Dead Awake: The Last Crossing

©2016 by S.N.

  All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. 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. All characters, places, and events are purely fictional and therefore coincidental if found in other instances whether factual or fiction.

  Published by Madhouse Press

  Publisher’s Note: Madhouse/AsylumEbooks relies on the author's integrity of research and attribution; each statement has not been investigated to determine if it has been accurately made. The author and publisher specifically disclaim any responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, of the use and application of any of the contents of this book. In such situations where medical, legal, or other professional services may apply, please seek the advice of such professionals directly.

  These books are available at special discounts for bulk purchases. Special editions, including personalized covers, excerpts of existing books, and corporate imprints, can be created in large quantities for special needs. For more information e-mail [email protected].

  To my dear wife my Bunny,

  because she is

  perfection.

  Love-forever

  I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please take a minute to leave a positive review on Amazon.com

  CHAPTER 1

  Remember

  I needed a vacation! That was the answer. I hadn’t taken a vacation for a little over a year, and it was due to me. My boss had promised one for a very long time, but somehow things had always gotten in the way.

  I was the head columnist for one of the daily papers in New York, a smaller edition with not too wide an audience. Even so, it managed to put quite a bit of work on my lap; enough to keep me busy until the next century. In New York, there was always something to write about, so I had my work cut out for me. However, I was never the distinguished writer I had always longed to be. Somehow all the big newspapers always managed to get the great stories, while I always ended up with their scraps. Through the years I’d caught one or two good stories (which were somewhat interesting and kept me at my job with a semi-decent reputation as a writer), but I was never good at what I did. I was there because they could rely on me to have something; even if it was the sort of story that one sets on the coffee table for a coaster. The job wasn’t great, but at least it paid the rent.

  After my last assignment, a high-interest story that earned the paper critical acclaim, I finally earned my reward for all the hard work I had done. My boss, Mr. Freior, told me that the paper was going to let me take that overdue time off in the form of a dream vacation. At long last, I could leave my reality and relax: pay without having to work, a company charge card with a $4000 limit, and airline tickets for two anywhere I chose to go. Of course, he asked me to keep my eyes pealed for any interesting story that might come up. That meant he would be expecting something when I returned. He would not get it!

  I made all my reservations in advance through It’s a Small World Travel Agency. “Anywhere,” I told the agent over the phone, “as long as it is far from resembling New York City and all its half apples; then it will be paradise to me.”

  Destination: the tropical island of Natial, west of the Rio Grande Ridge, southwest of the island of Trinidad, about 45 Degrees Longitude and 30 Degrees latitude, in the Atlantic Ocean. It is an unknown and unspoiled island that few have ever heard of. That was the type of place where I could spend an isolated vacation without the rot of tourism.

  Packing was enjoyable. There was no need for heavy coats, and I was glad. I hated the cold. Never knew why I spent all my life in New York. Born and raised, I guess it was the only place I knew.

  I started to imagine what it would be like if I were taking my wife on vacation with me. I wouldn’t have to waste one of the tickets, if that were the case. I had never married, and was not even close to it. Yet single was not uncommon, for a man of my age in New York. I was only 32, and not high enough in the game to take the plunge. If I’d had a wife, she would have been helping me pack, as I shaved in the bathroom. I would finish and come out to help, commenting to her on how pretty her outfits were. I would not allow her to carry a single bag down to the cab, as I strained to treat her like a princess. Yes, it would have been nice to be married.