The List

By Gregory Guess

Harold Anderson maintained a list of people that mistreated him through out his adult life with the idea that if for some unforeseen reason he should contract a terminal illness that left him with a short time to live, he would work his way through that list before his time ended.
He finds out that he has terminal cancer with only four to five months to live and now it is time for sweet revenge..

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregory Guess
• Release date: Jun 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452320892

Gregory Guess

Greg Guess is a veteran entertainer/ musician who has traveled to 75 or more countries and has entertained for millions. He created his first work of fiction while working on a cruise ship and has turned out four more since then. He has been writing music and lyrics for many years but has learned that his real love is storytelling. He continues to write from his home near Memphis, TN. and plans to continue writing. He says his life as an entertainer and his humble beginnings on the wrong side of the tracks in a moonshining community has help create many of his characters and stories.

Book preview

The List

Copyright 2010 Greg Guess

Smashwords Edition

Chapter One

He had dreaded the walk down his steep driveway to the mailbox aware that the mailman had run about an hour earlier. It wasn’t the walk that bothered him, in fact, he usually enjoyed that little trek, but not today. Harold Anderson was reasonably sure that there would be a letter there from his doctor’s office, the voicemail on his phone had said as much. He had refused to answer the call when he had seen it come in, not wanting to have the phone conversation with his doctor or for that matter anyone.

The doctor was a fine man, however there was one fact that illuminated wildly like a blinking neon sign in Harold Anderson’s mind, there was nothing that the doctor could say or do that would change a thing, it was a done deal, finite.

He had less patience than normal at the moment because he had found himself the recipient of depressing news lately and didn’t know how much more of it he could take. At the relatively young age of fifty-six, after being extraordinarily healthy all of his life; his health was failing him.

He had hoped that in his golden years, that he would have been able to relax, have enough money in order to live comfortably, and to be able to maintain his solitary lifestyle.

Even though he had forced himself into life’s social situations, the ones that everyone considered necessary if you were going to live the American dream, he had realized a long time ago that he simply did not fit into that mold.

He had resigned to the fact that he really didn’t like most people. He detested people that rode the system, couldn’t stand to be around noisy bratty children, and loathed their parents for allowing them to become that way.

He could not understand the simple-minded people that affixed themselves to one thing and made it their complete world. Sports fanatics of all kinds, race care enthusiasts that bore their favorite drivers racecar number on their ball cap, tee shirt, or even the back window of their automobiles, it would drive him nuts whenever he saw it.

If you went into their homes they would invariably have a trophy wall, whether it be the mantle over the fireplace or a shelf in the den and there would be pictures, signed posters, little knick-knacks of various types displaying the car number of their favorite racecar driver or the jersey number of some athlete depending on what their addiction might be. He was convinced that if you could put that number on a dog turd that there were people who would buy it and display it in that particular area of their home.

Harold Anderson was a good-sized man, powerfully built, with wide shoulders and a neck that required a size eighteen and a half in a dress shirt and if he had to button the top button it would still be too tight. His hair was thinning some, and he was prone to wearing it short and spiked but on occasions he would shave his head in the hot summer months, giving him the look of a policeman or a military man. He had perfect teeth and a great smile when he chose to use it, however, with his thick bushy brow, coupled with the fact that he squinted a lot he could appear to be down right ornery, especially, if he happened to not be smiling.

After learning that he had diabetes type II, he had vowed that he was going to change some of his bad habits and did make more of an effort than he ever had, but it had only lasted a few weeks before he gave up and returned to his normal eating habits. So far he had controlled the diabetes by pill and vowed never to go on insulin even if it meant an early death.

It wasn’t the fear of needles, as he had little fear concerning anything physical, it was just being tied to that shot or shots daily that would drive him insane and he knew that.

He now sat in his favorite chair facing the windows that covered most of the front wall of his living room, looking down the hill at the paved road in front of the house. In the fall and winter months he could catch a glimpse of the lake across the street and he liked that time of the year the most because he could do that. He had started the house nearly three years prior and was determined to pay cash for it, if he succeeded, it would be the second time in his life that he would have accomplished that.

