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“Deep down he knew what he felt. He knew that he had done it. He was sure of that. He had felt it leave his body. He had felt the surge of power.
He didn’t know exactly how he had done it, or if he could do it again, but for that moment he knew he had tapped into something that was going to change the world.
And it felt good.”

Pulse is the debut supernatural / sci-fi thriller from author Matthew Wade.

Robert Finlay has been hurt. He is lying in hospital on the edge of life and death. But when he wakes he finds he is a changed young man.
On the day he discovers he has a strange supernatural power that he can use at will, he also discovers his life will never be the same again, as his he is gaining unwanted attention from those who seek to use him for their own devices. 
Infected with an alien power and wanted by the government, Robert Finlay must escape a determined assassin with his life.
Aided by his twin sister Maggie and people they meet on the road, they race to save Robert before time runs out.

The reviews are in!

“A brilliant debut novel from this new young author.”

“Pulse starts at 90mph and cranks up the pace from there. Couldn’t put it down.”

“I have read hundreds of sci-fi and supernatural thrillers, but this grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go until the heart stopping end.”



Fishing. There’s a lot more skill to it than people realise. Of course it depends on what kind of fishing you are doing. Fly fishing, for example, is a hell of a lot different to Angling. And even then you have Droplining, Jigging and Trotlining. It all depends on what type of fish you want to catch – and what type of water you are in. You see Fly fishing is more for a lake, where the water is wide and calm, and you have to reach a long way into the lake to catch the biggest fish. Trotlining is more for a fast flowing river. Preferably the ones you need to stand in with long plastic waders up to your armpits, and have a keen sense of balance. Many a man has lost his footing and been carried downstream by the rapids. Have to be a good swimmer to be a trotliner, let me tell you.


Dom Sterling used to be a fly fisher, but these days his legs went so good at standing him up for hours on end, so he preferred to sit. That meant he was now a good ol’ angler. He bought himself a nice comfortable outdoor lazy chair. Not a deck chair, but the kind campers use. Made of thick green fabric with lots of padding. Padding was important to ol’ Dom. Although his wife said that he had all the natural padding he needed to sit on, he still insisted on having extra cushions to ease himself into. Old bones need a soft seat.


Next to him were his little radio (not the new digital kind, though – the old fashioned kind that had a dial that crackled and whistled when you twisted the knob whilst you found a station), a box with all of his hooks and bait and another box with his lunch in it (two rounds of cheese sandwiches, an apple and a Bakewell tart). Everything was put in there by his loving wife, apart from the tart, which Dom snuck in when she wasn’t looking (Got to cut down she would say). The last thing that was next to him was good ‘ol Stan. Stan was Dom’s ever faithful Golden Retriever. Stan was getting on in years as much as Dom was. He (Stan, that is) had a slightly gammy hind leg, and like his owner, was putting on some weight. Stan wasn’t a fan of Bakewell Tarts, so he was snacking on doggy treats. Gravy bones, to be exact. “Look at the stars, Stan. Aren’t they beautiful tonight?” said Dom, looking heavenwards. Stan lifted an ear, raised a quizzical eye, and then went back to his snack. “Nah, you don’t get it. Never will, I ‘spose.” The only sounds were the occasional rippling in the water coming from the fishing line, and Dom’s radio, which was playing old blue collar rock and country hits. Bob Seger was telling some girl about tonight, and how no one needs tomorrow.


Dom pulled a flask from one of the pouches in his green chair, and poured some coffee (loaded with a little “Extra.” as Dom would say – another thing his wife didn’t know about) into the upturned lid – come – cup, and took a large slurp. “Ya se Stan, fishing is like watchin’ stars. You have to be patient. All those stars up there have been burning bright for longer than you or I have been around. Longer than any folks have been around. Some of them, stars that is, are long gone already, yessir. You see the light takes a long, long time to get to us. So by the time we see it, it may have already burned itself out. So anyway, if you look up at the sky, you look at the beauty of it, you see how it is all laid out. You see how the ancient people of this world worshiped them how some modern folks still do. Whatcha call it now? Astrology I think. Load of ass wipe if you ask me. Anyhoo, the thing is, is that if you wait long enough, the rewards are there. Right in front of you. And that’s why it is just like fishing. All this natural beauty, all this lake and wilderness.


Been waiting for us to come along for generations. But the patient man must wait to be truly rewarded. Although….” He lent forward and jiggled his fishing rod. “I do seem to wait longer and longer these days.” Stan creaked his way to his feet and looked up at the sky. “That’s it boy, you take it all in. Jus’ take it all in.” A shooting star trailed an arc across the heavens above them. “There! Did you see that? What did I tell you? The patient man gets his reward.” Dom leaned forward and made the fishing line dance in the water once more. Stan whimpered and cocked his head to one side. Dom stopped jiggling and looked down at this faithful old friend. Stan barked once at the sky. “Barking at the moon, eh boy? First step to insanity old friend.” Dom chuckled to himself and looked up at the sky. Another shooting star began its journey across the blanket of stars above them. “Ah, you see – we are being rewarded tonight.” The shooting star appeared to slow its path as it moved across their field of view.



“Huh. Not seen that before.” The star then arced in the sky and made its way back the way it came. “Very unusual, very, very unusual.” Stan began barking furiously. At Dom’s feet, Bob Seger stopped playing with the Silver Bullet band, and started playing static, as the radio he was coming from lost its signal, and started emitting a hiss. “What is it, boy? What’s wrong? You smell something you don’t like up there?” The shooting star was now weaving left and right above them. It had stopped moving across the sky and looked more like it was coming straight for them. “What in the damn blazes is going on? Where’s my cell-u-lar phone? I need to call someone about this. The C-I-A or NASA or something.” The old fashioned turn dial radio at Dom’s feet was now whistling, crackling and whining louder than ever. Dom had only ever heard that come from it once in a very bad electrical storm. He bent down to turn it off, but before he could reach it, smoke started coming out of the speaker. An acrid, white smoke that was heavier than air, so it poured out like liquid soup onto the ground.

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Matthew Wade