Cold on the Mountain

By Daniel Powell

All they wanted was a vacation to the Grand Canyon. Instead, they found themselves on a collision course with a terrible, timeless darkness.

Welcome to Adrienne, home to history’s worst serial killers and mass murderers. Nestled in an isolated meadow high in the Sierra Nevada, Adrienne is sort of like a cosmic lint trap. It collects the universe’s negative energy—all of our blackest human impulses—before purging that darkness back into the world in a yearly lottery. From Hitler to Bin Laden...Bundy to Gacy, Adrienne is the way station for dark energy that doesn’t just pass on—it passes through.

When Phil Benson decides to take an unmarked detour over the mountain, he drives his family into the mouth of madness, where they are forced to join a captive labor pool with little hope for freedom. Escape is pointless and time stretches out into eternity, with every new day the same as the last.

Sometimes, it’s better just to skip the shortcut.

With echoes of Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” Stephen King’s Needful Things, and Blake Crouch’s Pines series, Cold on the Mountain treads the boundary between horror and supernatural suspense.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Powell
• Release date: Mar 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310559037

Daniel Powell

Daniel Powell teaches a variety of courses at a small college in Northeast Florida. He is an avid outdoorsman and long-distance runner, and enjoys fishing the tidal creeks of Duval County from atop his kayak.He shares a small house near Florida's Intracoastal Waterway with his wife, Jeanne, and his daughter, Lyla. His stories have appeared in Redstone Science Fiction, Brain Harvest, Leading Edge, Something Wicked and Well Told Tales.Drop by The Byproduct, his web journal on speculative storytelling, at www.danielwpowell.blogspot.com.

Book preview

COLD

ON THE

MOUNTAIN

DANIEL POWELL

DISTILLATIONS PRESS

COLD ON THE MOUNTAIN

Copyright © 2015 Daniel Powell.

No part of this work may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, microfilm, and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Educators are encouraged to use selected passages from this text under reasonable guidelines for fair use.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved.

Published in 2015 by Distillations Press · Charleston, South Carolina

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Project Design: Canopy Studios

Smashwords First Edition, 2015

All they wanted was a vacation to the Grand Canyon. Instead, they found themselves on a collision course with a terrible, timeless darkness.

Welcome to Adrienne, home to history’s worst serial killers and mass murderers. Nestled in an isolated meadow high in the Sierra Nevada, Adrienne is sort of like a cosmic lint trap. It collects the universe’s negative energy—all of our blackest human impulses—before purging that darkness back into the world in a yearly lottery. From Hitler to Bin Laden…Bundy to Gacy, Adrienne is the way station for dark energy that doesn’t just pass on—it passes through.

When Phil Benson decides to take an unmarked detour over the mountain, he drives his family into the mouth of madness, where they are forced to join a captive labor pool with little hope for freedom. Escape is pointless and time stretches out into eternity, with every new day the same as the last.

Sometimes, it’s better just to skip the shortcut.

for Jeanne

ONE

They held hands, studying the sheriff from the business side of his metal desk.

If the circumstances weren’t so unsettling, Bo Benson might have enjoyed the meeting. He felt as though he’d stepped from one manufactured reality into another—this one similar to Hitchcock’s Psycho, right down to the quaint little California town.

The man asking the questions had a square jaw and keen gray eyes. The eyes communicated two things above all others: a wry sense of humor and a healthy dose of professional confidence. Bo thought that the criminals of Inyo County probably had their work cut out for them in their dealings with the man.

His name was Woodrow Tasket, and he had a well-manicured moustache and a full head of trimmed gray hair. His uniform was neatly pressed and, when his eyebrows bunched in a frown of concentration, Bo suddenly placed the lawman in his mind.

That’s Sam Elliot in his prime, he thought. The spitting damned image!

I enjoy your program very much, Mr. Benson, Tasket said, although your writers don’t really think too highly of law enforcement, now do they? If folks believed half of what was depicted on your show, they’d have a damned low opinion of the LAPD.

Bo grinned. It all serves the plot, Sheriff Tasket. We have to set things up so the white knight can swoop in and solve the crime in the final act. Viewers love the formula. They wouldn’t watch if we nabbed the bad guys in the first twenty minutes.

"Be that as it may, it’s still not very realistic. Fact is, we solve around ninety percent of the major cases that cross our desk, and we do it pretty efficiently, if I do say so myself. Now then, the two of you drove up here from Los Angeles today?"

