by J. Thorn
The Law of Three: A New Wasteland (The Portal Arcane Series - Book II)
The Reversion plucks Samuel from a dying world and drops him into another, a decaying desert wasteland of darkness and peril. As his memories return, Samuel finds himself in another cycle of destruction, and he leads newcomers Jack and Lindsay towards redemption in the mountain stronghold of the mysterious one known as Deva. Finally, as the locality collapses behind him, Samuel realizes his only escape from the Reversion will be putting his faith in The Law of Three.
The Portal Arcane Series - Book III - COMING IN EARLY 2014
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If you enjoyed this title, you'll love The Seventh Seal. Find out why The Seventh Seal, is a best-selling, post-apocalyptic, dark fantasy thriller that has placed in the Amazon Kindle Top 100 Paid Best Seller lists in four different genre categories!
The Seventh Seal
John Burgoyne awakens from a Halloween party, with a hangover and a dead cell phone, on the first day of the End of Days. He's desperate, on the run, and fighting for his life. After a violent coup, the Father, the figurehead of the Holy Covenant and the commander of a new military order, pursues John through the post-apocalyptic wreckage of Cleveland, Ohio, in search of the hidden knowledge he believes John holds. Burgoyne escapes and aligns with the resistance until Father orchestrates a final showdown.
In the words of author Vicki Keire, author of Worlds Burn Through...
"...an edge-of-your seat apocalyptic adventure full of twists and turns. I couldn't put it down!"
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If you enjoyed The Seventh Seal, you have to read the novella sequel, Man's Ruin.
Man's Ruin - A Dark Fantasy Novella (The Seventh Seal Sequel #1)
A band of revolutionaries fights for survival in the urban decay of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, thirty years after the First Cleansing brought an end to civilization. Their enigmatic and seasoned patriarch, John Burgoyne, protects the clan until a man on horseback delivers an ominous message. John decides to lead his tribe on a grueling march down the treacherous highway stretching from Pittsburgh to Cleveland, unaware of the forces aligning against them. When the clan faces a major decision on the road, John will be forced to do whatever is necessary to ensure their survival.
In the words of reviewer, Gordie, on Amazon.com...
"I started this in the morning and had it finished by lunchtime as I could not put it down..."
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If you like tight and fast-paced short stories, you'll love J. Thorn's horror and dark fantasy collection, Voices from Beyond: Volume 1 as well as The Hunt and Tunnel.
About the Author
J. Thorn believes in the imaginative power of the horror novel and the escape from reality it provides. He knows that embracing the entire spectrum of human emotion, even its dark realms, makes for a more meaningful and authentic life.
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"...an edge-of-your seat apocalyptic adventure full of twists and turns. I couldn't put it down!"
Vicki Keire
Author of Worlds Burn Through
"A new and refreshingly believable handling of an old story concept. I totally enjoyed the characters who were well rounded out to show the good and bad and sometimes pure evil in the human condition. .Apocolypse with a twist of humanity"
Gayle from Amazon.com
"It makes you gasp at every turn...J. Thorn does an amazing job of flipping every preconception on its head!'"
Jack D. Albrecht Jr.
Author of Osric's Wand
"Very enjoyable, hard to put down, some late nights till finished."
Mate from Amazon.com
The Seventh Seal
By J. Thorn
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Acknowledgments
Other Works
About the Author
Copyright
Table of Contents
The Seventh Seal
Fifth Edition
Copyright © 2011 by J. Thorn
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, places, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Illustration by Kate Sterling
Edited by:
Robert Reed
Katy Sozaeva
Laurie Love
For more information:
http://www.jthorn.net
[email protected]
For Adam, my first reader and cohort in crime.
And the smoke of their torture goes up for ever and ever, and they have no relief day or night, those who worship the beast and the image of him, and anyone who takes the mark of his name.
--The Revelation of John, Chapter 14
Take the cup and sip the wine
Until you see the cursed line
--“Paris Green,” Threefold Law
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Acknowledgments
Other Works
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter 1
Every strand of Sarah’s hair shocked John Burgoyne like voltage from downed electrical wires. The drugs told him that he needed to be in her, envelop her. The room glowed through the darkness. The hypnotic guitar of Threefold Law’s “Old Dominion” pulsed through the speakers on tentacles of golden vibrations, surrounding and stifling the other sounds in the house.
