The Shores Of The Dead: Omnibus Edition Read online

  The Shores Of The Dead

  Omnibus Edition

  Josh Hilden

  ([email protected])

  Amazon Author Page (Check out my other work)

  www.joshhilden.com

  www.gwspress.com

  www.shoresofthedead.com

  www.freestoryfriday.com

  Facebook Author Page

  Copyright © 2013 Josh Hilden

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0615909566

  ISBN 13: 978-0615909561

  A Call to Action!

  If you will forgive me, and even if you won’t, I am going to take a few minutes of your time before you dive into your download.

  I am an Indie Writer. This means that I am either self publishing my work or I am being published by a small company and not one of the “Big 6” publishers. I enjoy being independent, I can write what I want when I want with little to no oversight from above.

  It also means I am doing all of the heavy lifting for myself.

  That is the part I enjoy the least. I don’t enjoy constantly spamming social media with information on my latest work, but it is a task I have to do.

  “But Josh” you ask, “What can I do to help you out?”

  The answer is very simple. I have a short list of things you can do to give me a helping hand.

   Share information about my work with your friends and family

   Like, review, and rate my work on Amazon and Goodreads (of course if you don’t like something I would prefer you not leave negative feedback)

   Finally you can sign up for my mailing list (link below) to keep up with the latest goings on with me and my work

  I look forward to producing more products that you can enjoy and I anticipate a long and happy reader/writer relationship!

  - Josh Hilden

  Subscribe to the Josh Hilden/GWS Press Mailing list

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Karen Marie Hilden. This work would not exist without her love, support, and the occasion kick in the ass she gave me along the way. I love you Karen.

  Table of Contents

  Book One– The Rising

  Chapter 1

  10

  Chapter 2

  31

  Chapter 3

  45

  Chapter 4

  73

  Chapter 5

  82

  Chapter 6

  102

  Chapter 7

  116

  Chapter 8

  130

  Chapter 9

  157

  Chapter 10

  173

  Chapter 11

  185

  Chapter 12

  192

  Chapter 13

  214

  First Interlude

  “Under the Bed”

  243

  “Must Have Been the Burgers”

  245

  “Last Train Out”

  248

  Book Two– The Journey

  Chapter 1

  254

  Chapter 2

  302

  Chapter 3

  334

  Chapter 4

  350

  Chapter 5

  373

  Second Interlude

  “Deep Water”

  407

  “Brothers”

  411

  “Scouts Honor”

  414

  Book Three– The Final Stand

  Chapter 1

  419

  Chapter 2

  423

  Chapter 3

  482

  Chapter 4

  514

  Chapter 5

  545

  Chapter 6

  589

  Epilogue

  599

  Final Interlude

  “Mile High”

  612

  “Will it End in Fire?”

  617

  “Or Will it End in Ice?”

  620

  Book One

  The Rising

  Chapter One

  1

  The Bahamian Archipelago, Caribbean Sea

  October 17, 2012 (Day Zero)

  11:15 am EST

  Sandra was convinced she was being screwed with. Her current lover slash, meal ticket Dr. Elliot Preston believed, they were on the trail of something big. He told her they were going to find proof that would shake the Foundations of Academia or some such other nonsense. She only agreed to leave the comfort of Ann Arbor for the sweltering hell hole of Nassau on the off chance that Elliot, who was damn near a genius, might be right. To Sandra Jeanette Sutton, Aspen Colorado and not the Bahamas was paradise on earth.

  The water was a calm piercing blue that hurt her eyes. It spread vast and calm in all directions from the old fishing boat they leased for this “wild goose chase”. She’d been napping off and on since just after they set out. Now that she was now awake and feeling pretty antsy, she couldn’t confirm it, but felt that the expedition crew was being watched.

