Thursday, February 16, 2012

Marked in Mexico Excerpt

Jack seldom allowed sleep to completely claim him. He teetered on the edge between consciousness and sleep, listening to the sounds of the nighttime jungle. The swoosh of a raptor’s wings diving for prey, the chorus of insects searching for a mate and the sounds of the leaves rustling in the breeze were familiar, but they weren’t comforting. From his experience, the chaos of the living jungle only served to mask the sounds of certain death.

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