Addie Adams — Sample

Chapter One

“What did Lucas do to you?” Sylvia asked sharply, her eyes flicking to the bruises on Addie's face and the stitches in her head.

Addie’s voice cracked as she responded, “Nothing. He didn’t hurt me.”

Her gaze drifted out the car window, the passing Flagstaff scenery blurring into a backdrop for her swirling thoughts.

They drove past the restaurant where she and Lucas had shared a light-hearted afternoon just days before. A lone tear trailed down her cheek.

“Then why the hell is your face bruised, and why do you have stitches? And better yet, where the fuck is Lucas?” Sylvia demanded, the frustration evident in her voice.

Addie remained silent, grappling with the impossible choice before her. Nothing she could say would explain the visible injuries she had sustained during the attack.

She had two choices: either defy the FBI’s warnings and risk telling Sylvia the dangerous truth or lie, fabricating a story where she had been drugged and violently attacked by Lucas. It was an impossible choice to make.

“If Lucas didn’t do this to you, then who did? Wait...” Sylvia paused, her eyes narrowing as they flicked toward Addie. “Does this have anything to do with why the FBI came to the hospital this weekend?”

Addie froze, blindsided by the revelation. She wasn’t sure what stunned her more—the unsettling speed with which the FBI had swept through the crime scene and started digging into Lucas’ life, or Sylvia’s uncanny intuition.

“What did they say?” Addie asked.

“I dunno. Norma mentioned they were combing through our patient charts. She never said why.” Sylvia glanced over, her frustration growing in her voice. “Sounds like you have an idea. How about we give it a go?”

Addie had been quietly replaying the warnings in her head, between Tom’s threats against Sylvia and the enormous agent with the deep voice urging her to forget what she’d seen in the desert.

For her, the choice was clear—she couldn’t reveal the truth of what happened to Sylvia, for both their sakes.

She wanted to forget and live a normal, happy life, pretending nothing had ever happened. But how could she do that, knowing that thing was out there?

A thing that carried a black substance that turned people into white-eyed, ravenous beasts.

Addie pictured Lucas—how he changed right before her eyes. By the end, he wasn’t Lucas anymore.

He moved like a rabid animal, wild and snarling, something primal burning behind his eyes.

Her breath caught as the memory rushed in: The sight of his legs hungrily sprinting after her as she drove away. The knife in his hand. And then the sickening moment he turned it on himself, driving it into his skull.

She had left him to die.

Then, amidst the chaos of her thoughts, a revelation struck with the force of a thunderclap.

Whatever black ooze the skull-faced monster carried was the very same black substance that both Lucas and Billy Shivinski had been exposed to.

The connection crystallized, sending a shiver down her spine. The foul substance was not just a link; it was the key to a door she wasn't sure she wanted to open.

But the truth, however dark, beckoned Addie with a siren's call with the promise of answers.

Sylvia continued, her tone becoming more impatient. “Adday, stop bloody ignoring me. Tell me what happened. Talk to me,” she implored, her voice thick with worry.

Addie closed her eyes, and a torrent of visions flooded her senses—the unnerving sight of Lucas’ eyes turning that clouded white before charging at her, his eyes void of sanity, transformed into a monstrous reflection of Billy after she had shot him in the chest.

She pictured the viscous substance coursing through their veins acting as a harbinger of madness and violence.