Kelli nodded. We left around 5:30, Sheriff. Traffic eased up once we cleared Palmdale and we made good time.

He nodded. Shoot—I’ll say. Four hours?

Give or take, Bo replied, his smile admitting that they had, in fact, broken the speed limit here and there. His Boxster sat in front of the tiny police station, as conspicuous in Bishop as a zit on prom night.

Well, I guess I can say that I appreciate your punctuality, Mr. Benson. You might want to slow down on the way home—try to enjoy the view. He cleared his throat and leaned forward over his desk, his hands folded in front of him. Now when was the last time you spoke with your brother or his family?

Bo turned to his girlfriend. Kelli Armstead didn’t work in Hollywood, but she looked like she could have. She had bronze skin, striking hazel eyes, and a mouth that seemed perpetually ready to smile; the smiling was a good thing, given her line of work.

She taught third graders at an elementary school in Malibu, and Bo had met her at a promotional event in a bookstore that specialized in mysteries. They’d been together for almost three years, and there was a ring in the back of his underwear drawer at home with her name on it. He was just waiting for the right moment to bend a knee.

Before they left for their vacation, Kelli said. I spoke with Wendy on the telephone, just wishing her a good trip and stuff like that. We Skype with them every Sunday afternoon. Haven’t missed one in months, I’d say. When I called this past weekend, nobody picked up. I tried them on the cell, but it went straight to voicemail. The thing is, they should have been back home the day before—on the 8th. So…so, I guess I’m really not sure when they might have gone missing.

Tasket clicked the button on his ballpoint pen. When did they start out on this vacation?

They left the previous Saturday, Bo replied. March 1. I believe they spent that first night in Crescent City, and then they had a night with our aunt down in San Francisco. From there, they were headed into Nevada, but the road was closed. They…well, I guess they had to make some kind of a detour.

And how do you know all this if you haven’t kept in touch?

Wendy updated her Facebook page, Kelli said. She posted that they encountered a locked gate and forty inches of snow on the south end of Lake Tahoe.

Tasket smiled. They didn’t check with the road service before leaving San Francisco? That route’s completely shut down until May. Sometimes well beyond that.

Bo winced. My brother’s not the best when it comes to stuff like that. The details, I mean. To them, it was just a road on a map, Sheriff, and the shortest way to boot. He thought it was viable. Phil’s a sucker for a good shortcut.

Tasket tilted his head and scratched behind his right ear; Bo recognized it immediately—it was the man’s I’m thinking gesture. Little mannerisms like that were the currency of good acting. He filed it away, excited about trotting it out when he returned to the studio.

And so why are you filing this report here in Bishop? They leave something about our fine little hamlet here on that Facebook page?

Kelli nodded. Wendy posted two updates before they fell out of contact. The first was a complaint about the price of gasoline. That one also mentioned that a man at the filling station had directed them to an old motel out on the Nevada border. Wendy…well, she didn’t sound too thrilled about the possibility of spending the night there, but Phil insisted.

Tasket’s eyes narrowed. They say which road they took?

Nope. We’d have gone looking for them ourselves if she had. Just checking the map, though, I’d guess it was Highway 168, Bo replied. This coaxed a nod of agreement out of the Sheriff.

"You said there were two updates?" Tasket showed them a peace sign.

Yeah, Bo said. He drew a deep breath. In the last one, Wendy wrote that Phil was taking a road that wasn’t on the map. ‘Wish us luck!’ it said. You don’t think…you don’t suppose they got stuck in the snow, do you?

Tasket remained silent for a long minute.

She stopped updating the Facebook page and you two didn’t find that strange? he finally said. "I mean, you said they were going to the Grand Canyon. Seems like there would be lots of updates—pictures, posts, and the like."

Kelli shrugged. "Yeah, it struck me as a little bit strange, I suppose, but Wendy and Phil are very into their family time. And Wendy really only updated her page in spurts. She’d neglect it one week, and then hit it hard the next. We just figured they were enjoying themselves. Like I said, they were supposed to be back in Roseburg last Saturday."

Okay, Tasket said. "I certainly understand your concern. First thing I’ll do is drive out to check those filling stations. I have an idea who they might have spoken with. And there is an old motel out on 168. That’s probably the direction they were headed. Right there on the north side of Last Chance Mountain."

Bo grimaced at the peak’s pessimistic moniker.

You folks staying in town?