The first house he got to live in for two years before signing it over to his ex-wife, and losing it became a source of anger that burned inside him like a raging forest fire.

He had finally made the trek down the steep driveway and now stared at the letter addressed to him, his doctor’s office name in the upper left corner burning a hole in his mind as he imagined what it might contain. In reality he knew, but he just refused to read it at this moment. He laid the letter on the coffee table and looked at it again for a minute before rising to go to the kitchen for something to drink, his mouth had become extremely dry and he could tell that his blood pressure had risen because of the ringing in his ears. He walked slowly as a man sentenced to the electric chair in his final hour. Why hurry he thought, it won’t change a thing.

For a man who harbored so much animosity toward some people he considered himself to be a spiritual person, he believed in God and felt reasonably sure that he would end up in heaven after he died. He had given that considerable thought once he had started thinking about his final plan concerning the list, but God did say, an eye for an eye, although his plans for invoking justice seemed a bit over the edge of the limits of what he thought God might embrace. Nonetheless, he had decided that it had to be the way that things ended for him.

He quickly deposited the empty Diet Coke can into the large plastic trash can that he kept sitting in the middle of the living room and grabbed the letter and ripped it open so haphazardly that he tore part of the letter doing it. Impulsively, with purpose, that’s the way that he did things. He couldn’t stand the agony of not knowing for sure any longer. The letter read:

Phillip H. Mead M.D.

864 Talbort St. N.W.

Bolivar, TN. 38078

Dear Harold,

My office has attempted to reach you by phone on numerous occasions to no avail. I know that you know me well enough to know that I do not like bringing news of this nature in the form of a letter, however I feel that it is imperative that you receive the results of the tests that we have done as quickly as possible.

I am sorry to say that the news that I bring you is not positive but I would like to see you as soon as you can arrange to be here. It appears that the cancer has spread to several parts of your body including the right shoulder, lungs and liver. I would like to start chemotherapy as well as radiation treatments as soon as possible. I feel that we must work quickly if we hope to get a handle on this. I know that you have expressed to me that you will never have these types of treatments, however, I urge you to reconsider given the amount of success that some have had with those processes. Of course there are never any guarantees, but I know that you know that I would do the best that I possibly can for you.

It pains me greatly to tell you that should you refuse treatment, you would have no more than three to five months to live. I sincerely hope that you will contact me soon so we can discuss this further.

Sincerely,

Phillip H. Mead, M.D.

Harold Anderson stared at the letter as if he hoped that somehow the content would magically change, and read it again for the second time. Tears clouded his vision before he could finish it the second time and he let it drop into his lap and allowed his arms to hang limply at his sides. Thoughts raced through his mind sporadically some going all of the way back to his early childhood like fast moving dreams and then some as recent as last week.

The images were just memories of a time and place but of no significant sequence, the time at seventeen when he had totaled a car and his head had busted the windshield and he had sat motionless with the breath knocked out of him and that moment of wondering if his breath would return, then they would flash to a time when he had looked into his father’s eyes with that absolute look of love that he always displayed when he looked at him, and then all of the way back to lying in a crib in a dark room when he had been sexually molested even before he knew what sex was, He felt confused, lost and alone, all of which he was.

His only son had taken his ex-wife’s side in the divorce and somehow held him totally responsible for everything bad that had happened in his life. He had tried so hard with the boy whom he adored and had loved more than life itself, but he had failed miserably at reconnecting with him and the boy’s attitude remained contemptuous. It had become a big part of Harold’s unraveling. He had known it was going to be difficult for his son after the divorce but it seemed that the boy only had interest in him when he needed money.

He had finally come to the conclusion at one point that he had to know if there was real love there, or if the boy would continue to use him just for cash. He put the boy to the test finally saying no to one of his monetary requests and the truth reared its ugly head once more.

