When my life passes before my eyes, I will see dolphins

The expression “I saw my life pass before my eyes,” is generally used by someone who has had a near-death experience. While I have no idea what may occur when the end nears, I have always liked that thought, as long as one only has to recall the pleasant events.

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Once, off St. Kitts, I witnessed four tiny juvenile  drum fish dancing in a row before a reef

Sometimes, I consider scenes that might appear in my head when my time comes, and I find it is a rather Forrest Gump-esque list: The night at Girl Scout camp on an island in Upstate New York, snuggled in my sleeping bag, a cool breeze wafting through the pines, lake water brushing up against the rocks. An elk in Colorado, maybe ten yards between us, his majestic antlered head and dark brown eyes freezing me in place, before he turned and disappeared silently into the forest. A dive in St. Kitts where I witnessed four tiny spotted drum fish, each no bigger than a thumbnail, long black-and-white fins waving as they danced in a row before a reef.

And now, I have a new vision to carry with me.  A few days ago in the sea off the north shore of St. Croix, we spotted three bottlenose dolphins from our dive boat. We quickly donned our scuba gear and descended to a shallow area white with sand. We knelt on the bottom and waited.

And waited.

Thirty minutes later, chilled from inactivity, we gave up, and swam away, perusing a group of coral heads down over the edge of the sand. Cold and tired we headed back toward the boat. The dive master, E.T., and I were the last in the water. We waited below the boat as other divers ascended.

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While diving in St. Croix we spotted three bottlenose dolphins from our boat, so we donned our scuba gear and dropped in to join them.

Then, E.T. grunted to get my attention. She pointed at three dolphins that swam directly toward us, their snouts dipping with each gentle push of their tails. The largest, a female perhaps eight-feet long, silvery-gray with a white belly, was escorted by two smaller males. The female eyed me and guided the others over my head. I could have reached up and touched her as they glided past. Then, she dove to the bottom and stuck her nose in the sand. She stirred up a white cloud, rolled onto her back and lay on the bottom, while the males playfully nudged her. Soon, she twisted, launched herself off the sand, and they disappeared.

We waited. And they returned, over and over playing before us. Then, the female stopped, touched her tail to the sand and straightened. I had always thought of dolphins as curved creatures, but she now stood perfectly straight, snout pointed toward the sky, fins out, a signal perhaps to the males who approached and straightened as well, clinging to her sides, motionless.

They appeared as a marble statue, majestic, magical, holding the pose above the sand, her bearing that of an empress. Then she twirled and the males followed. What came next can only be described in one way: dolphin sex. I felt like a voyeur but could not turn away. I will let you fill in the rest.

At one point, overwhelmed by the beauty, this gift I’d been given by the sea, I touched my hand to my heart. When I gazed at E.T., she had done the same. We stared at one another, knowing we had shared something special.

When we finally ascended, I was speechless. Those who know me would be astounded at the idea. And I am still unsure my words here do the experience justice.

downloadOn the boat, I hugged the dive master, a woman I had met just a few hours earlier.

“E.T., when I’m dying, I will remember this,” I said.

It was only then that I noticed the elegant tattoo she bore on her right hip: a dolphin.

 

The view my dolphin video click here: https://www.facebook.com/simeon.tolar/videos/10156002467296076/

 

A Light in the Desert-cov (6)

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

 

 

 

 

 

My introduction to professional wrestling: “Does this look real to you, honey?”

Seeing a woman in the early 1980’s reporting sports on television was akin to spotting a unicorn. So, when a station in Columbus, Georgia offered me the sports director’s job, I jumped at it. That I had no idea where Columbus was mattered little. That I had never done live TV nor written a professional sportscast did not enter my mind.

Channel 3 News

My dear partner Dan Lynn steered me through some tough times in my first TV sportscasting job.

I know what you’re thinking. Why did they hire me? Not only was I a woman, but my only TV experience was taped reports back in college. I’d like to think WRBL-TV went out on a limb because I’d been an amateur sports official in football, baseball, ice hockey, soccer, and basketball, which, one might assume, would make me fairly adept at discussing sports. Or that I’d read every sports page I could find and every issue of Sports Illustrated for the previous six years. But, as it turned out, the reason was actually quite simple. WRBL was the lowest-rated TV station in the market and they needed something different to grab a few ratings points.