For the time being, Bo replied. We’ll be over at the Best Western. You’ve got my cell number. You want Kelli’s?

He nodded and took it down, then stood and shook hands with each of them.

What does your gut tell you, Sheriff Tasket? Bo said. You’ve probably been through this dozens of times. What do your instincts say?

Tasket frowned. No two situations are ever the same, Mr. Benson. If I’ve learned anything in my thirty-two years in law enforcement, it’s that every case is unique. But I don’t think you folks should be too worried just yet. Let me poke around a bit, try to put something together.

Benson nodded, and they left the police station and drove back to the motel in silence.

TWO

March 03—A Dark Crossroads

Are you sure you want to do this, Phil?" she said. The twins had been restless for the last couple of hours, so they’d pulled into the deserted parking lot to stretch their legs. This not-so-little detour was taking a toll on all of them, and Wendy was on the verge of tears.

"Sweetie, we’re almost 300 miles off our route! If we want to keep our schedule, we have to do this! We don’t have a choice!" The frustration was plain in his voice, and he had to make an effort to keep from shouting.

But it’s…Jesus, Phil, it’s not even on the map! And I hate to break it to you, dear husband, but you’ve got your dad’s sense of direction. It’s a miracle we’ve made it this far without getting turned around, to be honest with you.

Phil shook his head, quietly seething. It was his fault, but still—the words stung.

I’m sorry, honey, Wendy said, wrapping her arms around him. "That wasn’t called for. I’ve…I’ve just got a really bad feeling about this."

Phil rifled a hand through his hair, taking stock of their situation. It was damned cold out, even after they’d dropped down a few thousand feet in elevation. The twins carefully picked their way across the gravel lot, studying the skeletal remains of a decrepit motel. The minivan (his buddy Craig had recently christened it Roseburg’s finest mommy missile) sat in the dim orange light of a solitary streetlamp.

He reviewed their options: two pothole-strewn roads connected at a right angle. Two lonely roads, converging at a crossroads on the side of a frozen mountain in the middle of nowhere.

Dark highways up here, Phil Benson thought. Some mighty dark roads indeed.

The headlamps pointed down a route that they simply could not locate on any of the maps in the atlas, or on the little folding map of California that they’d purchased in Crescent City. It cut a path toward a bowl of majestic peaks, the route climbing gradually higher toward a distant pass.

"It might not be on the map, Wendy, but that’s south! It just…it’s south, honey! Look, I’m sorry that I didn’t call ahead about that road outside of Tahoe. I didn’t even know that I was supposed to. You live and learn, right? I mean, you think I wanted any of this to happen? I just—I didn’t know, okay?"

I understand that, Phil, Wendy said. She wrapped her arms around him again and hugged him hard, rubbing his back. Of course I know that. It’s just…well, first I wished that we’d just changed our plans and stayed the night in Tahoe. Then I wished we’d stayed the night in Bishop. Then I’d even hoped we’d take a room at that creepy old motel outside of Deep Springs. Now…now I’m getting a little bit freaked out here. We’re in a tough spot, Phil. It feels serious to me. And this road…it’s not safe. Who knows where it leads?

He kissed the top of her head. Listen, we have almost a full tank of gas. If need be, I’ll just drive straight through the night. We still want three full days at the Grand Canyon, right?

She nodded, but there wasn’t much conviction in it.

Then this is our best bet. It’s got to be a shortcut, and who knows—maybe we’ll find a cute little town just over the next hill!

She smirked. Her husband, the eternal optimist.

Fine. You win, Phil, but don’t you dare wake me up if I fall asleep. I don’t want to hear it if—

She was interrupted by a shriek, and then they were both running.

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! Carrie screamed. Camille was jumping up and down, pointing at something in the darkness.

Girls! Girls, what is it! Phil called. He reached them first, frantically checking to make sure that they were unhurt.

It’s huge! Camille said. Dad, look!

He squinted into the night. A full, bright moon illuminated the white tips of the Sierra Nevada. A dilapidated roadside billboard advertising a car dealership (Bill Carmichael Dodge—Where WE Treat YOU Like A Million Bucks!) stood about fifty yards in the distance, the shredded canvas flapping in the wind. He studied it, heart hammering in his chest.

What am I looking at, Camille? That old sign?

Just wait, she whispered. You’ll see.

Wendy caught up to them. Kids, what—

Shhhhh! the girls hissed in unison.

