Apocalypse Trilogy – Book One: “S3K”


“S3K” is James Marcoff’s follow-up to “Moral Darkness”.  “S3K” revolves around family man, Detective Christopher Jeffries, as he tracks down an elusive society of serial killers that have existed clandestinely for centuries.  Once the society is alerted to his snooping, they make his life a living hell.  Nothing will ever be the same for Detective Jeffries as he discovers more about his own cloudy past in his quest to bring down the most dangerous secret society that has ever existed.

“S3K” is the first planned book of a three-book series entitled “The Apocalypse Trilogy”.


A Preview of “S3K”

Chapter One

The steel doors crash open like a quarter-stick of dynamite as the young, naked woman runs from the bowels of the abandoned apartment building.  The chilly, autumn rain seems to burn her bare skin in the night air as the loose gravel and debris scattered on the ground quickly chew up the soles of her feet like a paper shredder.  The woman is covered in blood from multiple slashes across her pale, delicate skin.  Black rivers flow down her cheeks from the over-abundant mascara mixing with her heavily flowing tears.  Aside from the wounds and runny makeup, she appears to be an attractive and dainty looking young woman in her early twenties.  Her ash blonde hair clings to her head with a mixture of blood and sweat.

She desperately tries to scream for help.  All she can muster is a weak croaking sound that does not even cause an echo in the usually acoustic alleyways of the tall city buildings.  Weak and helpless, the woman collapses as if her legs had simply stopped working.  She curls herself into a fetal position like a wounded animal and begins to whimper incoherently.

Snapping back to reality a few second later, the woman wipes the tears from her eyes.  About a hundred feet in front of her, in the mouth of the alleyway, she glimpses something that brings new life to her feeble state.  Standing at the end of the alleyway is a man dressed in a white trench coat, with a porkpie hat.  He is standing with his back to her, reading a newspaper.  The woman again tries to scream out for help, but her vocal cords still are not working right.  All she is able to vocalize is a few feeble grunts that are quickly drowned out by the howling wind.

The young woman knows that she is losing blood fast.  If she doesn’t react soon, she will surely die, leaving a feast for the ravenous mongrel packs of dogs that roam the deserted alleyways.  Gathering as much strength as she can, the young woman struggles to her feet.  Holding on to the dirty brick walls of the alley for support, the battered young woman begins her long procession towards the stranger.

After what seems like hours to the young, naked, bloody woman, she finally arrives at the end of the alleyway.  Because the brick wall she is using for support ends suddenly, she is forced to walk the last five feet on her own.

She takes her first wobbly step.

Each accursed step causes the young woman excruciating pain as she looks down to notice the pieces of broken glass embedded in her mutilated feet.  She shrugs off the pain, knowing that she has to make it those last few steps if she is to live to see another day.  Two steps left.  The young woman’s heart fills up with relief as she fantasizes about being saved by this mysterious stranger.  In her hallucinatory state, she pictures herself immediately being rushed to the hospital where is allowed to finally lie down and rest.

One step left.

The young woman begins to reach her arm up to tap her soon-to-be savior on the shoulder.  Her arm feels as if it made out of lead and moves as if submerged in molasses. Inch by inch, the young woman’s arm reaches slowly upwards.  When she is about to touch the stranger on the shoulder, he suddenly reels around.

Much to her surprise, the woman notices the stranger has a featureless face under his hat.  In his left hand he holds a sharp scalpel that seems to radiate an eerie glow in the bright moonlight.  Maniacal laughter fills the air, emanating from where the mysterious stranger’s mouth should be but curiously is missing.

Before the young woman can even react, the stranger’s arm makes a quick horizontal arc in the air in front of her.  The young woman realizes that she is suddenly drenched from the neck down.  She doesn’t remember any localized warm, red rain showers in the past few minutes.  She reaches her hands up to her throat.  Her hands discover what her brain confuses as a second mouth.  Confused and disoriented, the woman stares blankly at the lack of facial features of the man in white trench coat.

Her brain desperately tries to make sense of the last few seconds.

The man with no face tilts his head in curiosity.  He resumes laughing like a mad man.  A few seconds pass before the realization of what has just really happened hits the young woman.  A look of panic sets in across her face and her now lifeless, white and red body falls to the ground.  Her body hits the pavement like a fresh prime-rib steak being plopped down on a deli counter.

The man with no face and porkpie hat makes an odd hand gesture, communicating in secret code to unseen parties.  Within seconds, a mysterious white cargo van with no windows screeches to a halt at the end of the alley.  Four other faceless men dressed in white trench coats burst out of the van as if they were storming the beach at Normandy.  Two of the men place a long sheet of plastic on the ground, while the other two men lift the lifeless body of the young, naked, bloody woman onto the plastic.  Within fifteen seconds the body is wrapped in plastic, deposited into the windowless white van.  The van peels off into the night, taking the faceless group and the poor, deceased woman along with them.

The only thing left in the dark, desolate alley that would tell the tale of what happened on this rainy, autumn night would be the blood stains left on the pavement.  Those, too, will be washed away by the first light of day by the dark and violent storm looming on the horizon.


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