Waking Lazarus
Authors: T. L. Hines
Tags: #Christian, #Supernatural, #Fiction, #Christian Fiction, #book, #Suspense, #Montana, #Thrillers, #Suspense Fiction, #General, #Religious, #Occult & Supernatural, #Mebook
Praise for
Waking Lazarus
‘‘This taut inspirational thriller will keep readers guessing. . . .’’
Library Journal
‘‘Readers who consider most faith thrillers too tame should find this satisfactorily chilling.’’
Publishers Weekly
‘‘This book is compelling as well as spell-binding . . . an excellent murder-mystery . . .’’
Alan Paul Curtis
,
Who-Dunnit.com
‘‘From the opening sentence, Hines delivers.
Waking Lazarus
is a twisting, thrilling, and satisfying ride. With a deft hand, Hines weaves supernatural and human mysteries into a colorful tapestry. Keep an eye on this guy.’’
Scott Nicholson
, bestselling author of
The Farm
‘‘What’s better than a fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat, insanely original thriller with deep characters and lots of heart? One that’s well crafted by a true wordsmith and raconteur. That’s what you get with
Waking Lazarus
. It’s a riveting novel you won’t soon forget, and T. L. Hines is an enormous talent with a bright future.’’
Robert Liparulo
, author of
Comes a Horseman
and
Germ
‘‘
Waking Lazarus
provides the reader with a rare treat, a supernatural thriller managing to be spiritual, intelligent, and imaginative while consistently maintaining page-turning, heart-racing suspense.’’
William Hjortsberg
, author of
Falling Angel
‘‘
Waking Lazarus
is a thought-provoking seat-of-your-pants thriller of personal redemption; like Lazarus himself, this book rises to the occasion.’’
Craig Johnson
, author of
The Cold Dish
and
Death Without Company
‘‘T. L. Hines probes characters’ thoughts and motives to give readers a psychological thriller that is both suspense-filled and spiritually complex.’’
James BeauSeigneur
, author of T
HE
C
HRIST
C
LONE
T
RILOGY
‘‘T. L. Hines is a fresh voice in the field of suspense, balancing dark moods with moments of emotion and redemption. . . . With flawless pacing, Hines leads us to a final twist which is startling, yet satisfying.’’
Eric Wilson
, author of
Expiration Date
and
Dark to Mortal Eyes
‘‘Rarely anymore do I read something and immediately think . . . ‘I wish I’d written that.’ With
Waking Lazarus
the thought kept recurring constantly. . . . I had despaired of finding another suspense writer to love. Now I don’t have to.’’
Chandler McGrew
, author of
In Shadows
and
The Darkening
‘‘
Waking Lazarus
has it all! An exciting, intelligent plot with layers of meaning and truly unforgettable characters. Readers looking for a first-rate novel of suspense will want to put this tale at the top of their must-read list. No doubt about it—T. L. Hines is an author to watch!
Margaret Coel
,
NY Times
bestselling author of
The Drowning Man
and
Eye of the Wolf
‘‘
Waking Lazarus
is a spooky, creepy, engrossing supernatural suspense novel in the tradition of Frank Peretti, Bill Myers, and Brandilyn Collins. Don’t read this book late at night! Strongly recommended for the reader who thinks he can’t be scared.’’
Randy Ingermanson
, Christy-award winning author of
Double Vision
.
‘‘A good read for those who enjoy thought with their thrill. T. L. Hines handles his characters with confidence and compassion and invites readers to keep turning the pages through the twist at the very end.’’
Jill Morrow
, author of
Angel Caf
and
The Open Channel
W
AKING
L
AZARUS
Books by T.L. Hines
Waking Lazarus
The Dead Whisper On
T.L. HINES
W
AKING
L
AZARUS
Waking Lazarus
Copyright © 2006
T. L. Hines
Cover design by Gearbox Studios
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0344-2
ISBN-10: 0-7642-0344-4
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Hines, T. L.
