Blood Quest

By James Donaldson

After a series of weird and seemingly random events, Nash recognizes he’s smack dab in the center of a deadly conspiracy only he’s aware of. To make matters worse, he only has two days to stop a diabolical plot to control the very future of America!

Nash hoped his current freelance security job would provide him with some much needed time to relax, but that quickly changed when he woke up unable to remember most of the past month. Mysterious women, secret messages and an assassination attempt clue Nash into realizing he’s entangled in a supernatural plot already approaching the final stage. Nash has no choice but to find those responsible for his memory loss and stop them before they control the very seat of American power!

Blood Quest is a fantastical, action adventure thriller. It’s “a race-against-time mystery that entertains the reader long after the book is finished.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Donaldson
• Release date: Dec 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370263455

James Donaldson

James Donaldson, independent author and disabled veteran, is realizing his lifelong dream of writing speculative fiction. James’ writing philosophy revolves around “...eldritch styled adventure stories I’d enjoy reading.”James Donaldson is a former police officer and decorated combat veteran. He currently lives in Utah with his family and works in the national security field.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Salt Lake Valley, Utah

168 days before the Incident

I don’t want to die.

Tom’s final desire went ignored by the universe. Nothing could stop him from going over to the other side.

Thirty minutes before his demise, Tom finished alerting the authorities of his suspicions. Stumbling upon the data breaches had been purely accidental. Reporting them, however, made the self-described watchdog feel heroic. Knowing communications at the Center could be monitored in real-time, Tom waited until he arrived home to place the anonymous email. Using a dummy account and routing his Internet traffic through various Virtual Private Networks, Tom electronically delivered the conclusions to his amateur investigation. Tom clicked SEND, logged off his laptop and unplugged it from the wall. Smiling, Tom envisioned the wheels of justice about to be set into motion. Maybe he’ll step forward as the whistleblower once the truth comes out. He’d enjoy being recognized as a patriot. Exceedingly pleased with himself, the engineer decided he deserved a few cheat day treats as a reward for his efforts.

Tom never had the chance to enjoy them.

With a deafening crash, the front door to Tom’s home, designed more for aesthetics than actual security, exploded open. In its place, a deluge of people shouldered past each other as they attempted to storm into the residence. Tom stood in his kitchen dumbfounded; his mind unable to process the rapidly unfolding events. Seconds after breaking in, the wave of people reached the stunned homeowner. Despite barely being able to see their faces, Tom recognized the first intruder as his neighbor. Before he could react, Tom’s friend of the past two years violently seized him around the shoulders. A second set of arms wrapped around his midsection. Tom stumbled into his living room as more and more people grabbed him. The combined weight of the home invaders, amplified by his backward momentum, caused the thirty-three-year-old man to crash through his oversized picture window.

Tom’s bushes prevented the wind from being knocked out of him. The trespassers responsible for his fall remained inside. Oddly, they still reached for him through the broken window. Ignoring the numerous lacerations he undoubtedly suffered, Tom stood, astounded at what lay before him. His front yard reminded him of a scene from a low-budget zombie thriller. Nearby streetlights silhouetted the mass of people, in various states of dress, running towards him. The dim light cast long, eerie shadows across the grass. Everyone Tom saw, old, young, male and female, had their arms weirdly outstretched. Neighbors or not, Tom realized the danger of staying put. His primal survival instincts switched from freeze, straight past fight and settled on flight. Tom ran as if his life depended upon it.

Leaping over rows of hedge bushes and sprinting across numerous lawns, Tom weaved through the assembled mob. Several fences caused him to adjust from traversing backyards to running down the oddly deserted streets. As Tom tried to escape from his pursuers, his peripheral vision detected front doors bursting open as Tom passed each home, the occupants joining the ever-increasing multitudes chasing him.

This isn’t happening! This can’t be real! Tom thought.