  She had dreamed of motoring to the middle of nowhere. She only remembered a few details but the ones she did remember scared the hell out of her. She dreamed of an enormous domed building high on a heavily forested hilltop. It was nighttime and the rain was pouring from the sky in sheets. People were everywhere. They were trying to flee from the hilltop. Suddenly flashing swirling lights raced and crackled around the building. This continued for several minutes or hours … or maybe it was days.

  Who could really tell during a dream?

  Then there was a blinding flash of white light followed by darkness. Sandra knew that in the microsecond of transition from white to black she’d seen in her mind’s eye a shape superimposed and ephemeral standing atop the domed building. A one eyed winged giant with hooked talons for hands and recurved legs. She woke biting back a scream that stretched back through the eons.

  “Elliot, how much longer are we going to keep searching?”she called out with an irritable whine from her seat near the small lifeboat. “We have been at it since before dawn.”

  She did not even bother to try and hide her irritation at the old man, she thought she did a masterful job of keeping her terror from showing through. Even if she let her fear leak through she, knew he would keep his mouth shut about the way she talked to him.

  “What was that Sandy?”he called back from the bow of the boat. He was up there scanning the horizon with those ridiculously antique, nautical binoculars for hours. His grey pony tail swayed languidly in the slight breeze.

  She hated to be called Sandy. “I said how much longer Elliot!” That last bit was on the loud side. She startled the three research assistants nearby. She did not know their names and only thought of them as Larry, Curly, and Moe. It did not faze the boat’s captain, a large black, expatriate, American from the bayou named Vince Nelson.

  “The map says that we are very close. I just saw the weird rock formation under the water that is marked on the map.” She was surprised and a little irritated by how gleeful he was. He continued on, “The water is getting shallower and shallower, dare say there is less than fifteen meters below the keel as we speak.” He was waving the ancient leather map at her as he spoke.

  She still remembered the first time that he’d shown her the cryptic piece of map that he claimed to show the Caribbean as it looked before the last ice age. All of the hair had stood up on her body as if she had touched an exposed wire when she’d taken in its weathered patina.

  Sandra met Elliot when he’d been her thesis advisor at the University of Michigan. He fascinated her from the start with his belief in the existence of an ancient lost civilizat
ion that was the foundation of the Atlantis mythos. He convinced her that it was possible that his theories were valid, and been able to produce many documents, such as the map, that’d never seen the analytical light of publication and peer review.

  Elliot always seemed to be a doddering middle aged man who was easily manipulated by someone of Sandra’s intelligence and cunning. But during this trip he changed. It started on the boat ride from Miami to Freeport and it’d only gotten more pronounced. He was more focused and less likely to wander off into lecture mode than at any other time since she’d met him. He was also more harsh and demanding. He was ordering around the grad students that he’d cajoled into coming with them like a plantation era overseer.

  This did not necessarily worry Sandra. All of her life men had only wanted one thing from her. She learned at an early age that she could use that to get whatever she wanted

  The only person that Sandra ever counted on, and consequently the only person that was allowed to call her Sandy, was her big sister Lisa. Lisa, left and joined the Army to get away from their home life. To escape mom with her ever present cocktails and Richard with his hands that always seemed to find Lisa’s bottom when he thought nobody was looking.

  Lisa parlayed her service time into a medical degree and a position at the University of Michigan Medical Center. They actually saw each other more now than when they were kids. She really wished hard and practical Lisa was here right now. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so scared.

  The water was crystal clear and Sandra was astonished by what she saw. There was a uniform arrangement to a lot of the junk on the sea floor. “Some of that has to be manmade, doesn’t it?” Sandra said to herself. “And wasn’t that straight alignment of debris where the harbor wall had been?” She had the distinct impression that she had been here before, but she could not recall when.

  “Elliot?” Sandra called out, all the irritation banished from her voice and now she was as soft as silk. “Are we close?”

  Elliot looked back at her and the grin on his face was disturbingly similar to the one she saw on his face following a righteous orgasm. Except for his eyes, they were sharp and clear.

