WHAT WAITS THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR A REIDY CHRONICLES BITE

WHAT WAITS THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR A REIDY CHRONICLES BITE JUDE MICHAEL CONNORS Published by Libbaeus Publishing, LLC at Smashwords Tucson, Arizona This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013 by Jude Michael Connors Cover design by Jude Michael Connors ISBN 978-0-9882702-2-0 www.judespage.com DEDICATION To my godson, Sean, my zombie expert. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Special thanks to Jennifer Connors, Darren Connors, and John Steele Urban. WHAT WAITS THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR Nightfall offered no respite from the sweltering heat. The sun had baked the concrete and asphalt all day long turning the city into a giant oven. The heat radiated from the ground and buildings. Making matters worse for Tom Reidy was the fact that the A/C in his car had gone on the fritz just as he had started the engine that night. If he even bothered turning the damn thing on, all it would do was blow hot air through the cab of the car. Surveillance details were never fun. Having no A/C in Phoenix in the middle of the summer made it virtually unbearable. Attempting to ignore the oppressive heat striving to cook him from the inside out, Reidy scanned the sidewalks on either side of the street. Nothing looked out of the ordinary—just some homeless people lying on their cardboard beds and a pair of drug dealers trying to peddle their wares. He steered the car around the corner as a tube-top and micro-skirt clad prostitute waved at him. It was understandable that the hooker—who may or may not have been a woman—thought Reidy was an interested john working up the courage to pick them up. This was the fifth time in two hours Reidy had driven by her corner after all. Reidy was working. As a member of the Order of St. George, a clandestine organization working for the Vatican, Reidy was on the lookout for something far more nefarious than whatever STD the prostitute may have offered. He drove through this less than reputable part of the city searching for a potential monster that was ... - tailieumienphi.vn