Dangerous Designs by Dale Mayer [paranormal/YA] Read Free Book Online

flashlight along with chalk to mark her locations. She'd get it right this time.
    After a few moments pondering the contents, she added her pencil and a smaller sketchbook. And felt like an idiot. If anyone saw her preparing for a trip through her bedroom floor, they'd have her committed.
    She stood up, took one deep breath for courage, and jumped.
    And went right though the floor.
    She came to an abrupt halt in the darkness. Her knees buckled, sending her to one side. Instead of being afraid, she laughed, joy and relief mixing with a sense of exultation. She wasn't crazy. This wasn't her imagination. She'd really jumped through her floor. No damage. No broken beams or flooring or ceiling.
    Just a doorway in her sketch. How amazing was that?
    Standing up, Storey searched the darkness, listening for identifiable sounds. She'd thought long and hard about what she'd do once she made it back here. Cocking her head to one side, she realized she could hear...nothing. No sounds of water running down the walls, or mice scrabbling against the ground. Not even a bit of breeze whistling down the tunnels. Nothing.
    She clicked on her flashlight sending light slicing through unforgiving darkness. "How could anything be so absent of light and sound?" She frowned. Her voice didn't even echo. Had it last time? Sure it had. Still it was different now? She didn't remember much of her science lessons on light and noise, but thought emptiness helped create the echo effect.
    So weird. Standing still, she sent light out as far as it could reach in all directions. Then she checked out the space behind her.
    Nothing. No walls shone back on her. Turning the light onto the floor, she studied the flooring and wondered at the smooth look of the planks. So perfect, they didn't appear real. It wasn't what she'd expected.
    Then she checked out the ceiling. The light went into endless darkness. If there was a ceiling, it was so high as to be untouchable. She knew she hadn't jumped more than eight feet. Her knees hadn't hurt on landing.
    So, if she'd jumped through the same hole and landed in the same black nothingness, where was the damn door?
    Taking out her chalk, she drew a large circle with an X in the middle of it. She wanted to mark her position so she didn't get lost. At least this way if she were to jump again, she'd be able to check that she landed at the same place. She didn't want to consider that she might have ended up somewhere new.
    First things first, she needed to find the door. Last time it had been behind her. With her flashlight showing the way, she turned, searching behind her for the door. Last time that first slice of light had appeared to be a long way away. In truth, it hadn't been more than thirty or fifty feet.
    She paced off thirty paces and stopped. She couldn't see anything anywhere. Looking behind her, relief swept through her at the X on the floor in the bright beam of light. Good. She just needed to do this systematically. Taking a deep breath, she moved forward another thirty paces. Still nothing showed in her light. Uneasiness squirmed in her stomach. Keep going forward or try a new direction? Deciding to move another thirty steps, she paced again, and then stopped and drew another big X, labeling it number two. Then she backtracked to her original spot and paced ninety paces in the opposite direction. By the time she finished, she'd created a square with four Xs at the corners and a big X in the middle. Not much help, considering she had yet to find a perimeter wall.
    She stood in the middle of her markings and puzzled over it. What kind of tunnel could have no walls? Not possible. She tried to visualize the space. It had to be a natural cave to require no support beams or walls. Damn. Why hadn't she brought a bigger flashlight? Annoyance flooded through her. Oh wait, maybe because she didn't have one!
    Her cell phone rang. Such an ordinary thing, and so normal in the midst of so much abnormal, its very mundaneness