Sr.”
“Okay. I believe
that was around 1990 or so. Last year we hired a temp to scan all hard copies
into the computer database. I can fax it to you in the next ten minutes.
“Great, thanks.”
Anna was grateful that David was not a man who asked questions when he received
strange requests. She also appreciated his discretion.
“Anna, be
careful.”
“You too,” she
said. She hung up the phone and looked at her children. She considered for a
brief moment locking them up so whatever it was that was out there couldn’t get
them.
* * * * * *
2
As Michael
Mullins regained consciousness he felt lightheaded and nauseous. It took him a
moment to gather his thoughts and remember what had happened. What a
terrible dream, he thought to himself. Thinking he must have passed out at
the Laundromat, concern for his health flooded his mind.
“I must have hit
my head,” he mumbled to himself, eyes still closed. In the distance he could
hear the trickling of water. It felt damp, and he felt pain. The pain continued
to grow more intense, coming from his neck and face. When he opened his eyes,
he immediately noticed two things. First, he could only see out of one eye, and
second, he was no longer at the Laundromat. Confused and disoriented, he
realized he was standing, his arms outstretched above his head. He tried to
pull his arms down so he could touch his face, but his hands were tied together
and secured to some sort of hard, slippery surface.
Panic began to
take over. The nightmare in the woods must have really happened, and now he was
being held against his will in some dark, unknown hideaway. He considered
calling out to his captor, then began arguing with himself. Maybe it was better
if he just kept his mouth shut and pretended to be unconscious? What if they
planned on torturing him? If they had wanted him dead, the terrifying man in
the woods would have taken care of that by now.
What could I
have done to piss someone off? Why would they want to kill me? After seeing
Alan Brickton dead, it sort of made sense that someone might kill him. Granted,
murder doesn’t usually happen in Crimson Falls. But still. If someone was going
to be killed, it would be someone like Acorn Alan. But the sound of Anna’s
voice in the woods, the larger than life attacker – something weird was
happening and that creature was just getting started.
As Michael
silently cursed Anna for making him dust for prints by himself, he heard the
sound of someone walking toward him. He slumped his head down and acted like he
was out cold. His body almost convulsed with fear, and the pain was becoming
almost unbearable. Suddenly it became clear that he may not be able to pull off
looking unconscious. That thought only made him tremble more feverously. The
footsteps were getting louder and closer.
“Michael,” a
deep male voice called.
The voice was
familiar, but he felt too incoherent to recognize it. He decided to keep
playing dead.
“Michael,” the
voice repeated. It sounded almost like he was singing. The voice sent shivers
down his spine.
Play dead. Play
dead ,
he kept repeating in his head. He tried to will his muscles not to move, to
force his body to stop shaking.
“I know you’re
not sleeping,” the voice said. “Don’t worry, man, you’re safe,” he said.
Michael finally recognized the voice.
“Jake?” Michael
said, his voice hoarse. “Jake, is that you?”
“Who else would
it be?” Jake laughed. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”
“Oh, thank God.
Where are we? What’s going on? How did you find me?”
“There, there,
Michael. It will be okay,” he said.
“Jake?” Michael
said, fear filling his belly. That was not something Jake would say unless he
was mocking him. And it wouldn’t be like Jake to do that in a life and death
situation.
“Shhh,” Jake
whispered as he closed in on Michael. He wrapped his arms around him and licked
the wound on his neck.
“You taste so good,” he whispered
“Okay. I believe
that was around 1990 or so. Last year we hired a temp to scan all hard copies
into the computer database. I can fax it to you in the next ten minutes.
“Great, thanks.”
Anna was grateful that David was not a man who asked questions when he received
strange requests. She also appreciated his discretion.
“Anna, be
careful.”
“You too,” she
said. She hung up the phone and looked at her children. She considered for a
brief moment locking them up so whatever it was that was out there couldn’t get
them.
* * * * * *
2
As Michael
Mullins regained consciousness he felt lightheaded and nauseous. It took him a
moment to gather his thoughts and remember what had happened. What a
terrible dream, he thought to himself. Thinking he must have passed out at
the Laundromat, concern for his health flooded his mind.
“I must have hit
my head,” he mumbled to himself, eyes still closed. In the distance he could
hear the trickling of water. It felt damp, and he felt pain. The pain continued
to grow more intense, coming from his neck and face. When he opened his eyes,
he immediately noticed two things. First, he could only see out of one eye, and
second, he was no longer at the Laundromat. Confused and disoriented, he
realized he was standing, his arms outstretched above his head. He tried to
pull his arms down so he could touch his face, but his hands were tied together
and secured to some sort of hard, slippery surface.
Panic began to
take over. The nightmare in the woods must have really happened, and now he was
being held against his will in some dark, unknown hideaway. He considered
calling out to his captor, then began arguing with himself. Maybe it was better
if he just kept his mouth shut and pretended to be unconscious? What if they
planned on torturing him? If they had wanted him dead, the terrifying man in
the woods would have taken care of that by now.
What could I
have done to piss someone off? Why would they want to kill me? After seeing
Alan Brickton dead, it sort of made sense that someone might kill him. Granted,
murder doesn’t usually happen in Crimson Falls. But still. If someone was going
to be killed, it would be someone like Acorn Alan. But the sound of Anna’s
voice in the woods, the larger than life attacker – something weird was
happening and that creature was just getting started.
As Michael
silently cursed Anna for making him dust for prints by himself, he heard the
sound of someone walking toward him. He slumped his head down and acted like he
was out cold. His body almost convulsed with fear, and the pain was becoming
almost unbearable. Suddenly it became clear that he may not be able to pull off
looking unconscious. That thought only made him tremble more feverously. The
footsteps were getting louder and closer.
“Michael,” a
deep male voice called.
The voice was
familiar, but he felt too incoherent to recognize it. He decided to keep
playing dead.
“Michael,” the
voice repeated. It sounded almost like he was singing. The voice sent shivers
down his spine.
Play dead. Play
dead ,
he kept repeating in his head. He tried to will his muscles not to move, to
force his body to stop shaking.
“I know you’re
not sleeping,” the voice said. “Don’t worry, man, you’re safe,” he said.
Michael finally recognized the voice.
“Jake?” Michael
said, his voice hoarse. “Jake, is that you?”
“Who else would
it be?” Jake laughed. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”
“Oh, thank God.
Where are we? What’s going on? How did you find me?”
“There, there,
Michael. It will be okay,” he said.
“Jake?” Michael
said, fear filling his belly. That was not something Jake would say unless he
was mocking him. And it wouldn’t be like Jake to do that in a life and death
situation.
“Shhh,” Jake
whispered as he closed in on Michael. He wrapped his arms around him and licked
the wound on his neck.
“You taste so good,” he whispered
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