Contents & Prologue: Sliding Beneath the Surface:

January 1, 2013 by Doug Dillon 636 0 0

Sliding - blog The St. Augustine Trilogy: Book I

Young adult, paranormal/historical

Prologue

PART ONE

The Awakening

1. Bad Dogs

2. Lobo

3. Weapons and Poltergeists

4. Rules

5. 28

6. Cat Got Your Tongue?

7. Worlds-within-Worlds-within-Worlds

8. Conjuring

9. Fog

10. Pine Sap

PART TWO

Overwhelmed

11. Flying

12. Pyramids

13. A Cloud of Vultures

14. Brightness and People

15. Lyle

16. Spitting Coffee

PART THREE

Forced to Understand

17. The Chase

18. Fighting the Problem

19. The Officer

20. Solidity

21. Doppelgangers

22. Little Switches

23. A Blood Connection

24. Pipelines

25. Muskets and Rifles

26. Begging for Help

PART FOUR

Plunging into the Unknown

27. Spiritual Insanity

28. Fear

29. Dead Kid Walking

30. Icy Coquina

31. A Big, Cold Drop of Water

32. Contact

33. Face-to-Face

34. A Slick Coating of Red

35. 2011?

36. Elizabeth

37. Crow Eyes

38. The Invitation

Author’s Notes

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Dedication

To all young people who find themselves in very confusing and difficult situations.

Prologue

St. Augustine, Florida

January 15

The thing is, I can’t get what happened a couple of weeks ago out of my head no matter how hard I try. Sometimes when those memories flood my brain, I even start sweating, and my hands shake. Like this morning when I went to Carla’s house so we could walk to the bus stop together. As soon as she opened the door, I had this flashback of how she looked on a day near the end of December—exhausted, dirty, pine needles in her hair, and blood all over her. Oh man, it gives me chills just saying those words. You see, we both came so close to …

Wait. Wait a minute. I’m moving too quickly here. Carla would say, “Jeff Golden, you’re always getting ahead of yourself.” She’d be right too, so let me back up here.

Look, it all began with a vivid nightmare I had for three nights in a row starting on Christmas Eve. I’m telling you, that nasty dream definitely freaked me out. After not sleeping well for three nights, my butt was really dragging. My head and even my eyes ached. It was December 27, a date that would have a lot of meaning for Carla and me, but we sure didn’t know it at the time. On that morning, while I made myself some breakfast, mom left for work early and in a rush as usual. I’d been up since 3:00 a.m. drinking coffee after nightmare number three so I wouldn’t have to go back to sleep. Did I tell mom about the dreams? No, no way. Why? What can I tell you? Let’s just say my mom’s focus hasn’t included me for a very long time, so why waste the effort?

Anyway, I finished my breakfast, ignored the housework I was supposed to do and instead watched a James Bond marathon on TV. It kept my mind busy, you know, not thinking about that dumb ass dream. Well, at least not as much.

Somewhere in the middle of Goldfinger, Carla called, inviting me to lunch. I almost didn’t go, knowing I wouldn’t be very good company. In the end, she talked me into it. Being with Carla while she had some extra time over her winter vacation and shoveling down one of her grandma’s great meals were too much to resist.

Oh, I forgot, you don’t know Carla. Well, Carla Rodriguez is fifteen, like me, and we both go to St. Augustine High. Unlike me, she’s one of the real academic types—Advanced Placement and all that stuff. She and her grandma keep pushing going to church with them, but I’m not religious. Even though we’re so very different in more ways than I can count, Carla and I are … well … pretty close, I guess you might say. I’m not talking about romance exactly, but because of what happened back in late December, we, ah, are connected in ways I could never have imagined before that time.

How did I meet Carla? Ha! Maybe I’ll tell you about it later. Kind of embarrassing, actually.

Soon after I arrived at her house for lunch, both she and Grandma figured out I wasn’t doing very well. It didn’t take a pair of geniuses to figure that out. I realized I must have looked and sounded like crap. Oh, I tried hard to appear alert and cheerful. So much for my ability to cover up how I’m feeling. I’m sure my jittery coffee nerves gave me away as much as anything else.

Right as I walked in the door, the questions started, but I refused to say anything at first. I mean, as I said before, I didn’t even want to think about what had been going on with me, no less talk about it. I did eventually tell them though—after lunch. Carla has this way of opening me up like nobody else can. Even so, took her a while.

When I finally explained the details of my wild, repeating nightmares, some of the same terror I felt at those times seeped back into my mind. You might think a stupid dream shouldn’t scare a big guy like me, but size has nothing to do with fear. After I finished giving them all the gory details, except for how much those dreams really scared me, Carla and Grandma didn’t say anything at first. Instead, they stared at each other for a few seconds. After Grandma nodded to her ever so slightly, Carla looked back at me and said, “Jeff, maybe we can get you some help. We have a friend, someone who understands, well, a lot about dreams and things like that. You should meet him and see what he can tell you.”

What she meant by “things like that,” I didn’t know, but thinking back, I was just too involved in my own thoughts to care. Oh, believe me, I eventually found out. After a half hour or so, those two ladies eventually did talk me into seeing this next door neighbor of theirs, a man named Lobo. Did I really want to go? No, but I was so tired, headachy, and still a little freaked out, I figured anything that might get me a night of good, undisturbed sleep was worth a try. Makes sense, right?

Tell you what. I had no idea how much I was letting myself in for. Really. But if I hadn’t gone to see old Lobo … Wait, wait. There I go again. All of this is too complicated for me to explain in a few words.

Listen. What happened after Carla and I walked over to Lobo’s place continued into that next morning of December 28. See why I can’t spit this out in a few short sentences? Besides, there’s so much more to all this than just the actual time involved. I mean, in less than twenty-four hours things went on that, when I look back on them, feel like they took days or even weeks.

I know, I know. What I’ve said to you so far probably sounds crazy, but hang in there with me, and I’ll tell you everything I can remember.

Trilogy Graphic - blog For a brief description of The St. Augustine Trilogy, click here.