Published by Disney-Hyperion
Twin brothers Ty and Cory Bic are on the run. When they encounter a dying deer in the middle of a remote mountain road with fresh tire tracks swerving down into a ravine, they know they have to help. But when they reach the wrecked car the vehicle appears empty, with signs that the driver escaped.
Until they hear a sound coming from the trunk.
Ty and Cory are escaping demons of their own. But what they discover in the trunk puts them in the crosshairs of something darker and more sinister than their wildest nightmares.
Told through a gripping, lightning-fast narrative that alternates between present and past, this unputdownable survival thriller unravels the tangled circumstances that led Ty and Cory to the deer in the road and set them on a perilous course through the wilderness of the Pacific Northwest.
I may be wrong here, but my guess is it’s not that she wants my
company specifically—she just doesn’t want to be alone. I listen to
her breaths, watch the small puffs of vapor rise and fade. She settles
into a wheezy but regular rhythm. I lean in for a quick look. Her
skin has a pinkish color, which I hope is a good sign. That means
she’s warming up. After a few minutes, I’m pretty confident that
she’s asleep. With her situation stable I’m tempted to get water
now. It’s really what I should do. She would never know that I
was gone—other than the fact that we would magically have more
water. I shake that thought away. She asked me to stay and that’s
what I will do. Besides, I need to sleep. That need is like a heavy
hand on my spirit pushing me down.
Before I collapse I look out both porthole windows—still gray
and raining softly. Our tracks are pretty much gone. I make sure
the ceiling vent is open and blow out all but one candle, slip the
headlamp over my head in case the candle goes out; then I slide
my sleeping bag off hers, zip myself inside, and hope that sleep
comes fast and easy.
But sleep does not come fast or easy. I was afraid it would be
the terror of the driver’s flashlight coming down the slope, or Ty
leaving, or even the gut-emptying sight of blood-tipped bone
through skin, that would haunt me in the almost dark.
It’s none of those visions.
As I listen to the sound of her breathing and feel the steady
rhythm pull me closer to my own personal oblivion, all I see are
those bruises. I hope that whatever violences she endured are
behind her and that this hole in the ground is what I promised it
would be: a refuge and not a grave.
Stephen Wallenfels lives in Washington state with his wife. He wrote freelance for the Health and Fitness industry for fifteen years before turning writing novels. His passions are family, hiking, cooking, reading, movies, climate change, and especially writing.
3 winners will receive finished copies of DEADFALL, US only.
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