[Alex Schofield 02] Maelstrom of Darkness by D. W. Whitlock

Author:D. W. Whitlock [D. W. Whitlock]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0CBJ8DNTC
Publisher: Shrike Press
Published: 2023-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

27

Harlow sat up in bed as the young security guard marched back down the hallway, radio up and ready. Light flared as he opened the door and stepped outside, already barking into the thing.

Curious, she padded across the bunk room in bare feet, scanning the beds. Tara lay on bunk #1, scarred cheek just visible above the blanket wrapped tight around her body. Strange. All were occupied, except one.

Sherilyn, Harlow thought. Maybe she’s in the bathroom.

Harlow didn’t know why exactly, but she’d begun to feel protective over the slight, dark-haired girl.

Because I see some of myself in her.

After peering down the hall to make sure it was clear, Harlow swung her gaze back to the far end. Clarissa St. Claire and Schofield were down there speaking in front of a red door, their voices distorted by echo. There was something budding between them maybe. An attraction to be sure. Good looking people in any group tended to find each other right off.

A tinge of jealousy swept through her.

Not over Schofield, really, but the situation. Girls like her never had moments like this. Not that she would know what to do if she suddenly found herself super rich and powerful. She watched them, standing close, imagined they were sharing one of those sweet moments at the beginning of a relationship when things were new and scary yet thrilling all the same…

I should tell them about the secret lab.

The thought intruded, sending a cascade of butterflies fluttering though her belly. A far-off part of her brain wondered if that’s what a baby felt like in there, kicking maybe, having a dream.

Harlow crept down the hall in bare feet and a sleep shirt to better hear what Schofield and Clarissa were saying, hugging the wall to stay out of sight.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating,” Clarissa said.

“Albrecht’s card opened this door. Not yours, not your chief of security. His.”

That was when the smell hit her.

The butterflies in Harlow’s stomach died as saliva welled her mouth and she turned away. It was a sharp, fishy stench with a putrid after-taste that clung to the back of her tongue. Harlow’s curiosity evaporated as she crept back down the hall to the bunk room.

She didn’t want any part of what was going on behind the red door.

Exhaustion clung to her as she dropped into her own bunk, making her limbs feel heavy and sluggish. She wanted nothing more than to sleep. But as she lay there, gears of her brain spinning, she was surprised at the swirl of warring emotion that welled up inside. She wondered where Sherilyn was and if she was okay before her thoughts turned to what was really bothering her. Harlow didn’t ever want to have children, not with the crazy in her family. Her mother didn’t want “skunks” for grandchildren, so there was that. But hearing that baby cry with joy last night, she couldn’t help but wonder. Wonder maybe if things were different, if she wasn’t poor white trash from

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