Read Online Torched: A Thriller by Daniel Powell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Daniel Powell
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previous
night’s reality television show around the water cooler at work. “That’s right,
we have Miguel, and if you ever want to see him again, you’ve got a long road
ahead of you.”
“No,” Vivian
whispered. “No…no… no .”
Her eyelids
lazed shut and she fell into a deep, dark void.
Terri stood. She
went to the sink, worked the handle and took a long drink straight from the
spigot. When she was finished, she washed Vivian’s blood from her knuckles and
took a series of deep breaths—trying to clear the adrenaline from her
bloodstream.
When her sense
of control returned, she went to the window. Chaco was jogging toward her,
maybe a quarter mile in the distance.
She watched his
approach, not surprised to find that she was smiling.
“Damn,” she
said, turning back to Vivian’s prone form, “I can’t believe I questioned
whether I would go through with this or not.”
She heard
Chaco’s footsteps out back and the smile became a grin.
Things were
about to get hot.
FIFTEEN
Vivian woke with
a start. A creeping sense of dread, of her space being invaded by low-slung
creatures—by things that meant her harm—dominated her senses and she pushed
herself into a sitting position, the palms of her hands damp in the sweat
pooling on the concrete beneath her.
Her head spun as
she struggled in the blinding sunshine to digest her surroundings.
She had come to
on a cracked cement slab. A pair of crumbling brick walls formed an L-shaped
joint behind her, the remnants of an old wooden shelf piled at the base of one.
There were a few rusted paint cans and some piled plaster or drywall in the
corner.
An old house ? More likely a
shed.
Whatever it had
once been, it was now surrounded by water.
She stood on
shaky legs and put a hand to her eyes to block the sunlight. An expanse of
slow-moving water contained the crumbling ruins on every side.
She picked up
movement from the corner of her eye. Something swirled in the water, a
graceful, languid movement, and she watched in horror as a little trail of
bubbles cut a seam down the canal’s surface. Two minutes later, the reptile’s
head surfaced.
It blinked a
golden eye—cold and indifferent—and watched her from afar.
“Jesus,” she
hissed. She knew the creature well. She’d actually enjoyed watching
gators in the canal behind their house in Cape Coral. The little ones used to
snap at dragonflies when they were feeling frisky.
There was
another swirl, now off to her right. This one had three inches between its
nostrils.
Christ, they
were big!
The island was
tiny and sparsely vegetated. She couldn’t imagine the place had ever been a
home, but somebody had used it. She supposed it had been an outbuilding
of some sort. She was in the process of finding something with which to arm
herself—a stick, a shovel, something —when a piercing howl cut through
the humid stillness.
She recognized
the voice immediately.
“Mike? Mike,
where are you?”
He screamed
again, the sound chilling her to the bone, and that’s when Vivian noticed the
iPad.
One eye on the
behemoths in the canal, she went over to it and picked it up.
Miguel had been strapped
into a metal folding chair. He was stripped to the waist, his torso covered in
what looked, through the slightly blurred camera lens, like legions of angry
welts. They covered his torso and shoulders, and there were a few on his neck
and cheeks.
There was a
sudden flicker on the screen and he loosed another terrible cry.
“Just waking him
up,” Terri said, her tone cheerful. Her face filled the screen, and Vivian’s
stomach lurched. Her knees weakened, she was so frightened by the expression on
the woman’s face.
Terri James
looked insane.
Her face
disappeared as she moved the camera. There was a dizzying moment of vertigo,
and then Vivian saw it. It took her a moment to make sense of what she was
seeing.
It was coated
with blood, and a tiny strip of torn skin dangled from the tip.
It was the
chunky
night’s reality television show around the water cooler at work. “That’s right,
we have Miguel, and if you ever want to see him again, you’ve got a long road
ahead of you.”
“No,” Vivian
whispered. “No…no… no .”
Her eyelids
lazed shut and she fell into a deep, dark void.
Terri stood. She
went to the sink, worked the handle and took a long drink straight from the
spigot. When she was finished, she washed Vivian’s blood from her knuckles and
took a series of deep breaths—trying to clear the adrenaline from her
bloodstream.
When her sense
of control returned, she went to the window. Chaco was jogging toward her,
maybe a quarter mile in the distance.
She watched his
approach, not surprised to find that she was smiling.
“Damn,” she
said, turning back to Vivian’s prone form, “I can’t believe I questioned
whether I would go through with this or not.”
She heard
Chaco’s footsteps out back and the smile became a grin.
Things were
about to get hot.
FIFTEEN
Vivian woke with
a start. A creeping sense of dread, of her space being invaded by low-slung
creatures—by things that meant her harm—dominated her senses and she pushed
herself into a sitting position, the palms of her hands damp in the sweat
pooling on the concrete beneath her.
Her head spun as
she struggled in the blinding sunshine to digest her surroundings.
She had come to
on a cracked cement slab. A pair of crumbling brick walls formed an L-shaped
joint behind her, the remnants of an old wooden shelf piled at the base of one.
There were a few rusted paint cans and some piled plaster or drywall in the
corner.
An old house ? More likely a
shed.
Whatever it had
once been, it was now surrounded by water.
She stood on
shaky legs and put a hand to her eyes to block the sunlight. An expanse of
slow-moving water contained the crumbling ruins on every side.
She picked up
movement from the corner of her eye. Something swirled in the water, a
graceful, languid movement, and she watched in horror as a little trail of
bubbles cut a seam down the canal’s surface. Two minutes later, the reptile’s
head surfaced.
It blinked a
golden eye—cold and indifferent—and watched her from afar.
“Jesus,” she
hissed. She knew the creature well. She’d actually enjoyed watching
gators in the canal behind their house in Cape Coral. The little ones used to
snap at dragonflies when they were feeling frisky.
There was
another swirl, now off to her right. This one had three inches between its
nostrils.
Christ, they
were big!
The island was
tiny and sparsely vegetated. She couldn’t imagine the place had ever been a
home, but somebody had used it. She supposed it had been an outbuilding
of some sort. She was in the process of finding something with which to arm
herself—a stick, a shovel, something —when a piercing howl cut through
the humid stillness.
She recognized
the voice immediately.
“Mike? Mike,
where are you?”
He screamed
again, the sound chilling her to the bone, and that’s when Vivian noticed the
iPad.
One eye on the
behemoths in the canal, she went over to it and picked it up.
Miguel had been strapped
into a metal folding chair. He was stripped to the waist, his torso covered in
what looked, through the slightly blurred camera lens, like legions of angry
welts. They covered his torso and shoulders, and there were a few on his neck
and cheeks.
There was a
sudden flicker on the screen and he loosed another terrible cry.
“Just waking him
up,” Terri said, her tone cheerful. Her face filled the screen, and Vivian’s
stomach lurched. Her knees weakened, she was so frightened by the expression on
the woman’s face.
Terri James
looked insane.
Her face
disappeared as she moved the camera. There was a dizzying moment of vertigo,
and then Vivian saw it. It took her a moment to make sense of what she was
seeing.
It was coated
with blood, and a tiny strip of torn skin dangled from the tip.
It was the
chunky
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