Tom Frye

This is a new project designed to let readers test read these first few chapters, and then give me feedback to let me know what you think.  We’re starting with just Chapter One, and then adding a chapter a week to see how things go…

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Officer Brady froze the moment he heard the angry hiss from the branches above him. He looked up to see a shadowy shape swooping down toward him. It hurtled into him forcefully. Plowing into his chest. Bowling him over. Knocking the air out of his lungs.

Officer Brady scrambled back to his feet. Desperately sucking in air. Frantically peering at the surrounding trees. Wondering what had struck him and where it had gone.

He then caught a glimpse of its yellow eyes glowing in the undergrowth ahead of him.

It hissed, releasing a mad chortle of glee.

It hissed again, and a dozen more luminous, lime-green eyes appeared in the woods beyond the trail. It was not alone.

Trembling with terror, Brady clawed at the pistol holstered at his waist. Like many veteran cops who had never fired their weapon in the line of duty, he’d always considered himself lucky. Twenty years on the Omaha PD, and he’d never even drawn his gun. Retired now and security chief for a research facility located in the middle of the Missouri River, Brady still had never drawn his revolver. Or used the tazer he’d also been issued as a safety precaution; one that he had been strictly ordered to carry while making his nightly rounds patrolling the island.

Tonight, however, he drew both weapons.

It then sprang from the bushes beside the trail, launching such a fierce attack that it sent Brady’s pistol and tazer flying out of his grasp. A burst of blue sparks erupted from the tazer, briefly lighting up the terrifying features of the sharp-fanged beast closing on him. In one last desperate act to save himself, Brady fought back. Hammering with his fists. Kicking with his feet. Latching onto the black-furred creature swarming all over him.

Its razor-sharp talons slithered down the length of Brady’s forehead, then pierced his eyes with uncanny precision, causing blackness to fill his vision. And fortunately, Officer Brady died a few seconds later.

It stood there gloating for long moments, while the others crept from the undergrowth beside the trail, their luminous green eyes fixed on the dead security guard sprawled before them.

It hissed in warning, causing the others to back away from its kill. It then cocked its head, listening to the faint sound of voices coming from the distant shore beyond the north end of the island.

Half a mile upstream from the island, two young boys stood at the edge of a riverside cove, warily watching the black waters of the Missouri swiftly roll past them.

“Looks like a ship,” Connor said, gesturing at the moon rising above the dark river. “A ghost ship setting sail on a sea of stars.”

Slightly mesmerized by the silver radiance shimmering on the river’s surface, he added, “And those sparkling zephyrs? They look like water sprites racing across the waves.”

Sweating heavily in the sweltering heat of the summer night Daniel’s thoughts were a little more dark and twisted. “You know a boy could fall in that river and never come out. Especially at night. Especially on a summer night like this one. Those currents could suck a boy under. Maybe pull him down to the muddy bot-tom where the eels and the leeches lurk.”

“Point taken,” Connor replied, his sweaty strands of blond hair plastered to his head in wild tangles. “But check out the island. I see a light in the tower.”

Scanning the shoreline of the island a half mile downriver, Daniel flicked long, black bangs out of his eyes. “Then it ain’t abandoned,” he said. “Someone’s out there. Security guards would nab us the second we banked the canoe.”

“Scared?” Connor asked.

“Yes,” Daniel admitted. “Scared shitless. Kids say it’s haunted. In the 1800’s, river pirates had a fort out there. Indians slaughtered them all one night, leaving their ghosts really pissed off about the way they died!”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Connor said. “Besides, if you were a ghost why would you haunt a deserted island, when you could haunt the entire lower east side of Omaha a mile upriver?”

Pointing down at the aluminum canoe resting on the edge of the sandbar, he said, “Come on. Help me get this thing launched.”

Connor then suddenly froze. “What was that?” he hissed, his eyes gone wide. “Did you see that?”

Daniel suspected that Connor was simply trying to turn up the notch on his suspense meter. Not real hard to do when they were only fourteen-year-old boys. Out there alone. On a sandbar along the edge of the deep, black waters of the river. A wooded grove behind them. A strange island before them. And far from the safety of the city.

Daniel joined Connor at the edge of the sandbar. “What did you see?” he asked.

Using long, slender fingers to feather back his jagged bangs, Connor narrowed his eyes. “I thought I saw . . .”

His words trailed off and he peered hard at the distant island. “I could have sworn,” he started to say, then fell silent.

Daniel wanted to tell Connor he wasn’t falling for his lame attempt to creep him out. But it wasn’t that kind of feeling he got when he followed his gaze out to the island. It was strange. He could feel someone watching them. Not staring at them curi-ously. Not spotting their fire, wondering if they were catching any fish. No, the eyes locked on them held no wonder or curiosity in them.

Connor finally spoke then with so much conviction that Daniel had to take him serious. In broad daylight he would have laughed. Maybe joked about him needing to take a drug test. But there in the night, with the silver moon hanging above the black river, Daniel shivered as Connor said, “I’m not kidding, Danny. I saw a dark, scrawny thing with leathery wings.”

Daniel said, “Lots of owls live along the river.”

“No,” Connor said. “It looked more like a bat. Only it was really big.”

“An owl,” Daniel said, his tolerance of Connor’s wild imagi-nation stretched too thin. “Quit trying to freak me out!”

For long, silent moments, the two boys scanned the dark, distant island, watching and waiting for something to move.

Finally, Daniel said, “Well, come on. Let’s go on your stupid quest!”

Together they then launched the canoe, sliding it into the cove beside the sandbar. Daniel kept it from drifting out into the swift-flowing river by holding onto the rope tied to the stern.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over the boys.

They both looked up to see a black creature swoop down toward them, its long, slender wings momentarily blocking out the moonlit sky.

A low, angry hiss came from the bat-like thing, followed by a gurgling noise, then a solid Thunk! as something small and dark dropped down into the center of the canoe. A horrid stench im-mediately filled the evening air.

“Gawwd!” Connor complained in disgust. “That thing just tried to shit on us!”

Glancing at the black creature winging away from them, Daniel used his paddle to remove the foul smelling object from the floor of the canoe. “Sick!” he said. “Would an owl do such a thing? Do owls even shit in flight?”

Glancing back, Connor watched Daniel flick the small, smelly turd off of his paddle and into the water. “I don’t know,” he re-plied.

“Did you hear it hiss?” Daniel asked. “It sounded really pissed.”

Connor watched the winged thing melting into the shadows on the far shore. “That’s what I saw earlier. Owls have feathers. That thing had leathery wings, and a thin body like a monkey.”

Daniel said, “Yeah, but monkeys don’t fly.”

Connor muttered, “Well, this one sure did.”