Chapter One
Trying to get to the crying woman, SWAT team leader Joe Baker took a chance. He knew the victim’s husband had a gun pointed at her. From what Joe could see, the man had already shot her at least once. Blood pooled on the cheap, faded green carpet under her as she begged him to let her go.
Using hand signals, Joe instructed his team to create a diversion, before he slipped in through the back door of the run-down duplex. The voice of his best friend, Brian, sounded over the bullhorn as Joe made his way inside.
His gun at the ready, Joe tried to assess the situation as he listened to the man yell at his wife. An adjustment to his position gave him a view of the man’s reflection in the adjacent window.
When the gunman turned his back on Joe, he knew it was now or never. As he swung around the corner, gun raised, the man’s wife called out a warning.
“Frank, watch out!”
Joe managed to get a shot off as he was knocked to the ground by the force of a bullet aimed his way.
* * * *
Gasping for breath, Joe sat up. The wet sheets that surrounded him testified to yet another nightmare. He reached up and rubbed the scar on his temple.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. The dream seemed to be his constant companion since the shooting a year and a half ago.
He’d been dead within minutes of the fatal blast to his head. The paramedics had done everything they could but hadn’t been able to save him. He had been pronounced dead at three twenty-four by the emergency room physician.
Little did they know.
It still didn’t make sense to the medical community and since then, Joe had become somewhat of a celebrity in Kansas City. ‘The cop who rose from the dead’, at least that’s what the local papers had splashed across their pages.
All he remembered was being enveloped in a soothing white light. He had seen his friend Brian standing nearby as the doctor and nurses in the emergency room had hovered over his body. Brian had obviously been arguing with the doctor about something as the physician had turned and shook his head.
Joe hadn’t heard their words, but he’d known he was dead. He’d wished he could tell Brian it was okay. He’d felt safe and welcomed in this new place, until the light had begun to recede and he was thrust back into his body.
When he had opened his eyes, he’d thought he’d gone blind until he’d realised there was something covering his face. A shout of fear had escaped him, something that had never happened to him before. He’d always been known as the toughest cop on the force.
With his body strapped down, not only had he not been able to see, but he hadn’t been able to release the dark prison from his face. He’d yelled for help until someone had walked into the room and flipped on a light.
* * * *
Joe turned on the shower and tried to shake off the memories. Those first few months had been the hardest of his life. He’d gone through round after round of testing, both physical and psychological all to no end. The doctors still had no answers for him, and no one could explain the changes he’d incurred.
The hot spray embraced him as he stepped into the shower. Why hadn’t he just stayed dead? He’d become almost a recluse since being released from the hospital, because every time he ventured out of the house, he was bombarded with ‘the walking dead’, as he called them.
Men and women whose souls were as dark as night. Almost everyone he came into contact with had tainted souls of varying degrees. Joe saw them in a broad spectrum of off-white to grey to black. The neighbours he’d always chatted with over the fence, the grandmotherly woman at the post office. It seemed the old adage was true, you couldn’t tell a book by its cover.
The most frightening aspect of his newfound abilities was the foretelling of future events when he came into contact with people. At first, the doctors hadn’t
Trying to get to the crying woman, SWAT team leader Joe Baker took a chance. He knew the victim’s husband had a gun pointed at her. From what Joe could see, the man had already shot her at least once. Blood pooled on the cheap, faded green carpet under her as she begged him to let her go.
Using hand signals, Joe instructed his team to create a diversion, before he slipped in through the back door of the run-down duplex. The voice of his best friend, Brian, sounded over the bullhorn as Joe made his way inside.
His gun at the ready, Joe tried to assess the situation as he listened to the man yell at his wife. An adjustment to his position gave him a view of the man’s reflection in the adjacent window.
When the gunman turned his back on Joe, he knew it was now or never. As he swung around the corner, gun raised, the man’s wife called out a warning.
“Frank, watch out!”
Joe managed to get a shot off as he was knocked to the ground by the force of a bullet aimed his way.
* * * *
Gasping for breath, Joe sat up. The wet sheets that surrounded him testified to yet another nightmare. He reached up and rubbed the scar on his temple.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. The dream seemed to be his constant companion since the shooting a year and a half ago.
He’d been dead within minutes of the fatal blast to his head. The paramedics had done everything they could but hadn’t been able to save him. He had been pronounced dead at three twenty-four by the emergency room physician.
Little did they know.
It still didn’t make sense to the medical community and since then, Joe had become somewhat of a celebrity in Kansas City. ‘The cop who rose from the dead’, at least that’s what the local papers had splashed across their pages.
All he remembered was being enveloped in a soothing white light. He had seen his friend Brian standing nearby as the doctor and nurses in the emergency room had hovered over his body. Brian had obviously been arguing with the doctor about something as the physician had turned and shook his head.
Joe hadn’t heard their words, but he’d known he was dead. He’d wished he could tell Brian it was okay. He’d felt safe and welcomed in this new place, until the light had begun to recede and he was thrust back into his body.
When he had opened his eyes, he’d thought he’d gone blind until he’d realised there was something covering his face. A shout of fear had escaped him, something that had never happened to him before. He’d always been known as the toughest cop on the force.
With his body strapped down, not only had he not been able to see, but he hadn’t been able to release the dark prison from his face. He’d yelled for help until someone had walked into the room and flipped on a light.
* * * *
Joe turned on the shower and tried to shake off the memories. Those first few months had been the hardest of his life. He’d gone through round after round of testing, both physical and psychological all to no end. The doctors still had no answers for him, and no one could explain the changes he’d incurred.
The hot spray embraced him as he stepped into the shower. Why hadn’t he just stayed dead? He’d become almost a recluse since being released from the hospital, because every time he ventured out of the house, he was bombarded with ‘the walking dead’, as he called them.
Men and women whose souls were as dark as night. Almost everyone he came into contact with had tainted souls of varying degrees. Joe saw them in a broad spectrum of off-white to grey to black. The neighbours he’d always chatted with over the fence, the grandmotherly woman at the post office. It seemed the old adage was true, you couldn’t tell a book by its cover.
The most frightening aspect of his newfound abilities was the foretelling of future events when he came into contact with people. At first, the doctors hadn’t
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