Enter moi.

After stuffing my stuff into a small U-Haul, I collected my calico cat and drove from Washington D.C. – the center of the universe – to Columbus, Georgia – which was something else entirely. I arrived on a Monday.

“You’ll start on the air Wednesday night,” the news director said. He dismissed me and I stood alone in the newsroom and wondered what exactly I should do. I was lucky that kind people helped me along the way, especially my reporting partner Dan Lynn. Still, I was grateful that I was a thousand miles from anyone I knew. Let’s just say my early broadcasts were rather rocky.

And it wasn’t just the live anchoring that was problematic. Sometimes, it was covering the sports themselves. Because as much as I’d studied the games, some athletic endeavors were out of my realm.

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Hulk Hogan was one of the most famous competitors in the history of the World Wrestling Federation.

“The WWF is in town. Go down and do a story,” my boss said.

“The who?”

“The wrestlers,” Dan explained.

“Olympic wrestlers?”

“No, professional wrestlers. Let’s go.” Dan walked over to the rack of cameras.

“You cover them? On the news? But, Dan, we cover real sports!” I followed him to the news car. “Those guys are just actors.”

We arrived at the Municipal Auditorium and walked inside. We were directed to a gray hallway that boasted not a single sign or decoration and asked to wait. Dan set up the tripod and camera while I struggled to come up with questions to ask.

Then, a giant with long, scraggly wet hair appeared. Dressed in workout clothes, he was maybe in his late twenties. I introduced myself. He did not speak. I waited as Dan fiddled with the camera.

“It’ll just be a moment.” I gave him my prettiest smile, but the man did not smile back nor make any attempt at small talk. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself.

“OK. We’re good.” Dan flicked on the camera.

I lifted the microphone. Then I froze. I could not think of a single question to ask this professional wrestler, who was not an athlete in my eyes. As far as I was concerned, a clown might have better described his profession.

“Here’s the thing, I have to be honest,” I said breezily. “I don’t know what to ask you, since this isn’t real.”

“What isn’t real?” He glared.

“Professional wrestling. It’s just, you know, a show.”

“It isn’t real!” He roared.

I stepped back.

Then he pulled down the collar of his shirt revealing a ragged scar on his shoulder. “Does that look real to you?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. “How about this one, honey?” He pulled up his pant leg and displayed a similarly gruesome set of stitches on his knee. “Or this one?”

I could not look away as he continued to reveal his scars.

Big John Stud

John William Minton, better known as Big John Stud, fought Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant in the mid 1980s, some of the greatest WWF matches of that era.

Of course, I was wrong. That the man was an athlete was clear. Because I didn’t believe his vocation was a sport, did not make him any less of a competitor. I would like to tell you that I remember who that wrestler was, but I do not. (If I did, I might hunt him down and apologize.) But I cannot forget what he showed me that day.

Ironically, I would cover other professional wrestling bouts over the years and would become friends with a man who also made his living in that field. The late John William Minton might be better known to his fans as Big John Stud. Despite his crazed performances in the ring, he was a kind and thoughtful man who worked hard, loved his wife and children, and enjoyed discussing history.

I’m glad that first wrestler taught me a lesson. At six-foot-ten and 364 pounds, I would have hated to have John mad at me.

 

A Light in the Desert-cov (6)

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

 

 

 

 

 

Chernobyl: The horror!

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The horror of the 1986 disaster at Chernobyl is depicted in graffiti on a wall at the ruptured power plant.

My high school students love horror movies. They are, of course, the target audience for the genre, films that require little in the way of acting skills, or fancy special effects, or well-written scripts, since the same plot tends to get ripped off time after time. Think the Halloween series – the eleventh version of which came out last fall – which repeatedly tells the same tale of deranged serial killer Michael Meyers doing his masked shtick, while dopey kids insist on going into dark places alone.

