As such, The Bone Worms by Keith Minnion works well in its conception but unfortunately fails on many other fronts. The overall idea is simple, almost ingenious in its compactness: a cop drama about extradimensional worms that infect the bones of the unwary. The gore flows freely, and it flows in passages that are wonderfully described and intercut with some fairly engaging police procedural scenes. Personally, I like a good crime thriller. I’m a big fan of Thomas Harris, and enjoy listening to the odd true crime podcast while I work. This is a solid way to introduce our readers to the supernatural, and to engage them consistently throughout the plot. Bone Worms manages to do this for the most part: and yet, by the end of the novel, I felt strangely disappointed. But more on that later.
Your next question, most likely, is: what the heck are bone worms? Glad you asked, dear reader, because they are in fact one of my favorite new horror monstrosities. Our pal Keith has certainly cooked up something that is sure to make even the most seasoned reader’s blood tingle, least of all because for things called “bone worms” they shed a LOT of blood. To put it simply, Bone Worms are interdimensional sentient parasites that feed on and inhabit the bones of other creatures. It is later revealed that they can even “animate” the bones that they drill into, allowing them to “resurrect” past victims. Their dimension is referred to as The Boneyard, and can be accessed via a place where our world crosses over into theirs. The only snag is, this point of convergence is about nineteen stories off the ground. And the Bone Worms can’t survive on our terrestrial plane without a human host.
Well, good thing our story takes place in Philadelphia, where there’s tons of skyscrapers they can choose from, huh?
Our story beings with John (known as Jack) Pitcairn, celebrating his sixth birthday in 1920s America. Fascinated by planes, his uncle has arranged for a WWI pilot to take up on a brief aeronautics expedition. Unfortunately, the plane simply vanishes into the wild blue yonder during this little aerial jaunt only to rematerialize later with the pilot slashed to pieces and Jack missing. Jack’s friend, William, goes searching for his pal, only to vanish himself. Both boys rematerialize, similarly lacerated almost beyond recognition, and talking ominously about a bizarre world referred to as The Boneyard.
Fast forward to the 1980s. Hardened homicide detective Francis “Fran” Lomax is investigating a series of crimes across Philadelphia in which victims are slashed up like salami with an almost preternaturally surgical precision. Poor Fran’s off his gourd after getting assaulted by hoodlums, and he really needs to bounce back. But this case is looking like his Waterloo, and he is running out time. As the bodies pile up, his investigation leads him to a similar event that took place decades ago, which occurred on the nineteenth floor of one of the tallest buildings in Philly. And from there, he finds two old men, Jack and William, who tell him about the Bone Worms…
The good news is: as far as the visceral details go, oh yes, this novel has no shortage of bones, skeleton monsters, zombies, and blood-splattered carnage, and much of it is given to us with all the niceties of an author who is an expert at tickling the old terror taste buds. Our writer certainly knows how to draw an audience’s attention and keep them interested while he weaves a tale of interdimensional horrors haunting the Philly high rises. Once I got immersed in the plot, I found this story to be a real page-turner until the very end, and enjoyed a good chunk of the book’s narrative. A lot of the horror comes through implication, which is handled with a fair amount of expertise by our author.
And yet, despite its deliciously devilish premise, the book flubs in several major ways which kept me from thoroughly enjoying it. The major issue is the plot itself, where I felt that, for all the hints and buildup dropped throughout the novel’s not inconsiderable length, the ending just feels…cheap. I’m going to go into spoiler territory, so jump off here if you’re pick this up for yourself and go in fresh.
Using a police contact, Fran finally tracks down Jack and William, a process which takes him three-fourths of the novel. Then, he and William go to confront the bone worms at the building where the murders first started. William dies off-screen blowing up the building that the Bone Worms have been haunting (and, it is hinted, the world that they come from in the process), leaving Fran to pick up the pieces. We then flash forward forty or so years when Fran goes to visit his daughter and son-in-law at their new home. Several of the neighbors come by for a housewarming party, and Fran notices one of the visitors is a bit…odd. When he confronts the gentleman in question, he learns the man is, of course, connected to the bone worms. In an act of desperation, Fran pulls his pistol, and…
Well
That’s it.
Finito. The story just stops.
I found this conclusion to be extremely unsatisfying and left a bland taste in my mouth regarding the rest of the book. The biggest disservice is ultimately dealt to our hero, Fran. I really liked the idea of an everyman cop coming face-to-face with the supernatural, and Fran holds up well against the ooglies that have now started dicing up Philly. However, the issue with Fran is that he doesn’t have a clear arc. We have the sketches of one: it’s revealed throughout the story that Fran lives in the shadow of his father. When he was a young man, his father told him (shortly before dying) that he never felt Fran “had what it took” to be a cop. Fran has spent his life trying to prove his father wrong. When he faces a life-or-death situation with some street toughs, he finally cracks. The story seems to be building up to his redemption, where he finally finds “what it takes” when he squares off against the Bone Worms and helps William put an end to the creepy crawly reign of terror.
But that doesn’t happen. William does the leg work, and all Fran manages to do is stand around getting buried under rubble. Then we watch him spiral as an old man before finally pulling a gun on someone who may or may not be a threat at all. Is he going insane? Is he justified? Do the Bone Worms know about Fran and want to snuff him out?
Who cares! Story’s over!
There were no revelations, no big final battle, no big moment where Fran finally overcomes his mental illness in the service of defeating the interdimensional foe. No character arcs, really, whatsoever. The murders happen, Fran figures out why (we the reader already know why) and both William and Jack bite the big one, leaving Fran to deal with the bloodshed. It just feels so dull for a novel that has so much potential. And more to the point, though I really enjoyed a lot of the passages in the book, it feels more or less incomplete.
On the whole, I found a lot to like about The Bone Worms. It has some excellent gore, executed by a horrifically pernicious monster from another realm. The cop drama aspects work pretty well, and I thought the plot was very engaging. The only problem is that the whole ordeal ends on an anticlimax, with the story feeling less than complete when it comes to its overall narrative. The potential for something far more engaging is certainly there, but this novel just feels lackluster as it is.