Reviews
"I greatly enjoyed the book. It has very clever writing, fleshed out characters, and a gripping story. It perfectly blends elements from sci-fi, horror, fantasy, and adventure. The best part of the story is how real it all feels. No matter how fantastical and surreal it can get, it always feels very plausible. The writers really did their research to intertwine bits and pieces of history to add to the believability of the world. The story is told from varying perspectives, but it always easy to tell what setting is and who is narrating due to the unique forms of writing for each character and setting that makes them highly recognizable. All the characters feel like real people you come to know over the course of their journey, and you want to see them make it out of it all alive. Over all, The Order of The Four Sons is an excellent book, with an intriguing story that will certainly leave you wanting more." -Smashwords reader
...they came to a door. JD opened it cautiously.
His flashlight revealed a corridor even narrower than the one they were in now.
There was a sharp corner, to the right. “Everybody still with me?”
There was a chorus of affirmations.
“Just checkin’. Tighter’n a bull’s ass in
fly season. Can’t turn around to look for ya, so stay close.”
The flashlights revealed wooden walls here.
There were also--
“More doors,” Murphy said glumly.
JD sighed. “Well, shit.”
“After you, sir.”
“Cecil?”
“Looks clear, sir.”
“All right, then.” JD opened the first one,
found another corridor, another set of doors. “Well, shit again.” He shut it.
Murphy re-opened it. “Huh. Swings outward.”
JD paused. “Huh. I didn’t think about that.
Ain’t nothin’ in this place right.”
“No, but—” Murphy reached into a pocket and
pulled out a rubber doorstop.
“You carry doorstops?” Kate asked.
“It’s a SWAT tactic.” He dropped it to the
floor and kicked it into place.
“But I mean... really?”
“Really.” He tugged at the door handle to
demonstrate. It wouldn’t budge. “It won’t stop someone who’s really determined,
but it will slow them down.” She looked so impressed that he smiled wryly. “Don’t
applaud, just throw money.”
They continued down the hall, checking doors.
Some of them led to empty rooms. Others led to more hallways. Every door that
led to a hallway, Murphy secured with a doorstop.
Kate sniffed. “Anybody else smell that? Smells
like burnt hair.”
Everyone froze. The scent seemed to hit them
all at once—burnt hair and burnt flesh.
Doug’s voice was quiet. “You know what that
means.”
“Eretics,” JD looked around. “Looks like we’re
in the right place.”
Murphy’s flashlight was pointed at the
floor. “What is wrong with our lifestyle, that the smell of roasted undead means we’re in the right place and-- oh
look. Blood.”
A smear of it. He knelt down, touched a
droplet. “Still sticky.” There were larger splashes ahead.
No one said anything as they crept along, still
trying doors. Then they found on an old black telephone. The wall it was mounted
on was awash in blood. Beneath it, more blood pooled on the floor.
“Movement,” Cecil said. He raised his gun
but couldn’t fire because everyone else was in front of him.
Kate followed where his gun was pointed with
her flashlight and accidentally shined it right into JD’s eyes. He threw up a
hand to shield them, “Get that damn thing outta my face—”
The phone rang abruptly, piercingly. Kate
shrieked, leaping back against the wall, away from it.
“Movement!” Cecil shouted.
“I can’t see shit!”
“There it goes—”
“Colonel,
down!” Murphy raised his shotgun.
JD dropped to the floor and Murphy fired,
but the creature at the end of the hallway was too quick. It disappeared around
the corner. The shot pierced the wall.
“Fuck,” Murphy pumped the action. “Guess we
know now what happened to Rios.”
“Could he still be alive?” Kate asked anxiously.
Murphy looked again at the blood stains. “Maybe.”
She pointed to the blood trail. “They
dragged him off!”
“And we’re goin’ after him, Katie. Just
hold your horses.” JD picked himself up, blinking away the flashlight’s after-glare.
“Nice shootin’, Murphy.”
“Thanks. We going after him?”
“Well, we sure as shit ain’t leavin’ him
behind.”
Murphy hesitated. “Okay.”
They followed the blood trail around the corner,
where the eretic had retreated.
More hallway. More doors. More blood.
Kate looked up, marveling. “It’s on the ceiling.”
Murphy nodded. “That happens with major
arterial damage.”
The trail led to a doorway on the left. The
door had been ripped from its hinges.
“Cecil, any movement?” JD asked.
“Neg—wait. Yes, very slight. And some heat.”
Kate looked hopefully from Cecil to JD.
“Murphy,” JD said. The detective nodded and
the two of them went into the dark room, beaming their flashlights around.
Fernando Rios lay on the floor. He was on
his side, his back to the wall. His eyes were open. “Socorro,” he whispered.