Hey! Call 911! Run away!

I have learned that teenage males are the main lovers of horror films mostly because the protagonists in these movies also tend to be young men. Which brings me to my point. I just watched the most frightening program I have ever seen, complete with unbearable tension, jump-in-your-seat fear, and the compulsion to hide behind your hands, because what’s on the screen is too awful to bear.

I’m talking about the HBO mini-series Chernobyl, the true story of the 1986 rupture of a Soviet nuclear power plant that spewed a radioactive release that was ten times larger than the fallout produced by the bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. The accident – a combination of hubris and incompetence – caused 350,000 people to be evacuated from their homes. Today, the town of Pripyat, Ukraine stands abandoned, and the 19-mile radius around the reactor and the city – called the Exclusion Zone – could remain uninhabitable by humans for an estimated 100 thousand years.

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The 19-mile radius around the remains of Chernobyl’s nuclear reactor may remain uninhabitable by humans for 100 thousand years.

Shockingly, it could have been so much worse. Sixty-million people might have died as a result of air-born radiation and contaminated ground water, had thousands of mostly young men not converged on the burning reactor, many giving their lives to contain the release. There are horrifying scenes of firefighters trying to put out the poisonous blaze, miners digging under the burning reactor in an effort to seal it off, and baby-faced boys given 90-seconds on the building’s rooftop to find radioactive lumps of graphite and dump them over the side.

Then there was the cover up. The Soviet hierarchy was so determined not to lose face in the international community that it lied repeatedly and refused to ask for help, leaving an estimated ten thousand of their own people to die miserable deaths. (Note that the actual death toll is hard to determine, as many who toiled at Chernobyl did not die until later, the victims of radiation-caused cancers.)

What will I tell my students? I will recommend they watch Chernobyl, should they want true horror. I will advise them to pay close attention to the hospital scenes where young men writhe as they die from the ghastly effects of radiation poisoning. And I will remind them that they live in a world of weaponized nuclear power, and that, sadly, there could be real-life sequels in the future.

Let’s see how scared they are then.

When compared to Chernobyl, Michael Myers might seem more like Mary Poppins.

 

A Light in the Desert-cov (6)

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

 

 

 

 

The life of an author

 

Hard working author

As you can see, the life of an author is really quite glamorous.

There’s a lot that goes into writing a book. The folks at NFReads.com – Interesting Articles. Inspiring Stories – gave me a chance to talk about dealing with creative block, how I come up with story ideas, and what I hope readers will take away from my books, among other things.

My thanks to NFReads for letting me share my thoughts.

Interview With Author Anne Montgomery

A Light in the Desert-cov (6)

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

“You left me for an airline pilot!”

I woke with a start, saddened by the dream that had my sweetie pie abandoning me, leaving me alone in a mostly empty bar with no money or credit cards and no way to get home. I quickly felt silly, as he would never do such a thing.

A short time later and rather strangely, he magically appeared in my room. Now this might not seem shocking to some, considering we have been dating for a quarter of a century or so. But it is, because … we don’t live together. (Stop hyperventilating.)

We reside on the same street, separated by eight houses. Which has worked out splendidly over the years.

How so, you ask? Well … we don’t see each other much during the week, which means we rather look forward to our time together, almost like giddy teens. And we are just close enough that in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse, he can rush over to my place – it takes about 30 seconds – get inside and lock the messy creatures out, while we enjoy the contents of our prepper kit: a few cases of wine, chocolate, dried fruits, various cheeses, peanut butter, and Triscuits. (Admit it. You’ve never seen mold on a Triscuit. Hence the perfect durable whole-wheat repast for waiting out the End Times.)

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked.

“You still love me, don’t you?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. “I had an awful dream.”

The idea was shocking on two counts. I myself had just had a bad dream. And he almost never remembers dreaming.

“And?” I turned back to the mirror to finish applying my mascara. (I wouldn’t want to head to school without makeup. One mustn’t terrify the children.)

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“You left me for an airline pilot.”

I grinned. “Was he hot?”

“I don’t know.” He squinted.  “But you told me not to worry because we could still hangout and be friends.”

