Strange Eons by Robert Bloch Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t smiling now, and he held a revolver in his hand.
    “Give it to me,” he said.
    Keith took a step backwards, but Peters bore down upon him, his weapon aimed and ready to fire. “Give it to me,” the black man muttered.
    Then the hand holding the revolver began to shake.
    There was a rumbling, and the whole room shook; the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Keith felt the house shudder and sway with a sudden cracking sound that merged with the black man’s scream as the overhead beams started to fall.
    Keith turned, clutching the map in his hand, and ran for the doorway.
    Then the rumbling rose to a roar, the ceiling came crashing down, and he knew no more.
    When he opened his eyes again, all was silent. Silent and dark and very still.
    Earthquake. They’d predicted another one, and it had come.
    Keith stirred cautiously, relief flooding through him as he discovered his limbs moving without pain. There was a numb sensation behind his left ear—he must have been struck by a piece of rubble from the ceiling. Large chunks of plaster weighed heavily against his chest; he pushed them aside and sat up. The crumpled map was still clutched in his right hand.
    But the black man no longer held a revolver. He was lying behind Keith, pinned under a huge beam, his skull crushed to a pulpy mass.
    Keith rose, turning away from the sickening sight. He groped his way through the debris littering the floor, searching for a glimpse of Simon Waverly in the shadows at the far corner of the room.
    Miraculously, the chair had not been damaged. But it was empty now—or almost empty.
    Through the darkness Keith stared down at the things that rested on the seat. They were three in number; three objects furnished with metal clamp attachments.
    Three unmistakable objects—the face and hands of Simon Waverly.
    The nightmare didn’t end.
    It continued in the street, where dazed figures stumbled from partially demolished bungalows or frantically fought to reenter them in search of the missing.
    Numbed by shock, Keith noted that the white van no longer stood at the curb before Waverly’s house. But the Volvo was there and apparently undamaged; he turned the key in the ignition and it started up immediately.
    Keith drove into a night that was now neither dark nor still. Shattered dwellings turned to torches, lighting his way through the city that screamed in pain.
    He was not alone; traffic constantly increased as others commandeered cars to escape from conflagration or explosions generated by leaking gas mains. Water pipes had burst and flooded Melrose, and Keith skirted the arterial until he found a safe crossing point. He turned west at Fountain Avenue, swerving frequently to avoid hitting those who ran or plodded or merely stood stunned and irresolute in the street.
    Highland Avenue was clogged with northbound vehicles headed for the freeway; on La Brea the sirens wailed as police cars, ambulances and fire-trucks raced on emergency errands.
    But as he drove further west there was less evidence of violent destruction. Apparently the quake had hit hardest at the central city, and Keith offered a silent prayer that his own area might have escaped the worst tremors.
    How long it took for him to move through canyon traffic he did not know; by the time the Volvo started to climb up into the hills he was soaked with perspiration. But there was little sign of the quake’s effect visible here—the houses stood firm on their hillside slopes and only a few trees had fallen to partially block the roadway. Keith drove around them, noting gratefully that there was no sign of brush fires, and the shriek of sirens had here subsided to a distant echo.
    When at last he reached home he breathed a sigh of relief; the house seemed untouched. Keith parked the Volvo and went inside, sniffing for possible gas leaks. Detecting none, he switched on the hall light and found it worked. The curious numb feeling persisted, but he forced himself on a tour of inspection,