J.L. Doty - Dead Among Us 01 - When Dead Ain’t Dead Enough by J.L. Doty Read Free Book Online Page B

Paul and stood over him, carefully aimed the muzzle of the cannon between Paul’s eyes, grinned menacingly and slowly pulled the pistol’s hammer back with his thumb.
    Just as it clicked into place, in a flash, the mere blink of an eye, Suzanna and Cloe appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Paul blinked again, and now Cloe straddled Joe Stalin’s back, her arms wrapped around his throat as she pulled with all her might, her face twisted with anger and fear. A real child, even such a small one, should’ve had more effect on Joe Stalin, should’ve at least made him stagger. As it was all he did was hesitate, frown and reach up with his left hand to touch his throat for just an instant, apparently completely unaware of the spectral child riding his back. But the instant ended in a blink and he lowered the gun back toward Paul’s face.
    Suzanna wrapped her hands around Joe’s wrist, tugged at it and tried to pull the gun to one side. Again, a real grown woman should’ve had more effect. But Joe seemed no more aware of her than Cloe, though the gun did waver for a moment and shifted a few inches to one side just as he pulled the trigger.
    The gun roared in Paul’s face with a deafening explosion that sent Paul’s senses reeling. He cringed, laid there for an instant with his ears ringing, blood pounding in his head, and it took him a second to realize his brains weren’t splattered all over the room.
    Joe Stalin lowered the gun again toward Paul’s face, with Cloe still riding his back and Suzanna tugging on his wrist. He pulled the hammer back just as a middle-aged hippie-woman shot across the room and touched him with a lightning bolt of electricity. Joe staggered and Paul rolled to one side as the gun roared again, the muzzle flash only inches from his face. Paul tried to sit up, looked up at the hippie woman who stood over him in a dress that looked like she’d hung a bunch of scarves of all colors from her torso, covering her from neck to floor. She wore her bright red hair in a wild tangle, tussled and curly in that way of the classic redhead. In it were about a dozen, thin, braided strands into which had been woven small, silver trinkets.
    The lightning bolt she’d hit Joe with had had considerable effect. He staggered about like a drunkard as she charged at him. The hippy struggled with him for a moment but he slapped her to the floor. He lifted the gun unsteadily, aimed it at Paul, the barrel waving about wildly as Joe continued to stagger and Suzanna continued to pull on his wrist. Paul rolled to one side as the cannon roared again. The bullet plowed into the floor where he’d been a moment ago, digging a furrow in the carpet and slapping his face and shoulders with an explosion of splinters. It was pure luck he didn’t lose an eye.
    Paul got to his feet and staggered toward the shattered front door of his apartment, looked over his shoulder just as he reached it. Joe Stalin still tottered drunkenly, but the ugly, blond fellow appeared in the entrance to the kitchen carrying another howitzer. He aimed it at Paul, but the hippie-woman hit him with one of those lightning bolts just as he fired and the shot took out part of the doorjamb only inches from Paul’s head. Paul staggered out into the hall as Joe Stalin fired another shot, punching a hole through the apartment wall behind him.
    Paul stumbled and half-rolled down the first flight of stairs, but a surge of adrenaline cleared his head and he managed to stagger down the next flight without falling. After that he took the stairs three at a time, was grateful he didn’t break his neck before he slammed out the front door of his building and tumbled into the street.

Chapter 3: No Time to Heal
    McGowan didn’t dare turn away from the demon until he finished destroying it, knew Colleen could handle the Russians. He continued releasing the spell he’d locked into the silver spike, and wisps of smoke began swirling up from the monster’s eyes and ears