Waking Lazarus by T. L. Hines

Author:T. L. Hines [Hines, T. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian, Supernatural, Fiction, Christian Fiction, book, Suspense, Montana, Thrillers, Suspense Fiction, General, Religious, Occult & Supernatural, Mebook
ISBN: 9780764203442
Google: LCuBxFvLzoIC
Publisher: Bethany House
Published: 2006-01-01T18:30:00+00:00

24

DISCOVERING

‘‘Hello? Is that you?’’ the young girl’s voice asked. ‘‘I’m . . . I’m sorry about the police.’’

Jude looked at the boy in his arms. The boy had no reaction to the voice, no reaction to any external stimuli, from what Jude could tell. Another child? It made sense, certainly. Something like half a dozen kids had disappeared in the recent past; maybe there were even more hidden inside the home. Jude walked across the living room toward a small hallway at the back of the house. He clicked a switch, and an overhead light illuminated the living room behind him. Down the hall were two closed doors, and light spilled from the crack beneath one.

‘‘I can be a good girl now,’’ the muffled voice said. ‘‘I promise.’’

The words chilled Jude and stopped him for a moment. He was only a few steps from the door now, and he hugged the boy tighter. He took the last two steps to the door and tried it.

It was unlocked.

Inside the room, a blond-haired girl stared back at him. A metal collar around her neck was chained to the bed.

‘‘I did something bad,’’ she said simply. ‘‘The police called.’’

Jude stared at her as he thought about what he wanted to say. ‘‘You didn’t do anything bad. You’ll be okay.’’ He stepped across the room, put the little boy on the bed, and began to work on her restraints.

‘‘Who are you?’’ she asked.

‘‘I’m . . .’’ He paused, wondering just what he should say. ‘‘I’m a janitor,’’ he finished. The chain padlocked at her neck was linked to the bed’s frame, and he didn’t have anything to break the chain.

‘‘Do you know . . . are there tools or anything around here?’’ Jude asked.

‘‘I don’t know,’’ she answered.

‘‘It’s okay. Just . . . I’ll be back in just a minute.’’ He rushed from the room, rummaging through the house, looking for a hammer, anything that might help him break or pry off the chain.

As he was looking through a closet by the bathroom, a thought occurred to him. He went back into the living room, where he found what he was looking for sitting on a table by the couch: a telephone.

He picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1. A dispatcher’s voice answered. ‘‘I need, uh . . . an ambulance,’’ he said. ‘‘Someone’s been shot. 1313 Creekview Drive.’’

The dispatcher started to ask something, but Jude hung up. He returned to the bedroom with the kids. ‘‘It’s okay,’’ he said as he walked into the room. ‘‘The police are coming.’’

Both kids stared without saying anything. Jude went back to the young girl and started to pull on the chain, trying to break her free. After a few seconds of struggling, he found tears spilling from his eyes, and he had to stop and put his head on the bed. Soon huge sobs overtook his body, and he poured out all his frustration on the pink bedspread. A big, blubbering fool. That was what he had become in such a very short time, the ‘‘something more’’ he now was.

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