Saving Grace

54

The front door was open.

It creaked like a wounded animal, trembled in the insufferable dark. I slipped inside, the dull moonlight pouring in through the open windows, the cool night breeze whispering along my skin. The house was silent, still as the grave.

"Alright, Somerton," I called. "Nick, Albert – whatever your name is. I'm here. Let my brother go."

I flicked the light switch, observed the unmoving darkness.

"Dammit."

I inched towards the stairs, eyes sharp as needles and ears prickling to every creak. Every shadow outlined his round face; every dark corner masked his body. He was everywhere, but nowhere.

"Come on!" I said. "Come and get me!"

I reached the top of the stairs, looked down the long dark hallway. My hands shook, teeth grinded. I pulled the hidden Glock from my ankle, ready to shoot Somerton once he jumped out of his hiding place, and then, a faint orange glow, flickering out from underneath the door at the end of the hall. My jaw clenched, hands tightened.

"There you are."

I raised the weapon, sensing the trap. However, it was not this decision that caused my hands to shake – it was the thought of my brother, cut up into a million pieces – earless, eyeless, fingerless, or perhaps dead, on the other side of that door. I gripped the door handle, turned it slowly and carefully while the rest of my being trembled in fear. It swung open; the orange light flowed into the darkness.

Scott sat by the glass doors leading out to the balcony with hands and feet bound and dried blood crumbling in his hair, on his face, down his neck and shoulders. His head, lowered, slowly rose with a faint whimper. Then he saw me and his expression changed – not sorrow, or despair, or relief, but fear; paralysing, crippling, all-consuming fear.

"Richard," he whispered. His body descended into a violent tremble, tear-stained lips quivering, muttering incoherently. I launched forward.

"It's alright, Scott. I'm here – "

Two sharp pin pricks stabbed into my spine, followed by a searing wave of electricity. My body stiffened like a board, a scream escaping me as the white-hot pain shot through every nerve. My right side went numb, body collapsed against the hard floorboards. Shaking, screaming, I looked up at the face of Nicholas Somerton and into the eyes of Albert. He smiled at me, Taser gripped in his hands.

"Hello, Mr Downing."

© A.G. Travers 2018