We’ll, of course we could.”

He shook his head.

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“Alright, no airline pilot.” I sighed and turned back to the mirror, thinking how odd it was that we both had you-left-me dreams at virtually the same moment. “Why do you think we had those nightmares?”

The big guy shrugged.

“You know … I wouldn’t leave you for an airline pilot.”

“OK.”

“But, honey … was he hot?”

 

 

A Light in the Desert-cov (6)

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

 

 

A Light in the Desert is “full of tension and drama. A very good read.”

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My thanks to author and blogger Stuart Aken for taking the time to read and review my novel A Light in the Desert.

A Light in the Desert, by Anne Montgomery: #BookReview.

A Light in the Desert-cov (6)

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

Why we must grieve

grief

My dad died a week ago following a brief illness. It should not have come as a surprise, as he was one week shy of his 96th birthday. Still, it was a shock.

While I have lost loved ones before, this time feels different. And, of course, it should. After all, he was my father. Still, I am struggling with the grief.

As a former reporter, I have always managed to solve problems by researching them. Choosing reputable sources and concluding the best and most expedient avenue to rectifying a situation have never failed me, until now.

The reason? Grief is so damn hard to pin down. When I popped “grief” into my search engine, I was greeted by almost 29 million hits. Grief is simply defined as “deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death.”

What I learned was that grief affects every part of us. We can suffer physical symptoms like loss of appetite, difficulty sleeping, fatigue, and aches and pains. And emotional symptoms including anxiety, fear, problems with concentration, flashbacks, irritability, and depression.

But grief is not a one-size-fits-all malady. According to the Hospice Foundation of America, “Grieving is a highly individual experience; there’s no right or wrong way to grieve. How you grieve depends on many factors, including your personality and coping style, your life experience, your faith, and how significant the loss was to you.”

I have always considered myself a strong person. I’ve been called tough many times, no doubt due to my four decades as an amateur sports official. The “never let them see you cry” credo has always guided my way. But it is apparently a myth that it’s important to “be strong” in the face of loss. Again, the Hospice Foundation of America: “Crying doesn’t mean you are weak. You don’t need to ‘protect’ your family or friends by putting on a brave front. Showing your true feelings can help them and you.”

Watching my dad in hospice over five days – despite the loving care he received and the relative brevity of his illness – was harrowing. I had it in my head that once he died I would start to heal. But I have learned that grief is not linear, nor is it predictable.

“There is no specific time frame for grieving. How long it takes differs from person to person. Instead of a series of stages, we might also think of the grieving process as a roller coaster, full of ups and downs, highs and lows. Like many roller coasters, the ride tends to be rougher in the beginning, the lows may be deeper and longer. The difficult periods should become less intense and shorter as time goes by, but it takes time to work through a loss.”

So, grief is complicated. But it is also necessary.

“Grieving honors the loved one and the relationship between them and our self,” said Dr. Edward A. Dreyfus, a nationally recognized clinical psychologist.  “Just as loving was a process of attaching to another person, grieving is a way of detaching and subsequently letting go such that we can move on, not forgetting, but remembering the joy.”

So, like all others who grieve, I must ride this roller coaster. But I promise I will remember the joy.

 

A Light in the Desert-cov (6)

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

 

One last dance for my dad

Last Saturday, my dad took his ballroom dance lesson. On Sunday, we chatted on the phone.  Monday night, he and my mom ate ice cream and watched the Memorial Day celebration from Washington D.C., and when the band played the Navy Hymn, he stood and saluted, as one might expect from a World War II Navy veteran. Then, my dad  went to bed.

The next morning, he was brain dead, the result of an aneurysm. He died one week shy of his 96th birthday.

paul-butler-navy-headshot-2

Paul Butler 1923-2019

My dad, who grew up in Irwin, Pennsylvania in a family of coal miners, graduated from Penn State University and received a masters degree from Seton Hall, thanks to the G.I. Bill. He was a proud veteran who loved history and shared his war stories with me. He was fly fisherman who taught me to cast into a garbage can lid in the driveway. He taught me to love wild places and the creatures that live in them. He was a recovering alcoholic who treasured those 35-plus sobriety chips. He was a grandfather and a great grandfather. We shared a love of sports and we ice danced together. Then, when he hung up his skates at 80, he turned to ballroom.