Harold had never received a birthday card, a father’s day card, or for that matter even a simple phone call except to say that he needed money. In fact the boy didn’t even send him an invitation to his college graduation.

That had hurt Harold tremendously and he had tried to get passed that and build some kind of good relationship with the boy, but after he failed to get a wedding invitation, Harold was convinced that nothing would ever change. The boy, when Harold did get to see him, would purposely make it obvious that he was taking advice from his father-in-law who he knew Harold despised.

The father-in-law fit into so many categories for Harold that it was easy to not like him. He was an idiot in Harold’s estimation, a union carpenter that thought he knew everything about everything, although, he lived what Harold considered to be a meaningless life he experienced things with Harold’s own son that he missed.

Harold’s son had married his high school sweetheart but had no children at this point and Harold was glad, first of all Harold didn’t particularly like children; plus, he detested the idea of his blood being mixed with the blood of her ignorant redneck father. To Harold it was the demise of his gene pool.

Harold knew that he had a lot of planning to do and it was not your typical estate planning involving someone facing death.

He had been keeping and adding to a list for many years with the idea that if something ever happened to him, just as it had, so that he knew that he was going to die soon but could still get around and function reasonably well, that he would devise a plan to right some of the wrongs that had been dealt him through the years. As he thought about it now it elated him so that it almost dwarfed the depressed feelings that he had experienced only a short time ago when he had received the letter.

He felt fairly well actually, except for the headaches that had increased in intensity that had been the reason for the tests in the first place. The doctor had given him some pain medication and it had worked fairly well, although on occasions he had been forced to double up on the pills to ease the pain.

Harold knew that this would be a daunting task because of the fact that the list had grown considerably through the years; It could get complicated too, because the hunt would cover multiple states.

Harold looked through the large white oaks and pines and said aloud to himself in the silence of his backyard, I have been crapped on in a lot of different places. The words hang in the air as if he were giving a speech to thousands but there was no thunderous applause or adulation, the two squirrels that he had seen climbing in the large oak trees on his property were his only audience.

Chapter Two

After a shower and some reheated spaghetti sauce Harold sat at his laptop, his one prized possession that he didn’t think that he could have lived without. He loved tinkering on it no matter what he was doing. He hadn’t had typing in school, only girls and gay guys took typing at his school in those days, so he was self-taught and a pretty good typist. Oh, he couldn’t do what he had seen the people that had training could do but he admitted to himself that he wasn’t half-bad.

The first order of business he reasoned should be an accurate and neatly typed list of the victims to be. Victims, he didn’t like the sound of that it made it sound as though it would be wrong to give them what they deserved…no, from now on they would be associates. Yes, he liked that.

He had decided that if he pulled it off before getting caught or dying first that most likely the numbers alone would rank up there with some of the most notorious serial killers in the history of law-enforcement, if not the number of murders, then hopefully his methodology would attract media attention. He was sure that someone would want to do a book, maybe even a movie, and he would leave instructions concerning those matters once he decided what the details should be. He did know that he would want the proceeds to go to some mental health organization just because of the irony of it, but right now he had more serious planning to do.

He had decided that he would use multiple killing techniques hoping that it would be a while before anyone connected the dots and figured out what he was doing. That was why he would have to save his lovely ex-wife and the piece of garbage that she had married for the end, because he knew that their deaths would most certainly draw attention to him. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that knew him very well that he would love to have killed her years ago and many were surprised that he hadn’t, given her vindictiveness during the divorce.

Harold had fooled them all and simply slipped out of the picture, moving to another state not far away. He used to say to himself, out of sight, out of mind.

He had things that he wanted to accomplish before he took the pleasure of dealing with her, however, he did know that it would be a very creative, slow, agonizing death that she would meet. Not just a quick shot to the head, or even a mere bludgeoning, no, this had to be special and both of them had to be there when it happened.

It had to be her and her knight in shining armor who had circled like a buzzard waiting for the divorce to finalize so that he could move into the house that Harold had built largely with his own hands. The slimy piece of scum had never been able to accomplish more than a ragged singlewide trailer with a room built on the back and a fleet of junk cars sitting around as yard ornaments.

