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Thriller is a genre in literature. Thriller completely independent genre. Books of this genre are available now for your attention. We add new Thriller books to our e-library every day every day. Always interesting and instructive to read using our elibrary.
Only occasionally does a rather skillfully tailored product come off this “conveyor line” that really has any merit in order to stand out from the basically homogeneous literary mass. Our electronic library is full of thriller highlights.
“Thriller” is a modern term.
This genre is classified by causing a sudden outburst of emotion in the reader.
Thriller elements are present in many works of different genres. Thriller mix of fantasy and detective. Of course, reading thriller novels of high quality in terms of content and form of presentation is a very useful, informative and even, in some cases, instructive activity. However, the reader must understand in advance that sometimes a detailed description of many bloody fights, shootings and martial arts, the suffering of numerous victims, all kinds of confrontations can cause him a kind of rejection from further reading works of this genre of literature.


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Reading books RomanceReading books romantic stories you will plunge into the world of feelings and love. Most of the time the story ends happily. Very interesting and informative to read books historical romance novels to feel the atmosphere of that time.
In this genre the characters can be both real historical figures and the author's imagination. Thanks to such historical romantic novels, you can see another era through the eyes of eyewitnesses.
Critics will say that romance is too predictable. That if you know how it ends, there’s no point in reading it. Sorry, but no. It’s okay to choose between genres to get what you need from your books. But in romance the happy ending is a feature.It’s so romantic to describe the scene when you have found your True Love like in “fairytale love story.”



Reading thrillers facilitates to the formation of a person's sense of danger and makes him avoid such situations in every possible way in real life. At the same time, the reader can use the example of books to form his own line of behavior in real situations. Thrillers contribute to the development of the sixth sense - intuition. The reader will definitely remember the heroes of thrillers, because they operate in extreme circumstances and must include all means for survival. Filmmakers are always on the lookout for new releases in thriller. Scripts are created every day, that are even more sophisticated and dynamic. Based on these scenarios, new films will be screened, that attract tens of thousands of fans thriller genre. Therefore, each reader will be interested in how it was possible to embody the complexity of the plot on the screen, which is described in the original book. The great success of thrillers on the screen, the basis will still be a book.



You may also be interested in books of the MYSTERY & CRIME or HORROR genre


Read books online » Thriller » Syndrome by Thomas Hoover (read along books txt) 📖

Book online «Syndrome by Thomas Hoover (read along books txt) đŸ“–Â». Author Thomas Hoover



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to come out eventually anyway. Hasn’t Winston Bartlett learned anything from all the screw-ups in Washington? It’s not the situation-it’s the cover-up.”

“Well, I don’t know what Kristy did or didn’t tell you, so we’re not going in that direction. I heard about her little trip downtown this morning. I assume that’s probably when you saw her, if in fact you actually did. Right now she’s being taken care of, for her own good.”

” ‘Being taken care of’? So happens I had a close encounter with a couple of her caregivers today. They’re taking care of her, all right.”

“Look, she used to be W.B.‘s girlfriend okay? He’s still very concerned about her. Everybody’s really sorry about her situation, but nobody saw it coming. And now he’s got some problems of his own.”

“You seem to be pretty heavily involved with Winston Bartlett’s personal problems.”

“Yeah, well, the man’s been like a father to me. And I think he feels that way too, since he doesn’t have a son of his own.”

Stone let the taunt just hang in the air for a moment. He mainly just wanted to slug the smug little bastard.

“You don’t know how little you know, about him or about anything. Someday I may take the trouble to straighten you out. But right now you’re not worth the effort. All I care about at the moment is what’s going to happen to Ally.”

“Everybody cares what happens to her. A lot depends on it. Dr. Vee thinks she’s our best shot”

“What
 what the hell are you talking about?” Stone stared at him through the twilight. “What depends on it?”

“Guess you’re not as smart as you think you are.” He was up and heading for the parking lot. “Come on, pal. Time to hit the road. I’m gonna tuck you in. This conversation is terminated. And it never happened anyway. I’ll have them unlock the gates for you.”