Here’s to you, Dad. One last dance. I love you.

 

Who turned out the lights?

Health Club

Soon my health club will be demolished, reportedly to make way for condos. I’ll miss the old place and the friends I made there.

I’ve been going to the same health club for about 20 years. Recently, it closed its doors, the victim of outrageous land prices here in Phoenix. I heard the corner sold for $30 million. Its future a stack of condominiums.

Why am I writing about this? I started thinking about the time I spent in that building and the people I’ve known there.

There’s Bob, the Vietnam vet who always has a kind word. Charlie, the retired attorney and bird fancier. Tony who owns a rug-cleaning business and finds humor in everything. Abraham, a former Israeli paratrooper turned restaurateur turned retiree. And Big Bruce, who once played for the Australian National Rugby team and worked worldwide in the hotel industry before retiring.

I can’t count the hours we spent talking in the spa and swimming pool. Even fighting at times. Eventually, we decided politics were off limits in the water, still our bickering was mostly good natured.

Then there was my friend Frank. An old Texas curmudgeon and former high school football and basketball coach. Frank convinced me to become a teacher, when my reporting career fizzled out.  A recovering alcoholic who was quite proud of his yearly sobriety chip, he could be a cantankerous old coot. And yet, one year he just locked the door to his condo and moved to a homeless shelter to run the place. We got to calling him Father Frank, though he told me many funny tales that didn’t paint him in such a saintly light. He died last fall, though I sometimes think I still see him walking through the front door.

There were others I didn’t know well. The guy who was living out of his car and who intentionally bore a resemblance to the original TV Superman, with his black pompadour, cinched belt, and skin-tight top stretched over a muscular build.  I swam next to a woman who may have been on the spectrum. We talked about life struggles and sometimes giggled at the men who strode around in Speedos. Some hot, some decidedly not.

As I took my last laps in the pool – one of the few in the area that is actually 25-meters long – I contemplated how many miles I’d traveled over those dark-blue lane lines. A quick calculation revealed I might have trekked as far as Pittsburgh.

My club was not the fanciest, nor the cleanest. We all complained when the steam room sputtered, the pool filter died, and the spa needed refilling when all we wanted was a good hot soak and a chat.

Despite its shortcomings, it was home.

When I was leaving that last day, I thought of the man I’d heard about recently. Like me, he was a regular. He was upstairs on the treadmill, chatting with another patron of the place.  After his workout ended, he walked over to a bench, sat, and nodded his head to rest. He looked so peaceful, no one realized he’d died.

I don’t know that I believe in spirits or not. But I wonder if he’s still there.

And I wonder who turned out the lights.

A Light in the Desert-cov (6)

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.

 

“The book is well paced with intricately woven sub plots.”

My thanks to Pamela Scott at the Book Lovers Boudoir for taking the time to read and review my mystery/suspense novel A Light in the Desert.

https://thebookloversboudoir.wordpress.com/2019/04/25/a-light-in-the-desert-by-amontgomery8/

A Light in the Desert-cov (6)

Mystery/Suspense

Blank Slate Press/Amphorae Publishing Group

286 Pages

Price: $16.95 Paperback, $9.99 eBook

http://www.midpointtrade.com/book_detail.php?book_id=261955

As a Vietnam veteran and former Special Forces sniper descends into the throes of mental illness, he latches onto a lonely pregnant teenager and a group of Pentecostal zealots – the Children of Light – who have been waiting over thirty years in the Arizona desert for Armageddon. When the Amtrak Sunset Limited, a passenger train en route to Los Angeles, is derailed in their midst in a deadly act of sabotage, their lives are thrown into turmoil. As the search for the saboteurs heats up, the authorities uncover more questions than answers. And then the girl vanishes. As the sniper struggles to maintain his sanity, a child is about to be born in the wilderness.