The Bug - Episode 2 Read Online Free Page A
Author: Barry J. Hutchison
snarling like animals, their hands grabbing and clawing for his back.
The sight of them pushed him harder. There was no time to make it all the way around the car, so he screamed at Leanne to move over, and she hurriedly clambered into the driver’s seat.
With a final desperate dive, Marshall hit the passenger seat and pulled the door shut. The charging crowd slammed into the side of the vehicle at full speed, and for a brief, horrible moment, Marshall felt like it was going to tip sideways.
He pushed down the lock on the door and thrust the keys into Leanne’s hands. “Drive.”
“I don’t know how!” Leanne yelped.
A figure pounced onto the front of the car and began scratching at the windscreen with her crooked fingers, her dressing gown flapping open in the wind. Mrs Maclean , that was her name. Marshall felt a strange sense of relief at finally having remembered it, but then the car rocked sideways again and the feeling passed.
He pulled on his seat belt and nodded in the direction of the ignition. “Then I hope for both our sakes you’re a fast fucking learner.”
THE HUME FAMILY HOME, GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
25th MAY, 1:47 AM
Abbie Hume flicked open her eyes, then lay there for a moment wondering why. She slid her hand across the sheets, reaching for Mark, but his side of the bed was cool and smooth. Night shift, she remembered. Wouldn't be home for hours yet.
She wriggled around, turning her back on the rest of the bed. The LED display of the alarm clock flashed 00:11 at her, blinking on and off like a warning light. Through the fog of half-asleep it took her a moment to realize the power must have tripped out. Police sirens had been wailing along the street all evening. Maybe the power cut had something to do with that.
The flash of another light caught her eye. One of the little red dots on the baby monitor flickered on and off again. It was little more than a blink, but enough to tell her that Imogen was restless.
Abbie held her breath, not daring to move. Immy had been sleeping better these past few nights. They'd almost dared to believe that the months of sleep-depravation might be about to come to an end, but that tiny flicker from the monitor was enough to throw the whole dream into doubt.
"Don't wake up," Abbie whispered. "Please don't wake up."
She stared at the baby monitor, as if she could make Immy stay sleeping through sheer force of will.
She could hear her breathing – not the rhythmic sighing of sleep, but the louder huffing in and out of the wide awake and restless.
The little red dot flickered for a fraction of a second. Abbie tensed and gripped the duvet. This was still salvageable, she told herself. Immy may still fall back asleep. The night wasn't necessarily a complete write-off yet.
She sat up and leaned in closer to the monitor, trying to get a better understanding of what was happening down there. Were Immy's eyes closed or open? Was she sitting up or lying down? If she could figure that out she'd know what the odds were of her darling daughter dropping back off.
The baby monitor buzzed softly in Abbie’s ear. She could still hear Immy breathing, but there was another sound, too. A scuff of footsteps on carpet. Abbie’s stomach tightened and her lungs seemed to stop working altogether as she realized with complete clarity that her daughter was not alone in her room.
She’d never thought of herself as a brave woman, and even as she leaped from her bed and raced into the hallway in her pajamas, she still didn’t. Her baby – her daughter – was in danger. Nothing else mattered but that.
Immy’s room was on the ground floor, but Abbie didn’t even notice herself flying to the stairs, or taking them in bounds of two and three.
Snatching a heavy wooden candlestick from the sideboard, she barged into the room, throwing the door wide and screaming like a woman possessed.
“Get away from my baby!”
“What the Hell?” yelped Mark, ducking and holding up his
The sight of them pushed him harder. There was no time to make it all the way around the car, so he screamed at Leanne to move over, and she hurriedly clambered into the driver’s seat.
With a final desperate dive, Marshall hit the passenger seat and pulled the door shut. The charging crowd slammed into the side of the vehicle at full speed, and for a brief, horrible moment, Marshall felt like it was going to tip sideways.
He pushed down the lock on the door and thrust the keys into Leanne’s hands. “Drive.”
“I don’t know how!” Leanne yelped.
A figure pounced onto the front of the car and began scratching at the windscreen with her crooked fingers, her dressing gown flapping open in the wind. Mrs Maclean , that was her name. Marshall felt a strange sense of relief at finally having remembered it, but then the car rocked sideways again and the feeling passed.
He pulled on his seat belt and nodded in the direction of the ignition. “Then I hope for both our sakes you’re a fast fucking learner.”
THE HUME FAMILY HOME, GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
25th MAY, 1:47 AM
Abbie Hume flicked open her eyes, then lay there for a moment wondering why. She slid her hand across the sheets, reaching for Mark, but his side of the bed was cool and smooth. Night shift, she remembered. Wouldn't be home for hours yet.
She wriggled around, turning her back on the rest of the bed. The LED display of the alarm clock flashed 00:11 at her, blinking on and off like a warning light. Through the fog of half-asleep it took her a moment to realize the power must have tripped out. Police sirens had been wailing along the street all evening. Maybe the power cut had something to do with that.
The flash of another light caught her eye. One of the little red dots on the baby monitor flickered on and off again. It was little more than a blink, but enough to tell her that Imogen was restless.
Abbie held her breath, not daring to move. Immy had been sleeping better these past few nights. They'd almost dared to believe that the months of sleep-depravation might be about to come to an end, but that tiny flicker from the monitor was enough to throw the whole dream into doubt.
"Don't wake up," Abbie whispered. "Please don't wake up."
She stared at the baby monitor, as if she could make Immy stay sleeping through sheer force of will.
She could hear her breathing – not the rhythmic sighing of sleep, but the louder huffing in and out of the wide awake and restless.
The little red dot flickered for a fraction of a second. Abbie tensed and gripped the duvet. This was still salvageable, she told herself. Immy may still fall back asleep. The night wasn't necessarily a complete write-off yet.
She sat up and leaned in closer to the monitor, trying to get a better understanding of what was happening down there. Were Immy's eyes closed or open? Was she sitting up or lying down? If she could figure that out she'd know what the odds were of her darling daughter dropping back off.
The baby monitor buzzed softly in Abbie’s ear. She could still hear Immy breathing, but there was another sound, too. A scuff of footsteps on carpet. Abbie’s stomach tightened and her lungs seemed to stop working altogether as she realized with complete clarity that her daughter was not alone in her room.
She’d never thought of herself as a brave woman, and even as she leaped from her bed and raced into the hallway in her pajamas, she still didn’t. Her baby – her daughter – was in danger. Nothing else mattered but that.
Immy’s room was on the ground floor, but Abbie didn’t even notice herself flying to the stairs, or taking them in bounds of two and three.
Snatching a heavy wooden candlestick from the sideboard, she barged into the room, throwing the door wide and screaming like a woman possessed.
“Get away from my baby!”
“What the Hell?” yelped Mark, ducking and holding up his
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