by Steven James
“Thank you.”
Her words caught me by surprise. “You’re glad I didn’t tell you?”
“No,” she replied. “But I’m glad why you didn’t tell me.”
We arrived at the entrance to the dirt road that led to Paul Lansing’s house, and I let the car idle.
“So,” I said. “Do you still want to do this?”
I hoped that she would say no, that sometime during the drive she would have changed her mind and decided that all of this had been a mistake and that things would be better for everyone if we just went back home.
But instead, she nodded and laced her fingers across the top of the diary. “Let’s go.”
A thousand questions curled around me.
And whether I liked it or not, the answer to the most important one lay just up the road.
As the sun slid behind a cloud and a few lonely raindrops plopped onto the windshield, I pulled around the corner and drove toward Paul Lansing’s home.
EPILOGUE
Time collapsed into nothingness.
A week might have passed. Or a month. Or more. There was no way to tell. In a darkness this deep, time meant nothing.
But eventually, Giovanni became aware of motorized sounds high above him in the shaft that he had blown shut.
Someone was digging him out.
And so.
More time slid by, hourglass sand he couldn’t measure.
Eventually the sounds became louder, clearer, as more boulders and rubble were removed.
At last, slivers of light began to pierce the shaft, sliding like glowing sabers through the thick, dark air.
Like rays of summer sunlight.
Then muffled voices.
Indistinguishable, but they grew more distinct as the pile of debris was cleared.
Someone called, “Hello? Are you there, sir? Are you all right down there?”
“I’m hurt,” Giovanni replied, working on his acting once again.
“Please, I need help.” He flicked out his straight razor and stepped to the edge of the shadows.
Within minutes, the last three boulders were removed, and two S.W.A.T. members rappelled down the shaft, each man heavily armed and wearing body armor. But that didn’t matter to Giovanni, because he could still get to their necks.
As soon as they dropped into view he introduced them to his blade.
Sunlight spilled and sprayed around him.
Wet screams echoed through the tunnel.
And the Knight began to tell a brand-new story to the curious, waiting world.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-caf6d4-a2df-9746-d8a3-394c-26c3-455840
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 17.10.2011
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
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