The hidden pill dissolved in John’s stomach, quickened by gulps of Great Lake’s finest. The beer settled at the top of his throat and he fought the acidic burn.
Sarah pushed him back on the couch and unbuckled her black leather belt, laughing as she imagined him trying to claim rape. John spilled the remainder of his warm beer, dropped the bottle to the floor, and – moving his hands to her hips – slid down the garter straps and pushed the miniskirt up to reveal the tops of white, fishnet stockings. John’s body slid beneath hers and into a familiar position. His vision blurred and Sarah’s words took on a wavering quality, as if she spoke underwater. He felt her hands tugging at his underwear and he saw black pants at his ankles. John’s cell phone slid from his pocket and hit the cement floor.
***
John awoke shivering. His chattering
teeth pulled him from a fitful sleep. The stench of vomit and piss pulled at the remaining contents of his stomach. He sat up and glanced at the black plastic through nauseous double vision. John picked up the phone and flipped it open, expecting the screen to come alive. He squinted to prepare for the bright shock of a compounded headache. When it did not happen, John fumbled for the on button, bringing the inanimate object to life. The smudged LCD screen finally lit, but John dropped it to the ground as rays of pallid green bored through his skull like a rusty drill. Shrill beeps emanated from his phone in rapid succession. John rubbed his eyes with sweaty hands, his body convulsing before looking down at the display.
What the fuck is going on?
He forced his eyes to focus on the screen, struggling to read the characters on it. The phone looked back at him through an imaginary fog, which obscured the display. John held the phone outward and turned in a slow circle. Bits and pieces of memory raced through his head. John yanked at a white collar hanging from the button on his black shirt. A dime-store rosary twisted as the cheap plastic cut into his throat. The air felt cold and damp, weighed down with silence. Opposite the steps, John ran a hand along the wall and found the light switch. He flicked it up and down several times, failing to dispel the inky blackness. Stumbling over empty beer bottles, he crawled to the circuit panel. Using the weak light from his phone’s display, he saw all of the breakers faced right, locked in the “on” position, but still failing to deliver power to the house. More beeping shot from the tinny speaker on his phone, the source still a mystery. John navigated the basement furniture and tried climbing the stairs. He reached the solid, oak door and listened.
Nothing.
Flies crawled under the door and buzzed around his head, an unusual occurrence for late October in Ohio. A sour stench, which forced John to heave again, accompanied the insects. The locked door forbade him entry to the kitchen.
“Hey!” he said. ”Is anyone there?”
John pounded on the door with his right hand until it became numb. He kept reassuring himself that Reggie would throw open the door at any moment, and everyone would have a hearty laugh at his expense.
John waited.
He sat on the top step, straining again to focus on the phone’s display. His eyes chased a floater from the edge of his vision as the letters on the screen materialized. He pushed the envelope button, which retrieved the first three subject lines from the inbox.
whr r u
johncall
help
Chapter 2
Jana had typed the text messages the night of October thirty-first. The date on the main screen read November first. Fumbling, John pushed the wrong button, retrieving his sent texts folder.
wish u whr here
Sent at one in the morning on November first. John selected the message and noticed three phone pictures attached to it. The hourglass spun on the screen while retrieving the first picture. Although dark and grainy, he had no difficulty recognizing himself in the photo, lying on the couch in Reggie’s basement. John’s head tilted up at an angle, his mouth was covered with a wide grin, and his eyes stared at a naked woman. Sarah stood to the side, one hand resting on his thigh and the other holding her right breast.
He gasped and scrolled down to the second picture. Long, blonde hair fell down to the top of her waist. She sat astride him, looking back over her left shoulder at the phone, which must have sat on a high stool. The third and final picture knocked the wind out of John. With the phone held above, two white breasts and strands of blonde hair enveloped John’s head while a look of stupidity plastered his face.
Sarah was always good at serving a cold dish of revenge.
Using the phone as his flashlight, John staggered back down the steps. He collapsed onto the loveseat at the opposite wall to avoid the smell of his own vomit. John wiped tears from his cheeks and his thumbs moved across the keyboard before he recognized the “No Service” icon that had just appeared on the display. He shut the phone off and back on again.
“No Service”. John walked back up to the top of the steps and held the phone high above his head.
“No Service”.
He recalled seeing 5:06 a.m. on the display before losing the signal. If that were true, someone in the house would be waking soon. They would hear him, find him, and everything would be fine. But John didn’t believe that lie even as his mind formed it. He tried to open both closet doors but the locks refused to give. John considered launching a shoulder into the door but knew his collarbone would snap before the wood budged.
