Faces in Time by Lewis E Aleman

Author:Lewis E Aleman [Aleman, Lewis E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thrillers, Science Fiction, Fiction, Action & Adventure, General
ISBN: 9780980060553
Publisher: Megalodon Entertainment LLC.

When he crawled out of the river, he was certain he was going to die.

Skin shriveled and pruned, the inside of his mouth gritty from the murky water that had seeped in, and his lungs pounding roughly, his body produced a sickly wheezing with a spattering rattle of thick saliva battering about his mouth and throat. A chunk of the fluid landed on the corner of his mouth, saggy and lifeless along with a handful of other little spatters about his chin, lips, and nose.

His left leg wound was an angry red and throbbed at a faster rate than the rhythm of his breathing.

He felt that his exhaustion and injuries were consuming more and more of his depleted energy. The pace of the insatiable aching in his pounding chest, the throbbing in his calf, the rattling in his throat, and the worn pain over every piece of muscle and skin, it all seemed to keep speeding up.

Once Edmund had stopped swimming, drifting, and getting knocked around in the current, his physical needs not only caught up with him, but ran him over, forcing his body to pump blood, breathe, and hurt faster and faster until he could not keep up. Having what little vigor he had left to keep alive sucked out of him at an escalating pace, he closed his eyes accepting the fact that it would be all for him. The relief of sleep would be the last thing that he would know before his body ceased to be alive.

Death scared him, but deep down he hoped it would be a clean slate, a chance to start over. He believed all of his problems in life were because he was dealt a bad hand, not attributing any of his terrible decisions or behaviors to himself but to bad luck.

He was certain things would have been better if he was born into someone else’s life. Getting a new hand would be another chance. As in most else in his life, he knew he was wrong, that there’d be a penalty for all he’d done, no clean slate, nothing left to gamble; and knowing he was wrong has always given birth to an anger inordinately larger than the seriousness of the subject.

His thoughts were hostile and dark, and his only glowing gem in the darkness was that they didn’t catch him. He made it. He would die free of any man having any authority over him.

He beat them.

Even if it cost him death, he beat them, glowing in hatred the whole way.

That was sixteen hours ago. He had crawled into the patch of rozo cane knowing nothing about his surroundings except he was out of the river whose endurance had long outlasted his own and showed no sign of relenting. With vision as lame as a newborn, he felt that he had pulled himself out of one world and into another.

He couldn’t have found a better hiding place in the immediate area even if he had been fully aware to choose one.

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