Obscure Blood Read Online Free Page A

Octa thought.
    Octa stepped out of the car and made his way through the back door. No lights were shining inside. He did not hear any footsteps within. There was someone behind him. It was Officer Brinking. Octa must have entered the house before him.
    “I should have known I’d find you here, Octa,” he said.
    “I didn’t expect you, but I am not surprised,” Octa said.
    Octa turned around and Officer Brinking turned on the light.
    “I wonder what your family wants from you,” he said and pointed his 9 millimeter at Octa.
    “What do you know about my family?”
    “I wasn’t paid to tell you anything, but I should kill you even though they want you alive, since you might be worthless.”
    He shot Octa in his left shoulder, which Octa clutched. Blood started trickling down Octa’s arm, and he pressed his left hand over his wounded shoulder.
    As Brinking lowered his weapon, Octa kicked him in the groin, picked up a pan off the floor and struck him on the head.
    “Tell me about my father.”
    “I’ll never tell you.”
    “Awesome.” Octa hit him harder until he lost consciousness.
    Octa dragged Brinking out and put him in the trunk. Octa’s face was glistening with sweat. He held his left shoulder. Blood continued to spurt between his fingers, despite his efforts. He then drove to a hospital to take care of his wound. He had to make a police report. The doctor who took care of him was an old friend of his. After he put on a sling for Octa, he did not bother to get a report from him.

Chapter Seven
    Octa left the hospital, drove home, pointed a gun at Officer Brinking and made him walk until they got to the basement. It was about ten in the evening. He turned on the light and descended the stairs.
    “So what’re you gonna do with me?” Officer Brinking asked.
    “I’m going to kill you,” he said.
    “You’re no better than me, Octa.”
    “Is that so? It seems that I have a lot of people coming after me.”
    “So what?” Brinking said, when Octa stood in front of him. Octa kicked him in the face.
    The chair tipped over and fell on its back. Brinking’s arms, tied behind the chair, were trapped. He managed to tilt from side to side, then he rolled onto his right side. Octa walked toward him.
    “You won’t get anything out of me.”
    “I don’t need anything from you.”
    Octa took the handcuffs off and cut the rope.
    “Help yourself out.”
    Officer Brinking stood up, and something went crack in his right ankle. Trying to remain calm, he ground his teeth. He couldn’t walk on his right ankle without sharp pain. Seeing a knife on the floor, he grabbed it and headed in the direction of the stairs. Reaching the middle of the stairs, the lights went on and off, repeatedly, three or four times. He opened the door. It was dark in the kitchen. Feeling for a switch on the wall, he found none and took baby steps. He didn’t want to trip and fall as getting back up was too difficult.
    When he found the switch, he turned on the lights. This time he didn’t have to worry about the light. Making a left, he saw the front door. He attempted to limp quickly toward it. Just as he reached out for the doorknob, Octa grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head against the wall.
    Octa then pulled him in his direction with such force that Officer Brinking lost his balance and fell on his back. I should turn off and on the lights to play with his mind, Octa thought. I have to scare him so he can plead for death to come quick.
    Officer Brinking rolled to his knees, his ankle screaming in pain, and looked for him. “I’ll cut you open,” he shouted and pressed his back against the wall. With his good leg, he pushed himself back up to standing. He lost sight of Octa when he moved to the kitchen.
    “Where are you, coward?” he shouted as he stood in the kitchen facing the sink.
    The light in the room went off.
    Brinking screamed when the baseball bat slammed into his hand holding the knife. The knife clattered to the