As the bizarre group pursuing him continued to grow in size, Tom frantically tried to make sense of the last few minutes. With Halloween a week away, Tom considered, but immediately dismissed, the notion of an elaborate prank. Involuntarily slowing, Tom chastised himself for his sedentary lifestyle. As he further reduced his speed to a jog, Tom began to contemplate the likelihood of some sort of mass psychosis. Tom also dismissed this idea as he ran.

The crowd behind him maintained their pursuit, but surprisingly didn’t draw any closer.

Approaching an intersection, Tom spied additional groups of people on the streets ahead, their faces hidden in the shadows. One mob assembled on the street to his left and the second blocked the road ahead. The new arrivals, shoulder to shoulder, spanned the entire width of the roads. Exactly as did his pursuers, they had their arms outstretched in front of them. Tom naturally turned right, the only street not occupied by crazed people.

Fast approaching exhaustion, Tom slowed to a walk as did his pursuers. Groups of people continued to form at each intersection before Tom arrived, constantly leaving a single street open as an escape route.

Slowing his walk even further, Tom took the time to look around at his beloved neighborhood, knowing no matter what else occurred tonight, he could no longer live here. Tom became nostalgic for the meticulously maintained parks and the beautifully crafted homes. Tom treasured his life here and the thought of never experiencing the overwhelming sensations of tranquility of this town again filled him with dismay. Snapping out of his melancholy, Tom noticed the doors no longer opened as he passed each house and he eventually realized everyone in town had already joined the chase by now.

The smell of burning charcoal from an abandoned grill found Tom’s nostrils as he turned onto East Karri Court. The vast multitude of followers changed tactics and instead of pursuing, now maneuvered around Tom, forcing him to stop. The mob blocked the streets, alleyways and nearby homes. After encircling Tom, the hordes of people stood silently, ten to twenty deep, shoulder to shoulder. The only direction not obstructed by outstretched arms, led to a large, Colonial-style home.

What do you want? Tom screamed at the crowd. Why’re you doing this?

No one answered.

The exhausted man put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Tom suspected he’d never been on this street before. Even if he had, Tom doubted he would’ve remembered the lone house sitting unobstructed before him. The large, methodically constructed home, while exceptional in its own way, still resembled many of the other residences in the upscale neighborhood.

Two picture windows lined either side of the oak front door. Oversized pillars upheld the extended balcony directly over the entrance. Large windows and twin sets of glass double doors on the second-story terrace, same as the windows on the first story, revealed nothing but darkness inside the home. Freshly trimmed bushes and a well-manicured lawn, in keeping with the custom of the surrounding homes, embellished the exterior. Unlike the neighboring houses, however, no fashionable outdoor furniture or expensive potted plants adorned the upper or lower patios.

Look, I won’t tell anyone! Is this about the email? I’ll tell them it was a joke! Tom yelled, attempting to bargain with the enigmatic crowd. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this!

Silence answered him.

I don’t deserve this. I only did what I had to. I can’t believe this’s happening to me.

As Tom’s depression deepened, the bewitched residents surrounding him lowered their arms in unison. Tom, caught off guard by their unexpected and synchronized movement, didn’t notice the front door to the house open.

Physically and mentally drained, Tom closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate. Tom lied to himself earlier; he didn’t feel heroic anymore and he sure didn’t want any recognition. Wishing he hadn’t sent an email to the authorities, the defeated man mentally surrendered to his inevitable fate.

An unmistakably feminine voice emerged from the house, Welcome.

A woman appeared in the doorway. Tom felt a strange sense of peace as he watched her slowly approach. All other thoughts vanished from his mind as Tom drank in the woman’s mesmerizing appearance. The woman wore a sleek, pure white robe, the low-cut neckline revealed a large golden pendant around her neck.

Coming face to face with the captivated man, the stunning woman stood motionless for several heartbeats. Behind Tom, unseen hands gently fell on his shoulders and guided him down. Tom obediently kneeled, entirely transfixed by the woman looming over him.

The woman’s hands appeared from within the folds of her robe. Gently, the beautiful woman placed one hand on the back of Tom’s head. Her second hand covered his mouth. Time lost its meaning as the woman held his head in her soft hands.