Waking Lazarus / T. L. Hines.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-7642-0204-9 (alk. paper)
1. Supernatural—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3608.I5726W35 2006
813'.6—dc22
2006007776
To Nancy and Jillian,
for always believing.
Table of Contents
If any man walk in the day, he stumbleth not, because he seeth the light of this world. But if a man walk in the night, he stumbleth, because there is no light in him. These things said he: and after that he saith unto them, Our friend Lazar us sleepeth; but I go, that I may awake him out of sleep.
—John 11:9b–11
W
AKING
L
AZARUS
The first time Jude Allman died, he was eight years old.
It happened after a day of ice fishing with his father, William. Mid-January. Duck Lake. Twenty degrees above zero on the thermometer, and something far below that on the wind-chill scale. Jude sat on an overturned pickle bucket most of the day, occasionally threading a hook through fresh corn or salmon eggs before dropping his line into the inky hole at his feet. A few times, when he was impatient for a bite, he put his face over the hole and cupped his hands to peer at the watery world beneath. He saw a few sunfish, but no perch—none of the perch his father considered such ‘‘good eatin’.’’
‘‘Should be headin’ back,’’ William finally said. The comment startled Jude, partly because he himself had been ready to leave for hours, partly because it was only his father’s third sentence of the day. (The first two, respectively, had been ‘‘Ready to get goin’?’’ and ‘‘Hungry?’’) Jude slid off the bucket and reeled in his line. His hook had no salmon egg. Maybe an unseen good-eatin’ perch had nibbled it, or maybe the egg had shriveled and slid into the chilly water, resigning itself to fate.
They gathered their gear and started toward the pickup. Jude counted each footfall: from memory, he knew it would be 327 steps.
For several steps, all Jude could hear was the steady crunch of their boots, amplified into a hollow echo by the ice. Every so often, a forced cough from his dad, one of those quick huffs to clear the lungs. Jude stared down at his boots, watching as he continued to count.
Fifty-six,
fifty-seven, fifty-eight
. He lifted his gaze again to stare at William’s broad back, wishing he could match his father’s long, loping strides. It was 327 steps for him; how many would that be for his father?
Seventy-two, seventy-three, seventy-four
. He pictured his mother, waiting at home with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, maybe a cookie or two. Chocolate chip.
Eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty
—
For a moment, he felt as if he were on the roller coaster at the county fair as gravity’s pull licked at his stomach.
Instantly he knew what was happening. The lake was swallowing him, pulling him in, whispering his name.
He opened his mouth to call for his dad, to scream, to do anything, but the water was alive as it raced down his throat, and the bitter cold was a red starburst as he closed his eyes, and the world was a dark, fading memory as he felt himself sinking.
Sinking.
William heard a whisper, a sudden gust of wind, followed by something even more unsettling: silence. The steady
chunk-chunk-chunk
of Jude’s footsteps behind him had disappeared.
He turned, wondering why Jude hadn’t cried out if he had slipped on the ice.
Jude was gone. Only a dark patch of water, swirling like a drain. It was an auger hole (
Jude fell through
) left by previous fishermen (
Jude
fell through
), and it wasn’t possible, wasn’t possible at all for Jude to—
Jude fell through
.
Following this thought, another idea came to William, an unsavory idea he chewed on for a moment while looking at the black hole of water. He glanced at his old Ford pickup parked at the lake’s edge, his mind caressing the idea’s rough, brutal edges.
Then the liquid sucking sound of the hole at his feet pulled him out of the thought. Pulled him to his knees.
William plunged his arm deep into the gaping hole, and the frigid waters of the lake made him suck in a deep breath, a ragged gasp of protest from his sinew and muscles.
Images of his son began to haunt his mind. Jude’s thin body sliding through the ice. Jude’s mouth stretching into a small ‘o’ as the last gasp of air escaped his lungs. Jude’s limp body floating beneath the ice, forever out of reach just inches from his fingers.
