Elrod, PN - Vampire Files 03 by Elrod PN

Author:Elrod, PN
Language: eng
Format: epub

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RAIN PELTING AGAINST my sodden coat.

Light.

A hand on my wrist.

Mitch, are they--

My God, Elma, get back in the car. Fear in his voice.

Footsteps. A door slams shut.

The man keeps saying my God over and over again before he finally backs away and leaves.

His voice raises in a shout, then a curse.

The wet rush and roar as a car drives quickly past.

Rain.

Wind.

Another car. The road under me announces its approach.

He shouts again. This time it stops. Light pierces my sightless eyes.

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Voices.

get to a phone

Trent place, just up the road

police first, it's too late for

More lights, more voices. Questions.

An eternity of rain and wind.

thought something was wrong so we stopped Johnnie Banks, don't know who the other fella Hands probe my pockets.

out of town. Must be his car behind Johnnie's The light gets stronger. It beats on me like the rain. Hands turn my body. Rain strikes my face.

cracked open like an egg

Want to scream. Can't.

multiple blows with a blunt instrument, both of 'em. That's as much as I can tell

musta been a robbery, but who

Hands on my body, lifting me.

The rain stops. Full daylight. Blinding, burning, killing daylight.

Want to scream. Want to scream.

They drop a blanket on me. The rough fabric covers my face. Grunting and swaying, they carry my body out of the wind.

The blanket diffuses the light a little.

Can't move or talk.

A car rumbles under me.

Hands and movement. Hands tugging, pulling at me, at my clothes. No way to tell them to stop.

Searing white light cuts into my brain. Cold air on my bare skin. Icy water sluices over me. Nose and mouth clog with it. They turn my head.

The water drains away.

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Hands probe my broken skull.

Can't scream.

we'd like to respect it, but in the case of a homicide, we have to have the doctor

Arguments drift over me. One voice is vaguely familiar.

Someone closes my light-blind eyes. Red and black patches drift under the lids.

notify his family

working for me, it's my job to

The voices fade. They throw a heavy sheet on me. Out of sight. Out of mind.

The sun works free of the clouds. It beats silently against the covering.

Someone lifts the sheet. The sun flashes over me like a furnace.

Something is shoved under me, firmly pushed under the small of my back.

It's the peace of the grave.

Out. Out. Out.

Sweet night.

A voice. A question.

And pain. Far too much pain.

"hear me? Jack?"

My head feels like a bomb crater. If I lie very, very still, it might not get worse.

The voice whispers anxiously.

I remember the rain and the road and yes, I can hear you, so shut up.

A hand touches my bare shoulder. He tries shaking me awake. It moves my head. I scream. It comes out as little more than a bubbling exhalation.

"Jack?"

Dear God, stop the pain.

"Can you hear me?"

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More bubbles. The taste of mud.

"Jack?"

A series of small coughs. Someone whimpers.

The questions stop. He carefully turns my head to the left. It eases the pressure on the cracked and broken plates of bone.

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