And Darkness Fell by David Berardelli Read Free Book Online Page A

way.
The third looter went into the dining room.
The one near me said, “Where d’ya think you’re goin’?”
“Gotta find the kitchen.”
“You hungry again ?”
“This is hard work, Frankie.”
“Well, hurry up. We gotta frisk these two and see what goodies we can find.
This is one big fuckin’ house. We’ll prob’ly be here a while. That old stiff out on
the porch didn’t have a fuckin’ thing in his pockets.”
“Won’t be long,” his friend said and disappeared.
“All right, slick.” He aimed his flashlight at my afghan. “Let’s see what you
got for ol’ Frankie.” A strong stench of whiskey rubbed my face as he moved
closer. He grabbed a corner of the afghan and pulled.
With my left hand, I seized the hand holding the flashlight and slammed his
forehead with the butt of my handgun. He went down with a soft grunt, whacking
his chin on my knee.
I grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him over to the far corner of the
room. I pulled out the rocker, pushed him into the corner, and wedged the rocker
in front of him. He stirred, moaning softly. I smacked him again on the back of
the head, cracking his skull.
I hurried back to my chair. Before covering myself with the afghan, I pulled
back the hammer of my gun, cocking it, and rested my index finger behind the
trigger as a precaution.
The second looter came out of the dining room, smacking his lips. “They got
chicken wings in here, Frankie. Would ya believe it? Chicken wings.” He forced
out a belch. “They even got beer!”
He stopped in the archway. I could feel him looking around.
“Frankie?” He stopped munching. A click. The flashlight beam settled on my
face. “Frankie?” The beam moved away, drifting over to Reed. Without moving
my head, I glanced at Reed’s face at the end of the beam. He still hadn’t moved.
Good thing. A panic would quickly turn this into a ghastly nightmare.
The beam floated back to me.
“Frankie? Where the fuck are ya?”
The beam shot back to Reed.
“Ya doin’ a number on us?”
I knew he’d find Frankie in just a few seconds, so I made sure my gun was
aimed and my index finger in its proper position. I just hoped he wouldn’t put
two and two together and try the light switch. I wasn’t sure I could toss the
afghan, aim, and shoot him before he could get me.
Just moments later, the third punk rushed down the stairs. The room blazed.
“Motherfuck! Their lights work!”
“Frankie’s missing,” the second one whispered.
“Missing?”
“Yeah. Missing. Gone. Disappeared.”
“Maybe he went outside.”
“Why the fuck would he go outside? All the good shit’s in here.”
My heart sputtered as they scanned the room.
“What the fuck’s that?” They dashed past me, stopping abruptly. I could tell
they were gawking at the motionless form in the corner behind the rocker.
“Fr … Frankie?”
“Motherfuck!”
The two spun around. The one closest to me dropped what was left of his
chicken leg and groped for the pistol in his waistband. I yanked off the afghan
and shot him in the chest. He grunted and fell, whacking the back of his head on
the oval table. Several magazines slipped over the side and dropped to the floor.
The third punk drew his gun and brought it up. “Fucker,” he growled, and
pulled back the hammer of the revolver.
“What’s all the commotion?” Reed sat bolt upright, knocking his pillow to the
floor. “Can’t a guy get any sleep around here?”
Gasping, the third punk spun around.
I shot him in the back of the head.
Doubling up, Reed turned away from the blood spatter and coughed wetly. He
straightened, swaying a little, and took several deep breaths.
“You okay?” I asked.
He didn’t reply. His eyes were enormous as he gazed at me. Then he noticed
the blood spatter and bits of gray matter on his left forearm. Covering his mouth,
he held his left arm straight out and carefully stepped over the two young corpses.
As soon as he crossed the room, he rushed through the