Read Online The Vanishing Game by Kate Kae Myers - Free Book Online Page B

the hood that seemed to be inching closer. A chill went up my spine as I sat between sleeping Jack and pitiful Melody. It was now clear that the red on the hood wasn’t rust at all, but blood. The dented hood was stained with it, and that stain was coming at us like creeping fingers. The air we rushed through picked up a drop, which then hit the windshield. Another followed, and then more, until it was like red rain splattering the dirty glass
.
    Melody didn’t slow her one-car chase, but she screeched louder, more determined than ever for us to keep going. She turned on the squeaky wipers, smearing the blood until we were driving blind. The truck started to shudder as if it had a sudden heart attack, and the tires whined as they hit the shoulder. We flew over the edge of the cliff, out into the black night. I opened my mouth to scream, but my terror was so high pitched that no sound came out
.

    The dream jerked me awake. I lay still with my heart thrumming away as it always did following that nightmare. After a few deep breaths, my pulse started to calm. It was morning. Light filtered through the ivory curtains. The sky had cleared and cheery larks performed in the nearby trees, a total contrast to my dark dream.
    I crawled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. All my aches and pains made me wince. After downing more ibuprofen, I took a long shower and sluiced away the sweat caused by the bad dream. The shooting from last night went through my mind again, more terrifying than my nightmare, and once more I wondered who the dark man at the end of the alley was. How had he happened to be there just as Georgie’s knife was ready to rip into me, and why had he killed him?
    There seemed to be no answer. I sighed in frustration and shut off the water. Toweling myself dry, I checked out my face. It looked a little better but not great. Then I examined my other bruises and scrapes and the mark on my arm. A night’s sleep hadn’t made it look any less like a bite, and I tried to remember when I’d had my last tetanus shot. My guess was about four or five years ago.
    I decided to worry about it later and got dressed in my same sage-colored shirt and wrinkled jeans. More than ever I missed my luggage and my stolen car. I had worked for months to earn enough money to buy that battered little Civic, and I wondered if I’d ever see it again. Plus what would my foster parents think when they found out? I hadn’t planned to tell them about this trip upstate, but now I’d have to. They would be upset that I’d come here on my own, and disappointed in me for lying about going camping with my friends. Disappointment from Marilyn and Brent was worse than being grounded.
    I left the bathroom and followed the smell of food andthe sound of Noah’s voice. The smell was delicious, the voice angry. I found him in the kitchen. His boyhood interest in cooking had obviously continued, and for some reason I found this comforting. The Noah from my past had spent a lot of time preparing meals, sometimes even taking a double shift, and we were always glad when it was his turn to cook. Seeing him working at the stove made it seem like the old Noah had come back, at least until he swore and then shouted into his cell phone.
    â€œI said I’d take care of it!” He disconnected, shoved the phone in his pocket, then turned and caught sight of me. His scowl deepened. “Eavesdropping?”
    â€œMy favorite hobby.”
    He pointed to the table, which was set with purple plates and glasses filled with orange juice. I sat down as he scooped scrambled eggs into a shallow bowl and came to the table. Seeing the strips of bacon on a plate close to me, I understood what the delicious smell had been. Bacon was another food Melody never let us buy. It was sweet revenge that because of my height, which she’d only made fun of, I could eat whatever I wanted and not worry about weight the way she had.
    I took