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Call of the Dove
Call of the Dove
Call of the Dove
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Call of the Dove

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Family. Everyone has one. Everyone depends on them at one time or another. Watch as this close knit family cares for and watches over each other. This family, however, is very special indeed. With special friends to help them.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 19, 2014
ISBN9781311636263
Call of the Dove
Author

Connor G. Madison

Connor was raised on the southwest side of Chicago. His parents lived the American dream, a nice house on a nice street back when people treated each other decently. Back when children could play outside without fear. Connor grew up reading everything, fiction, non-fiction, science fiction, everything. As he grew up, he found he loved science. He also loved science fiction, all the greats of past decades. Heinlein, Reynolds, Dickson, Drake, Azimov were his champions of his youth on into adult life. Today, Connor writes science fiction for his own amusement. Yet he wondered if people would like to read what he writes. So he is delving into the eBook arena with a few of his musings. So have fun reading, he had fun write them.

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    Book preview

    Call of the Dove - Connor G. Madison

    Call of the Dove

    by

    Connor G. Madison

    Smashwords Edition

    Call of the Dove © 2014 by Connor G. Madison ISBN: 9781311636263

    All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

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

    First Edition – September 2014

    Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

    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 it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Cover art by Connor G. Madison © 2014

    Portions used under license from

    © Microsoft, Inc. clipart gallery

    Call of the Dove

    by

    Connor G. Madison

    Copyright © 2014 by Connor G. Madison

    Table of Contents

    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

    Other titles by Connor

    About Connor

    Coming Soon

    -- Call of the Dove --

    Chapter 1

    "Just like the white winged dove

    Sings a song, sounds like she's singing

    Ooo, ooo, ooo"

    That was the song. It was blaring from the radio speakers. Stevie Nicks, Edge of Seventeen. It went well with the roaring growl of the cars engine as John sped down the highway. Sped. John was doing one-thirty-five. That’s miles per hour. One hundred thirty five miles per hour. The telephone poles flashed by on the right side of the car. The seams in the highway were one continuous thump. He was in a hurry. She had called, almost hysterical. Someone was in the house with her. They were banging around downstairs. John called the police, but he was closer than any county deputy. She sounded frantic as he had to hang up. She was going to lock herself in the bedroom.

    His turn was quickly approaching. He slowed. Not quite enough, fortunately the skid wasn’t all that bad. John recovered nicely and accelerated down the road. Two more miles. Just two more mile to go. The car roared its anguish into the night. John was lucky the roads were as smooth as they were. Railroad tracks loomed in the distance. John slowed hard again. Ninety-five. The car was air born as it shot over the tracks. It hit the ground hard on the other side. John pressed the accelerator to the floor. The engine bellowed its mating call into the surrounding darkness. One twenty, the speedometer would go no higher. There was smoke pouring from the back of the car as it raced down the road.

    Come on girl you can do it. Please? John cried into the night.

    One mile. Just one more mile. Five thousand feet, just a measly five thousand feet. He could see the outside lights of their house shinning brightly. The car’s engine was starting to make some unpleasant noises.

    Come on baby. Just a little farther, he whispered trying to coax more speed from his baby.

    The car didn’t start to sputter until John had to lift off the gas. He couldn’t take the curve up ahead at full throttle. John could now see their driveway. He could almost reach out and touch the damn thing. When he tromped on the gas again, the car sputtered even more. It slowed drastically. Twenty miles per hour and dropping. John could see the glow of the engine out his side window. The car was on fire, as it slowed the flames shot out of the scoop on the hood. He was just one hundred feet shy of their drive. John opened the door and stepped out of the slowly rolling car. The car continued slowly down the road as he ran up the driveway to the house. It was a hundred yards up to the house.

    The explosion shocked him, almost knocking him to the ground. She had been a good car, a great car, lovingly restored from a rusty old junker. John would miss her. Millie. His Millie was in trouble, he had to get to her. John was huffing. He was puffing. He was on the verge of passing out when he reached the back door. His knees were on the verge of giving out on him. Then John could hear screams from inside. His wife’s screams. Even though his heart was pounding in his chest, he entered as quietly as he could, gulping air into his oxygen starved lungs. John paused in the dining room for his pistol, which he grabbed out of the gun-safe. Clip full, round in the chamber. His Millie screamed again, a shrillness edging her voice. John heard low, gruff voices shouting back. More than one of them.

    He could hear the sirens of the county cops. So could the intruders. They didn’t seem to be in any rush. Climbing the stairs as quietly as he could, John gripped the pistol tightly with both hands, muzzle pointing up, ready to point and shoot. Peeking over the top stair in the flight, he saw them. Three men. They were scrambling around the bed

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