Her Body of Muscle: Winter vs the Nanobots

Chapter 17

"Try not to touch anything."  Jackson said flatly as his foot reached out and wriggled between the double doors opening the crack wider.  First Jack, then Winter, squeezed silently through the door.

The entry was much as Winter remembered it.  Nothing seemed out of place.  The lights were dimmed, and the luxurious sectional carpet highlighted the beautiful marblework underneath.  She heard Jackson suck in air, a little overwhelmed by the elegance of the home.

"Phil?!?!" Winter bellowed out instinctually.  This time it was Jackson who arm barred her hard across her chest, knocking the wind out of her.

"Oh god! Sorry!" Jack shout whispered.  Despite the heightened tension of the moment he blushed realizing he had inadvertently slammed his own arm against her breasts.

"Ooouch."  Winter whispered back placing her hands on her chest, squeezing breasts together, over-dramatizing her agony.

"Didn't mean to do that.  Sorry!"  Phil said again, whispering.

"It's fine, I get it.  Silent as a mouse."

Jackson nodded.  Winter pointed at the stairway sweeping up to the second floor directly ahead of them.  Leading, Jack made his way to the steps, placed a foot on the bottom step and leaned forward trying to get a glimpse of the landing almost 25 feet above them.  Unable to see anything, he motioned for them to quietly go upstairs. Slowly, senses on high alert, they noiselessly went up the stairs aided by a thick carpet runner under their feet.

Approaching the upstairs landing, they froze in place.  The decorative table at the top of the landing was strewn on its side, one of the legs broken.  Peering up towards the hallway, there was a shiny wet puddle on the landing leading towards the hall.  Jackson looked at Winter, wide-eyed and horrified.  Winter couldn't take her eyes off the thin puddle.  What the fu... her mind was spinning, terrified.

Jackson tip-toed towards the hallway before Winter realized he'd moved on.  She looked up, noticing his progress and dashed quickly to his side, acrobatically jumping over the puddle.  The lighted hallway showcased a smear of red dashed along the walls, as though a hand had reached out pleadingly.  Several paintings on that side had been knocked from their perch and lay strewn and in one case broken on the ground.  In silence, Jackson and Winter slowly made their way down the hallway following the chaos towards the open master bedroom door at the end of the hall.

Simultaneously, the made it to the master bedroom peaking their heads around the final bend to get a timid view of the interior.

"Oh. My. God."  Winter breathed, horrified.  She felt utter panic and horror as she viewed the room.  On the floor, Brittany lay face down with a huge contusion on the back of her head.  Her body had congealed around a pool of blood.  The room itself was startlingly undisturbed, almost too organized.  Even the framed painting that the previous night Winter had ripped from the wall had been restored.  After shocked pale glances at each other, Jackson bent down and checked Brittany for a pulse.  A shake of his head confirmed it was far too late.  They carefully sleuthed around the body in the middle of the room, to get a look at the other half of the master bedroom.

Winter's hands flew to her face, though she maintained a steely focused gaze on the second body on the other side of bed.  On the far side of the gigantic bedroom, Philip lay strewn on the ground with a pistol near his body.  Face up and eyes staring blankly, Despite the shock, Winter stepped closer trying to take another look despite her dread, the emotional and physical exertion over the years helping to harden her resolve despite the horrific scene.  All the same, in the moment, she could not fully process what she was seeing.  This man, a boy turned man that she had been attached to since high school, dead.  How... Why?