Swarmers (The Cloudland Series)my dark fantasy thriller, has been having a free promotional on Amazon Select. Today is the last day to download it for free!
As a self published indie, I had no concept of marketing. My first career as a nurse, didn’t involve advertising. Healthcare does great business without requiring its nurses to go on the roof and hold up signs. While I love blogging, I finally jumped off on Google + and Twitter as a means to interact with readers. In the Sea of Amazon books, it’s crowded even if you’re free. I figured my best bet is to showcase the story and not me.
So, I’d like to tell you about one of the characters in Swarmers, Wilbur Jenkins. Wilbur’s dream is to one day be named the Poet Laureate of Connecticut. He works as a live-in orderly at a Bridgeport estate for a young woman in a coma and attends classes. He’s got a crush on a sassy nursing assistant. Wilbur has lost his mother, but he also lost his Grandmother Pearl who raised him. Grandmother Pearl was fond of quoting wissams to Wilbur. His favorite wissam was: “Words don’t connect people, but hands do.” Wilbur is a young man searching for love and family. He’s adopted the other live-in house help as his “family.” One night while completing a class essay the night nurse bangs on his door screaming, “I woke her up.”
Wilbur doesn’t believe his patient can suddenly wake from a five year coma because he’s never seen any indication of life or movement from her. He leaves to go check on the older nurse more than their patient. Wilbur is defined by his kindness to all. From the moment, he enters the sick ward, his life is changed. This is what Wilbur encounters from Chapter 2 of Swarmers.
Before his mother died in a crack house, Wilbur nursed her through withdrawal pains, fights with her dealer, and self mutilations. He’d never seen anyone on the verge of a psychotic killing spree. Mary’s nostrils flared and her body trembled with nervous energy. She clutched a Bible in her left hand and a blade over her head with the right. Her chilling expression resembled a death mask he’d noticed in Smithsonian magazine.
She screamed, “The Hum destroys!”
The straight razor caught light like a weak camera flash before its descent. He lunged forward, caught her wrist, and blocked the cold-blooded strike into Evaney Harwood’s exposed neck. Mary cursed him and kicked him in his junk. Pain and nausea bent him over, and he released his grip on her arm. Groaning, he blocked another strike from the straight razor. After that, subduing Mary was harder than catching smoke. He dwarfed her in size and strength, but she scratched, clawed, and teeth-snapped with the vigor of the possessed.
“Let her drink your blood!” Mary shrieked.
He underestimated the older woman’s uncanny strength, and he freaked when she hacked into her own wrist. Arterial blood spray splattered Evaney’s face and smeared his vision. A warm mist settled on his skin, and the sticky blood felt creepy as it soaked into his pores. His hands slipped off Mary’s crimson-slick arms when he spat out the salty taste. Next thing he knew, Mary slashed her other wrist. The room turned cranberry red.
“Get out of my head!”
“Let me help you. Stop fighting.” Wilbur knocked the razor from her hand and grabbed Mary in a bear hug.
Mary shook so hard he thought she was having a seizure. Between grunts she panted. Evaney’s loud lip smacking broke the tension.
In the two years of his live-in employment, Miss Harwood never made a sound. He glanced over at her. Her white-spotted tongue licked the blood droplets around her mouth. The sight chilled him. One side of his brain tried to rationalize her behavior as a reflex. The other side visualized vampires and zombies. Even crazy Mary calmed. They witnessed Evaney Harwood re-awaken as if she had been in suspended animation instead of a coma.
“Watch out, evil is contagious,” Mary said before her legs sagged.
The scene is longer but the man who enters the room, the man who values truth above all, comes out as a liar. He feels his identity being sucked away by a helpless woman in a coma, who woke to drink blood. Wilbur becomes locked in a battle of wills with his patient. He refuses to let her “steal his words” because a poet without words can’t live.