Red Rain: A Novel by R. L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page A

wipers settle down into place.
    Then he pulled the raincoat over his head and burst out of the car. To the door on the run. Shoes skidding on the wet gravel.
    He reached for the knob but the door swung open. A sliding rectangle of light revealed Roz in jeans and a long, baggy brown sweater. Her eyes were red-rimmed. He smelled alcohol on her breath.
    “Oh, Mark.”
    “Roz, hi. Have you heard from Lea? Has she called here?”
    Roz gazed at him for a long moment. “I don’t think she can,” she said finally, her voice a whisper.

9
    W ith the winds rattling the windows, Lea stood with her phone pressed to her ear. “The connection is lost.” She turned to the Swanns, Martha and James. “I heard Mark, but I don’t think he could hear me.”
    An explosion of thunder made all three of them jump.
    The lights flickered and went out. “I have plenty of candles,” Martha said. “And a kerosene lantern.”
    She had more in common with Martha Stewart than just her first name, Lea thought. She seemed to be a perfect host and homemaker, calm and competent, despite the howling winds that made Lea want to scream.
    James was soft-spoken and low-key, too. “No phones, no internet,” he said calmly, like checking off items on a grocery list. “We probably won’t have power for long. We won’t be able to communicate with anyone for days.”
    “How can you be so calm about it?” Lea’s voice came out shrill, tight.
    James’s slender, lined face flickered into view as Martha got one of the candles glowing. His eyeglasses reflected the orange light. “Martha and I have seen a lot of storms since we moved here.”
    “Maybe none like this,” Martha murmured. Another candle flared.
    The Swanns had lived in Charlotte, North Carolina, all their lives. James owned three pharmacies there, two of them inherited from his father. But he never really enjoyed running a business. When Walgreens made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, he sold them his stores and retired.
    Martha, a photo researcher, freelanced for Reuters and other news agencies. The internet meant that she could work anywhere, so it was no problem for her to move. Ten years ago, the two of them had picked up and moved to Cape Le Chat Noir, just because it seemed the wildest, most unpredictable thing they could do.
    A crash outside—shattering metal and glass—made the candlelight flicker.
    “Whoa. That sounded like a car. Think this wind is strong enough to pick up cars?” James shook his head.
    The oil lamp sent an orange glow over the Swanns’ front room. Long blue-black shadows crept over the floor and walls.
    The room had an arching, dark wood cathedral ceiling. Two rows of track lights beamed down on the living room area, all wicker and blue and green aquatic colors, in the front facing the road. A long dining room table, covered in a flowery tablecloth, divided the living room from the kitchen.
    Sliding glass doors and an enormous kitchen window revealed a panorama of the beach and ocean inlet out back. James had boarded up the window against the approaching storm. But the glass doors showed the tossing, battling waves, an eerie, unnatural green against the charcoal sky.
    The shifting shadows on the walls made Lea think of Halloween. She realized she was still gripping the cell phone and tucked it into a pocket, surprised at how hard her hand was trembling.
    She stared through the glass doors at the dark ocean waves raging high, foaming angrily.
    “People are going to die,” she said.
    The Swanns nodded but didn’t reply. James fiddled with the neck of his black turtleneck sweater. Martha carried a flickering oil lamp to the window ledge in the kitchen.
    “Why are you taking that back there?” James called.
    “It might light someone’s path,” Martha said.
    “I’m worried about Macaw and Pierre at the rooming house,” Lea murmured. “It seems so rickety and frail.”
    Martha nodded. “You’re much safer with us, on the west beach. The inlet is