  “At least I’m not sticky and unsatisfied.” She said to herself and needed to force down a giggle fit. The plain truth of the matter was that she was always unsatisfied. But now was definitely not the time to laugh about Elliot or dwell on her frustrations, she was feeling more and more uneasy--and far from fading the terror from her dream seemed to be intensifying.

  “I think I see it.” He said. She was sure she heard his voice catch and thicken. He pointed forward, and she thought she just might be seeing a dark shape on the horizon. Her blood went cold as she gazed straight ahead. She thought for the barest instant that she saw the monstrous form standing on the water far in the distance.

  2

  Unnamed Island, Caribbean Sea (Formerly the Shallow Sea)

  Wednesday October 17, 2012 AD (Day Zero)

  12:20pm EST

  “This may have been part of an ancient civilization in the distant past, Elliot, but now it’s just a muddy swamp.” Sandra said as they stepped from the aluminum landing boat onto the muddy beach. It looked like the one her grandfather took her fishing in. She and Lisa called him Pa and he’d been the only man in her life that treated her nice. She still missed him every day.

  The smell was the first thing that she noticed when the skiff made wet contact with the sludgy shore. It was rotten and fetid. There seemed to be an undertone of death in every breath that she took. The next thing that caught her attention was the standing stones and what appeared to be manmade ruins that rose out of the swampy mess in regular intervals. For some reason she kept expecting to see islanders in rich garb and polished armor come walking toward her at any moment.

  “You have to see it the way it was before the water level rose. This was the top of a great hill in the center of the island. And over there, that little trail, was the road that lead from the harbor town to the temple,” Elliot said.

  She hated it when he started lecturing her. She was the youngest Associate Professor of Ancient History ever at the University of Michigan, not his student anymore. Dear God, he was prancing about like a puppy needing to piddle while Larry, Curly, and Moe unloaded the equipment from the small boat.

  “How do you know that Elliot, or is it just guess work?” She asked with genuine curiosity but he made no reply--just continued grinning. “And how the fuck do I know what I know?” she whispered to herself.

  Captain Nelson flat out refused to come to the island. “This place is evil Professor,” He said to Elliot as the academic tried to convince him to join them. “There’s a reason why no one ever comes here.” Sandra was able to hear Nelson’s natural Louisiana drawl poking out from under his acquired Bahamian accent the more upset he got.

  The Stooges were finishing the task of sorting the gear and making sure all of the backpacks and duffle bags were ready to go when everyone froze. Far in the distance they heard a moan. It was a low bestial sound that stimulated a primitive part of Sandra’s brain that instantly began screaming at her to “RUN!” But she stood her ground and stared at the dense jungle that filled the island swamp. Despite the sweltering heat she felt ice radiate from her core.

  “What the fuck was that?” One of the Stooges, Sandra thought it was Moe, asked shakily. Sandra didn’t blame him for that shaky quality. Normally she would have looked down on him for being afraid. Butt not now.

  Elliot let out a loud yet oddly restrained chuckle and said, “I’m sure that it’s nothing. We need to get moving if we want to see the temple before night falls.” Sandra had the impression that Elliot would prefer to get there after the sun set and the moon was high in the sky.

  Sandra turned and watched as Captain Nelson started up the motor of his boat and headed back to Nassau. He would be returning when they radioed him for retrieval or when five days passed. Shaking her head slowly Sandra, picked up her share of the gear, and they set out into the island’s interior.

  3

  Near the Summit

  4:05pm EST

  The sweat soaked through her clothing, including the short sleeved shirt that she put on over her bikini top. The mosquitoes made a four hour feast of all of the exposed portions of her body. Despite the discomfort that she was feeling, Sandra knew that she’d trod on this ground before. That she’d in fact come home. She knew that thought was foolishness, but she couldn’t deny that she seemed to have a better idea of where they were going than Elliot did.

  “Professor, we need to take a break.” One of the Stooges gasped.