Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Cowan said so. Webb, get up.”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
The noise comes again, this time louder, and I’m positive now.
“Someone’s upstairs.”
“Shit,” she says and slams the safe door shut. It thunks closed like it’s made of stone and she jumps to her feet. “What do we do? Is it Cowan? Nobody’s here, right?”
“I don’t know.” I walk away from her, straining to hear. The floor above creaks again, and again, getting closer to the door— “They’re coming down.”
“Should we run? Hide? Baptist, I’m freaking out.”
“Stay behind me.” I start back through the maze of boxes, trying to find the stairs, but I’m totally lost in the crazy overflow of junk. Blair keeps grabbing at my hands and pulling at my shirt, crowding my heels, and I’m straining to listen as the stairs creak once, twice, three times.
“Someone’s coming down,” Blair hisses. “Baptist! What do we do!”
I press her back against some boxes and put a hand over her mouth. She’s breathing hard and her heart’s racing like crazy and all I can think about is that night in the supply closet, my hand between her legs, but fuck, someone’s wading through the mess. I hear another person breathing, labored and loud, almost grunting. Blair’s eyes are wild, and I give her a hard look as I take her wrist and move my hand from her mouth.
I pull her along behind me. She stays quiet as we sneak along another snaking path through the mess. It turns to the left, heading toward the stairs, and whoever’s down here with us must’ve found the safe still unlocked because there’s a ragged curse, like the rasp of ancient leaves crumbling in the wind.
We slip into the other path and move onto the stairs. I nod for her to go first and put a finger to my lips. She’s shaking and sweating, but she creeps up as silently as she can. I follow, trying not to make any noise, but I’m not a light man or a small one either, and the wood warps under my weight, making a groaning, creaking noise.
“I hear you!” The voice is female, raspy, like she’s an old smoker. “Thieving fucks!”
A blast roars from somewhere in the back of the basement. Pages scatter all over, exploding from the boxes, and I shove Blair up. Another blast and more stuffing and plastic bits rain all over the place. “Go! Run!”
Blair sprints up the steps with me on her tail. “I’m coming, you thieving bastard! Don’t you fucking run!”
I reach the top and throw myself forward as another shotgun blast roars from down below, scattering into the hallway wall where I’d been just a second before. Blair turns and helps me up as the old lady comes barreling up the stairs, holding this ridiculously large gun in both hands. Her hair’s wizened and thinning, and she’s wearing a dark blue nightgown that hangs from her emaciated frame.
“Gotcha, fuckers!”
I shove Blair aside and dive as the old lady shoots. The gun kicks back and she nearly loses control of it, and a hole the size of a football is blasted into a painting nearby.
Blair hits the floor hard and something cracks under her.
I leap to my feet and drag her up as the old lady curses and fumbles with shells, trying to reload them. “Come on, run.”
I yank Blair to the door. She’s cursing and shouting nonsense and I’m thinking only about getting her to safety. We hurry outside as the old lady screams something incomprehensible and shoots again, but her aim is wild. I reach the car, get Blair’s door open, and shove her in before jumping behind the wheel.
“Fuckers! Thieves!” The old lady takes one more pot shot and shatters one of the rear windows into a thousand little glass pebbles. I peel out, throw the car around, and drive away from that hell as fast as I can.
My heart’s racing wildly and I’m so hopped up on adrenaline I can barely think. I fly out onto the main road and floor it back toward town, laughing the whole time. I feel so fucking terrified and alive, but when I look at Blair and the look of pure horror in her eyes, all my excitement slowly dies.
“The mask,” she says and holds up what’s left of it in her hands.
The thing’s broken into four large shards.
“Ah, shit,” I say with a long sigh. “We survived one old psychopath only to have to go back and face another.”
“We’re screwed. We’re completely ruined.”
I shake my head, thinking rapidly. “It’ll be fine. We can fix it. Or maybe—”
“Or maybe we’ll tell him that we got assaulted by some absolutely insane lady and nearly got killed.”
“That might work.”
“Fuck.” She leans back, cradling the destroyed mask in her lap. “All that for nothing.”
“We’ll work it out. We’ll go to him together—”