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The Files Death Forgot Copyright Š 2015 by Marilyn Baron All rights reserved. No part of this story (e-book) may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or book reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Edited by Terry Wright Cover Art by Terry Wright ISBN: 978-1-936991-90-7

Dedication In memory of my father, George Meyers, who flew thirty-five missions as a top turret gunner in a B-17 over Europe during WW II. He faced death, lived to tell about it, and made the world a better place.


By Marilyn Baron

CHAPTER ONE The Sanitarium’s New Patient How had I landed flat on my back in a hospital bed during the middle of winter? I’d partied in Hell before but never imagined I’d find myself freezing in Siberia. It took me a few moments to realize the AC was humming full blast, sending shivers down my spine. I would have pulled up the covers but my hands were restrained with thick leather straps. In truth, I had no idea where I was. I appeared to be in some kind of sanitarium, complete with stark white walls, white acoustic ceiling tiles, and health and wellness signs spouting wholesome, healing messages. What the hell was happening to me? Why was I here? And why was I being held against my will? Was I starring in a scene from Death


Takes a Holiday? Ha. Ha. At least I hadn’t lost my sense of humor. I couldn’t remember the last time I had taken a holiday. A broad, bespectacled man wearing a jet black uniform paced in front of my bed like a goose-stepping tyrant. I didn’t recognize his battle-weary face or those haunting vacant eyes, but it appeared that he knew me. His collar insignia indicated the rank of a junior officer. A Captain. Quite a bit beneath my pay grade. This had to be some kind of royal FUBAR, a bad dream, or a mission debrief gone horribly wrong. The patch of a winged warrior on his sleeve told me the underling Captain commanded an army of death—those black angels who did their dirty work on the battlefield. Still, I outranked him, so who was this pretender to question my authority? I was The Grim Reaper, the closest thing on earth to the Dark Overlord, Satan himself. And I was feeling pretty grim at this moment. This impudent officer must’ve thought he was the missing link in my chain of command. Restraints notwithstanding, I was going to cut this upstart down to size. “I demand to speak to your superior.” “You’re in no condition to make demands,” the Captain said. “I’m in charge here.” “Is this some kind of insurrection?” “Call it what you like.” “Why am I here?”


“It appears you’re trying to put my army of black angels out of business. If we don’t get those files, we won’t meet our kill quota and our soldiers of death will have to be laid off.” This impertinent idiot must’ve been from the personnel department the way he talked about layoffs. What was his game? Maybe he was a psychoanalyst trying to crawl inside my head. Well, news flash, Dr. Freud, there’s nothing in there. “Try to remember where you put the files,” the Captain coaxed. “It’s very important. The clock is ticking.” I looked at my wrist to check the time, but my watch was missing. Or perhaps I never wore a watch. If I did, it would be a Rolex, for sure. The Captain’s eyes drilled into mine expectantly. “The files,” he demanded. Try to remember the files? My mind felt muzzy. What files? The one thing I did know—I was exhausted. All the death and destruction was too much work for any reaper: the violent attacks and insurgencies in the Middle East, the terror attacks in Europe, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, that civil war in Syria, not to mention those lone wolf attacks around the globe—no wonder I was worn out. “That’s to be expected.” The officer nodded sympathetically. “After all, you are an agent of Death.” “I am Death, you idiot.” The Captain shrugged. “We are planning another epidemic, a nice


worldwide pandemic. You’re not up to the task and this situation is becoming serious. You must remember where you put those files. Without them we don’t know who is supposed to die.”

To find out what happens next, go to to find the links to purchase from TWB Press, Amazon Kindle, B&N Nook, and other online booksellers. Thank you for reading this Free excerpt

About the Author

Marilyn Baron is a corporate public relations consultant in Atlanta. She’s a member of Romance Writers of America and Georgia Romance Writers (GRW), recipient of the GRW 2009 Chapter Service Award and winner or finalist in writing awards in single title, suspense romance, novel with strong romantic elements and paranormal romance. Marilyn writes in a variety of genres, including: Humorous women’s fiction (The Widows’ Gallery, Stones, Significant Others, and The Edger); a psychic suspense series (Sixth Sense, Homecoming Homicides and the soon to be released Killer Cruise); historical (Under the Moon Gate and Destiny: A Bermuda Love Story); and humorous paranormal short stories for TWB Press (A Choir of Angels, Follow an Angel, The Stand-In Bridegroom and Dead Mix). She and her sister Sharon also wrote a poignant and funny musical about Alzheimer’s called Memory Lane, as well as a shopping suspense tale called Murder at the Outlet Mall. Marilyn is a member of the Roswell Reads Steering Committee and belongs to two book clubs. A native of Miami, Florida, Marilyn now lives in Roswell, Georgia, with her husband and they have two daughters. She graduated from The University of Florida in Gainesville, Florida, with a Bachelor of Science in Journalism [Public Relations sequence] and a minor in Creative Writing. She met her husband at UF and both of her daughters graduated from UF. Go Gators! When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, going to movies, eating Italian food and traveling. She often sets her stories in places she’s visited, including Bermuda, Australia and Italy, where she spent six months studying in Florence during her senior year in college. She invites you to visit her Web site at to find out more about her books.

Enjoy more short stories from Marilyn Baron

A Choir of Angels (TWB Press, 2011) A supernatural short story by Marilyn Baron

Follow an Angel (TWB Press, 2011) A supernatural short story by Marilyn Baron

The Stand-in Bridegroom (TWB Press, 2011) A supernatural short story by Marilyn Baron

Dead Mix (TWB Press, 2012) A supernatural short story by Marilyn Baron

Profile for TWB Press

The Files Death Forgot  

What if Death were exhausted and confined to a facility for Alzheimer’s patients? What if he couldn’t remember where he’d hidden the compute...

The Files Death Forgot  

What if Death were exhausted and confined to a facility for Alzheimer’s patients? What if he couldn’t remember where he’d hidden the compute...


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