Hope

• Title Page
  
• Chapter 1
  
• Chapter 2
  
• Chapter 3
  
• Chapter 4
  
• Chapter 5
  
• Chapter 6
  
• Chapter 7
  
• Chapter 8
  
• Chapter 9
  
• Chapter 10
  
• Chapter 11
  
• Chapter 12
  
• Chapter 13
  
• Chapter 14
  
• Chapter 15
  
• Chapter 16
  
• Chapter 17
  
• Chapter 18
  
• Chapter 19
  
• Chapter 20
  
• Chapter 21
  
• Chapter 22
  
• Chapter 23
  
• Chapter 24
  
• Chapter 25
  
• Chapter 26
  
• Chapter 27
  
• Chapter 28
  
• Chapter 29
  
• Chapter 30
  
• Chapter 31
  
• Chapter 32
  
• Chapter 33
  
• Chapter 34
  
• Chapter 35
  
• Chapter 36
  
• Chapter 37
  
• Chapter 38
  
• Chapter 39
  
• Chapter 40
  
• Chapter 41
  
• Chapter 42
  
• Chapter 43
  
• Chapter 44
  
• Chapter 45
  
• Chapter 46
  
• Chapter 47
  
• Chapter 48
  
• Chapter 49
  
• Chapter 50
  
• Chapter 51
  
• Chapter 52
  
• Epilogue
  

HOPE

By Sam Rook

Hope

By Sam Rook

Copyright © 2013 Sam Rook

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Kathryn Merlangton stared at the vase cradling the dying roses. Two red blooms bowed over the white sympathy card like mourners looking down upon a casket. She drew in the cloying smell of the flowers and let her gaze fall to the eyes of the bear hugging the vase. Its accusing regard made her tighten her grip on the countertop to remain standing.

The thumping of a tail against the hardwood floor saved her from the downward spiral and brought the ache of her shoulders to the forefront of her mind. Groaning from the weight, she lowered her laptop backpack to the floor with painful hands. Her carpal tunnel forced her to carry around her livelihood like a teenager. Dargo, her mother's—her—timid Doberman remained on his pillow. His lack of a proper greeting made her suspicious, but the trail of mail leading the way confirmed his guilt.

Stepping closer, Kathryn followed her mortgage and electric bill. The trunk of Rachel’s purple elephant reached for air from beneath Dargo’s paw. Kathryn rescued Ella with a shaking hand. The tempo of Dargo’s tail increased, but he cringed into his pillow. Ella stared at her with only one eye. A crash from outside saved Dargo from her wrath as he jumped to his feet with a whine.

Damn raccoons. Or with her luck, it would be a bear this time. She welcomed the distraction. Dargo trembled against her thigh and she leaned over him to grab the flashlight off the counter and placed Ella out of his reach. With the sound of breaking glass just outside the garage door, Dargo bolted from the kitchen toward the living room.

Kathryn sucked in a breath and thrust the flashlight out like a weapon. When she heard Dargo's nails slide across the floor and then the rumble of his retreat up the stairs, she shook her head and lowered her pathetic weapon.

"My hero."

She grabbed the cordless phone from its cradle and pressed the speakerphone button. After dialing 911 and leaving it on the counter, she withdrew a French knife from the block of wood her father claimed was a homemade knife holder. With the flashlight in one hand and the knife in the other, she walked over and cracked open the door, shining the flashlight into the garage.

"911. What is your emergency?"

The beam of the flashlight stopped as if against a black wall. Angling the light away, she aimed it back outside the door to make sure she hadn't imagined things. The round beam of light, originally the size of a softball, shrank to the size of a baseball. The black wall moved toward her.

"What the hell?" She slammed the door and backed away, trembling as her shoes squeaked along the floor.

"Hello? 911. What is your emergency?"

Little by little, the grains of the wooden door turned from deep brown to gray. Streaks of black spread from the edges, joining in the center and spreading until the black void engulfed it. Blackness seeped from the door and spread to the walls and floors of the kitchen. Kathryn turned and tried to scramble over the counter, dropping the flashlight in her haste.

"Help! There’s a giant...thing...eating my kitchen!" she screamed toward the phone.

Before she reached the other side, something warm grabbed her feet. She looked behind her and shrieked. An extension of the void stretched beyond it and held onto her. Blackness engulfed her shoes and gray tendrils stretched from her ankles to her knees. Mesmerized, she watched her calves disappear into blackness as it tried to swallow her. Her stomach churned at seeing her legs end at her knees. Tingling heat moved up toward her thighs.

"Somebody, help me!" Her heart pulsed in her ears.

She reached around behind her and slashed the void with her knife. Unsure what to expect, her eyes widened with surprise at the resistance. Slicing the void was like using a butter knife to cut through a cold stick of butter. Before she could recover, the void pulled the knife from her hand and she watched her weapon disappear into it.

