Frankenstorm: Hurricane Quentin

Book 2: Frankenstorm

by Ray Garton

Genres: Horror; Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi; Thrillers

Synopsis

Terror Hits The Fan In the second shocking installment of Ray Garton's six-part Frankenstorm, a natural disaster sets off a deadly chain reaction of fear, panic, paranoia—and uncontrollable rage—in the ultimate fight for survival. . . Frankenstorm With the storm of the century tearing up the northern California coast, internet blogger and conspiracy expert Ivan Renner has other things on his mind—namely, uncovering the mystery behind an abandoned hospital used as a government lab. Joining him on his investigation is military veteran and survivalist Ollie Monk. While Ivan follows leads about missing homeless people to confirm his theory about secret biological experiments, Ollie follows his gut. With his own trained platoon of armed mercenaries, Ollie is prepared to ambush the laboratory just as the storm hits. But when the fateful moment arrives—and the bullets begin to fly—their surprise attack backfires in ways not even they could prepare for. It unleashes the test subjects. It spreads the virus. It seals their fate. . .forever. This time, there's no fighting back. The conspiracy theories are true. Praise For Ray Garton "Scary. . .involving. . .mature and thoughtful." —Stephen King on Dark Channel "Gripping, original, and sly." —Dean Koontz on Live Girls "Ray Garton is, and always has been, one of horror fiction's great innovators."—F. Paul Wilson "Garton never fails to go for the throat!" —Richard Laymon "Garton has a flair for taking veteran horror themes and twisting them to evocative or entertaining effect." — Publishers Weekly "Razor-sharp and gut-punch brutal, Garton will scare you." —Mark Kidwell, Fangoria magazine "Garton does not even know that there is top to go over." —Rick Kleffel, The Agony Column "Ray Garton has consistently created some of the best horror ever set to print." — Cemetery Dance magazine 16,000 Words

Release date: January 21, 2014

Publisher: Pinnacle Books

Print pages: 48

Sample

“Some experts are predicting that Hurricane Quentin will make landfall significantly earlier than we’ve been told,” the woman on the radio said. She still sounded professional and calm and oblivious to the wind slamming into Latrice’s Highlander.

“Earlier?” Latrice said, glancing at the radio. “How much earlier?”

The drive had taken longer than Latrice had expected because the weather had been worse than she’d expected, which made her wonder what the hell she’d been thinking, anticipating anything less than the worst possible weather with a hurricane on the way. It helped that she knew the route.

When she was nineteen, Latrice had driven that route a few times to visit a guy she was seeing at Humboldt State University. They’d met in Sacramento, where he lived before enrolling at Humboldt. His name was Geoff and he was studying oceanography so he could become the first black Jacques Cousteau, and he was the best sex Latrice had ever had. She couldn’t understand why he kept asking her to come back for more, why he was drawn to her. When she looked in the mirror, she did not see the kind of young woman she would expect to be with someone like Geoff. She’d dropped in on him unannounced once and found him in bed with a stunningly beautiful blonde, all legs and tits, creamy tan skin, bright white teeth. Latrice was crestfallen and began, for just a moment, to cry, something she hadn’t allowed herself to do since she was a very little girl. But she stopped herself, sucked it up, and turned around to leave.

“Wait, Latrice!” he shouted as he came after her. She slowed her pace a moment when she realized he sounded happy. He stepped in front of her, naked and with an erection, grinning like a happy child. “Come join us!” he said.

And Latrice’s life had not been the same since. That was when she learned that monogamy wasn’t for everybody, that some people were more suited to having multiple partners—sometimes at the same time!—and she learned that she was one of those people. Latrice had little self-confidence in life and her self-image was a work in progress, but when she was in bed with someone, she felt sexy and not only assured but assertive, even brazen. It was the only time she ever felt strong.

Every therapist she’d ever had told her that she was repeatedly trying to win her father’s love and approval, that her promiscuity was an attempt to resolve their relationship. There probably was some truth to that, Latrice conceded, but as far as she was concerned, her relationship with her father had been resolved long ago. He’d been a mean, hateful, drunken prick and she’d cut him out of her life like a tumor. Relationship resolved.

She loved her mama, a sweet and selfless woman, but she’d never managed to find it in herself to respect Mama’s decision to stay with Dad. Latrice had tried many times to talk her into getting a divorce, but Mama’s religious beliefs didn’t allow that. Because it wasn’t enough that she had a mean, violent drunk in her life; she also needed a bunch of crazy-ass religious rules to live by. The best thing that had ever happened to Latrice’s mama was the death of Latrice’s dad. But by the time he finally fell over dead in the kitchen while pouring vodka into a little Sunny D at nine-thirty in the morning, he’d already done plenty of damage to his family, especially Latrice, the youngest of their three children.

The verbal abuse had been so relentless and had started so early that she quickly grew accustomed to it as a little girl and stopped reacting or responding. But she didn’t stop absorbing. Dad never had anything good to say to or about anyone, but he seemed to store up venom for Latrice, criticizing everything she said and did, telling her she was stupid, fat, useless. He hit her a few times, but that didn’t stand out in Latrice’s memory. The things he said, however, never went away.

She reached the end of her tolerance at the dinner table one evening shortly after her seventeenth birthday. She and Mama were quietly discussing Latrice’s future when Dad made a sound like coughing. He was laughing. He’d been staring at his plate as he ate, and now he lifted his head somewhat and aimed his bleary eyes at Latrice over the top of his glasses, which had slipped down his nose.

“Here’s why you ain’t got no future,” he said. . .