Everything depended on this moment.
He wondered how far he was from the surface. He'd been swimming for so long, and he still wasn't there yet. How far...how far?
A sharp tingling sparked over his body, and he felt himself weaken, begin to succumb. Squinting upward, he saw only more blackness, a mercilessly dark infinity.
He was drowning! He was going to die.
It wasn't fair. He'd come so far.
He gave himself a final push, a last, angry jolt, and cursed the world for the millionth time. After all it had done to him, how dare it rob him of his last chance?
And then, he couldn't kick any more.
Full of rage, a hurricane rage, he stopped swimming.
Miraculously, he felt himself breaking the surface.
Shooting his head up and back, he choked, spat water from his lungs, gulped at the air. He slipped under again, but wouldn't let it grab him this time, instead kicked and swept his arms so that he could regain the surface. Bolting his head upward once more, he coughed up water, gagged and spat and actually took in some air.
Snapping his eyes open, he gaped at what lay around him. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight to see the rippling surface of the lake, the tree-lined silhouette of the shore.
The shore was a long way off.
Still kicking and sweeping at the water, he managed to slowly turn around. Watching the shoreline, he saw it fold away in the distance, curl along the length of the lake. Turning, he followed the curve of the shore, watched it reach a final, far extension and roll back toward him. That tree-lined rim flexed away into a wide cove, then angled sharply inward, protruding into the lake before it swept off toward a distant dam. When he'd finished his rotation, he realized that the protrusion was the closest point to where he floated, and he started to swim toward it.
Though it was the closest point, it was still far away, and would take him a long time to reach. He was bolstered, however, strengthened with fresh, flaming resolve; he'd blown himself back from the brink of death, and he had so much to do, and he couldn't give up.
Freezing, aching, gagging, he dragged himself across the lake with long, painful strokes of his arms. As he crawled toward the shore, he felt jubilant, thrilled to have survived this latest misfortune.
And he felt excited, full of anticipation for his coming venture.
He reviewed his plans, all the places he had to visit...
...all the things he had to do...
...all the people he had to kill.
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What happens next? Find out in Backtracker , a thriller now on sale
for your e-reader device !
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About the Author
Robert T. Jeschonek is an award-winning writer whose fiction, comics, essays, articles, and podcasts have been published around the world. DC Comics, Simon & Schuster, and DAW have published his work. According to Hugo and Nebula Award winner Mike Resnick, Robert "is a towering talent." Robert was nominated for the British Fantasy Award for his story, "Fear of Rain." His young adult urban fantasy novel, My Favorite Band Does Not Exist, is now available from Clarion Books/Houghton Mifflin Harcourt and was named one of Booklist âs Top Ten First Novels for Youth.
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E-books by Robert T. Jeschonek
Fantasy
6 Fantasy Stories
6 More Fantasy Stories
Blazing Bodices
Earthshaker â a novel
Girl Meets Mind Reader
Groupie Everlasting
Rose Head
The Genie's Secret
The Return of Alice
The Sword That Spoke
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Horror
Bloodliner â a novel
Diary of a Maggot
Dionysus Dying
Fear of Rain
Road Rage
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Humor (Adults Only)
Dicks â a novel
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Literary
6 Short Stories
Getting Higher
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Mystery and Crime
6 Crime Stories
Crimes in the Key of Murder
Dancing With Murder (a cozy mystery novel)
The First Detect-Eve
The Foolproof Cure for Cancer
Who Unkilled Johnny Murder?
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Science Fiction
6 Scifi Stories
6 More Scifi Stories
Give The Hippo What He Wants
My Cannibal Lover
Off The Face Of