#BlogTour #Extract: Second Lives by P. D Cacek @PDCacek @flametreepress @annecater #SecondLives #RandomThingsTours

Good afternoon everyone and welcome to my spot on the blog tour for Second Lives by P. D Cacek today.

I have a great extract to share with you all but first here is a little bit about the book.

Book Synopsis:

When four patients unexpectedly wake after being declared dead, their families are ecstatic and the word “miracle” begins to be whispered throughout the hospital. But the jubilation is short lived when the patients don’t respond to their names and insist they are different people. It is suggested all four are suffering from fugue states until one of the doctors recognizes a name and verifies that he not only knew the girl but was there when she died in 1992. It soon becomes obvious that the bodies of the four patients are now inhabited by the souls of people long dead.

Second Lives is available in ebook and hardback now. You can purchase your copy using the link below.

Extract:

CHAPTER 18

Dr. Palmer cleared his throat. “Time of death 15:30. She’s gone, Danny, I’m sorry.”
Danny squeezed her hand and wondered if he was.
“I love you,” he whispered.
And it squeezed back.
Danny felt every muscle in his body tighten, trapping him inside his own skin as his throat struggled to expel an involuntary gasp. If he’d been able to move, he would have grabbed the closest doctor or nurse by the front of their scrubs and shouted, “She just moved. Did you see that? She just moved.”

But he knew that was impossible. Sara was dead, had been dead long before they turned off the machines. He knew that, so all he could do was stand there and watch her hand squeeze
his again.
It wasn’t possible, but this time one of the nurses saw it too.
“Oh my God. Doctor? I— She moved.”
[…]
Her mouth opened and a sound like sandpaper against tile came out. She touched the base of her throat and looked at the doctor. Hurts, she mouthed.
“I bet it does, you’ve been on a respirator for…quite some time. Nurse, could you give her a little water on a sponge, please?” The
nurse took something that looked like a small foam paintbrush from a cup of water and held it to Sara’s lips. She sucked greedily but still
winced when she swallowed. “Your throat will be sore for a couple of days, but we can give you an anesthetic spray to use. Would you
like more?”
Sara nodded and the nurse dipped the sponge brush again and held it until Sara finished. There seemed to be less pain when she swallowed.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he told her. “I never wanted any of this to happen.”
She looked at him without recognition, the room’s overhead light turning her clear green eyes hazel.
“Sara?”
Her eyes shifted from him to Dr. Palmer.
“How do you feel?”
“B-better,” she whispered and another cheer went up.
Dr. Palmer turned toward the door. “Okay, everyone, thank you for your support, but I think it’s time we let the new mother
get some rest.”
There was a low undertone of grumbling as the hallway slowly cleared of Sara’s admiring public.
“I…I don’t understand.” She spoke slowly, her voice so thick and husky Danny didn’t recognize it. “I’m…not a…mother.”
The room got very, very quiet.
“Ah,” Dr. Palmer said, “no, you probably wouldn’t remember that. You’ve been very sick for a very long time, Sara, but let me assure you, you are a mother and your little girl is perfect.”
Sara tried to sit up and cried out in pain. Danny forgot and touched her arm.
“No, honey, don’t, you’ll hurt yourself.”
She drew back in terror. “Don’t touch me! I don’t know you!”
“Sara?”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Her voice was little more than a raspy whisper, but there was something else in it.
Something Danny didn’t recognize. “My name is not Sara.”
Dr. Carter stepped closer to the bed. “What is your name?”
Sara looked at him and pulled the sheet and blanket higher against her chest. “What kind of doctor are you that you admit a patient and not know her name?”
“It’s hard to explain. Please, Mrs…?”
She lifted her chin with rigid dignity and narrowed her eyes in a way that Danny had never seen before.
“My name is Miss Elisabeth Regina Wyman and I reside at Number 10 Gramercy Place. If you would be so kind as to notify my mother of my whereabouts, I’m sure she is desperately worried.”
Sara’s mother pushed the doctor aside and reached for her hand. Sara pulled back the same way she had with Danny.
“Sara! I’m your mother.”
Sara looked at her mother with a mixture of horror and suspicion. “You most certainly are not my mother! What sort of hospital is this?”
“Honey, please,” Danny said, “don’t get excited, you’ll hurt yourself.”
“How dare you address me in such a manner? I do not know you, sir, and I do not wish to. Doctor, if doctor you are, please send these people away.”
Dr. Palmer looked as startled as the rest of them, but turned and motioned toward the door. “Perhaps it would be better if you
…gave us a few minutes alone?”
Sara’s mother was sobbing against her husband as they left the room. Danny’s parents left without saying a word.
Danny looked at the woman in the bed one more time and left.
It wasn’t Sara.

About The Author:

P.D. Cacek has published over a hundred short stories and five published novels. A past Guest Lecturer at the Odyssey Writing Camp, Cacek’s horror, fantasy and science fiction stories have appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies since going professional in the late 90’s. She is also proud of the book she recently co-edited, with Laura J. Hickman, the charity anthology, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, with all proceeds going to The Jimmy Fund of the DANA-BARBER Cancer Institute.Cacek holds a Bachelor’s Degree in English/Creative Writing Option from the University of California at Long Beach and is a certified Wilderness Survival Instructor. A native Westerner, Cacek divides her time between Arvada, CO – which looks own on the Mile High city – and Phoenixville, PA – only a short walk from the Colonial Theater where the famous “Run Screaming From Theatre” scene in THE BLOB was filmed. When not writing, she can often been found with THE PATIENT CREATURES (www.creatureseast.com), a group of costumed storytellers.AWARDS:Bram Stoker Award for Short Fiction 1996 (Metalica)World Fantasy Award for Short Fiction 1998 (Dust Motes)