nothing more than stare. Then he nodded and turned away, started back towards the pond and the trees.
 

I watched him leave and then felt my uncle’s hand pulling me away. I looked up and saw him nodding at the trees towards Harris Road.
 

We walked in silence for a while. William and Fred crossed my mind and I wondered just how far they’d gotten. Had they outrun Joseph, Curtis, and Melvin? Or had they gotten caught, were now sustaining some kind of beating, a beating that would only increase when Bobby got there and dished out whatever he felt like giving them?
 

“It was the strangest thing,” my uncle said. “I was walking along the road and thought I heard some shouting and for some reason knew you were in trouble. So I ran through the trees and yes, there you were. Are you sure you’re all right?”
 

I nodded once again without a word.
 

“What about William and Fred? Where are they?”
 

I shrugged. I didn’t feel much like talking.
 

We’d entered the trees and were now making it out onto the side of the road.
 

“What about your clothes? You know you can’t go back home without your mom asking you where the rest of your clothes went to.”
 

He had a point, but I wasn’t about to head back to the creek anytime soon.
 

“How ’bout I cover for you? If she’s there, I’ll get her distracted and you can go in and get some other clothes to wear in the meantime. What do you say?”
 

I looked up at him and nodded, still wondering what had happened to William and Fred. Uncle Grant was grinning, which made me grin too. It was always something good to see, because I knew that when my uncle grinned everything was going to be okay.
 

And for a moment, I actually believed it was.

ALSO BY ROBERT SWARTWOOD

NOVELS

No Shelter

Holly Lin is living two lives. To her friends and family, she’s a pleasant, hardworking nanny. To her boss and colleagues, she’s one of the best non-sanctioned government assassins in the world.
 

But when a recent mission goes wrong causing one of her team members to die, she realizes she might no longer be cut out for the work—except the mission, as it turns out, is only half over, and to complete it will take her halfway across the world and bring her face to face with a ghost from her past.
 

Things are about to get personal. And as Holly Lin’s enemies are about to find out, she is not a nanny they want to piss off.
 

No Shelter
is 65,000 words long and recommended for fans of Lee Child, Barry Eisler, and Duane Swierczynski.

“Excellent—memorable and something I’ll read more than once.”
 

—
HTMLGIANT

“
No Shelter
is part mystery, part thriller suspense, and all kinds kick ass!”
 

—
The Man Eating Bookworm

—————

Man of Wax

Ben Anderson goes to bed Sunday night, lying next to his wife in the comfort and safety of their Pennsylvania family home, to wake up the next day in a rundown motel in California — alone.
 

He doesn't know how he got there, he doesn't know where his family is, and written in dried blood on the bathroom door are the words LET THE GAME BEGIN. 

Soon Ben is contacted by Simon. Simon knows all there is to know about Ben, more than he cares to remember himself.
 

If Ben wants to save himself and his family, he will have to do everything Simon says.

As the game begins — with stakes much higher than either man can imagine — no one knows where it will lead or how it will end.

Only one thing is for certain: this time the game will change everything.

Man of Wax
is 80,000 words and the first book in a thriller trilogy where every day men and women must fight a power that threatens to destroy the world.
 

“
Man of Wax
grabs you by the throat in the first chapter and never lets go. A suspense-filled thrill ride with plenty of shocks along the way. Read it!”
 

—
F. Paul Wilson

—————

The Serial Killer’s Wife

Five years ago Elizabeth Piccioni’s husband was arrested for being a serial killer. Her life suddenly turned upside down, she did what she thought was best for her newborn baby: she took her son and ran away to start a new life.
 

Now, living in a quiet part of the Midwest with a new identity, Elizabeth is ready to start over. But one day she receives a phone call from a person calling himself Cain. Cain somehow knows about her past life. He has abducted her son, and if Elizabeth wants to save him she must retrieve her husband’s trophies—the fingers he cut off each of his victims.
 

With a deadline of one hundred hours, Elizabeth has no choice but to return to the life she once fled, where she will soon realize that everything she thought she knew is a lie, and what’s more shocking than Cain’s identity is the truth about her husband.
 

The Serial Killer’s Wife
is a 80,000-word thriller in the vein of Jeffery Deaver, John Sanford, and Thomas Harris. It includes a special foreword by Blake Crouch.
 

“This is a scary, thrilling, page-turning, race-against-the-clock novel if ever there was one, with a true shocker of an ending. Miss this one at your own peril.”
 

—
Blake Crouch

—————

The Dishonored Dead

In a not-so-distant future, the world has devolved and most of the population has become the animated dead. Those few that are living are called zombies. They are feared and must be hunted down and destroyed.
 

Conrad is one of the animated dead. A devoted husband, a loving father, he is the best zombie Hunter in the world. But when he hesitates one night in killing a living adult, his job is put in jeopardy. Instead of being outright dismissed, he is transferred to a program so secretive even the Government would deny its existence—and where Conrad soon learns a startling truth about how his own son might be in danger of becoming a zombie.
 

As living extremists become more emboldened and blow up a Hunter Headquarters, as a power-hungry Hunter becomes more enraged and will stop at nothing to gain absolute power, Conrad begins to question not just his profession, but his own existence. And before he knows it he is on a journey of self-discovery, remembering a past he was forced to forget, and soon finding himself not only a hunted man, but a man who must now save both his son and the entire world.
 

The Dishonored Dead
is a 100,000-word zombie thriller that includes the 3,000-word short story “In the Land of the Blind,” which won 10th Annual Chiaroscuro Short Story Contest and was the inspiration for the novel, plus the 3,000-word short story “The Hunter” and a bonus interview with the author.

“
The Dishonored Dead
is simply brilliant, and its telling a superb achievement. Robert Swartwood has given us a wonderful twist, not only on the zombie novel, but on the dystopian tale as well. It’s like
Brave New World
meets
Logan’s Run
, but with a bite all its own. Strongly recommended!”

—
Joe McKinney