He should have known that she would go for a slime ball like him, she had no class and had Harold not been drinking and doing drugs and enjoying the fact that she did have a hot body, he would have been more careful to not get her pregnant.

When she became pregnant his world changed, he did not believe in abortion, and wouldn’t even consider it when a long time acquaintance mentioned it, he had just said no, I have to take responsibility for my actions and raise this child.

Everyone was amazed at his transformation from the infamous playboy partier to dedicated husband and father. Bets were placed in numerous circles on how long it would last, but Harold had fooled them all. After several years of marriage, many of them had just shaken their heads in disbelief and had made remarks like, well people can change you know.

It had not been a hard transformation for Harold, oh he quit sleeping around for a long while and was dedicated to that little boy, taking him fishing watching him grow and loving every minute of that part of his marriage, but after a time he admitted to himself that he had never been in love with his wife, only in love with the idea of a family.

The sex was always fiery, and they did explore every realm of it, but he really didn’t like her very much. She was stupid like her father before her, and her mother was the quintessential redneck, back woods, trouble-making cunt.

. She was definitely near the top of the list, and Harold thought how sweet it would be to have her there at the same time as his ex and her slime ball husband. Maybe he would be able to pull that off, that would be the icing on the cake and it made him smile to think about it.

Harold checked his bank account and it appeared to be substantial enough to hold out through the ordeal and supply him with the tools that he would need to accomplish his mission. He had spent a lot of his cash money on the house but had always saved just incase an emergency came up, although, he had not been planning on this emergency.

Harold looked at his old list, much of it scribbled on a legal pad. When people crossed him, really crossed him, it was his only vent and he would rush to get their name on that list, relieving him of his immediate anxiety and his urge for retaliation. It had held great significance to him and had helped to maintain his teetering sanity.

He started to prioritize them by number realizing that later he would have to work out a sequence that didn’t have too many of them dying in one area close to the same time possibly arousing suspicion. He also wanted to prioritize in a manner that if he didn’t get to complete his mission, that he would get the ones that deserved it most. That would be tricky since many of them were added to the list while he was married and raising his family, therefore, they would likely be in close proximity of each other, at least they were back then. He would have to do some investigation because that may have changed.

Harold also gave some thought to his weapons, some of them he might be able to use more than once but some he would not and would dispose of them as soon as he did use them.

For some of the associates he had planned to make their deaths appear accidental or for some instances suicide if possible, making it easy for an overworked under paid detective to close a case. In a few cases he thought that he might make them simply disappear with no trace of their bodies ever to be found.

Harold didn’t trust many people, but there was one man that he trusted implicitly.

Joe Flowers owned a couple of thousand acres in rural South Carolina where Harold planned to set up housekeeping for a while. His first move would be contacting Joe Flowers, and laying the groundwork for being able to move around in the South Carolina, North Carolina and Georgia area unnoticed. He knew that Joe would help him in any way that he could, that was the one thing that he had no doubts about.

Harold had stayed in a small camper on that same property right after his separation from his wife and Joe and his wife had treated him like family, being supportive in any way and even trying to get him to live in the house with them. Harold had declined respectfully and explained that he may need to be there awhile and didn’t want to become a burden, or to wear out his welcome as he put it.

After several conversations they relented and agreed that if that was what he wanted that it was fine, but that they wanted him to be comfortable in knowing that he was welcome there as long as he wanted to stay and even permanently if he so chose. It was a friendship that they held firm to and valued as much as he did. They were just country folks but in Harold’s estimation, they were the salt of the earth. The months that he spent there were some of the best memories that he had during his adult life and he had truly come to love Joe and his wife.

Joe’s wife had died a few years back, and Harold was sad that he hadn’t learned of it until after she had been buried, although he did make a trip to see Joe soon after and pay his condolences. His old friend had seemed in good spirits and reminded Harold that he was still welcome there anytime and even offered to cut him out a little plot of land on which to build a house if he wanted.