Chapter 27

Wednesday, April 8

8:25 P.M.

Alexa watches as the prow of their forty-one-foot Morgan, two-masted, cuts silently through a placid sea. She vaguely remembers the vessel. It was teak and magnificent. Steve had chartered it, bare-boat, for two weeks and taken them cruising through the Bahamas. By the end of that time, she felt they could have sailed it around the world.

But that was six years ago, when he was still very much alive. Now the boat feels like a magical carpet taking them someplace together, effortlessly. The genoa, the mainsail, and the mizzen are all full and blossoming outward even though there’s no wind. She’s at the helm, holding a course toward something white on the horizon, and Steve is with her. He’s alive again and he’s with her. She feels her body suffused with joy. Then she looks at the reflection of herself in his sunglasses and realizes she’s a little girl, still a child. This is all a dream, she realizes, a cruel dream. Then she looks again at the horizon, the blazing white light, and senses that it represents the future. Their destiny.

Now the sea around them, which had been placid, starts to roil. The wheel is becoming harder to control, and the sun is starting to burn her. In its pitiless glare she feels herself beginning to age rapidly. She glances at Steve and she can see his skin starting to shrivel. She senses he is dying, right there before her eyes, but her hands feel glued to the wheel and she can’t let go to try to help him.

Now the sea is growing ever more choppy and the white symbol on the horizon has begun to bob in and out of view. Sometimes she can see the “future” and sometimes she can’t. Waves are crashing over the sides, inundating the deck, and she feels anxious about what lies up ahead. Will they ever get there, and if they do, will she want what she finds? Even more important now, will Steve still be with her?

As the waves pound against them both, oddly she doesn’t feel wet. Instead, what she feels is a stab of muted pain in her upper chest, pain she knows would be searing if she were to experience its full impact. She looks down to see that the wheel she thought she was holding is gone, and her chest is pierced by the steel mechanism to which it was attached. It has gone all the way through her.

Next a huge wave comes straight over the bow and slams against her and Steve. Her body convulses with pain and she senses that he is being swept overboard, directly off the stern. She screams at him to hold on, but then he is gone, lost in the dark sea.

Now the boat itself is starting to disintegrate, as both masts tip backwards, then come crashing down. Up ahead, the white light that is the future is growing ever more flame-like. It is part of a shoreline she is trying to reach, but now she doesn’t think she’s going to get there. Around her, the boat’s lines and cleats are being swept into the pounding sea.

In moments the boat has disappeared, but she continues on, propelled by some force she cannot see, until she finally crashes onto the rocky shore.

It is a chiaroscuro landscape of blacks and whites. Oddly, Stone Aimes has appeared and is holding her hand as they make their way along the barren seascape, where everything is hazy and trapped in fog. She thinks she sees figures lurking in the mist around them but can’t make out who they are. Everything is static and frozen in place, like the images of motion on the Grecian urn caught for eternity.

She reaches out to touch Stone and her hand passes right through. That’s when she realizes the white light and this rocky shoreline represent the other side. Is this what death feels like? she wonders. Like the white tunnel drawing you in?

But then she has another thought. Maybe she isn’t dead at all. Maybe she is in a third place, somewhere suspended between life and death. She looks again at Stone and tells herself they’re not dead, they’re in some kind of time machine. This voyage is about time.

Now time has begun to flow around her like a river. Days, weeks, months, years, they all course by. But she knows it is a chimera. Nothing can make time go faster or slower.

Then the bright lights are gone and she feels alone. Very alone.

But she isn’t. She hears voices around her, drifting, echoing, and she tries to understand what they are saying.

“She’s stabilized. We’re past the critical phase.”

“Do you want to bring her up now?”

“Not yet. We still don’t know how it’s going to go.”

There was a pause, and then a male voice.

