Lucid by P. R. Edwards

Author:P. R. Edwards [Edwards, P.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Virtualbookworm.com Publishing
Published: 2015-02-10T00:00:00+00:00

He awoke to find himself propped up against the planks at the rear of the house. The sun shone strongly and his head hurt worse than he believed possible. He could feel the blood dripping down his back.

His assailant was busy shoveling dirt on the driveway, covering the spilled blood of his companion. He had borrowed tools from Lauren’s shed and now swept the driveway clean with an old wicker broom. Presumably he had dragged his friend onto the passenger seat, because he was nowhere in sight. The side of the car had already been wiped clean.

Chernosky tried to stand but couldn’t make it. A wave of nausea rolled over him and he vomited miserably to one side. His head banged like it would fall out of his skull.

“No, you don’t,” the man barked. “Stay put. I’ll get to you in a moment.”

Chernosky sat upright again and closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness gripped him.

Wait a minute. Something odd.

His mouth slack, he raised his hand to his left eye. Wonder of wonders, he could see the glow of daylight with his right eye! The blow had restored some sight to his right eye!

Weakly, he started to laugh. The intruder glanced at him for a few seconds, and then continued sweeping. After a few more strokes, he took the shovel and broom back to the shed and made sure the door was firmly latched. He brushed dust from his gloves, rolled up the garden hose back onto its reel and returned to the Mercedes, getting into the driver’s seat.

Alex prayed he was leaving, not sure why he’d been spared, but it proved otherwise. Instead, the man spent about five minutes driving the car to and fro on the driveway, presumably masking his shovel work. Through his pounding headache, from his vantage point near the ground, Chernosky noticed the tires were completely bald.

Eventually the man seemed satisfied. He parked the car a few yards up the drive and returned to where Alex was sitting. He crouched down on his haunches and stared at him. He looked lithe and powerful. He was dark complected, perhaps 30 years old and looked maybe like an Arab, with a strong, hooked nose and thick lips. His head was also completely shaved like his accomplice’s, but judging from the stubble, it looked like he had no baldness.

“How do you feel?” he asked with a grin. Not getting an answer, he stared at the beach with a frown and wiped sweat from his brow. His breath had no odor.

“Like crap,” Chernosky eventually croaked.

The man smiled and cracked his knuckles. “You killed the other operative,” he said bleakly. “Not bad for an amateur. You are an amateur, right?”

“Good. I’m glad I killed him,” Alex said, ignoring the question. “You killed my friend!”

The agent thought for a minute without saying anything. Clearly he wasn’t going to comment on that. He seemed very calm, almost friendly.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” he asked. “And what the hell’s this?” he continued, holding up the old Luger in front of him.

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