Joe had been a farmer, a superintendent for a large international construction company, had built commercial buildings as well as residential housing and done numerous other things successfully. He was nearing sixty when Harold had first met him but would have passed for fifty. He was a big strapping man, lean and muscular standing at least six feet three or four inches tall with hands the size of baseball mitts. He was always tanned from working outside and had a full head of black hair that had managed to remain its natural color. . He was well respected in the area, and had a reputation for not taking any guff from anyone.

Harold had a cell phone but had decided that he needed a prepaid phone that couldn’t be traced or identified while using it

He drove up to Jackson TN. the next day and purchased two phones and the cards to activate them with an abundance of minutes.

He had decided while he was there in the city that he would check some local pawnbrokers for anything else that he might need, perhaps an army surplus store as well, he knew that he might need some camping gear that he didn’t have, some camouflage clothing, a Coleman stove and a couple of lanterns, he was getting excited now, his plan was finally under way.

One of the pawnshops had produced a well-used crossbow but the attendant said that he would put a new bowstring on it for the same price that he had been asking and would throw in some arrows for hunting, but that he would have to buy his own broad head tips.

Harold liked that, he had planned all along to use a crossbow in especially one instance because at a reasonably close range it would be deadly and extremely quiet. He examined the tips for the arrows and became excited when he felt the razor sharp edges of the blades on the broad head arrow. Harold thought one of these through a man’s chest and they would barely have time to realize that they were dying, but they would in fact die quickly.

One associate that he really wanted badly, he also wanted him to see his face before he died and the crossbow should do the trick for that. This associate lived in a wooded area in a rural part of town and Harold planned to sneak onto his property and study his movements for a few days and when the time was right, he would take him out.

It had been so many years since he had any dealings with the jerk that he didn’t think that anyone would ever connect him to this man’s death. Harold was reasonably sure that this prick had stepped on plenty of toes in recent years and when the investigation into his death started, the list of people that hated him would be so large that the investigator would probably be scratching his head as to where to start.

Randy Tripp had come to work on a construction site that Harold had been working on for a couple of years, and even though they were in different departments they worked around each other and Harold had sensed his hunger for advancement. He was a rat and an avid ass kisser who would run to his bosses with anything that he could tell to make himself look bigger in their eyes. He stabbed people in the back left and right and the word was out that he was ruthless and that he would do anything to keep this job and it was said by many that despised him that he would probably cut his own mother’s throat for a promotion.

Harold at the time had a better job than Randy did and it afforded him time to stop and converse with people and do his job at whatever pace he chose. Harold could tell that Randy, who was a painter, hated that fact and was envious of him. Little did Harold know that Randy Tripp would end up as superintendent of that whole craft and eventually become his boss as well. Harold was attached to the department, even though he was not a painter.

By the time Tripp had manipulated his way into the position Harold was already enjoying a supervisory position and had for some time. After Tripp had gotten his first promotion Harold knew in his guts that his position would be coming to an end probably sooner than later and had already put into motion a plan to become a contractor and was ready when the news was relayed to him that he wouldn’t be needed in his current position anymore, because they were cutting back. Harold just said to himself yeah right a cut back, he knew better.

When Harold saw Tripp for the first time after that, he could see the sneer pasted across his face and the pleasure that he had taken in doing that dirty deed was obvious.

Harold was laughing inside because he knew that he already had things in place to start contracting and the irony of it all was that he would be working on the same facility right before Tripp’s eyes and would make considerably more money than he had been. As the process proceeded and Harold started to work back on the site again he could see the envy and hatred that the man had for him but hadn’t really felt the effects from it until another contract had been let and Harold had won the bid.

When Tripp found out who had won the bid he had the power as a senior manager to pull it back off of the street and let his own people do the work.

Once Harold was notified that the contract had been cancelled he was furious, because he knew who was responsible. The contract had meant a lot to Harold as a new contractor and it would end up causing him to lose nearly forty thousand dollars.

