The Author by T. J. Blake - HTML preview

Endurance

Available now for paperback and eBook on Amazon.

What is being said about Endurance:

“This book isn't the genre I usually read. However, this book is highly readable, good characters, and lots of twists and turns “

“Exciting and entertaining read.”

“I loved the suspense and the story line. It’s worth reading, and has a very interesting theme.”

“It’s a fresh plot with a number of unseen twists”

“every time you think you have things figured out, something new happens and you're like "wait, what?!?!" “

“complex and creepy.”

“This young author has something that a lot of other writers don't; an ability to draw the reader in so that you are there, midst the scenery”

“The state of tension created throughout the book was impressive, I don't know if I have ever been on the edge of my seat whilst reading before!”

“I'm not usually a great fan of this genre of book, but I have now been converted. I look forward to the next instalment and I hope there are a few more twists and turns along the way.”

All taken from Amazon.com and .co.uk

1

 A man sat slumped with his back against the wall, injured and staring at the last flickering light, at a vandalised station on the London Underground; the bricks and tiles scattered across the floor. The bloodstained walls have made it unrecognisable. No one else was around. He sat in the corner of the stop, deeply hidden within the shadows. The entrance was barricaded with collapsed concrete and bricks. Specks of dust floated down from the ceiling onto the ground and covered the man in a sheen of white. Complete silence was occasionally interrupted by loud screams from above, mostly from women and children. As the screaming stopped, murmuring and deep roars began. The sounds were not completely clear, but resembled a heavy smoker clearing his throat.

 The man emptied his pockets; a wallet was all he had; it contained only a bank card and driving licence. Tom was thirty-years old, with roughed-up black hair and stubble on his face. He wore a suit that had seen better days. His shirt was covered in blood and there was a deep gash on his shoulder, with blood trickling slowly down and further staining it. As he stared at his driving licence, he inhaled and exhaled wearily, and mentally went over the events leading to his current circumstances...

 Today’s been hard. How could a day go from being so good to so fucked up so fast? I don't even know what's going on anymore. How am I going to get help?

 Tom slowly rose. Dust fell from him, creating a smoky atmosphere. He choked. In pain, he clutched his injured leg, fell into the wall and slid onto the ground.

 Blood dribbled from a wound on his leg; it had been oozing blood for some time now. Trying to shake off the pain, he slowly and carefully pushed himself upright.

 Breathing heavily, he used all the strength in his legs and balanced first on his left foot and then his right, testing the strength to ensure the limbs would bear his weight. He began to limp toward the blocked exit. Tom moved some of the debris. After a few moments, he kicked the barricade in frustration as he realized it was completely blocked with monstrous pieces of concrete that would require heavy equipment to move.

He knew there was no choice but to walk through the tunnel to the next stop in search of a clear exit. The thought of this journey into the dark with no light at all to assist him sent a shiver down his spine, his palms began to sweat and the hairs on his neck stood on end. He stepped off the platform, onto the tracks, and stared weakly into the gaping black maw of the tunnel. Tom took a cautious step toward the darkness. He was shaken when he heard a scream echo through the blackness. It sounded like a grown man. He took one step; followed by another. Then yet another step, until he stumbled into something on his left side. He knelt cautiously, trying to protect his injured leg as much as possible. He leaned forward, squinting to make the best of the feeble light. Tom saw that he’d tripped over the corpse of young man, who seemed to be in his early twenties. He wore a green polo shirt and blue jeans, soaked in blood. The clothes clung tightly to his physique. His arm was covered in blood, with deep scratches all over it; the entire arm had a strange, lumpy, chewed look.

 The bile climbed into Tom’s throat; he vomited violently and fell onto his hands and knees.

 Screams faded into the distance, but Tom attempted to block them from his mind. He stared at the filthy train tracks; the musky scent of the tracks and the smell of the rotting corpse overwhelmed his senses, making him nauseous. Tom continued to focus on the dust-filled tracks. He watched the clumps of dust rolling from his knees, past his hands toward the tunnel, blown by a breeze that entered the stop behind him.

 He placed his palms on the grimy wall and pulled himself to his feet. He stepped away from the wall and stood upright, facing the tunnel. Clenching his shaking fists, he began to walk toward the tunnel. As he stumbled past the corpse, the shadows wrapped around him; dragging him in. He disappeared into the darkness…