Murder House, Part 5 by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473536012
Publisher: Random House

112

I POINT the gun inside the room, my pulse pounding against my temples.

The smell of bleach and burning oil. A square, windowless room, a single kerosene lamp on one side casting flickering orange light about. Next to the lamp, a sleeping bag, unfolded, but nobody inside it. Nobody in this room, period. No chairs or furniture or anything except—except something near the back—

A spear. Protruding from the floor, a long narrow missile with a sharp top—

“No,” I say. “No.” Hot tears blurring my vision, running down my cheeks into my mouth.

I step into the room, my words echoing between my ears, the walls moving, the room spinning, the cries, the horrific, ghoulish screams from all directions filling my head, my legs unsteady as I move forward—

—as I move toward the other end of this square room—

—because somehow I know, some internal compass is directing me, some force is moving me toward a door at the other end of the room, a door I can’t see but that I know, somehow I know is there.

Everything slowing down, like I’m moving through quicksand, but I must reach the door, I have to reach it for some reason, but my legs are suddenly numb, up is down, down is up, the floor is suddenly rising up to meet my face with a violent smack, sending shock waves through my skull, jarring the roots of my teeth.

The revolver bounces out of my hand on impact with the floor.

Everything fuzz and fog, but I can’t let go now, can’t let go now.

The flashlight underneath me—I fell on it—but the gun …

I need the gun.

My head lifting off the floor, searing pain over my right eye, nausea rising to the surface; I’m woozy and disoriented. Patting the floor around me. Forcing myself to my knees, light flickering in and out from the glow of the kerosene lamp, the gash over my eye making me pay a severe price every time I whip my head from one side to the other, but I need the gun—

Words screaming at me, but I can’t make them out, so loud that I can’t hear them, echoing through my head with such force that I can’t understand them, what is he saying, what is he—

Come with me

Footsteps, coming from the other side of the room, near the door I can’t see, footsteps, someone’s coming—

Come with me

Come with me

The gun, I need the gun—

Where is that gun?

The click of a doorknob, the groan of a door opening.

And Aiden Willis walks in.

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