Read Online Fan Fears: A collection of fear based stories by Michael Bray - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Bray
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squeak. Goosebumps rippled down her arms as she strained her ears. This time, she didn't care about causing panic.
"Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice echoing around their tomb.
"Yeah, I hear them," Frank said. "Looks like our little friends have come back for another little investigation."
"What do we do?" she asked.
"Hang on," Frank said. "I'll throw another stone across the room. The sound should scare them off again."
"How do you expect to hit them in the dark?"
"I don't, I just want to deter them from coming any closer. Be ready for it, I'm about to throw."
She listened as the stone hit the wall. In the utter dark and silence, it sounded incredibly loud. There was no angry squeak this time. Both Frank and Becky held their breath and listened.
Utter silence.
"Kevin, are you okay down there?" she asked.
"He's fine, I can still hear him murmuring to himself," Frank said.
"What's he saying?"
"I don't know. I can't make it out. I think he's struggling to handle this."
"He's not the only one."
Another squeak from across the room followed by displaced grains of rubble.
"Son of a bitch is still out there and moving. You hear that?" Frank said.
"Yeah, I hear it," Becky replied. "Any idea what to do?" She was terrified. The idea of the rats moving around in the dark frightened her. She couldn't imagine how it would feel, suspended in utter black silence to then feel the touch of rat whiskers on her skin as they sniffed and probed. She swallowed a scream.
"Looks like we do what we can to deter them. Can you feel any loose debris around you? Anything palm-sized?"
Becky reached around her, then pulled her hands back. She saw in her mind's eye reaching out and grabbing on to one of their hairy plump bodies. She didn't think she could handle that. Not when she couldn't move. "No, I can't find anything up here." She said, hating herself for lying but unsure if Frank would understand why she was so afraid.
"It's okay, don't worry, I have plenty of loose debris down here. I’ll keep throwing it at the walls. With luck, they'll go elsewhere and leave us be."
Seconds later, another rock clattered off the wall, followed by more sounds of the rats moving. Even though she couldn't see them, Becky knew what they would be doing. They would be standing by the hole, black eyes watching, noses twitching as they tried to decide if the risks were worthwhile in exploring the new visitors to the basement.
For what felt like an eternity, the process went on. Frank would throw a rock; the rats would scatter, but not go away. Time had no meaning. She couldn't decide if it had been hours or minutes since it started. All she knew for sure was that not being able to see them as they scurried around the chamber was the most utterly frightening thing she had ever experienced. She squeezed her eyes closed and wished for it to be all over. In the back of her mind, she wondered why the rescue effort was taking so long and why nobody was coming to help them.
FOUR
On the surface, Fire Chief Justin Clink surveyed the damage. He stood by the remains of the museum, which had been reduced to a pile of smoldering, pulverized concrete. In addition to the museum, the opera house had also been blown up, as had a train of morning commuters. A group of terrorists had also been at street level, gunning down civilians without mercy. Four had been killed by the police; two were still on the run. For Clink, the job in hand was monumental. Dozens of ambulances and fire trucks lined the streets, their blue beacons revolving and throwing lights off the surrounding structures. With his resources spread thin due to the sheer volume of incidents, he was working with limited resources. Although he expected to find no survivors, he knew well enough that miracles did happen. If people were pulled out of the collapsed World Trade Center and survived, then he was determined not to give up until there was no hope left. A firefighter ran towards him, face
"Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice echoing around their tomb.
"Yeah, I hear them," Frank said. "Looks like our little friends have come back for another little investigation."
"What do we do?" she asked.
"Hang on," Frank said. "I'll throw another stone across the room. The sound should scare them off again."
"How do you expect to hit them in the dark?"
"I don't, I just want to deter them from coming any closer. Be ready for it, I'm about to throw."
She listened as the stone hit the wall. In the utter dark and silence, it sounded incredibly loud. There was no angry squeak this time. Both Frank and Becky held their breath and listened.
Utter silence.
"Kevin, are you okay down there?" she asked.
"He's fine, I can still hear him murmuring to himself," Frank said.
"What's he saying?"
"I don't know. I can't make it out. I think he's struggling to handle this."
"He's not the only one."
Another squeak from across the room followed by displaced grains of rubble.
"Son of a bitch is still out there and moving. You hear that?" Frank said.
"Yeah, I hear it," Becky replied. "Any idea what to do?" She was terrified. The idea of the rats moving around in the dark frightened her. She couldn't imagine how it would feel, suspended in utter black silence to then feel the touch of rat whiskers on her skin as they sniffed and probed. She swallowed a scream.
"Looks like we do what we can to deter them. Can you feel any loose debris around you? Anything palm-sized?"
Becky reached around her, then pulled her hands back. She saw in her mind's eye reaching out and grabbing on to one of their hairy plump bodies. She didn't think she could handle that. Not when she couldn't move. "No, I can't find anything up here." She said, hating herself for lying but unsure if Frank would understand why she was so afraid.
"It's okay, don't worry, I have plenty of loose debris down here. I’ll keep throwing it at the walls. With luck, they'll go elsewhere and leave us be."
Seconds later, another rock clattered off the wall, followed by more sounds of the rats moving. Even though she couldn't see them, Becky knew what they would be doing. They would be standing by the hole, black eyes watching, noses twitching as they tried to decide if the risks were worthwhile in exploring the new visitors to the basement.
For what felt like an eternity, the process went on. Frank would throw a rock; the rats would scatter, but not go away. Time had no meaning. She couldn't decide if it had been hours or minutes since it started. All she knew for sure was that not being able to see them as they scurried around the chamber was the most utterly frightening thing she had ever experienced. She squeezed her eyes closed and wished for it to be all over. In the back of her mind, she wondered why the rescue effort was taking so long and why nobody was coming to help them.
FOUR
On the surface, Fire Chief Justin Clink surveyed the damage. He stood by the remains of the museum, which had been reduced to a pile of smoldering, pulverized concrete. In addition to the museum, the opera house had also been blown up, as had a train of morning commuters. A group of terrorists had also been at street level, gunning down civilians without mercy. Four had been killed by the police; two were still on the run. For Clink, the job in hand was monumental. Dozens of ambulances and fire trucks lined the streets, their blue beacons revolving and throwing lights off the surrounding structures. With his resources spread thin due to the sheer volume of incidents, he was working with limited resources. Although he expected to find no survivors, he knew well enough that miracles did happen. If people were pulled out of the collapsed World Trade Center and survived, then he was determined not to give up until there was no hope left. A firefighter ran towards him, face
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