Read Online Dark Angel 03: Broken Dream by Eden Maguire - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eden Maguire
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and Orlando, you guys need time together.’
‘Come!’ I insisted, stepping into the elevator.
But then a bunch of fellow students pushed ahead of Macy, leaving her stranded in the lobby as the doors closed and we went down to ground level. Planning to go back up to the sixth floor to collect her, I waited for the elevator to empty then pressed six on the control panel. There was a jolt. Instead of rising again, the arrow on the panel told me that we were headed for the basement. I frowned, wondering how long Macy would wait before she gave up on the elevator and headed for the stairway.
Another jolt prepared me for the doors to open. Sure enough, I was below ground, staring out at a dimly lit, empty car park. No one waited to step into the elevator so I chose the sixth floor and pressed again. The door stayed open. Nothing happened.
Great! I stepped outside, took a look around, stepped back in and tried the control panel again. Taking a second look at the concrete pillars and oil-stained floor, and the absence of cars, I knew there was something odd but it took a while for me to work it out – the car park must be empty because the elevator up to street level was out of order. Except that, weirdly, it had decided to bring me down here in the first place. That was when the first creepy, skin-crawling sensation began.
It started at the back of my neck as I finally gave up on the lift buttons and set out to find a stairway out of there. Then, just as I was crossing an open area towards what looked like a pedestrian exit, the yellow safety lights started to flicker and cold panic spread through my whole body. With a final glimmer the lights went out. I was in total darkness.
I hear voices yelling out a warning. Rocks fall, the roof caves in.
I see a faint beam of light and crawl towards it. Behind me, boulders scrape and grind, falling and forming a barrier. Ahead there is a pocket of air. Three men lay curled on their sides. Their faces are bruised and cut. Their eyes are dark with fear. One has a flashlight. He shines it on my terrified face.
‘We’re dead men,’ he gasps. ‘We’re dust.’
All around us there are creatures who never saw the light. Bloodless, the same as the first time I saw them, but now I have longer to breathe in the dust and see them advance, writhing like snakes, burrowing through the earth towards me. They want me and I can’t run, I can’t move. I’m staring at death .
The lights in the basement car park flickered back on. In my panic I saw that I’d lost my sense of direction, turned away from the exit and blundered towards a support pillar. Now I leaned against its rough, cold surface, my breathing shallow, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I didn’t see but I sensed that there was someone down here with me, close to where I stood. I picked up small movements, body heat and almost inaudible breathing.
Still no one emerged from the shadows. I swallowed hard to beat the constriction in my throat then tried to take a deep breath. Fixing my sights on a red Exit sign beyond the parking bays, I inched towards the door.
He sprang from behind the nearest pillar, bare-headed this time and wearing a black T and jeans, planting himself in front of me, blocking my way. It was the same small but stocky mixed-race guy minus the hunter’s hat and leather jacket. And today he held a knife.
He stood three paces from me, his face blank of expression, the hand with the blade raised slightly.
I had enough time to register a few thoughts. How unexpected this was, after rock star Zoran Brancusi and the charming, elegant Laurent twins. This guy was nobody – a punk with a knife. I hadn’t expected this, then I realized how clever it was for my dark angel to take an everyday shape, lurk in the shadows and finally corner me without fireworks or fanfare in an underground car park, alone and helpless. I knew with total clarity that this could be the end.
My oh-so-ordinary dark angel didn’t
‘Come!’ I insisted, stepping into the elevator.
But then a bunch of fellow students pushed ahead of Macy, leaving her stranded in the lobby as the doors closed and we went down to ground level. Planning to go back up to the sixth floor to collect her, I waited for the elevator to empty then pressed six on the control panel. There was a jolt. Instead of rising again, the arrow on the panel told me that we were headed for the basement. I frowned, wondering how long Macy would wait before she gave up on the elevator and headed for the stairway.
Another jolt prepared me for the doors to open. Sure enough, I was below ground, staring out at a dimly lit, empty car park. No one waited to step into the elevator so I chose the sixth floor and pressed again. The door stayed open. Nothing happened.
Great! I stepped outside, took a look around, stepped back in and tried the control panel again. Taking a second look at the concrete pillars and oil-stained floor, and the absence of cars, I knew there was something odd but it took a while for me to work it out – the car park must be empty because the elevator up to street level was out of order. Except that, weirdly, it had decided to bring me down here in the first place. That was when the first creepy, skin-crawling sensation began.
It started at the back of my neck as I finally gave up on the lift buttons and set out to find a stairway out of there. Then, just as I was crossing an open area towards what looked like a pedestrian exit, the yellow safety lights started to flicker and cold panic spread through my whole body. With a final glimmer the lights went out. I was in total darkness.
I hear voices yelling out a warning. Rocks fall, the roof caves in.
I see a faint beam of light and crawl towards it. Behind me, boulders scrape and grind, falling and forming a barrier. Ahead there is a pocket of air. Three men lay curled on their sides. Their faces are bruised and cut. Their eyes are dark with fear. One has a flashlight. He shines it on my terrified face.
‘We’re dead men,’ he gasps. ‘We’re dust.’
All around us there are creatures who never saw the light. Bloodless, the same as the first time I saw them, but now I have longer to breathe in the dust and see them advance, writhing like snakes, burrowing through the earth towards me. They want me and I can’t run, I can’t move. I’m staring at death .
The lights in the basement car park flickered back on. In my panic I saw that I’d lost my sense of direction, turned away from the exit and blundered towards a support pillar. Now I leaned against its rough, cold surface, my breathing shallow, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I didn’t see but I sensed that there was someone down here with me, close to where I stood. I picked up small movements, body heat and almost inaudible breathing.
Still no one emerged from the shadows. I swallowed hard to beat the constriction in my throat then tried to take a deep breath. Fixing my sights on a red Exit sign beyond the parking bays, I inched towards the door.
He sprang from behind the nearest pillar, bare-headed this time and wearing a black T and jeans, planting himself in front of me, blocking my way. It was the same small but stocky mixed-race guy minus the hunter’s hat and leather jacket. And today he held a knife.
He stood three paces from me, his face blank of expression, the hand with the blade raised slightly.
I had enough time to register a few thoughts. How unexpected this was, after rock star Zoran Brancusi and the charming, elegant Laurent twins. This guy was nobody – a punk with a knife. I hadn’t expected this, then I realized how clever it was for my dark angel to take an everyday shape, lurk in the shadows and finally corner me without fireworks or fanfare in an underground car park, alone and helpless. I knew with total clarity that this could be the end.
My oh-so-ordinary dark angel didn’t
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