Read Online A Gathering of Crows by Brian Keene - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Brian Keene
Tags: Horror
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was just a cold sensation that spread rapidly across his chest and abdomen. His eyes filled up with water.
“Now that ,” the stranger said, “is supposed to scare you.”
The man’s arm was still extended. Stephen tried to pull away from him and found that he couldn’t.
Startled, he tried again. As he did, Stephen coughed, and tasted blood in the back of his throat. Then the dark man pulled his arm back and held up his hand. There was something gray and pink clutched in the stranger’s fist. His hand glistened wetly.
That looks like . . . raw meat? Where did he get that?
Stephen became aware that something warm and wet was running down the side of his chin. He smacked his lips together. They felt dry all of a sudden, and the coldness was spreading to his arms and legs.
“I’m not sure what this is,” the man in black said, frowning as he glanced at the grisly trophy in his hand. Shrugging, he tossed it to the side of the road. It landed in the grass and gravel with a squelch. “You people have too many useless things inside of you. It’s a wonder you ever made it out of the oceans. As a species, you’re so inferiorly designed. Then again, you were made in His image. And our kind has the unfortunate luck of manifesting in your image, rather than our own. We were once you, you see? Now we are something better. But never mind that.”
He punched Stephen again. Blood flew from Stephen’s mouth, splattering the stranger’s coat. This time, there was pain—a sharp, overpowering agony that seemed to jolt through him as if he’d been shocked. It blazed, and then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain faded again, replaced by the coldness. Stephen choked as the man held up his hand again, revealing a new item.
“This is your heart, of course. A bit easier to recognize than that last piece.”
Stephen toppled backward, barely feeling it as his head cracked on the blacktop. He heard the sound it made, but he couldn’t be bothered to wonder what it was. Dimly, he thought that perhaps someone was cracking eggs on a stove.
“And these are your intestines. I can divine your future just by looking at them. Hmm. Your future does not look bright. Here, hold this.”
The attacker slipped something warm and slimy into Stephen’s hand, but he couldn’t see what it was. The last thing Stephen was aware of was the man in black crouching low and leaning over his face. Then the stranger’s terrible, cruel mouth opened wide, and Stephen Poernik died before he could scream.
FOUR
“You fucking asshole!”
Marsha raised her hand to smack Donny, but he grabbed her wrist and squeezed—light enough not to hurt her, but firm enough to make her stop. Her anger was evident in both her expression and tone, loud enough to be heard over the howling dogs.
“Calm down,” he said calmly, trying to soothe her. Marsha stomped her heel down on the arch of his foot. It hurt, even through the thick leather of his boots. Yelping, Donny let go of her wrist and Marsha pulled away. Before he could react, she punched his chest. Donny shook his head, confused, and seized both of her wrists.
“Stop it, Marsha. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me?” Her tone changed from angry to flustered. “What’s wrong with you ? Were you really going to just leave again without saying anything? Just like before?”
Donny opened his mouth to respond, but all he could muster was a choked sigh. He released Marsha’s wrists and let his arms hang limp at his sides. Then he stared down at the pavement, unable to meet her wounded, accusatory glare.
“You’re right,” he muttered. “I’m an asshole, and I’m sorry. I just figured that—”
“That what? You’d take off again, just like you did after graduation? That you’d mess with my head some more? Is this how it’s going to be from now on, Donny? Just when I get over you and start to move on, you’ll come waltzing back into town again, play me and then leave?”
“No. I told
“Now that ,” the stranger said, “is supposed to scare you.”
The man’s arm was still extended. Stephen tried to pull away from him and found that he couldn’t.
Startled, he tried again. As he did, Stephen coughed, and tasted blood in the back of his throat. Then the dark man pulled his arm back and held up his hand. There was something gray and pink clutched in the stranger’s fist. His hand glistened wetly.
That looks like . . . raw meat? Where did he get that?
Stephen became aware that something warm and wet was running down the side of his chin. He smacked his lips together. They felt dry all of a sudden, and the coldness was spreading to his arms and legs.
“I’m not sure what this is,” the man in black said, frowning as he glanced at the grisly trophy in his hand. Shrugging, he tossed it to the side of the road. It landed in the grass and gravel with a squelch. “You people have too many useless things inside of you. It’s a wonder you ever made it out of the oceans. As a species, you’re so inferiorly designed. Then again, you were made in His image. And our kind has the unfortunate luck of manifesting in your image, rather than our own. We were once you, you see? Now we are something better. But never mind that.”
He punched Stephen again. Blood flew from Stephen’s mouth, splattering the stranger’s coat. This time, there was pain—a sharp, overpowering agony that seemed to jolt through him as if he’d been shocked. It blazed, and then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain faded again, replaced by the coldness. Stephen choked as the man held up his hand again, revealing a new item.
“This is your heart, of course. A bit easier to recognize than that last piece.”
Stephen toppled backward, barely feeling it as his head cracked on the blacktop. He heard the sound it made, but he couldn’t be bothered to wonder what it was. Dimly, he thought that perhaps someone was cracking eggs on a stove.
“And these are your intestines. I can divine your future just by looking at them. Hmm. Your future does not look bright. Here, hold this.”
The attacker slipped something warm and slimy into Stephen’s hand, but he couldn’t see what it was. The last thing Stephen was aware of was the man in black crouching low and leaning over his face. Then the stranger’s terrible, cruel mouth opened wide, and Stephen Poernik died before he could scream.
FOUR
“You fucking asshole!”
Marsha raised her hand to smack Donny, but he grabbed her wrist and squeezed—light enough not to hurt her, but firm enough to make her stop. Her anger was evident in both her expression and tone, loud enough to be heard over the howling dogs.
“Calm down,” he said calmly, trying to soothe her. Marsha stomped her heel down on the arch of his foot. It hurt, even through the thick leather of his boots. Yelping, Donny let go of her wrist and Marsha pulled away. Before he could react, she punched his chest. Donny shook his head, confused, and seized both of her wrists.
“Stop it, Marsha. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me?” Her tone changed from angry to flustered. “What’s wrong with you ? Were you really going to just leave again without saying anything? Just like before?”
Donny opened his mouth to respond, but all he could muster was a choked sigh. He released Marsha’s wrists and let his arms hang limp at his sides. Then he stared down at the pavement, unable to meet her wounded, accusatory glare.
“You’re right,” he muttered. “I’m an asshole, and I’m sorry. I just figured that—”
“That what? You’d take off again, just like you did after graduation? That you’d mess with my head some more? Is this how it’s going to be from now on, Donny? Just when I get over you and start to move on, you’ll come waltzing back into town again, play me and then leave?”
“No. I told
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