Continued from April 17, 2018
#Writing #Fiction #IndieAuthor
Jeff picked up a blanket from the floor of the closet, pressing it over his mouth to mute his breathing. His heart was pounding in his chest as he heard someone speak.
“He’s not in here,” A voice said, “We have to find him.”
“I’ll search the other rooms,” Another person replied.
There was a moment of silence followed by the creaking of springs. Jeff knew that someone was sitting on his bed. They mumbled something that he couldn’t make out before he heard the sound again, telling him they were either shifting or were getting up from their spot.
Think, Jeff, how are you going to get out of this one? he thought, holding the baseball bat on the floor of his closet.
From where he sat he could hear the sudden sound of someone running through his house, rapidly approaching his room.
“The police are coming!” The second voice sounded suddenly, just outside the closet door.
“Alright, calm down. Get the others, I’ll meet you outside in a moment.” The first one said.
Jeff listened as the running went down the stairs and a few more voices, barely audible through the floor responded to the person that ran down the stairs. A few seconds went by while he listened for the person that was still in his room. He heard the sound of tearing paper, then his lamp falling over, before the bed moved again and the person walked down the stairs.
Jeff waited, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, for another minute before he dared to open the door to the closet.
He crept out on all fours, leaving the bat behind as he went to the door of his bedroom. He couldn’t hear any sounds coming from inside the house, but jumped when he heard the sound of a car door outside and the roar of an engine going down the street.
Jeff sat, shocked and shaking, on the edge of his bed, trying to figure out what was happening. He reached out to put the lamp back up and saw the notepad on his end table. A folded piece of paper with “Jeff Bezose” written on the outside.
Forgetting the lamp, he picked up the paper and opened the note.
My name is Mario Fitzgerald, I am a member of the Order. We came tonight to get you out of here, and away from those seeking to harm you. We are sorry we put you in danger. Please call me. 555-8234
At the bottom of the letter, beneath where Mario had signed it was a hand-drawn replica of the amulet that hung from his neck.
“Who are these people?” Jeff muttered as the sounds of sirens grew louder along with the screech of car tires just outside his house.