The Last Call

By Thomas Grant Bruso

An armed, violent man escapes jail and flees police in Talon County, Maine, where a widespread chase stretches from Bangor to Portland. A torrential rainstorm hits the coast of Maine in a fury of blackouts as police canvas the area for Brad Rayon, who terrorizes a small community, killing anybody who gets in his way.

Several break-ins, thefts, and arsons are reported in the area, but for Ash and his boyfriend Wally, it is a series of personal threats that heightens to life-threatening attacks. With Wally at work, Ash is alone when he hears the first of many strange noises outside his house. It starts with crank calls, a heavily obscured voice calling out his name on the other end. There are knocks at the front door. He hears footsteps in the house, somebody walking around, and a large shadow filling the corner of a room.

Ash’s past is riddled with abuse and violence, and he struggles to understand what’s real and imagined. Will Ash be the fugitive’s next victim, or is the ongoing trail of dead bodies a figment of Ash’s troubled imagination?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Dec 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781685505998

Thomas Grant Bruso

Thomas Grant Bruso graduated from SUNY Plattsburgh in 2004 with a Bachelor’s in theatre performance and English writing. He knew at an early age he wanted to be a writer. He has been a voracious reader of genre fiction since he was a kid. His literary inspirations are Dean Koontz, Karin Fossum, Jeffery Deaver, Joyce Carol Oates, and John Connolly. He loves animals, book-reading, writing fiction, and prefers Sudoku to crossword puzzles. He writes book reviews for his hometown newspaper, The Press Republican. He lives in Plattsburgh with his husband, Paul, and their miniature pincher diva, Riley. For more information, please visit facebook.com/thomasgrantbruso.

Book preview

The Last Call

By Thomas Grant Bruso

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2023 Thomas Grant Bruso

ISBN 9781685505998

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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To Paul, always.

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The Last Call

By Thomas Grant Bruso

Ring, ring.

Not again.

The third crank call that night, twenty minutes separating each one.

I stare over the back of the couch toward the jarring, penetrating sound blaring across the room, my head swimming from my four beers.

The fuzzy background noise from the TV exasperates the unpleasant threat in the room, the high-pitched trill of the landline.

I tense. My hands clutch the frilly borders of the decorative pillow wedged beneath my arm. Like staring through a keyhole gaping with a lusterless blackness, the jagged edges of my frayed nerves start to hum.

Rain pelts the windows behind the corner table where the constant, determined caller waits for me to answer.

A few minutes ago, I answered to an admonishing voice on the other line, breathing heavily into my ear, a female gasping in a pitiful and formidable release. Ash—

Hello? It sounds like she’s whispering my name again. Is somebody there?

The wrong number, someone with too much free time on her hands, playing a childhood phone tag game, an attention-seeker with a foul idea of a late-night joke. She is trying to be funny, though her rushed, dry, pornographic cat calls are nothing to laugh about.

The gall to call again. I stare at the rain-streaked window and the ancient phone sitting like a big red brick on the side table, bring-bring.

I uncurl my vise-like grip on the pillow and stand. My heart trips over fear and horror exploding inside my chest like the brewing Maine storm outside. My thoughts feel furry and disorienting from the excessive drinks. I rush across the hardwood floor of my empty house to the angry squawking in the corner of the room.

I glare at the phone as if stunned. Is this happening?

What do I say that I haven’t already said?

Stop calling.

You’ve got the wrong number.

Is this a joke?

Refueling the prankster’s ego to return the call, I grip the handset, ready to snatch up the receiver, and reiterate my frustrations to the unknown caller.

Hello?

A gurgle, like somebody’s drowning. Ash— Female and familiar. Help. Muffled, distorted. It comes out as Hellph.

Who is this? My voice is firm but scared. I am trembling.

Then, as if the line is severed, everything goes silent.

A dead hush.

Ice fills my veins.

My skin pricks.

Then a burst of noise, movement on the line: a shuffling sound as if somebody is being dragged.

Hello? Hello? I yell as an adrenaline dump of anxiety pumps through me.

A hankering to hang up and