Castle explorations in Canada, progress on Lords of Wishermoore, and a spotlight on the upcoming thriller The Day the Earth Went Dark—where a communications specialist has 48 hours to save humanity from a shapeshifting alien infiltrator. Plus reflections on stress management after an airport nightmare and October's best reads.
The bridge groaned beneath me, and the road cracked beneath my feet. I pushed through the mud and had to dodge past already missing sections as more crumbled behind me. I ran, crying, praying, hoping like I never had before. If only I could survive for my friends.
The lightning came. Two things told me this was as far as I would go. First, the vertical slope of the ditch. I couldn't reach him without slipping. The second reason lay motionless in the ravine. Chuck's neck twisted, with a thick bulge on one side. Mud hid his face.
The jeans and familiar flannel shirt wrapped around the waist were enough to tell me this wasn't some long-lost employee. I ran from the room, hand covering my mouth, trying not to fully process everything. I knew Todd was dead, but my words came out in a sputter.
The coyotes were mangy, covered in patches of fur coated in thick chunks of sand and salt. Yellow and black teeth peaked out from malformed lips. The larger stepped forward and snapped its jaws with a vicious bark. That's when I remembered the whines from earlier. We were in their den.