Tom’s hypnotic trance broke as a light rain began to fall. The woman in white released his head; her arms once more disappearing within her robe.

The dazed residents encircling Tom stumbled away, presumably returning to their own homes. Although no longer surrounded, Tom never entertained the idea of leaving the woman’s presence. After verifying everyone else had departed, Tom gazed longingly at the anonymous woman. Tilting her head, she smiled affectionately at him. Tom experienced an intense sensation of serenity.

Then the pain began.

Seconds into the horrendous torment, Tom longed for the sweet release of death. At no time before in his life had Tom ever wished to die, but the government engineer experienced a desperate desire to stop the indescribable pain in his head. Tortured beyond anything he could have imagined, Tom fell to the ground and curled in agony. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tom knew pain of this magnitude should cause him to lose consciousness, but he never did. A red hot light flashed before Tom’s eyes as his hands clawed at his face. After untold minutes of intense pain, merciful death drew near. Tom’s innate survival instinct kicked in moments before he slipped into oblivion…

I don’t want to die.

At exactly 8:47 PM MST on October 24th, 2012, the man previously known as Tom Allred, perished; his body lay motionless in the middle of the road.

Still smiling, the white-robed woman withdrew into her elegant home, closing the front door and turning off the porchlight.

Outside, dark clouds obscured the scant light provided by the moon. Black, antique gas lamp styled streetlights began dimming, one by one, until darkness enveloped the entire town of Dayspring Utah.

An unseasonably warm rain fell in earnest, washing away the unholy events of the night.

ONE

Waking in a cold sweat, I sat and stared at my smartphone in disbelief.

09:55

Tuesday, April 9

That can’t be right? I thought.

I grabbed my Breitling Avenger II Seawolf dive watch from the bedside table, the small date aperture displayed a 9. Panicked, I ran into the living room, turned on the television and clicked to the program guide. There, in the top right corner, I saw the same date.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

What’s going on?

I distinctly remember going to bed on a Friday at the beginning of March, but now I’m waking up on a Tuesday at the beginning of April, approximately a month later.

What the hell? How the hell?

Nothing made any sense. I felt my heart beating in my chest.

Stop. Think it through.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear the haze. It didn’t work. Next, I took several slow, deep breaths, Tactical Breathing they call it. The breathing exercise did the trick. Once I had calmed down, I focused on what I did know instead of what I didn’t. First off, I could hardly remember anything from any of the last month. The few memories I did have remained fuzzy.

Calm down, Nash.

There had to be a reason for this; I only had to work it through. I had no idea what happened. Did I hurt myself? I decided to do an internal cognitive exercise I’d learned years ago. Originally designed to assist military captives in resisting Enhanced Interrogation Techniques, I thought it might be useful to me in this situation. I simply did math in my head.

Two plus two is four. Four times four is sixteen. Sixteen minus seven is nine.

Satisfied my brain worked, I walked to the bathroom mirror and examined myself for any head injuries. Fortunately, I didn’t observe anything unusual.

There has to be a logical explanation for this.

Determined to solve the mystery, I walked downstairs and searched my personal belongings, along with the rest of the house, for answers. Again, I couldn’t locate anything out of the ordinary. During my search, however, I checked the garbage and noticed three empty wine bottles intermingled with other items normally found in household trash.

That’s what I get for drinking cheap wine. I thought.

Assuming my memory loss mystery partially solved, I made myself a pot of coffee in hopes my memory would return after I replenished my fluids. As I turned on the coffeemaker, I noticed an invitation, printed on expensive cardstock, under a magnet on the fridge.

ED AND LILLY BISHOP

CORDIALLY INVITE YOU TO

THE SEMI-ANNUAL DAYSPRING

FOUNDER'S CELEBRATION

9TH OF APRIL, 2013

7 PM SHARP

1001 NORTH CASS LANE

Today’s the ninth of April!