Randy Tripp made his place on the list that day, and he would remain number one on the list until Harold took the life out of him.

Chapter Three

Harold had most of what he thought he would need to get started and what he didn’t have he could purchase in different towns as he passed through or after he was there. In one case he would need some drugs of some kind because he wanted one of his associates to appear to have had a drug deal gone bad. Everyone knew that this guy had a drug history and it would just make his death more believable.

Ironically his name was Randy as well and if logistically possible he would be close to the top of the list, although some time would have to lapse between the two’s deaths because they did both work at the same place, Randy Tripp and Randy Brandson, so it had to be timed so that it didn’t become suspicious looking. Harold thought that he could handle that. Tripp lived in South Carolina; Brandson lived just thirty miles away in Georgia; although not friends they had worked together at one time and did have mutual acquaintances, plus Trip and Brandson had had some problems in the past.

His next associate would be a couple of hours away in Charlotte, North Carolina and would be disconnected from these two totally, Harold thought, maybe I will get Tripp then skip up to North Carolina and get Mack McClain, number three on the list and then come back for Brandson. He decided that he would work that out when he got to Joe’s and was settled in. Anyway, it was a start and that was what was important.

His head had begun throbbing and he had taken a pill and needed to sleep for a couple of hours, he figured that all of the excitement associated with the planning was getting to him, but in reality he knew that the cancer was playing a role as well. He prayed before he went to sleep asking God to grant him the ability to function through the task that lay ahead. He also asked in advance for forgiveness in case God wasn’t in agreement with his plan, and then he quoted to himself for reassurance an eye for an eye God, that’s what you said. In minutes he was sleeping soundly.

When Harold awakened he was feeling a little groggy from the pain medicine but nonetheless felt refreshed and ready to get started again. He proceeded to put his house in order, by shutting off the water, emptying the small refrigerator, trashing anything that would attract roaches or rodents. As he left he would hit the main breaker and leave the house with no chance of an electrical fire or pipes bursting when the cold weather arrived. The house wasn’t all that much in his estimation, being only about half completed, but he couldn’t bear the thoughts of it going up in flames or ruined by water damage even though this would most likely be the last time that he would ever lay eyes on the place.

Before he exited out the back door, he stood and took one last look and breathed in the smell of the house, something to remember for whatever that was worth.

When the news media told his story they would undoubtedly bring a camera crew into the house and shoot film for the evening news on the home of the twisted killer. Harold didn’t care; at least they would see that he had been doing a fine job and that was what was important.

Harold hit the main breaker, locked the deadbolt and the door lock and walked down the two-by-twelve walk board leading up to the back door. He had not yet built a deck and steps for entry.

As he drove down his steep driveway he stopped at the bottom of the hill to take one last look, and then popped the clutch on his small pick-up truck and headed for the exit to his sub-division. As he crossed the levy to the main lake he slowed admiring the beauty of the place, it would have been so nice to spend his days fishing the four lakes that were here, packing a small lunch and maybe even a few beers, just floating around in his little twelve-foot boat, not really caring whether he caught anything, just finally having some peace in his life and enjoying the serenity of the place. Harold thought to himself, well that ain’t gonna happen so I just as well get busy with the task at hand.

Harold Anderson was a meticulous planner usually and he laughed at himself for being so anal at times, but hey that was what separated the men from the boys as he liked to say.

He had never really totally failed at anything, but the odds had always seemed to be stacked against him and had he not been so detail oriented, he knew that he would have failed many times.

Now here he was in his small pick-up truck with the fiberglass camper shell loaded down with the tools for his mission, headed up highway eighteen into Jackson where he would pick up I-40 and head east to the opposite end of the state, then catch 221 through the mountains and on to South Carolina. It would be a good fifteen hours if you drove straight through, but Harold figured he would stop in East Tennessee where he had a few relatives and spend the night and then head out the next morning.