The four of them stood silently, watching the billboard, their breath steaming on the night air. A moment later, an ostrich strutted out from behind the billboard. Its neck bobbed comically as it walked. It turned and stared at them, clearly equal to their curiosity.

Well, I’ll be, Phil whispered. That’s an ostrich!

Duh! Carrie said. But what’s it doing all the way out here?

Must be a ranch close by, Phil said. They got ‘em all over the place in California, I think. Ostrich and llama ranches—all kinds of exotic animals.

The bird watched them a moment longer before losing interest. It turned and strolled in the opposite direction, disappearing in the darkness.

Well, that settles it, Phil said. "We should definitely take the shortcut."

What on earth do you mean, Phil? Wendy said.

Isn’t it obvious? We saw an ostrich! That has to be good luck, right? Somewhere? He shrugged, grinning.

Wendy just shook her head in disbelief and the girls laughed at their dad. The tension had vanished and they climbed back into the mommy missile and swung out onto that dark highway.

Wendy pulled her iPad from the center console.

What are you up to? Phil said.

Oh, nothing much, Wendy replied. Just informing the world that my husband is driving our family straight into the abyss.

There was humor in her tone but, as she typed out the message on her Facebook page, she couldn’t discount the anxiety that was mounting, like August thunderheads over the Rogue River, in the back of her mind.

THREE

Tasket parked behind the Conoco station. A little convenience store sat in the center of sixteen gas pumps. A faded tin sign flapped in the breeze on the side of Highway 6.

LAST GASOLINE FOR 128 MILES

Hello there, Billy? You in today? Tasket called, stepping inside. He removed his hat. The place smelled of disinfectant and fried food.

A thin man stepped out of a back office and met him at the counter. Sheriff, he said, extending his hand. What’s on your mind?

They shook and Tasket displayed a family photograph of the Bensons. In it, they were standing in front of an enormous Sitka spruce, a little plaque in the ground at their feet. The picture had been taken someplace near their home in Oregon. Recognize these folks?

I do, Billy Carden said immediately. They filled up a few weeks back. Darned nice people. Oregon plates, if I’m not mistaken. I told them about the Vagabond—thought Merle could use some business, but that man, he tapped Phil’s image on the photograph, was adamant about pushing as far into Nevada as he could get. Fella had a schedule to keep.

Tasket nodded. Don’t they all? Did anything…anything seem strange to you? Any…tension between him and the missus? Kids look okay?

Right as rain, Sheriff. They bought some snacks, topped off the tank and lit out for the big six-eight. What happened?

Can’t say for sure. Why didn’t you tell them to take Highway 6, Billy? You know how 168 can be this time of year.

Oh, I tried! I worked that angle from the very start, Sheriff. Fella wasn’t having it. He insisted they take the shortcut. I told him it was a tough road, but then I remembered ol’ Merle’s place. I mentioned it, and he agreed that they’d take a room. That made me feel better. I slept fine, supposing I’d done Merle a good turn and that the family would be well shut of the weather.

Fair enough, then. Guess I’m off to Merle’s. Tasket clapped his hat on. Anything else you might have noticed about them?

Billy shrugged. Real nice folks, Sheriff. Beautiful little girls. I hope everything’s okay.

Me too, Billy. Me too. Have a nice day, now.

~0~

The Vagabond was less than a mile outside of Deep Springs—the last refuge on the way down the far side of the mountain.

Tasket took it slow, the slush forming twin geysers beneath the studded tires of his cruiser. If the Bensons had been stranded up here since the 19th, then they’d seen fourteen inches of new snow in eight days. The temperatures had dipped down into the single digits every night during that stretch of cold.

He pulled into the parking lot. There were fourteen rooms—one long, single wing of cabins with a little office near the entrance. Merle Bonner hadn’t changed the sign—it still advertised both color television and HBO in every room—since purchasing the place as a retirement investment about five years back.

Aside from Bonner’s old F150, the lot was empty.

Tasket stepped inside and Bonner met him at the desk. They exchanged pleasantries and Tasket showed him the photograph.

Naw, Bonner replied with a shake of his head. He showed the sheriff the registration book. I’ve had just six bookings since the nineteenth. Not exactly berry-picking season up here in the High Sierra, Sheriff. He wore a cheerless grin, a pinch of tobacco nestled in his cheek.

