Dead Night by Tim O'Rourke Read Free Book Online Page A

Marty’s I heard. But that was impossible, right? Marty was sitting at the end of the bed. Then, Marty started screaming from outside.
    “What’s going on in here?” I breathed, racing towards the window. I looked out onto the street below to see Marty stumbling into the road.
    His hands were outstretched as he clutched blindly at the air.
    “Help me!” he screamed. “He’s burnt my eyes out!”
    Not being able to comprehend what I was seeing, I glanced back over my shoulder to Marty – the other Marty – sitting and grinning back at me from the edge of the bed.
    “Marty?” I whispered at him.
    Chuckling to himself, he looked at me, his eyes spinning like two Catherine Wheels in his face. “Oh, Sophie,” he smiled and clapped his hands together.
    The sound of screeching brakes from outside made me turn back to the window. With my hands clasped to my face, I watched the blind Marty corkscrew into the air as an oncoming car smashed into him. With his arms flapping like wings on either side of him, Marty seemed to float in the air forever, until he hit the road with a sickening thud. I span around and looked back into the room, but Marty had gone, and in his place stood a giant. Standing at least seven foot tall, he was nothing more than a thin sheet of flesh wrapped around a pile of bones. His face was long and pointed, his cheeks and eye sockets sunk deep into his face. He wore a blue denim shirt, loose-fitting jeans, and a navy blue baseball cap on his head. A red bandanna was tied about his scrawny throat. His lips looked cracked and dry, and as he smiled at me, I could see a black set of fleshy gums and a row of smashed teeth that looked as if he had been chewing on a mouthful of toffees. But it was his eyes. They almost seemed to spin in their sockets like fireworks on bonfire night.
    “Who are you?” I whispered.
    “It doesn’t matter,” he smiled as he headed for the door. “You won’t remember me.”
    Looking at his freaky form, I said, “I won’t forget you.”
    At the door, he turned back, and with his lips looking so thin that they looked like a crack in a plate, and his seething eyes boring into mine, he said, “Sophie, you seemed to have forgotten so much already.”
    Then, he was gone, and I was standing alone in the bedroom that I had once shared with...
    “Marty?” I gasped. He had been trying to get it on with me – kissing me – and I’d told him to piss off. Then what had happened? I looked at the dishevelled bed. I’d pushed him off me and he had run from the room.
    “What a pig!” I snapped, taking a small holdall from the bottom of the wardrobe. Not really knowing what I was doing or why I was doing it, I snatched up a shoebox that was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, and along with Marty’s iPod, I placed them into the holdall.
    “I can’t believe it!” I fumed as I headed down the stairs. “How dare Marty think I would just jump straight back into bed with him!”
    At the foot of the stairs, I saw that the front door was hanging from its hinges like a wobbly tooth. “Marty?” I called out. “Where are you?” I was still mad at him for trying to get it on with me, but something told me that there was something wrong with this picture.
    The whoop-whoop sound of approaching sirens filled the air outside. Still clutching the holdall, I made my way from the house and into the street. A small gathering of people were at the kerb. I eased my way amongst them and to my shock, I could see Marty lying in the street, one side of his head popped open like an overripe melon. Blood gushed from the hole and turned the street black. Marty’s eyes were open and they looked blankly up at the sky.
    “Marty!” I cried and went to him, kneeling at his side. “Marty, what happened?” As I leant over him, I couldn’t help but notice what looked like scorch marks around his eyes.
    The sound of sirens was deafening now as several police cars turned into the street and came