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    Dirus Sonus
    Dirus Sonus
    Dirus Sonus
    Ebook115 pages1 hour

    Dirus Sonus

    By Kenneth Gordon

    ()

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    About this ebook

    On a warm summer night, Jack Wallace awoke with a start. A strange feeling led him outside into the eerie night. A very odd sound greeted his ears as soon as the screen door closed behind him with a click.

    He heard the sounds of retching coming from every house on the block that had children.
    Each bathroom window was illuminated as the sounds increased in volume, duration, and frequency. Jack proceeded to walk around the neighborhood. The road was illuminated by the streetlights as well as the faint glow coming from the houses. It wasn’t long before something else pierced the veil of the night. The wail of ambulance sirens and a whirl of red and white lights roared past him one after another.
    This is only the beginning...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherClass Act Books
    Release dateAug 14, 2017
    Dirus Sonus

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      Book preview

      Dirus Sonus - Kenneth Gordon

      Dirus Sonus

      By

      Kenneth Gordon

      Published by

      CLASS ACT BOOKS

      121 Berry Hill Lane

      Port Townsend, Washington 98368

      www.classactbooks.com

      Copyright  2017 by Kenneth Gordon

      Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

      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 publisher.

      ISBN: 978-1-946523-17-4

      Credits

      Cover Artist: Simon Nightingale

      Editor: Sherry Derr-Wille

      Copy Editor: Anita York

      Printed in the United States of America

      Dedication

      To God, the Author of all creativity and my long-suffering, ever reading wife

      Chapter 1

      It was a warm summer night. The humidity felt like a moist blanket all around. If you didn’t know any better, you would be fully convinced a moose had licked you with his tongue. It was tough for sleeping, but something else hung in the air.

      Whatever it was woke Jack Wallace with a start. He was soaked with sweat. The fan did little save push around the hot, stuffy air. He peeled the wet sheets away from his body and moved to the side of the bed. Jack stood and grabbed a shirt and a pair of shorts he would have slept in except for the closeness of the night air. That strange feeling led him outside and into the night.

      A very odd sound greeted his ears as soon as the screen door clicked closed behind him. He heard the sounds of retching coming from every house on the block with children.

      It’s the middle of summer. There aren’t any stomach bugs going around this time of year, he thought to himself.

      Each bathroom window was illuminated as the sounds increased in volume, duration, and frequency. His own stomach began to churn in sympathy to the guttural noises.

      Jack proceeded to walk around the neighborhood.

      The road was illuminated by the streetlights as well as the faint glow coming from the houses. It wasn’t long before something else pierced the veil of the night. The wail of ambulance sirens and a whirl of red and white lights roared past him…one and then another. There were four and then five mobile response teams, pulling up and storming into the houses, bringing out ailing children. Some could walk, while others lay unresponsive on the gurneys, the acid-filled remains of their dinners staining the fronts of their pajamas. Their cries echoed to the trees and curdling the blood of anyone with a heart.

      The situation was surreal.

      As quickly as it began, Jack watched as the ambulances pulled away one-by-one, and scream into the night with their precious cargos.

      Once again, the night was silent save for the crickets’ loud chirping. They were completely unaware of what was going on around them.

      Jack himself was perplexed. He didn’t want to interfere and didn’t feel it would be appropriate to inquire of the parents. That would have to wait for daylight. He walked around the neighborhood, making note of all the houses with lights still on. Some driveways were empty along with some garages.

      The very air was charged with anxiety and fear. Jack felt it would penetrate his very being if he let it. It was a strange feeling indeed. He finished his lap around the block and returned to his own quiet house. The screen door opened and he went inside.

      The thoughts still swirled around his head, making sleeping nearly impossible. Slowly the clock ticked toward dawn as the sky began to brighten in the east. The moon retreated as the sun broke over the mountains. Its rays spread over the worried land as another day began.

      Jack pushed the sweat-covered sheets away from his body and sighed. He put on shorts and a T-shirt, went into the living room, and turned on the television. He sat on the couch, as the pretty news reporter broke the terrible news that children on his very street had been experiencing nausea and vomiting. Many were hospitalized, some were in critical condition, while others were treated and released. Still no cause had been determined.

      "How dare they! I should have broken that story. It’s mine!" he fumed.

      At that moment, the phone rang. It was Jack’s editor from the paper. As if hearing his own disgust at the usurping of the story, his editor began upbraiding him. The volume of the squabble increased such that Jack had to pull the phone away from his ear in order to salvage what hearing he had left on that side.

      But Sir…I…No, but…I…yes, Sir, I will, goodbye.

      He blew out the breath he had been been holding, drew in another and exhaled it as well. The temperature of the room seemed to increase with each cycle of respiration.

      In through the nose…out through the mouth.

      Talking with his editor when he was in a snit was never a pleasant process. He was a good writer, but for whatever reason, his editor thought he should have broken the story before the news outlets…without facts, without figures, just the naked, exposed drama that sold magazines and newspapers. Jack had agreed to start working on the story immediately. In this case, immediately would have to wait until after breakfast.

      After a meager meal of Cheerios, instant coffee, and dry toast, Jack dressed himself for work, grabbed his notepad, and went out the door. He walked slowly, if only to protest the gall of his editor, not to mention the sweat-inducing wall of humidity. By the time he pressed his shoes into the grass of the first house, he had uttered nearly every swear word he knew, and even made up one or two new ones.

      The small gray cottage had an attached garage with a car in the driveway. Jack walked by the mailbox, the name Morgan clearly stuck on with hardware store iridescent stickers. He crossed the pavement and walked confidently to the screen door and knocked.

      No answer.

      Cautiously, he opened the door and took a couple of steps to the interior door. There was a white metal-framed couch and chair with blue cloth upholstery. A plastic tray with various sizes of adult and children boots and shoes was neatly laid on the lightly carpeted floor. A bronze coat rack with adult and child jackets stood near the screen door. A small hutch was neatly pressed against the wall to house all the outside toys and snow sculpturing tools. There was a slight scent from an old smoke-drenched wood stove, sitting pot-bellied on the floor in the corner.

      It would’ve seemed so inviting, if the purpose of his visit wasn’t so dire.

      ~ * ~

      Jack knocked gently on the door, not really expecting an answer. He heard footsteps from the inside. From the lightness of their weight, he could tell the approaching adult was a woman.

      Can I help you? she inquired as she opened the door, using it as a shield in front of her.

      Morganna Morgan was about five foot six inches with blonde hair just long enough to tickle her shoulder blades. Her blue eyes softened. She was wearing form-fitting jeans, and a billowy white top.

      I’m Jack Wallace, your neighbor. I wanted to see how your daughter was doing and what exactly happened last night.

      Oh, well, in that case, come in. I was afraid you were some reporter trying to get the ‘scoop’ of the day.

      Have you had many calls from the media? Jack’s face contorted into a slight grimace as he suspected the truth was already exposed.

      They’ve been calling all morning. I’ve barely had a moment’s peace. Can I offer you a cup of tea?

      That would be great, thanks.

      Jack swallowed hard as his eyes darted around the kitchen as if looking for an escape hatch in case he needed a hasty retreat. As the water boiled and sounded its steaming wail, the movement caught her eye. She picked up the electric kettle and poured the water into two mugs waiting with string and paper attachments hanging over the sides.

      He watched her as she picked up a plate of cookies from the counter and

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