Connection: A Cyberpunk Thriller (Neon Horizon Book 4) by Michael Robertson

Author:Michael Robertson [Robertson, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sort3
Published: 2021-02-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 33

Alfie lost sight of the pub when he rounded the bend to the right. And the people in the pub had lost sight of him. The local pissheads who were planning on getting their kicks from watching him shit himself could go back to their inane conversations around the same five subjects they never seemed to stray from.

The vast warehouse still on his right, but now Alfie had a derelict garage and an abandoned mail sorting office on his left. Where Mail had once been written, the M had gone and had been replaced with a deeply scratched F.

Scriiiitch!

The skin along the back of Alfie’s neck clenched. The thing remained in the warehouse. He quickened his pace. He kept his focus ahead and stared into the impenetrable darkness. Until something shifted in the window of the mail building. Alfie stopped again, squinting as if it would help him see better.

Where there had been movement, there now sat only shadow.

Just before he set off, the darkness shifted again. There was someone in there. The pub remained blocked from his sight. Alfie threw his arms in the air. “All right, lads, very fucking funny. Stop winding me up and come out, yeah?”

A silhouette stepped forwards. The night turned even colder, and Alfie shivered. The shadowy figure stared back at him before withdrawing into the building for a second time.

“Come on, boys. For fuck’s sake, you’ve had your laugh now. This ain’t funny!”

Clink!

Dragon jumped. Back in the theatre for the briefest moment.

A glass bottle fell over in the warehouse. A black cat burst from the building, ran across the street, and vanished around the back of the garage.

“I fucking hate cats,” Alfie said. The silhouette in the mail building had also gone.

Adrenaline surged through Alfie, and he shook, unable to focus on his phone’s screen. His finger too cold to unlock the fingerprint recognition, he tapped in his code instead, Alice’s birthday. At this rate, he’d be happy to get home in one piece.

Greg’s number sat third on his list of recent calls. He pressed it.

The ringing tone in Alfie’s ear disabled one of his senses. He opened his sore eyes wider and spun on the spot.

“Alf, are you all right, mate?”

“Very fucking funny. Cut it out, yeah?”

“Cut what out?”

“Where are you?” The hum of the busy bar in the background.

“I’m in the pub still, watching Dave play level seventeen thousand on Candy Crotch. It’s riveting stuff. Alf, is everything okay?”

What could he say to him? No, I’m shitting myself because of an urban myth. I’ve had one too many beers, and now I’m seeing things. While smiling, trying to force the intent of the gesture into his tone, he faked a laugh. “Of course I’m all right, you mad bastard. I’m just winding you up. In fact, I’m nearly home, ready to cash in Alice’s promise. Just thought I’d let you know I’ve gotten back fine, and my night is about to get a hell of a lot more interesting than yours.

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