Pam is a young notary trying to keep her Cartesian reputation pristine. Siska is a recovering addict whose new lease on life stems from her paranormal, investigative work. They sit on opposite sides of a spectrum it seems... until Pam shares a secr...
I'd like to dedicate this chapter to @seagullsong and @AnRobasdanach
As quietly as I could, my hand went from the handle to turning my key into the locked position. Elbows up, my hands were clamped to the back of my head, my legs apart. I swear, I could see my heart pounding against the inside of my soaked shirt.
Long-drawn snarls echoed down the hall. Their source was behind my door, room number 12 and this thing...it wasn't budging. Not until I let it in. Down to my bones... I knew it had come for me, personally...and I'm...I'm visiting places in my mind I can't even describe.
Somewhere in this whirlpool, I find the light switch and I cringe when the bulb blasts on.I had just confirmed I'm in.
My hand claws the light switch back down and I run to grab my bed, heaving this 50 kilo mass against the door. Then I stride to the window.
I was so worried it wouldn't open; I recall making whistling noises of panic when I breathed—then it opens. And the most piercing cry—like a whistling kettle—erupts because all this storm-wind is funnelling into my room from a slit. I kept heaving the window up and looked down into the night. Piles of branches had been blasted right below the window. I could see and hear a trellis creaking, almost to breaking point, in the gale. The good thing was it stretched almost all the way down to this pile.
"Can it take my weight?" I mumbled.I faced the door—the snarls sounded the same. This thing couldn't miss me heaving the bed and prying open the window.
My hands grabbed onto my loose trousers, and I started tying knots. I walked to the curtains, ripped them down, tied them together. I threw my fabric ladder out and looked below— "Yes!" It touched the top of the unstable trellis.
I went to my bed, under which my bag was. I got it out and put on the rest of my clothes. Again, something felt wrong. It was the noise.
My legs bolted for the window, and I shut it, listening carefully for a full minute.
Absolute silence.
Now I'm reassessing:
a) I'm making weapons out of my keys and belt;
b) I'm not going outside because where would I hide in a hurricane?
c) I need to make sure that thing is really far enough for me to safely switch to a new room. That is until I can go downstairs and use the landline for help.
I took my weapons, slung my bag over a shoulder, and slowly creaked open the door. I stayed frozen for a long time until I ran tiptoe to the room next door. Finally, my first bit of luck all night; it was unlocked, and no one was waiting for me in the king-size bed.
I closed the door behind me. The second bit of luck; this door could be bolted from the inside right away.
This side overlooked the pathway to the entrance of the building, I thought. So, I peeled the curtains from a corner and had a look. I could see a little inside the rooms facing my way despite the rain lashing against the pane. I strained my eyes over everything that moved outside and anything I could see through the ground-floor windows.
I saw nothing.
I scanned the first floor.
Nothing.
The second floor.
Out of the first window a man gawked at me, his bulging eyes almost white against the darkness.
I yelped, my knees buckled,and I collapsed, half-holding the curtains on the way down.
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