Unable to move her legs as she started to slide backward across the marble, she turned and gripped the edge of the counter. The familiar ache in her hands and wrists spread up her arms and into her shoulders with her unsuccessful attempt to pull herself free. Kathryn lowered her forehead to the counter, sobbing as the cold surface leeched the warmth from her.

"Ma'am? What's happening?" The 911 operator's voice filtered through the pounding in Kathryn's ears.

"Help me! It won't let go!" Her voice sounded pathetic. She clenched her jaw and looked around for another weapon. The vase. She released her grip on the counter with one hand, grabbed the vase and swung it at the void, now up to her hips. The vase sank six inches into the void, her hand along with it.

She struggled to pull her hand to safety. The muscles in her arm gripping the counter throbbed with the increased strain. Tingling heat from the void jumped up to her chest and she gasped at the increased speed of her engulfment.

"Ma'am? I'm sending help. Just stay on the line."

Kathryn's grip loosened as the void reached the shoulder of her arm holding onto the counter. She tilted her chin to keep her face out of the void. The taste of burnt toast filled her mouth and she smelled carrion with her next breath. The kitchen faded from gray to black and a scream tore from her throat when she saw a large yellow eye with a vertical slit blinking in the darkness that enveloped her.

Kathryn awoke to an eerie silence. No hum of the aging refrigerator or drip of the faucet disturbed the sound of the wind blowing across her cheek. Face-down on the counter with her head hanging over the edge, she wiggled her fingers in an attempt to calm their tingling. She pushed herself into a sitting position with numb arms. Gasping for breath, she surveyed her surroundings.

She sat in what was left of her kitchen. Gray sand showed between most of the uneven hardwood floorboards. The refrigerator and stove stood in their usual places. The door to the garage hung on its hinges revealing only half of the garage. The absent second bay partially framed a gray landscape dotted with black boulders beyond her packed boxes. What happened to the trees? Kathryn blinked, adjusting her eyes to the harsh sunlight reflecting off the counter.

She slid to the edge of the marble then to the floor on shaky legs. Drops of sweat trickled down her forehead from the simple act of standing. The sun shone high overhead and the missing ceiling offered no protection from its assault.

"I’m in hell." It’s what she deserved. Everything would have been fine if she hadn’t lost her temper. Again. A red leash hanging from the hook next to the door stirred with the wind.

"Dargo? Dargo!" She paused, listening for the jangle of his collar.

Careful not to twist her ankle, she made her way through the door and down the uneven stairs to the garage. The concrete, still intact, angled toward the garage door. She edged between the garage door and her packed boxes, surprised no broken glass littered the path from the missing windows. Stepping off the broken concrete, her sneakers crunched on a mixture of sand, pebbles and gray chips of wood. She slid down a small hill, releasing the subtle smell of ashes with a faint hint of road kill.

She clambered onto the crumbling blacktop of the driveway covering her nose with the crook of her arm. The rear of her Toyota Camry angled into the air, its two rear tires and backseat compensating for the missing front half. Falling to her knees, the jagged edges of the blacktop dug into her skin. The financial black hole just sucked her closer to its center. It didn’t matter. The sound of sand blowing across her car brought her back to reality. Shaking her head, she got to her feet and wiped her knees with trembling hands.

"The house is in the middle of a gray desert and I’m worried Allstate won’t cover anything. Idiot." Beyond the driveway, the gray sand continued for several hundred feet before ending at a row of spindly trees. Some logical explanation could explain what happened to her missing ten acres of trees and foot of snow. Sure. Purgatory seemed more likely. Clenching her jaw and wiping the tears from her eyes, Kathryn turned back toward the house and stopped in surprise. The study and the living room were there, minus the second floor.

"Dargo? Anyone?" she yelled, racing back into the kitchen.

She gasped as her eyes found the phone on the counter. Running to the counter, she grabbed the phone and pressed the on button. Nothing. She pressed off and then on again just to be sure. Disgusted, she threw the phone and headed toward the dining room.

Everything appeared as she left it minus parts of the outer walls of the living room and dining room. The apple pie sat upon the dining room table next to a colorful lump—what remained of her 30 candles. Her father hadn't put it away like he had said he would. The smell of apples and cinnamon calmed her nerves.

Drenched in sweat, she sat at the table with her head in her hands. She couldn’t focus her mind on the moment and longed for the days when there would have been a cake on that table instead of a store-bought apple pie. Her mom had always made a cake
.

A shadow darkened the table, and then the sunlight reappeared. Kathryn scrambled from the chair, shielding her eyes while she looked up at the sky. She held her breath, willing whatever had blocked the sun to reappear to satisfy her curiosity. Yet at the same time, she had a feeling she didn’t want to know. Something wasn’t right.