Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense Fynn Perry (if you liked this book TXT) đ
- Author: Fynn Perry
Book online «Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense Fynn Perry (if you liked this book TXT) đ». Author Fynn Perry
"No need to ask if youâre new, not with that landing!â the glowing image of the old man said with a chuckle and a knowing look. His manner was folksy and his face craggy. He was clearly not a New Yorker. And what really stood out about him was the bullet hole in his head.
Johnâs first reaction was to step back, but just as before, when heâd been above the operating table, he found he couldnât. Whether it was the unexpected viscosity of the floor or just plain stress he couldnât tell, but his feet remained in position and he had to fight to retain his balance for a moment.
âWhoa! Take it easy, son! I ainât going to hurt you!â
John sized him up and decided to take him at face value. If he were flesh and blood, he would hardly be a threat to John. Not only was John six-foot-two, but he was broad-shouldered, with the natural build of an athlete, which he kept lean through lifting weights and playing basketballââfactors that had probably just saved him from being crippled by the fall. He had to trust someone to help him, and he desperately needed information.
Without further reservation, he blurted out his frustrations like buckshot: âI donât understand whatâs happening! I shouldnât be here! I should get back, but I canât move.â
âBack to where, son?â
âTo my body. To wake up! To end thisâŠâ He paused, unsure of whether to call it what he hoped it was, a ânear-death experience.â He finally said the words, but even as he did so, John had an overwhelming feeling of impending dreadâthe dread of being told something that he didn't want to hear.
The man paused a moment before responding, his tone almost apologetic, âThereâs nothing ânearâ about it, son. If youâre here with me youâre deadâŠor as good as. Until we decide to move on, we stay on Earth like this.â He gestured with a sweep of his hand over his glowing form. âThere is no other option that Iâm aware of.â He then became silent, studying Johnâs face for a reaction.
The words slammed John hard, with the force of a revelation, leaving him in a momentary daze. âBut I just had surgery! They took my body away! I was still alive!â he finally protested.
âThen it looks like the operation wonât be a success.â The tone was sympathetic but carried with it a sharp edge of conviction.
Johnâs head moved in a slow, disbelieving shake. âNo. No. I canât be dying. My life was just starting! Youâre not real. Youâre not real. This is some kind of dreamâŠ. or hallucination brought on by the drugs used in the surgery! Thatâs it!â He focused back on the manâs head and his gunshot wound, trying to make sense of why this stranger would appear to him in a dream and with both of them as glowing spirits.
âNine-millimeter straight through the nogginâ. Wrong place at the wrong time,â the man said, smiling in response to Johnâs apparent fascination with his wound. âIf I ever find the son of a bitchâŠâ His voice trailed off as if he himself had become weary of making what had become, over time, an idle threat. Then, unexpectedly, he pointed at Johnâs lower abdomen. Looks like you had a violent arrival here yourself! Knife woundâŠmustâve hurt!â
John looked down; there was a hole in his replicated clothing. He pressed a couple of fingers inside and found a gaping wound. It triggered a memory of seeing a flash of a steel blade before he fell to the sidewalk outside the pub. Startled, he pulled his fingers out and looked back at the man in disbelief and said, âI was attacked . . . I remember now. But I canât remember much about how it happened, and I have no idea why anyone would want to stab me!â
âWeâre all here to find answers. I didnât even see the gun or the person who shot me. Never felt a thing!â The old man turned to show John the back of his head. Except there was no back. The exiting bullet had taken most of it away, leaving a crater in the wake of the eruption of brain and bone tissue. John gasped and was surprised he could still feel sick. Very sick. His body convulsed violently.
âDonât worry. Thatâs everyoneâs reaction, and you canât actually throw up,â the man smiled. âOne good thing is that this injury does come in handy.â
âHowâs that?â
âThe badâuns leave me alone, at least the ones that are fresh to this world. I guess they figure that they canât do anything worse to me. But the truth is the badâuns can still harm us.â
âBadâuns?â John repeated, unconsciously mimicking the manâs accent. His concern for his own safety had now overcome his temporary nausea.
âYeah, spirits of dead people, like us but badâuns. You know, muggers, thieves, killersâŠthe same as in the mortal world but worse⊠The longer they stay here, the nastier they get and the more shit they do. Some of them even find homes in the bodies of the living and when they doâŠthey make them do unthinkable things. Most of us spirit folkâthose with any senseâstay away from them and the people they find homes in.â His expression turned serious again. âIf you know whatâs good for you, youâll keep out of their way, too.â He paused and sighed. âI know you want to believe this is all temporary, a dream of some sort. I wanted to when I arrived. I was confused and wanting answers just like you. Then a spirit I met told me something that I didnât believe at first, but which, thirty years later, Iâve found to be true.
âWhat did he tell you? John interrupted impatiently.
âSimply that dreams are never this perfect. He mentioned that some details in this spirit world, when you compare it to the real world, are always out of
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