Unleashed: A Rouen Chronicles Origin Story by Raven Steele

Author:Raven Steele [Steele, Raven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Rats. As big as dogs with foaming saliva, dripping from razor sharp teeth. This was what Claire was dreaming about when a loud pounding woke her up. She sat up, gasping for air.

There it was again. Someone at the front door, knocking like the house was on fire. She glanced at the clock, 8:30 a.m., and blinked.

"Claire," a familiar voice shouted from behind her front door.

"I'm coming," she said to no one. Claire threw off the covers and pulled on a pair of jeans from off the floor.

"Where's the fire?" Claire asked when she opened the door, but when she saw Smith’s expression, she followed it up with, "What's wrong?"

Smith placed his hand on the door jam as if to steady himself. His face was pale, and his legs looked like they were about to give out beneath him.

"I'm so glad you're here," he said.

"Where else would I be?"

Smith looked past her into the living room. "Where's your mom?"

Claire stuck her head out the door and looked toward the garage. Her mom's van was parked out front. "She had to work last night, so I'm sure she's crashed. You want me to get her?"

"No. I’ll talk to her later today. It's you I want to see."

"Smith!” a voice called out from around the side of her home. “You're going to want to see this!"

"Who's that?" Claire asked and stepped onto the porch. The sun shined bright, but the air was surprisingly cold. She shivered.

"Doug," Smith said, walking down the stairs.

Claire followed him. "What's your deputy doing snooping around my house?"

If she puffed hard enough, she could see her breath.

Smith didn't answer. Instead he walked to the back of her house and spoke quietly to Doug.

"What's going on, Smith?" She came up behind him and froze. On her bedroom window was a bloody handprint. She stumbled back.

Smith took hold of her hand before she fell. "It's okay. Everything’s going to be fine."

She jerked away from him. "What the hell is going on?"

"Maybe you should tell me," he said, suddenly becoming just as defensive.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His expression softened and he took a deep breath. "What do you know about Gary Lewis?"

A knot formed in Claire’s throat. She tried to swallow it but couldn’t.

Smith continued, "He's a man in his forties. Lived over on Clover Street in the trailer park. He worked as a security guard at Bodian Dynamics. Do you know him?"

She nodded but said, “No.”

“Which is it, Claire? Do you know Gary Lewis or not?”

This time she said, "Sort of."

"How?"

She looked at the smeared handprint, her eyes blurring a bit, then turned around searching the woods behind them. They seemed to be alone. She looked back at Smith. "I fought with him at the festival last night. Is that his handprint?"

"What did you fight about?"

The morning light held the maroon-colored flakes of blood pressed to her window. It reminded her of her first day of kindergarten. She had made a handprint with red paint as a gift to her father.

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