Oh, I know it, Tasket sighed. He slipped the picture back into his shirt pocket. But these folks haven’t made so much as a peep in about a week. Family’s pretty worried about ‘em.

Bonner winced. Damn. Been mighty cold, too. You, uh…you pulling a team together?

Tasket scratched behind his right ear. Not just yet, Merle. You in if I do?

Of course, Bonner replied. You can count on me, Sheriff. Just hope we don’t have a replay of last year.

You and me both, Tasket replied, grimacing at the memory of what had happened to the Ansons. They’d made a wrong turn onto a BLM road and simply run out of gas. Crews hadn’t found them until the spring thaw—Seth and Jenny Anson, and little Ryan and Carlie, too. You and me both, Merle. Have a good day.

You too, Sheriff. Be well, now.

FOUR

He played the events of the afternoon over again in his mind as the van devoured pavement.

They’d arrived at the shuttered road shortly before 4:00 p.m. The sun was maybe an hour from calling it a day, and the sinking feeling Phil experienced had just been brutal.

They’d been planning this vacation for months! How could this happen?

His eyes flashed to the rearview. The girls, all three of them, had secured pillows from the back. They were bedding down for the night, and who could blame them? It was creeping up on 10:00.

Carrie snored a little, her mouth open on the pillow. It was reassuring, and it made him happy.

Wendy also slept, but he could tell that Camille was still awake. She reclined against her pillow, intently watching the countryside flash by outside her window.

She noticed her dad and smiled. Hi pop, she said, her voice low.

Hey yourself, Cammie. Pretty peaceful out there, isn’t it?

She nodded, yawned, and turned back to the window. Oh, Dad! Wow! Did you see that? She sat up. "Look, Dad! It’s…it’s beautiful!"

He craned his head out over the dashboard and looked up at the sky. By God, there was a meteor shower! He slowed, scanning the road for a shoulder. After a time he found a turnout.

Grab your blanket, he said. I’ll get the chairs.

He set up a pair of folding canvas chairs near the metal guardrail and they sat in silence, stunned by the beauty of the heavens above them. It was late and he felt a twinge of guilt at pulling over, but when would he have another chance to watch a meteor shower from atop the Sierra Nevada?

Silver dashes scored the indigo night, expiring in the void. It was stunning.

Look at that, Cammie, Phil said. He pointed toward the horizon. Isn’t that strange?

What is it? she said. A faint light formed an emerald haze there.

Must be the aurora borealis. I read that, on a clear night, you can see the lights as far south as Flagstaff.

It’s pretty, she replied. She took her father’s hand and they sat quietly, until first seconds and then minutes passed between streaks of light. The green haze was brighter now—more vibrant than before—and Phil felt a little unsettled that they were driving straight into it.

He studied his daughter. Her head lolled on her chest, and her grip on his hand had loosened. She snored a little, and he smiled. It really hadn’t been such a bad day after all. If he could get them into a motel in the next thirty minutes or so, he would. If not, they’d just travel through the night and he’d hand the wheel over to Wendy in the morning.

No harm, no foul.

C’mon, kiddo, he whispered. He picked her up, grunting beneath her weight. Jeez, the girls were growing up fast. He buckled her into her seat and covered her with a blanket.

It was 10:23 when he pulled back onto the gently descending road. He hummed a little tune beneath his breath, concentrating on his driving. A late-night talk show buzzed on the stereo.

And just what did you see, Mr. Jones?

It was just the craziest scene, Art. These lights…well, they were green and

Reviews for Cold on the Mountain

[igilbert-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Very unusual, entertaining supernatural thriller. I don't think I've ever read anything quite like it.