“This was the Beta too, wasn’t it, Karl?” Another pause. “Well, wasn’t it? The injections. That’s the first time since
”

Again the voices drift off. She listens, not sure what she is hearing. She tries to process the word “beta” but makes no headway. In computer slang, “beta” means a program that is still being tested. Then she remembers hearing the word just hours earlier. She had been talking to some woman. But she can’t remember who—”

“I changed the procedure this time,” comes a voice. “I injected the special Beta enzyme separately from the activated stem cells. Whatever happens will happen at the enzyme’s own pace now. And I kept the dosage as low as I could. We’ll be monitoring her telomerase levels throughout the day. If there’s no rejection, we will be past the first phase.”

“Is the dosage the only difference from before?” comes the other, accusing voice.

“At this point, David, manipulating the Beta is an art, not a science. I’m just attempting to create antigens, the way a smallpox vaccination does. Then we’ll try to harvest them. This is not really a full-scale Beta procedure. I don’t plan to do that ever again.”

There was another long silence.

“That man who was here with her. Her cousin, did he say? I saw no family resemblance, but he seemed very upset.”

“That’s why I had him sent upstairs. I think he’s the reporter W.B. was so concerned about. Anyway, he’s gone.”

Stone. She realizes that’s who they’re talking about. And now he’s gone. She’s on her own.

Next the voices drift away for a time, into some echo space that mutes them. Finally, though, they come back.

“This should be adequate for another four hours. After that, you’ll need a glucose IV to keep her hydrated.”

“I’ve already put it on her chart. By then we should have some idea of which way this is going. I’m thinking, I’m praying, that this time is going to be the charm. That I’ve learned how to modulate the enzyme.”

“Is she ready for transfer to IC?”

“Anytime.”

The voices start drifting away. A fuzziness is enveloping her senses, leaving everything soft and muted.

The pain is gone from her body now, and the bright lights around her seem to be dimming. The figures in the white haze on the perimeter are now disappearing, one by one, as though filing out of a room. And now she feels like she’s floating, with things moving past her.

Then, finally, one lone voice is talking to her, is really talking to her, in a private and unmistakable way. And as she drifts back into the gulf of anesthesia, she listens to words that do not make a lot of sense.

“The Fountain. Through all the ages, we’ve been looking in the wrong place. It’s within us. Together, Alexa, we have this chance.”

She listens as the voice begins to drift away. Yet she feels a genuine sense of closeness to it. She realizes she no longer has control of her destiny. But still she wants to be where she is.

Now the sea is coming back, flowing around her, and she tries to remember where she is and why, but all she is aware of is the sea rising, until she is engulfed.

Chapter 28

Thursday, April 9

8:00 A.M.

Stone awoke in his Yorkville apartment nursing a hangover and a lot of regrets. He’d inhaled a triple scotch after driving Ally’s Toyota back and parking it on the street the night before. He’d needed it. Yesterday had been a day where, in sequential order, he’d seen a woman who’d lost her memory get kidnapped (probably); he’d been fired from his day job; he’d finally gotten inside the Dorian Institute, only to blow the opportunity completely. But the most important thing that happened was, he’d rediscovered a woman he’d once been in love with and he currently didn’t have the slightest idea what was happening to her. Thinking back over their last few moments together, when she was being checked in by Van de Vliet and his research team and he was being hastily sent up to the lobby, Stone suspected that Ally was about to be subjected to something they didn’t want anybody to know about.

Now he was determined to get back inside the institute and look out for her.

As he pulled himself out of bed and shakily made his way into the kitchen to start the coffee, he was trying to decide where to begin. As it happened he now had all the time in the world He didn’t mind all that much losing his position at the Sentinel-come on, that was writ across the sky-but he particularly regretted being denied the pleasure of quitting on his own terms, complete with a flamboyant fuck-you- very-much farewell speech to the managing editor, Jay. He’d actually been rehearsing it for weeks.

The dream of just showing up at the Dorian Institute and walking in was no longer even a fantasy. There

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