The idea came to him that since he would be there anyway, there was one person that was kind of down the list, an old nemesis that had jumped on him when he was seventeen years old, and even though his adversary had been twenty-nine years old and a former Green Beret, Harold had held his own. He had felt proud after it was over even though he had a few bumps and bruises, he had split the big mans lip wide open and it had stopped him in his tracks. Still, it was the fact that a grown man would take advantage of a young inexperienced boy that had put Jerry Clice on the list a long time ago. He had hated him in his younger years but miraculously the hate had diminished to just a pure dislike of the man and the thing that kept him on the list was the fact that he had put his hands on him. If you had made the mistake of striking Harold Anderson, that way that he saw things,

Reviews for The List

[aliceanna-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Loved it, loved it, loved it!!! The premise was more than a bit far-fetched, but the characters were fantastic, the pace was perfect and the humor was spot on. Long live Roy and Bert!

[cassiewinters-2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is perhaps the first governmental conspiracy type book that I have read. I hadn't picked any up because I thought that I wouldn't like this particular genre of fiction. I was shocked that I actually enjoyed it. Primarily because it was a trashy read. I haven't read very many books that are absurd or just hysterical, but this book definitely fit into both of these categories.

The plot is about a bunch of clones without giving too much away about the plot line of the book. There are several funny moments in the book as well, but one particularly overused joke is the author's usage of the anal region of the human body. It was the only thing that I felt was overused.

Overall the book was enjoyable because it wasn't asking the author to think a lot, even though there was a random area where it was throwing out different technical science terms related to the body. The book is just one of those page-turners where you read and want to know what is next, but you don't get philosophical along the way searching for a deeper meaning. There are times where you need a book without that deeper subtext and this book did not disappoint. The story was richer than I expected and the characters more defined than I thought for a book that I selected randomly from the Amazon Kindle Lending Library for free. I am pleased I did and would recommend this book to anyone wanting a fast-paced interesting read.

[jpodlaski_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I read one of Mr. Konrath's other books, "Afraid", loved his writing style and ability keep readers guessing and in suspense throughout his story. When I saw "The List" posted on one of my daily "Free Kindle Offerings", I didn't hesitate to snatch it up. I was not disappointed!I was so hooked that I couldn't put it down. Tom and Roy, the Chicago Police Detectives, somewhat remind me of Patterson's Alex Cross and his partner. Now add a fishing lure collector, a kick-ass female film producer and a used car salesman to round out the team of good guys; all five have something physical in common - a tattoo on the bottom of one heel. All are on the same list and maniacs are trying to kill them! The story has humor, terror, gore and imagination as this group of five fight off their killers while attempting to find the person(s) responsible for creating the "list" and learning why they are targeted. It's all part of a master plan - thirty years in the making, and they are caught right in the middle of it all. It is possible to stop it, but nobody will believe or help them prevent the catastrophe. They have to try it alone!Jack Kilborn keeps readers on a high level alert, making it difficult to "relax" while reading his thrilling story. Twists and turns show up without warning - keeping readers up way too late in the night to see what happens next. This book is filled with very descriptive scenes...if you are able to read through zombie or serial killer novels, then you shouldn't have any trouble with "The List". Buyer beware: once you start - it will be difficult to put down. Great job Mr. Kilborn! I look forward to reading more of your work!John Podlaski, author[[ASIN:B003R4Z5U6 Cherries - A Vietnam War Novel]]

[soulflower1981 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is perhaps the first governmental conspiracy type book that I have read. I hadn't picked any up because I thought that I wouldn't like this particular genre of fiction. I was shocked that I actually enjoyed it. Primarily because it was a trashy read. I haven't read very many books that are absurd or just hysterical, but this book definitely fit into both of these categories.

The plot is about a bunch of clones without giving too much away about the plot line of the book. There are several funny moments in the book as well, but one particularly overused joke is the author's usage of the anal region of the human body. It was the only thing that I felt was overused.

