By Dean Koontz
NEW YORK instances BESTSELLER
I see lifeless humans. yet then, by way of God, I do whatever approximately it. abnormal Thomas by no means requested for his distinctive skill. He’s simply a standard man attempting to dwell a quiet existence within the small wilderness city of Pico Mundo. but he feels a duty to do correct through his otherworldly confidants, and that’s why he’s gained hearts on either side of the divide among lifestyles and demise. but if a formative years good friend disappears, ordinary discovers anything worse than a useless physique and embarks on a heart-stopping conflict of will and wits with an enemy of outstanding crafty. within the hours to come back there will be no blameless bystanders, and each sacrifice can tip the stability among depression and wish.
You’re invited on an unforgettable trip via a global of terror and transcendence to wonders past imagining. and you'll haven't any higher advisor than atypical Thomas.
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Extra info for Forever Odd: An Odd Thomas Novel
To his dismay, I had told him that I was done with writing. I believed it, too. Now here I am again, putting words to paper, serving as my own psychological oncologist. Perhaps in time I will follow Ozzie's every example, and weigh four hundred pounds. I won't be able to run with ghosts and slip down dark alleyways in quite the swift and stealthy fashion that I do now; but perhaps children will be amused by my hippopotamic heroics, and no one will disagree that bringing laughter to children in a dark world is admirable.
No. " Surprised, I halted, turned. " I smiled. " She sighed. "All right. Eight hours. Not a minute more. " No sixth sense was required for me to understand that it would be pointless to try to negotiate her up from eight hours to ten. "Eight hours," I agreed. " When I stopped and looked up again, I saw that she had come off the landing, onto the first step. She said, "I guess for my own peace of mind, I've got to lay it out there. " I raised my right hand as though I were an Eagle Scout making a solemn pledge.
I couldn't imagine where they had gone—or why they abandoned the van if in fact they were not returning. From one of the second-floor lighted apartment windows, an elderly woman in a blue robe gazed down. She appeared less alarmed than curious. I eased to the passenger's side of the vehicle, slowly circled toward the rear. At the back, the pair of doors on the cargo hold also stood open. Interior light revealed no one inside. Sirens rose in the night, approaching. I wondered who had fired the shotgun, at whom, and why.