The invitation must be for Doctor Foley, I deduced. Fortunately, one of the memories I still had concerned whose house I’m in and why. I recalled how I’d been housesitting for Doctor Foley while he does some charity work overseas. I clearly remember a couple of months ago when Doctor Foley, a friend of a friend, insisted I take the job to get some much needed rest and relaxation after my last mission. Although I didn’t want to accept the invitation to housesit at first, I reconsidered, figuring an easy housesitting and basic home security improvements gig might have been precisely what the doctor ordered.

In addition to this memory, I also vaguely remembered arriving in Dayspring around a month ago, conducting my initial security assessment of the house and making some minor security improvements. After those scant memories, my recollection of the past month remained cloudy. Real cloudy. Finally, I also vaguely remember enjoying my peaceful housesitting assignment here in Dayspring Utah.

After pouring myself a fresh cup of coffee, I put on one of Doctor Foley’s robes and went outside to grab the mail, thinking some fresh air might also help restore my memory.

Standing on the front porch, I surveyed the upscale neighborhood around me. From the front porch of Doctor Foley’s house, I had a clear view of the mountains surrounding the Salt Lake Valley. All the nearby homes appeared to be well maintained and I appreciated the attention to detail evident in the well-planned community. Remembering how much I enjoyed it here, I wondered when the rest of my memory of the past month would return. As I stood on the porch, my mind wandered and I began daydreaming about how I might remain in town after my housesitting job. Maybe I could finally settle down and…

Double, double, toil and trouble! Fire burn and cauldron bubble!

I spilled coffee on myself as I quickly turned to see who startled me. Sitting in a rocking chair on the porch next door, I located the culprit, an elderly woman rocking back and forth and laughing to herself.

Get it together, Nash!

Usually not so easily frightened, I silently chastised myself for letting my thoughts drift. The temporary memory loss thing must have me on edge.

The aged woman mumbled something I couldn’t hear and continued with her poem, speaking to no one in particular, And now about the cauldron sing! Like elves and fairies in a ring…

From inside the older woman’s house, I heard a male voice yelling at her. The woman frowned, and with the help of her walker, she stood and made her way inside. Entering her house, I heard the woman say, By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes!

I shook off my aged neighbor’s ranting and walked to the mailbox to retrieve Doctor Foley’s mail. Perhaps my memory started to return because I did remember retrieving and sorting his mail each morning. As I approached the curb, I noticed an owl across the street, two doors down, intently watching me from atop a light blue house. Easily the largest owl I’d ever seen in the wild, I paused to admire the creature and how out of place it appeared in the daylight.

What a weird morning. No more wine for me.

After unlocking the communal mailbox, I retrieved the mail and returned to my house. Exceedingly hungry, I locked the front door behind me and threw the mail on the counter. Convinced more caffeine and some breakfast would definitely restore my memory, I opened the fridge and began to make myself a meal with the scant food I had left in the house. Thinking I’d have to go to the store later to restock the fridge, I cracked the last eggs in the house into a frying pan.

Pausing to let my breakfast cook, I began sorting the mail I’d collected into two piles, junk mail and mail to keep for Doctor Foley. Surprisingly, as I sorted the mail, I located an envelope addressed directly to me.

Who would send me a letter here?

I didn’t remember forwarding my mail to Doctor Foley’s residence or giving my temporary address out to anyone. Checking the back of the envelope, I couldn’t locate a return address. I also noticed my name and the delivery address appeared printed from a computer onto a sticky label.

Another mystery. I joked to myself as I opened the envelope, finding a handwritten note inside. My smile quickly disappeared as I read the single piece of paper.

Corsair Beware!

Evil roams the Highway!

Watch for the Code.

Change the Sea to Forest Harvests.

The Name of the Beast remains.

2 3 12 8 6 21 11 2 6 8 18 5 8 18 5

11 1 25 11 15 8 8 13 8 1 12 8 3 12

8 6 11 9 15 11 18 17 21

Standing up, I inadvertently knocked over my chair and stared incredulously at the letter in my