Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
With it being the only glimpse of the world outside, Cole had no way of knowing how large the basement was, but he could sense the vastness of the space as if it were a cathedral.
“It was just a rat,” Cole said, squeezing Ned’s damp hand as he took in the interior, squinting to see a bit better.
Walls built from pale brick stretched away from the tiny, flat window, past a mess of old furniture stacked full of boxes and jars. Shadows got denser farther on, but Cole could have sworn he spotted huge barrels in the part of the basement where dusk turned into night.
Wherever their salvation was, it wasn’t here, right by the staircase, so he took a deep breath of the strange-smelling air and tugged Ned deeper into the darkness.
Ned gave a choked gasp, holding his arm stiff even as he followed Cole’s lead as if he were afraid of waves in a stormy sea, and Cole was the one thing keeping him adrift. “I tell you, Cole, something ain’t right here.”
“I’ll protect you,” Cole whispered, rubbing his thumb over Ned’s hand to reassure him. His heart beat fast, heating up his limbs and face, but he didn’t falter.
He’d protected those he loved in the past and cared for them when they were unwell, but to be someone’s lifeline in a moment of fear was a new experience, one that made his senses sharper and his gait steadier as he led the way farther from the window, guided by dusty shelves and coarse walls.
Silence created a dull echo in his ears, so he focused on the grinding of dirt under their feet, and on the raspiness of Ned’s breathing as he followed Cole into the unknown, through a darkness so perfect Cole couldn’t see his hand when he waved it in front of his face.
For all he knew, he might be taking Ned into a trap instead of away from danger. He tried to reassure himself that Jan had never broken a promise. He could be a mean, stingy bastard, but an honest one, and with the police surrounding the building, putting trust in Jan was the only alternative to fighting their way out.
An odd scent reached Cole’s nose farther on, but while his mind rejected the notion that it was kerosene, he must have gotten into the spirit of Ned’s madness. Initially faint enough to be anything, the familiar odor became more intense with each step, and Cole couldn’t help his imagination running wilder than it should. The danger to their lives was very real, and between all the guns waiting for them to stick their heads out of the villa and the creepiness of Ned’s words, he started doubting his own senses.
Because what if? What if Ned was right? What if there was someone or something dangerous swelling in this dank basement?
Ned’s breath hitched. “How large is this place?” he asked, tugging at Cole’s hand with more force before suddenly stepping so close their hips touched. “I don’t like this, Cole. It’s like… we’re not even under the house anymore. Maybe we’re behind the veil, where the spirits live, or are about to walk right in there and disappear forever? Let’s at least find some candles.”
What was he on about? Cole had to end this madness before it scrambled Ned’s brain. “Look, there’s nothing here but shelves of old crap.”
“No. I stepped into something on the floor, and I touched it, and… it’s a shoe,” Ned said with his voice chilled. “There’s a man lying right here.”
The cold fingers of dread dug into Cole’s shoulders, and he couldn’t help squeezing Ned’s hand more tightly. “Stop this nonsense. An old shoe is not a corpse. This place has been abandoned for years,” he uttered, taking a mouthful of the sharp-scented air. He detested that he’d let Ned’s delusions infect him, but now he needed to know the truth as well and pulled out a pack of matches with a trembling hand. At this point he wasn’t even sure whom he wanted to convince of their safety—Ned or himself. “I’ll show you. All right?”
Cole took another breath and struck the head of the match against the strip on the side of the box, expecting relief, but when the faint glow of the flame lit up the darkness, his stomach dropped as if he were falling from a railway bridge, straight into the rapid currents of the river below. Sheer luck kept him from accidentally breaking the thin piece of wood between his fingers, because if it happened, the lit match would have dropped straight into a puddle of liquid.
Of kerosene that had been splashed over corpses Ned had not dreamt up.
Two dead men lay right in front of them, with large holes in their foreheads and faces beaten to a pulp. Each held a revolver, as if they’d taken one another’s lives not that long ago.