[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
picked the phone up again and dialed. His mother answered on the second ring. He told her he would be home
soon and that she should not wait up, and then he told her that he loved her, something he realized he had not
mentioned nearly enough in the past. She asked him to hurry. He said he would promised, and hung up.
Back at the door, he took one last look across the parking lot. Fog had rolled in much thicker now,
consuming the night landscape. He could no longer see the patrol car, but a flickering light from the television
told him that Quinn was still there. So, he pushed open the door and stepped outside, allowing it to lock behind
him.
His long strides shuttled him across the lot in double-time until the toot of a horn stopped him in his tracks.
He glanced back at the patrol car. A wave of light washed over him in a swirl. Blinded, he could see only that
the lights came from the patrol car, and that Quinn, barely a shadow behind the lights, seemed to wave him
over. Chris smiled and waved back. The horn tooted again. Once more, the shadowed silhouette silently
beckoned through the window.
Odd, Chris thought, and the wheels of paranoia began spinning. He imagined that Quinn was trying to warn
him of an ambush awaiting him by his van. He turned and ran to the patrol car, reaching the driver s side
window short of breath, but glad to be safe in the protection of the law.
Hey, he said, panting. What s up? You honk?
The officer said nothing.
So, how s the stakeout going?
He still did not answer, nor did he look up.
What are you watching there? Is that the fight? Chris leaned into the window, barely, but enough to catch a
glimpse of the television. He squinted to make out the details on the screen. Slowly, the images came into focus.
His heart skipped a beat and then quickened in offbeat palpitations. He gasped and swallowed with a forceful
gulp. It did not seem possible, yet somehow the images broadcasting on the television were the same as those he
has seen on the window with Travis thought-form. Again, the murder of Travis Webber played out before his
eyes in vivid detail.
He pushed away from the window just as the end came for Travis and the picture faded from the screen. He
looked at Quinn with dismay, but the officer still would not look up.
Did you see that? he said, his voice croaking. Did you see what just happened there? That was Travis!
Something stirred in the corner of his eye. He turned sharply and looked out toward the parking lot. There he
saw Leona Diaz, washed in the lights of the patrol car, surrounded by an illuminated mist swirling all about her.
She appeared dazed, partially naked in a shear nightgown, barefooted, and if he could trust his eyes, hovering
several inches off the ground.
He called to her, Leona!
She did not respond, but motioned with her head from side to side.
He turned to see if Officer Quinn could see her, too, and was surprised to find he was not looking. He
reached out and nudged him on the shoulder. The officer slumped over sideways, and Chris could see then that
someone had slashed his throat from ear to ear. He stumbled away from the window, horrified, turned again to
Leona. Her tears fell silent, her head shaking no in anguish.
What have you done? he shouted. Why did you do this?
She stood mute. Her mouth moved but no words came out. She gestured. Chris shrugged. I don t
understand. What are you telling me?
She raised a finger and pointed.
Me? he asked, pointing to himself.
She shook her head no.
I don t get it. You are not pointing at me?
No.
You& you pointing behind me?
Yes.
He wheeled about, his fears and instincts realized. He managed only two words: the same words that Travis
managed before his death.
It s you!
The Surgeon Stalker plunged his blade into Chris with the force of a charging bull. The blade tore upward
through his chest, cutting meat and scoring bone indiscriminately, until reaching the top of his neck. The attack
came so quick and clean that Chris, like Travis Webber, was still alive when he fell to his knees with the
Surgeon s blade propping up his jaw. The shadowed demon smiled wickedly as he pulled the blade out, slicing [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
picked the phone up again and dialed. His mother answered on the second ring. He told her he would be home
soon and that she should not wait up, and then he told her that he loved her, something he realized he had not
mentioned nearly enough in the past. She asked him to hurry. He said he would promised, and hung up.
Back at the door, he took one last look across the parking lot. Fog had rolled in much thicker now,
consuming the night landscape. He could no longer see the patrol car, but a flickering light from the television
told him that Quinn was still there. So, he pushed open the door and stepped outside, allowing it to lock behind
him.
His long strides shuttled him across the lot in double-time until the toot of a horn stopped him in his tracks.
He glanced back at the patrol car. A wave of light washed over him in a swirl. Blinded, he could see only that
the lights came from the patrol car, and that Quinn, barely a shadow behind the lights, seemed to wave him
over. Chris smiled and waved back. The horn tooted again. Once more, the shadowed silhouette silently
beckoned through the window.
Odd, Chris thought, and the wheels of paranoia began spinning. He imagined that Quinn was trying to warn
him of an ambush awaiting him by his van. He turned and ran to the patrol car, reaching the driver s side
window short of breath, but glad to be safe in the protection of the law.
Hey, he said, panting. What s up? You honk?
The officer said nothing.
So, how s the stakeout going?
He still did not answer, nor did he look up.
What are you watching there? Is that the fight? Chris leaned into the window, barely, but enough to catch a
glimpse of the television. He squinted to make out the details on the screen. Slowly, the images came into focus.
His heart skipped a beat and then quickened in offbeat palpitations. He gasped and swallowed with a forceful
gulp. It did not seem possible, yet somehow the images broadcasting on the television were the same as those he
has seen on the window with Travis thought-form. Again, the murder of Travis Webber played out before his
eyes in vivid detail.
He pushed away from the window just as the end came for Travis and the picture faded from the screen. He
looked at Quinn with dismay, but the officer still would not look up.
Did you see that? he said, his voice croaking. Did you see what just happened there? That was Travis!
Something stirred in the corner of his eye. He turned sharply and looked out toward the parking lot. There he
saw Leona Diaz, washed in the lights of the patrol car, surrounded by an illuminated mist swirling all about her.
She appeared dazed, partially naked in a shear nightgown, barefooted, and if he could trust his eyes, hovering
several inches off the ground.
He called to her, Leona!
She did not respond, but motioned with her head from side to side.
He turned to see if Officer Quinn could see her, too, and was surprised to find he was not looking. He
reached out and nudged him on the shoulder. The officer slumped over sideways, and Chris could see then that
someone had slashed his throat from ear to ear. He stumbled away from the window, horrified, turned again to
Leona. Her tears fell silent, her head shaking no in anguish.
What have you done? he shouted. Why did you do this?
She stood mute. Her mouth moved but no words came out. She gestured. Chris shrugged. I don t
understand. What are you telling me?
She raised a finger and pointed.
Me? he asked, pointing to himself.
She shook her head no.
I don t get it. You are not pointing at me?
No.
You& you pointing behind me?
Yes.
He wheeled about, his fears and instincts realized. He managed only two words: the same words that Travis
managed before his death.
It s you!
The Surgeon Stalker plunged his blade into Chris with the force of a charging bull. The blade tore upward
through his chest, cutting meat and scoring bone indiscriminately, until reaching the top of his neck. The attack
came so quick and clean that Chris, like Travis Webber, was still alive when he fell to his knees with the
Surgeon s blade propping up his jaw. The shadowed demon smiled wickedly as he pulled the blade out, slicing [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]