The Survivor

The Survivor

James Herbert

Language: English

Pages: 263

ISBN: 0330376160

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

It had been one of the worst crashes in airline history, with over 300 dead and only one survivor. Now the dead were buried and the town of Eton tried to forget. But Keller, the survivor, wanted to know what unseen forces had left him still alive.





















behind him, he looked across at the field and the distant wreckage of the 747. His tall, gaunt frame shivered involuntarily at the bleak sight; the sooner these last remains – this fearful memorial – were removed, the sooner the people of his town could return to their normal lives. The wreckage still served as a macabre shrine for the morbid pilgrimages of sightseers who flocked to the town, curious only about the disaster, hardly interested in the ancient town itself. It upset the townspeople,

They were crossing the old iron bridge now. ‘What do you mean when you say he hasn’t recovered properly yet?’ Keller asked. ‘Is he unconscious?’ ‘No!’ Tewson paused. ‘Apparently he’s still gibbering like a madman.’ Keller stopped to gaze down at the water. ‘And now, those two people falling – or jumping – from the window. And you don’t think there’s anything odd happening?’ ‘Of course there’s something odd happening! Christ, I’d be a fool to say there wasn’t! But I put it down to a sort of

dangling loosely on the ground, held by a limp arm. Filled with grief he stepped forward towards her, both arms raised compassionately. ‘Let me help you, child,’ he said pityingly. But something else moved from out of the shadows before he reached her. Something blackened; something that chuckled hideously. The sickening smell of burnt flesh now filled his nostrils, and he stopped dead in his tracks, his arms still held outstretched. He looked into that same charred face, those same blackened

taken from the pressure altimeter dials; and the time in seconds, not related to the time of day on a clock. This was all graphed and then compared with a chart of another 747 that had taken off in similar conditions – time, weather, load, that sort of thing – a few days before. From that, we learnt everything had been normal except for one detail: the HDG – the magnetic heading – had begun to differ from the other 747’s before it had even reached cruising speed. In other words, Captain Rogan had

against his hypnotic evil (a Saint Christopher medal would do if you didn’t own a cross). The older boys had scoffed at the juniors and the ‘Pop’ had reprimanded all of them for spreading such silly gossip. But to the three fifteen-year-olds, Spelling, Greene and Clemens, who shared the same room in their particular Oppidan house, the stories were too gruesomely enjoyable to let die so soon. And they provided an excellent chance to use the keys to the chapel. They weren’t the real keys, of

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