Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“Sam. Sam, we’ve got to get out of here. Sam?”
Peter’s voice sounded like it was coming from the far end of a deep cave, his words echoing and bouncing without making any sense.
“Sam? Sam, snap out of it. We don’t have much time.”
“We’re so high up.” I could have been talking to myself for all I knew. Terrifying fear sunk its rusted claws straight into my heart. “So high up.” My teeth were clattering, my jaw shaking.
“Don’t think about that. Think about getting out. There’s a sharp-looking piece of glass over there, Sam. If we could shimmy together, maybe we can reach it.”
“Heights. I’m scared of heights.” Another ball of bile shot to my throat. This one made it to my lips before I swallowed. All I could think of was how much space was between me and solid ground. So much empty space, so much of nothing. How long would it take to fall from here? To smash against the pavement?
“Okay, then don’t think about the heights. Think about that shard of glass. Come on.”
The chair started to shimmy, but since I didn’t move, it threatened to tip over. I panicked, seeing us tip over and falling straight over the edge. We were so close.
I pushed in the other direction, trying to compensate. But I pushed too hard. The debilitating fear didn’t sap strength from my muscles but instead infused me with it. The two of us went falling onto the floor, still tied to the chairs. My arm took a hard hit against the floor as my world turned upside down once again.
“Fuck,” I said, logic starting to show through the panic, a moment too late. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Peter was crying. This wasn’t okay. This was so fucking far from okay.
“Whoa, what happened here?”
Another voice I instantly recognized.
Nick Ricks, the dirtbag of a friend Jesse had brought into our lives. The one who Rocky suspected was behind it all, something I could now confirm.
“Nick?” I asked as the world righted itself. Nick pushed Peter’s chair back onto its feet, too, making us face each other now. I could see Peter was in worse shape than I was. His left eye had swollen into a nasty purple thing the size of a grapefruit, and his lip had been busted down the center, covering his chin in dried blood. Somehow, though, he still managed to give me a smile when he saw me.
It was the kind of resigned smile given to people on death row, where the fates were signed, sealed, and delivered.
“Finally, both of you are up.”
As if he even had some control over the weather, the winds seemed to have died down. Nick stood there, the glow of the dim lantern behind him. His long hair fluttered up and down like the snakes on the skull of Medusa herself. He wore an all-black outfit, his long-sleeved shirt and skinny pants clinging to him as if he were becoming a shadow. His eyes were sunken in and distant. It was the same kind of expression he’d have when he walked out of the room with Jesse, finished doing drugs together.
“What’s going on? Where are we?” Peter asked.
“We’re at Heaven’s Gate. And I’ve brought you two here to prove a point: those who help the sinners will be prosecuted just the same.”
“What… what are you talking about?” The words were hard to get out. My mouth felt like it had been filled with sand. “Who are you prosecuting? Why us?”
“Because you both are important people. You two mean a lot to Angel and Rocky. I saw that when I followed you all on your double date.” Off our surprised looks, Nick continued. “Earlier in the day I realized Rocky was starting to follow me. I knew he must have started to figure things out. That I was the one who killed Jesse. And, even though I told Stonewall repeatedly to shut the fuck down, he was about to nail me. It infuriated me. I knew I had to do something. So, I went to your place, Sam, and I made up some bullshit story about my laptop, when all I really wanted was Hazel’s phone. I needed it for my plan. I got the phone, and then I kept my eye on the date. When it was over, I followed Angel and Peter, waiting for an opening. I found it, knocking you out after a struggle. You’ve got a fist on you, Peter.” Nick rubbed his jaw, but he didn’t look nearly as beat-up as Peter was. The drugs must have given him some kind of strength.
“And then you baited me,” I said.
“Yup.” He lifted Hazel’s phone before he tossed it over his shoulder. The phone went twirling in the air, disappearing over the edge of the building.