The Massacre Mechanism (The Downwinders Book 5) Read Online Free Page B

climbing up his body. He thought
for a moment that the weight might cause him to lose his grip and they’d both
fall to the ground, but Awan moved so quickly he realized he didn’t have time
to let go. The Paiute’s lean frame passed in front of his face as he climbed.
Winn felt a little thrill as his chest and waist moved past, but it was over
within seconds.
    He felt
Awan’s hand above him, grabbing at his wrist. “Let go,” Awan said.
    Winn looked
up at him, unsure if Awan had a firm enough grip that he wouldn’t fall if he
released his hold on the bar.
    Awan smiled
at him. “I’ve got you!”
    Winn
released his hold, and instantly Awan pulled him up to the metal grating of the
fire escape.
    Some kind
of muscles on this guy, Winn thought.
    While Awan
looked up, Winn looked down. “How is someone supposed to use this thing to
escape?” he asked. “They have to jump from this point?”
    “I think
they removed the sliding ladder since the building is unoccupied,” Awan said,
beginning to climb the fire escape. “Unoccupied except for Jackson, I mean.”
    Winn
followed Awan, looking up occasionally to be met with Awan’s jeans-covered ass.
It wasn’t a view he minded.
    As they
reached the top of the four-story building, Awan gave Winn a hand, scaling over
the side and onto the flat roof. It had been recently resurfaced, and several
shiny new air conditioning units were positioned at various points. Awan led
him to a door that lifted open from the flat surface of the roof, exposing a
metal ladder leading down. Winn noticed a broken, discarded lock resting on the
roof a couple of feet from the door.
    “After you,”
Awan said, holding the door open.
    Winn started
down the ladder, and after fifteen rungs found himself standing in a corridor
lined with two-by-fours. The last of the day’s light streamed into the windows,
which were easy to see as no walls obstructed the view. He heard Awan closing
the roof hatch overhead; he was soon standing next to him. “They didn’t finish
this section,” Awan said, walking forward down the hallway. “Must have run out
of money. Come on, Jackson’s on the third floor.”
    Winn
followed Awan through the building, coming to a set of stairs at the far end.
They walked down together, the wood of the staircase occasionally creaking
under them. On the floor below, new sheetrock had been hung but not finished.
Their steps didn’t echo quite the way they had on the top floor, where things
were more open.
    Awan snaked
down a short hallway and then turned, walking until he came to the end of it. A
closed door was on the left; Awan grabbed its handle and opened it.
    Inside was
an empty hotel room, about four hundred square feet. Winn could tell Awan had
already dropped into the River, so he joined him.
    The room
changed; it was covered in fancy wallpaper. A bed sat against one wall, and on
another was a table with a large pitcher and basin. In one corner was a desk,
piled high with books and objects. Next to the window was a man, dressed in
clothes from the mid-nineteenth century, staring out the window, a perplexed expression
on his face. He turned to look at the two men who had just entered. He smiled
briefly at them, then turned to look out the window once again.
    Winn saw the
man raise his hand to the holster at his waist, letting his fingers grip the
handle of the revolver there. He didn’t remove the gun, but he held onto it as
his eyes darted back and forth, scanning the ground outside.
    Goddamn
top floor! the man
muttered. I wanted the top floor so I could see them coming. This floor
ain’t high enough.
    Who’s
coming? Winn
whispered to Awan.
    It’s a
long story, Awan
replied. It was a hundred and fifty years ago. He jumped a claim, and he’s
paranoid.
    Awan turned
to the man and approached him. Jackson? he asked. Jackson? It’s me,
Awan. You remember me?
    The man
turned from the window to face them. He had a short beard that was well
groomed, and thinning blond hair