The Effacing (Book 1.5): Valley's End Read Online Free
them.
The Akita backed up.
Girder whispered, “It’s their dog. He tracked us down.”
“Keep moving.” Jim slipped back, vision still fixed on his target.
They kept pushing forward.
The dog backed away, growled.
“Don’t make me kill you, Sparky.” Jim grunted, fixing to put a hollow slug right between the animal’s eyes if it barked or lunged forward.
CHAPTER 5
An abandoned, forest green, gold striped custom made van was left in the center of the street sitting on bricks, front and rear doors ajar. Across the sliding door, the word, Necropolis , written in red spray paint. It could easily pass for a rectangular Christmas tree on a gloomy, Hungarian Sunday, with the presents missing at the base. The surrounding vehicles, stripped, some with flat tires, others burnt, or the fires set within them, sluggishly burning out. Busted windows were all throughout the apartment buildings, and smoke rose from other openings at the far end of the complex in another structure.
The explosive combined smell of rotten food, burning wood and sewage, lashed out with a warm breeze, a stomach-turning disgusting odor, like a triple scoop of Shit-Chunk on a charred Redwood cone, topped with sour milk poured like Hershey’s chocolate syrup, and freckled with hot, construction worker’s after-the-job and a company flag football game dead skin and foot-fungus, all on fire.
“Damn!” Trivo exclaimed. “Fuck is that—”
“Shhh!” Ann turned back, finger pressed against her lips as she walked beside Rebekah.
Rebekah held Itchy’s AK. She’d wrapped a flashlight underneath the nose with electrical tape found in the glove box of her pick-up truck, pointed toward a busted window on the main level of one of the three story project buildings and motioned for her clique to follow with a swift jolt of the head.
CHAPTER 6
The rusting refrigerator and freezer doors were wide open, the sour smell of spoiled milk and bad meat bounced off the sweaty walls. The water-damaged cupboards had been ransacked; boxed food and canned goods, broken stoneware and drinking glasses spread across the filthy ceramic tiles. And the sink, filled with dirty dishes and maggots.
In the darkened front room, overtop the old and worn out plaid sofa, a family portrait of four hung crooked on the wall; a young man and his younger wife; their son and daughter, a most happy family dressed to impress in their Sunday’s best. Dead plants sat in a pot near the fogged up naked window – fire escape just outside – the blue curtain and child-destroyed blinds, off in a far darker corner, overtop a pair of spray painted 50 pound dumbbells. The purple loveseat and orange recliner were overturned, the 60 inch flat screen, lying face down on the grey, cardboard-grinding carpet. The finger-printed metal door was kicked in from the outside, badly dented around the center.
The golden door knob twisted, the door opened, and Jim and Girder lurched through. Jim, locking the door behind them, made way to the couch, finally taking a load off opposite his friend.
“ Yo, man, what the fuck ? Shit went straight through.” he thundered, tossing the guns down in between himself and Girder.
Girder threw his hands out, bloody palms up. He was hardly bleeding anymore. “What I supposed to know? I’m hit . The shit burns. End of story.”
“You was actin’ like a lil bitch about it… cryin’n shit.”
Girder looked around the room. “Main… whatever, dog.” he drifted. “Yo… whose crib is this?” he asked, rubbing his hands clean on the sleeve of his sweater.
“A partner mines.”
“What? You partners with the enemy?”
“Nah, it wasn’t like that, G-man. He ain’t rock with the hard knocks. Dude worked an had a family an shit.”
Girder did not believe Jim in the slightest. They were complete opposites on the same team. Jim, considerate
The Akita backed up.
Girder whispered, “It’s their dog. He tracked us down.”
“Keep moving.” Jim slipped back, vision still fixed on his target.
They kept pushing forward.
The dog backed away, growled.
“Don’t make me kill you, Sparky.” Jim grunted, fixing to put a hollow slug right between the animal’s eyes if it barked or lunged forward.
CHAPTER 5
An abandoned, forest green, gold striped custom made van was left in the center of the street sitting on bricks, front and rear doors ajar. Across the sliding door, the word, Necropolis , written in red spray paint. It could easily pass for a rectangular Christmas tree on a gloomy, Hungarian Sunday, with the presents missing at the base. The surrounding vehicles, stripped, some with flat tires, others burnt, or the fires set within them, sluggishly burning out. Busted windows were all throughout the apartment buildings, and smoke rose from other openings at the far end of the complex in another structure.
The explosive combined smell of rotten food, burning wood and sewage, lashed out with a warm breeze, a stomach-turning disgusting odor, like a triple scoop of Shit-Chunk on a charred Redwood cone, topped with sour milk poured like Hershey’s chocolate syrup, and freckled with hot, construction worker’s after-the-job and a company flag football game dead skin and foot-fungus, all on fire.
“Damn!” Trivo exclaimed. “Fuck is that—”
“Shhh!” Ann turned back, finger pressed against her lips as she walked beside Rebekah.
Rebekah held Itchy’s AK. She’d wrapped a flashlight underneath the nose with electrical tape found in the glove box of her pick-up truck, pointed toward a busted window on the main level of one of the three story project buildings and motioned for her clique to follow with a swift jolt of the head.
CHAPTER 6
The rusting refrigerator and freezer doors were wide open, the sour smell of spoiled milk and bad meat bounced off the sweaty walls. The water-damaged cupboards had been ransacked; boxed food and canned goods, broken stoneware and drinking glasses spread across the filthy ceramic tiles. And the sink, filled with dirty dishes and maggots.
In the darkened front room, overtop the old and worn out plaid sofa, a family portrait of four hung crooked on the wall; a young man and his younger wife; their son and daughter, a most happy family dressed to impress in their Sunday’s best. Dead plants sat in a pot near the fogged up naked window – fire escape just outside – the blue curtain and child-destroyed blinds, off in a far darker corner, overtop a pair of spray painted 50 pound dumbbells. The purple loveseat and orange recliner were overturned, the 60 inch flat screen, lying face down on the grey, cardboard-grinding carpet. The finger-printed metal door was kicked in from the outside, badly dented around the center.
The golden door knob twisted, the door opened, and Jim and Girder lurched through. Jim, locking the door behind them, made way to the couch, finally taking a load off opposite his friend.
“ Yo, man, what the fuck ? Shit went straight through.” he thundered, tossing the guns down in between himself and Girder.
Girder threw his hands out, bloody palms up. He was hardly bleeding anymore. “What I supposed to know? I’m hit . The shit burns. End of story.”
“You was actin’ like a lil bitch about it… cryin’n shit.”
Girder looked around the room. “Main… whatever, dog.” he drifted. “Yo… whose crib is this?” he asked, rubbing his hands clean on the sleeve of his sweater.
“A partner mines.”
“What? You partners with the enemy?”
“Nah, it wasn’t like that, G-man. He ain’t rock with the hard knocks. Dude worked an had a family an shit.”
Girder did not believe Jim in the slightest. They were complete opposites on the same team. Jim, considerate
Readers choose
James Hadley Chase
Bella Andre
Selena Kitt
Marian McBride
Stephanie Erickson
Linda Howard
Brooklyn O'Bannon
Richard Bird
Dale Mayer