As an Amazon Associate we earn from qualifying purchases.

Lab Rat

by Nephy Hart , Cheryl Headford

Lab Rat - Cheryl Headford
Editions:Kindle - Third Edition: $ 3.24
ISBN: 978-1-4874-1975-2
Pages: 289

You can run, but sometimes the farther you go the closer you are to where you started.

Gabriel’s life ground to a halt some time ago, but he’s still running—from his past, his family, and now the new man in his life. A man who just won’t get the message that Gabriel isn’t interested in love anymore.

Laurie won’t give up on the beautiful man who is broken and intent on running away. Even though he doesn’t know what Gabriel is running from, he’s determined to be at his side no matter what.

When Gabriel’s past finally catches up, they both stop running and find themselves plunged into something Laurie could not have dreamed of, and Gabriel never stopped having nightmares about.

Reader Advisory: This book contains a scene of attempted suicide.

Published:
Publisher: Extasy Books
Editors:
Genres:
Tags:
Tropes: Hunted, Mad Scientist, Person in Distress, Psionic Powers
Word Count: 94634
Setting: Contemporary United Kingdom
Excerpt:

When things start coming back, they’re…strange. I can tell instantly, even before I’m aware of my surroundings, that something’s not right. For one thing, there are voices, and I know they’re not in the room with me.

We’ve located the last one. There was a discharge of energy that should have torn him apart, but it’s been shielding him, so he must still be alive. I didn’t think any of them were capable of that. We still can’t locate him through usual means, but a discharge like that should have killed him, so it’s bound to have done some damage. We’ve been monitoring hospitals in the area. The shield was very effective in…unusual ways. We’ve only just received the intelligence. There’s a car on the way. He must be neutralised, or he will present a danger to us all.

READ MORE

Shit. I expand my awareness, not failing to recognise how easy and effective it is now. I feel Laurie close by. Then, as I widen the scope, I sense lots of people, strangers. No, no, no. I sit bolt upright and get a startled exclamation from Laurie.

“What the fuck, Laurie? I told you… I told you not to bring me here. Fuck, Laurie.”

“Calm down. What do you expect? We’ve all been scared stiff. You’ve been out for more than two days.”

“Fuck. But I have to get out of here.”

Panic screams through every fibre of my being, and I’m half out of the bed before Laurie pushes me back.

“Whoa, Gabriel. You can’t wake up from being unconscious for almost three days and walk straight out of here. You can't.”

“Like fuck, I can’t! Laurie…you don’t understand. I’m in danger. It’s not safe here. It’s not safe.”

“Of course, it’s safe, Gabriel. It’s a hospital.”

I try to calm down, but it’s not easy. The panic is swamping me, consuming me. “Nowhere’s safe. Here least of all. They’re coming. They know where I am. I have to get out of here.”

“Who’s coming? Who do you think is after you?”

“Not think. They’re coming, Laurie, coming now. Please. I have to. I have to get out of here right now.”

My head’s killing me, and I can’t shut out the voices. They won’t go away now. If I concentrate, I can understand what they’re saying. If I don’t, they slide into the background, but they’re like an itch I can’t scratch, a background fizz that’s always there, and it makes my head hurt.

“Look. I don’t know what’s going on, but you can’t just walk out of a hospital after being unconscious all this time.”

“Watch me,” I grind out, glaring at him.

“You’re naked,” he says softly.

“Shit.”

Laurie presses gently against my shoulder, pushing me back. “Listen. I don’t pretend to know what’s going on here, but that night, the night you kissed me… Something…something happened. The world…changed. Because of that, I’m prepared to believe there’s something bizarre going on. But you still can’t walk out of here. You need to find out what’s wrong with you. Before—”

“I know what’s wrong with me.” I can’t look at him. I know he doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m acting stubborn. There’s an internal battle going on between the part of me that’s begging me to trust him and the part that’s screaming run, run, run.

COLLAPSE

About the Authors

Nephy Hart

Cheryl/Nephy was born into a poor mining family in the South Wales Valleys. Until she was 16, the toilet was at the bottom of the garden and the bath hung on the wall. Her refrigerator was a stone slab in the pantry and there was a black lead fireplace in the kitchen. They look lovely in a museum but aren’t so much fun to clean.

Cheryl/Nephy has always been a storyteller. As a child, she’d make up stories for her nieces, nephews and cousin and they’d explore the imaginary worlds she created, in play.

Later in life, Cheryl/Nephy became the storyteller for a re enactment group who travelled widely, giving a taste of life in the Iron Age. As well as having an opportunity to run around hitting people with a sword, she had an opportunity to tell stories of all kinds, sometimes of her own making, to all kinds of people. The criticism was sometimes harsh, especially from the children, but the reward enormous.

It was here she began to appreciate the power of stories and the primal need to hear them. In ancient times, the wandering bard was the only source of news, and the storyteller the heart of the village, keeping the lore and the magic alive. Although much of the magic has been lost, the stories still provide a link to the part of us that still wants to believe that it’s still there, somewhere.

In present times, Cheryl/Nephy lives in a terraced house in the valleys with her son, dog, bearded dragon and three cats. Her daughter has deserted her for the big city, but they’re still close. She’s never been happier since she was made redundant and is able to devote herself entirely to her twin loves of writing and art, with a healthy smattering of magic and mayhem


Cheryl Headford

Cheryl/Nephy was born into a poor mining family in the South Wales Valleys. Until she was 16, the toilet was at the bottom of the garden and the bath hung on the wall. Her refrigerator was a stone slab in the pantry and there was a black lead fireplace in the kitchen. They look lovely in a museum but aren’t so much fun to clean.

Cheryl/Nephy has always been a storyteller. As a child, she’d make up stories for her nieces, nephews and cousin and they’d explore the imaginary worlds she created, in play.

Later in life, Cheryl/Nephy became the storyteller for a re enactment group who travelled widely, giving a taste of life in the Iron Age. As well as having an opportunity to run around hitting people with a sword, she had an opportunity to tell stories of all kinds, sometimes of her own making, to all kinds of people. The criticism was sometimes harsh, especially from the children, but the reward enormous.

It was here she began to appreciate the power of stories and the primal need to hear them. In ancient times, the wandering bard was the only source of news, and the storyteller the heart of the village, keeping the lore and the magic alive. Although much of the magic has been lost, the stories still provide a link to the part of us that still wants to believe that it’s still there, somewhere.

Cheryl/Nephy particularly likes to write about faraway places that don't exist - or do they - and to bring elements of fantasy and sci fi into our world. From ad scientists who want to create superhumans, to fairies at the bottom of the garden, she explores the strange and the silly.

In present times, Cheryl/Nephy lives in a terraced house in the valleys with her son, dog, bearded dragon and two cats. Her daughter has deserted her for the big city, but they’re still close. She’s never been happier since she was made redundant and is able to devote herself entirely to her twin loves of writing and art, with a healthy smattering of magic and mayhem