Unbreakable Storm by Patrick Dugan

Author:Patrick Dugan [Dugan, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Falstaff Books
Published: 2019-05-15T22:00:00+00:00

22

Marcel launched into action, hands blurring across multiple keyboards to locate the source of the alarm. Feeds from hidden cameras popped up on the screen, hazy green images from the night vision lens. One centered on the monitor, enlarging to fill the whole screen. A parked car stood a hundred feet from the underground bunker where the vehicles were stored. Marcel zoomed the camera to get a better look.

A dark colored car grew, making the details painfully obvious. Fog coated the windows; the car rocked gently as it sat there. Mom cleared her throat. “I think we’ve seen enough. I guess that’s a false alarm.”

“The car belongs to a Caroline Brenton, a cashier at Quiky Stop.” Marcel glanced up at the screen, his jaw dropping open. “Oh yeah, false alarm.” He quickly closed the feed window.

Everyone laughed. Tension ebbed a bit after the false alarm, but not by much.

“I think it’s time to get some sleep,” I said, waving over my shoulder as I returned to my room. “Good night.”

A chorus of good nights followed me out. I retraced my earlier path, ending under the warmth of the comforter on my bed.

A few minutes later, I dozed off and found myself standing in the center of a formal dance. Women stood dressed in wide-bottomed gowns of every imaginable color. Some wore elaborate headdresses, others veils covering their hair. The men wore tunics with belts around their waists, glittering hilts of knives hung at their side. Couples bobbed in time to the classical music playing around me.

I stood on a low pedestal, above the dancers, seeing the intricate patterns they made, the colors swirling like a kaleidoscope. The enormous room holding the festivities could have been plucked out of one of those period movies mom liked. Deep red walls with gold symbols rose in delicate arches to meet at the top of the dome. The images on the dome were intricate, elaborate depictions of people. As I focused, the details became sharper, and I gasped. The paintings depicted people being tortured and killed by demons of all sorts.

“It is a striking piece of art,” a woman said from behind me. The platform had grown to accommodate a second person. She wore a velvet gown of a red so deep it could have been mistaken for black from a distance. A gold corset enhanced her breasts, so they were prominently on display. Her waist-long, silver hair held a gold circlet, like a crown. The scent of roses tickled my nose as she stepped closer to me.

“My, you are much taller than I thought.” She circled me, studying me like one of those mannequins in the clothing stores whose eyes always followed you. Her hand slid across my back as she passed behind me. Finishing her loop, she put her hands on her hips, pouting slightly. “Well, you can’t be dressed improperly for a gala.”

I glanced down, realizing I stood in the middle of the room in the t-shirt and sweats I’d gone to bed in.

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