Dark Screams, Volume 1 Read Online Free Page A

had with it, unlike that rust bucket you’re stuck with because you married
Gavin.
”
    “I like my car just fine.” Kara slammed the hood shut and perched on it. “And my husband.”
    Ingrid sniffed. “He’s not your husband, he’s your jailer. He’ll get here and be all, ‘I told you not to go out.’ I’m surprised he let you.”
    “Actually, he’s the one who talked me into it. He thought I could use the break, and he knows you’re going through a rough time—”
    Ingrid’s head snapped up. “You told him about the phone calls?”
    “I don’t keep secrets from my husband, but no, since you’re the only one getting them, I haven’t told him. I just said you’ve been having a rough time adjusting to the new job and new state—”
    “You still don’t believe me about the calls, do you?”
    Kara exhaled and leaned back on her hands. “Why just call you? Why not me, too? He thinks we both did it.”
    “But only one of us has a hulking construction worker for a husband. The other lives alone in a crappy apartment with zero security and a so-called best friend who won’t take the threat seriously and let her move in—”
    Kara hopped off the car. “Bring me proof and you can move in.”
    “Proof? I’m your best friend, and I’m telling you we’re both in danger. Serious danger. He’s going to make us pay—”
    “We already did.” Kara walked toward the forest. “It’ll be another ten minutes before the guy I dare not name gets here. I need to pee.”
    “Now?”
    “Wait in the car and lock the doors. I’ll be back in—”
    “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
    “Story of my life,” Kara muttered under her breath, and waved for Ingrid to follow.
    —
    Kara walked about fifty yards into the forest. Ingrid stopped after twenty and began whining about why Kara had to go so far. Because she wanted a clearing, so she didn’t get a sapling up her ass when she squatted. She didn’t tell Ingrid that. It wouldn’t stop her complaining. Nothing did.
    As Kara crouched, Ingrid’s mutterings tapered off. Then her friend gasped, the sound sudden and harsh in the silent forest. Kara leaped up, yanking her jeans over her hips.
    “Ingrid?”
    No answer.
    Kara spun. Hands grabbed her from behind. Strong hands. She opened her mouth. A cloth slapped over her mouth and nose, a damp cloth, stinking of chemicals, and she crumpled, unconscious, to the ground.
    —
    Kara woke to music playing so softly it sounded like a voice whispering in her ear, and she scrambled to sit up, thinking it was Gavin and—
    She felt something cold and hard under her legs, and her brain stuttered, throwing her back five years, waking on a cold metal slab of a bed, no mattress, no sheets, no pillow. She shivered convulsively, her brain screaming no, that that was over, long over, that she’d paid the price, paid the goddamn price.
    Her hands clenched, fingers pressing not into a metal bed frame but against cold cement. She opened her eyes—
    My eyes are already open. But I can’t see anything. Oh my God, I can’t see—
    Then she made out the shadow of her knee. She was lying on a cement floor. She moved one leg. Metal scraped against the concrete. She reached down and touched iron on her ankle, and it all rushed back, and she doubled over, stomach clenching.
    Don’t panic. Don’t panic. That’ll only make it worse. You’re okay. It’ll be okay. Just stay calm.
    She took a deep breath. The clogging scent of must and mildew filled her nostrils. Stale air, chill and damp. A basement. She was in a basement.
    That’s when she heard the music again, the faint strains wafting around her.
    I know that song.
    She closed her eyes and focused, and the voice and words came clear. Leonard Cohen. “Everybody Knows.”
    Her gut clenched and she tried to leap up, the chain yanking tight, iron band digging into her ankle.
    Across the room, a door creaked open. The figure of a man filled it. Kara crawled back as far as the