Well, over two weeks have passed since I last posted a chapter, not that I haven’t wanted to, but because my aging laptop has thrown a few proverbial ‘spanners’ into the works. So, with a new battery and adaptor, I should be set now, not that I’m daring to tempt fate or anything. However, I’m pleased to say during my spell of being computer free, I did manage to finish Eight, so at least something good came out of it (well, I suppose I should leave that decision to you, dear readers).
Okay, let me introduce the next installment:
Part 1. Micro Chp. 8
I hadn‘t dared to look away. My eyes fixed, waiting for any sign of movement while the spasms in my stomach calmed enough so I could stand.
My legs trembling out of control, I reached out to grab at the ladder and then stopped, pulling my hand away. It could still be live and I’d be of no use if I hurt myself. But, I didn’t want to leave him hanging there.
The crazies were setting in again, making me shake. I had to leave it; no way did I have the strength to get him down. In full zombie mode, I instructed my feet to move until the fuzziness in my head cleared.
“Mum. Tom,” their names passing my lips in a whisper. How could I have forgotten they were at home, too.
My legs refused to budge, so I looked down, expecting to find them knee high in mud. They weren’t of course, fear was the only thing preventing me from moving. I felt the sickening burn in my stomach coming back. Don’t lose it now, I thought and managed to scramble the rest of the way along the track and up the path to the front door.
I stood for a while staring at the handle, before grabbing it and shoving the door open. It banged loudly off the stop and shot back, catching my right arm as I rushed inside.
“Sorry, mum,” I shouted, rubbing at my arm as the dark hallway greeted me.
No reply came. I took a panicked breath, held it and listened.
No movement. No creaking floorboards. Not even the annoying ticking of the clock. I’d never heard silence so quiet. What should I do?
I threw my bag to the floor and walked slowly down the hall to the kitchen.
Copyright © by Sarah Neeve
Eight, may not be copied, shared or unlawfully used without the prior consent of the author.