[tumbleweeds_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book was a surprise. I very rarely read or enjoy fantasy books, but the author sent this to me and requested a review, so I thought I would trudge through it and try to be as objective as possible. The only fantasy books that I've read and enjoyed in the past have been Stephen King's Dark Tower series, so I was setting the bar pretty high when I learned that this book was fantasy and not a straightforward thriller. To my surprise, I found myself staying very engaged with the story. Briefly, a young family is enroute from California to Las Vegas, and takes a shortcut that turns out to be a one-way street into the town of Adrienne. This town not found on any map, and Phil, Wendy and their two children soon discover that there is no way out - all roads lead back to town. They soon learn that the inhabitants of Adrienne are the dark souls of the world's most evil human beings that ever lived - a cauldron of negative energy. Dictators, killers, despots - once they die, they come to Adrienne. Every so often, "normals" like Phil and Wendy find themselves trapped as unwilling residents of the town. Nearly 1,000 "normals" are expected to live there, work, not make any trouble and, of course, not leave. Many of Adrienne's "normals" have been there for decades. Incentives for good behavior are occasionally offered, and bad behavior is dealt with harshly.The author knows how to tell a good story. The reader gets a good sense of place and, more importantly, really gets a good feel for the main characters. The ending is satisfying and ties up all the loose ends. Although it is fantasy, I found myself really engaged in the story as Adrienne seemed to take on a life of its own. I was also relieved to find that there were no space aliens, vampires, werewolves or zombies! Upon reflection, I think that this book is every bit as good as King's fantasy books. The writing is smooth, the plot is carefully woven and it's told very well. I am always happy when I read something outside of my usual genre and find it worthwhile - enough so that I feel comfortable recommending it to others and would buy another book in this genre by this author.

[erose207 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What an awesome idea. I really enjoyed reading this. I could really relate to some of the characters and their struggle to get out of Adrienne. This book is a real page turner. I couldn't put it down until I finished it.

[jimphillips8 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very well developed horror story with great characters and a very good ending. The plot was creative and draws the reader quickly into the story. Phil is a realistic character and easy to root for. I really liked this book and would highly recommend this to all teen to adult readers.

[lorettar-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Wow great supernatural thriller page turner, Read this in a couple of days. Unique story line and very creepy. It sure made me hope a place like Adrienne does not exist in our world! Chilling! And the ending.......that poor baby and his parents :( Please note: I received a free copy of this book in exchange for my honest review

[ozzieslim · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

“Cold on the Mountain” was a fun and freaky read! The premise is one that I think many readers will find immediately appealing: a shortcut through the Sierra Nevada Mountains on the border between Nevada and California is actually a portal to a very dark town called Adrienne. Why the darkness? The town is where serial killers and other famous murderers go when they die and where they wait for their lottery number to be called in order to be re-born and provide darkness to the world in order to balance the light.Many poor, unfortunate travelers are accidentally caught in the portal during the periods it opens to release dark energy and to restore normals who had previously gone missing. These normals have been kept in indentured servitude to the dark forces. They are there to provide labor and the occasional necessary sacrifice to denizens of Adrienne.This story centers on a family of four: Phil, his wife Wendy and their two daughters Cammie and Carrie. As they are caught in the portal, they must face the dangers inherent in living with people like John Wayne Gacy who runs the local hotel and Joseph Goebbels, the town’s current mayor. Along the way they meet Albert De Salvo a.k.a. the Boston Strangler who happens to be the landlord of another normal, Denny Wren, a San Francisco 49er also caught and who had been helping others acclimate during his two decade stay in Adrienne. An interesting cast of characters populating Adrienne provide an portrait of the town and there is some wonderful black and gallows humor. The people that have gone missing have not disappeared without notice however. There are many family members on the outside of the portal seeking resolution to the loss and hopefully recovery of the missing. This group is led by Bo, Phil’s brother and Bo’s wife Kelli. They are joined by Miriam who escaped from the portal and who had come to understand how it worked and had developed a technique to access it and the sheriff, of a skeptic of Miriam’s but willing to try anything to solve the large number of missing persons cases in what essentially amounts to the mirror town located outside of the portal, Bishop. All manner of events transpire to those on both sides of the portal. The grand finale takes place during the yearly opening of the portal where the lottery is drawn for both dark energies to be reborn and normals to re-enter Bishop. This is a thoroughly entertaining story. I was loath to put it down. I almost managed to read it in one sitting. I look forward to more stories by this author. A short book, but worthy of four stars!

[kmt01_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is a good dark fantasy novel. While on a trip to the Grand Canyon, Phil Benson and his family take a wrong turn and end up in Adrienne, a very dark, unusual town inhabited by al the evil souls of people who have lived in this world and those unfortunate people who ended up in Adrienne—and cannot leave. These wretched people have become “slaves” in this town. The story plot was interesting and a bit novel, but dark fantasies do not usually interest me, so I had difficulty getting into and reading this one. The author has made the tale interesting with characters the reader will not soon forget. There may be a higher idea behind this book, but I definitely did not see it as I read. In fact, I had difficulty, as I said, getting through it. The story was just too dark for me to enjoy. If you are into this sort of thing, this book will probably appeal to you. I received this from Library Thing to read and review.