Overall the book was enjoyable because it wasn't asking the author to think a lot, even though there was a random area where it was throwing out different technical science terms related to the body. The book is just one of those page-turners where you read and want to know what is next, but you don't get philosophical along the way searching for a deeper meaning. There are times where you need a book without that deeper subtext and this book did not disappoint. The story was richer than I expected and the characters more defined than I thought for a book that I selected randomly from the Amazon Kindle Lending Library for free. I am pleased I did and would recommend this book to anyone wanting a fast-paced interesting read.

[ericpatterson · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is perhaps the first governmental conspiracy type book that I have read. I hadn't picked any up because I thought that I wouldn't like this particular genre of fiction. I was shocked that I actually enjoyed it. Primarily because it was a trashy read. I haven't read very many books that are absurd or just hysterical, but this book definitely fit into both of these categories.

The plot is about a bunch of clones without giving too much away about the plot line of the book. There are several funny moments in the book as well, but one particularly overused joke is the author's usage of the anal region of the human body. It was the only thing that I felt was overused.

Overall the book was enjoyable because it wasn't asking the author to think a lot, even though there was a random area where it was throwing out different technical science terms related to the body. The book is just one of those page-turners where you read and want to know what is next, but you don't get philosophical along the way searching for a deeper meaning. There are times where you need a book without that deeper subtext and this book did not disappoint. The story was richer than I expected and the characters more defined than I thought for a book that I selected randomly from the Amazon Kindle Lending Library for free. I am pleased I did and would recommend this book to anyone wanting a fast-paced interesting read.

[cmeilink_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

What is the significance of blue number tattoos found on the bottom of the feet of murder victims? As Det. Tom Mankowski investigates, he has more than a professional interest in finding the connection...he, too, has a blue number tattoo.Tom's investigation leads to some rather amazing discoveries. The victims were all adopted. The victims were all the same age. The victims had families with some tie to the military--everything just like Tom--and, just like Tom, they were all cloned.Cloned from the best and the worst in history, their creator had used the likes of Thomas Jefferson, Joan of Arc, William Shakespeare, Attila the Hun, Jack the Ripper, and Einstein as the starting DNA to determine if pure genetics would determine the clones' character, intelligence, and talents. But now, someone wanted them dead.An interesting premise and some quirky characters.

[tftorrey_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Joe Konrath has become quite an Internet sensation, so I was interested in his work, but kind of leery of what I might find. After all, Joe seems like a great guy, but it's relatively easy (and somewhat random) to get famous on the Internet, and very hard (and quite unrelated) to write a great book. As it turned out, I needn't have worried.The List is a sensational thrill ride from the gruesome start to the fiery finish. The action bounces back and forth around the country, and at every stop the story grows more intricate and the danger ratchets up another notch. The characters are by turns sincere and interesting and funny, and Konrath excels at getting his characters into hopeless situations, then letting them get themselves out. The plot contains just enough science to be convincing, and just enough fantasy to be fun. And Abe Lincoln is hilarious.Whether you are a fan of Konrath, a fan of realistic science fiction, or just a fan of sharp action and tight prose, this book is not to be missed. For my part, it was a great introduction to the work of Joe Konrath, and I can't wait to read the rest.

[josephlyoung · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Enjoyed the rather quirky story and both good and evil characters. I think Bert was my favorite and thought his special investment collection was great camp. I enjoyed the tense but, humorous interplay between the cooperating characters and the truly evil aspects of the villains. The story pace was frantic at times but, loved the compulsion to continue reading. Never a dull moment. I'm now keyed for the continuation of the story even though the adventure was resolved to my satisfaction. I'm going to look forward to reading more of J.A. Konrath's stories!

[creighley_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Too outrageous to make it work.

[barbyrabaker · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Light reading, entertaining book about a group of people trying to save the country/world about learning they are clones of famous people. Improbable science, shallow characters. Amusing banter between characters that can sometimes be annoying.

[nospi-2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Enjoyable thriller with many comedic elements 4 star book
Fabulous narrator made immersion reading a five star experience”