John took a quick inventory of the room using light filtering in from the glass block windows. He noted two couches, a treadmill, a TV, a chair, and a stack of board games on a shelf. His stomach rumbled and grinded with a low moan, and his lips began to crack at the corners.
The pictures and the text kept tumbling through his thoughts. Although the carrier delivered them to Jana, she did not reply. Her text messages arrived prior to his, with her cryptic, desperate phrases. Without any bars, John succumbed to the confines of his new prison.
Reggie’s basement sat beneath the living room and masked any indication of the time of day. John looked at the top of the steps and saw a thin, gray line appearing at the bottom of the door.
John opened his phone and pointed it at the chair, aware of one less bar on the battery indicator. He angled the screen to the floor in such a way as to provide enough light to get to work. John turned the chair over and unscrewed one of the legs. The wooden spindle gave way, and he repeated the process with the other three legs.
He climbed the steps and tried to shove one of the legs under the door as a wedge. The tight gap kissed the ceramic tile, not allowing any leverage. John took one leg and brought it down hard on the glass doorknob. The handle shattered, but the brass innards kept their composure, keeping the door locked. John climbed back down the stairs and decided to try his luck on one of the closet doors. If he could get into Reggie’s tool chest, his chances of getting through the kitchen door would improve.
John brought the chair leg up and struck the door with it. Shards of wood shattered and flew across the room, but the door held strong.
John slid down the wall, fighting a rush of sobs. He thought of Jana and reread her fleeting text messages. Visions of Sarah and her drug-induced sexual depravity made John’s head hurt, followed by bouts of vomiting.
Headaches pounded the inside of John’s skull while cramps wracked his stomach. He shivered from the cold damp rising out of the basement floor. The black shirt and collar provided meager protection from the unheated house. Dark, black circles formed on the edges of his vision and took John into the realm of the unconscious.
Chapter 3
“All clear!”
The shout woke John. Panic seized his heart as he lurched upright. Pain shot through his legs from cramps that imposed their will on his muscles.
“Sir, there appears to be a basement.”
“Then secure it, Private.”
The taste of danger sharpened John’s senses. His legs burning, he dragged himself behind the couch on the opposite wall. Within moments, he heard the crack of wood and saw the gray November light hit the landing near the kitchen. Gleaming black boots crushed the remains of the glass doorknob as they crept down the steps. John took a deep breath, inhaling as much of the renewed air as possible.
He watched as two sets of legs hit the bottom step. Red pinpoints of light raced around the room. They flashed over him a number of times but never remained long enough to reveal his position. John held his breath and bit into his tongue, trying to ignore the crippling leg cramps seizing the muscles.
“Clear.”
A sharp report rang through the air followed by the acrid taste of burning gunpowder. Before the reverberations faded, a second gunshot followed the first. John heard the boots smash each of the closet doors as the hinges protested with a squeak.
“Clear.”
“Clear.”
&nbs
p; The two men kicked beer bottles around the floor, pointed their flashlights around the room, and walked back up the steps towards the kitchen. John exhaled, watching tendrils of smoke dance in the air.
Chapter 4
The light pouring through the open kitchen door climbed high on the wall until it disappeared completely. John listened from behind the couch, still unwilling to chance exposing himself. When the light faded, he crawled out.
Two gaping, black mouths yawned at him where closet doors had previously stood. He flipped the cell phone open but did not hear the customary start-up chime. A ragged crack ran the length of the screen, and the battery had come loose from the clip on the back. In his desperation to hide, he’d landed on top of the phone. John shoved it into a pocket and felt his way toward the nearest closet.
The intrusion had scattered the planks of the doors, and hinges sagged from the wall. With no light, John ventured inside the black canyon. A smeared, glass-block window provided enough of a glare for John to recognize the flashlights on the shelf. He grabbed one and flicked the switch. Nothing. He slammed it to the ground and grabbed another one. The torch blasted the room with blinding light. John stumbled over the shards of the door as his eyes burned and watered before becoming accustomed to the brightness. John swept the beam around the cramped work room until he noticed a wealth of tools. Grabbing the gym bag off a low shelf, he emptied its contents on the floor. Old baseballs and street-hockey balls rolled under the shelves. John collected a hammer, screwdrivers, a hand ax, and plastic wrap, and shoved them into the bag.
