The Catacombs (A Psychological Suspense Horror Thriller Novel) by Jeremy Bates Read Free Book Online Page A

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foreigners coming and going. The catacombs is their world. They
want it to remain secret, as much as it can. If they hear you speak
English, they will know you are a foreigner.”
    “And?” I said.
    “And nothing. But it is better to be
safe.”
    “Do not be scared,” Pascal told me.
    I leveled my gaze at him. He turned
promptly, and we continued toward the cataphiles, four abreast. Rob
had been right. I counted three flashlight beams, three guys. They
stood at the mouth of what appeared to be a train tunnel, speaking
loudly and laughing.
    When they noticed us they went quiet.
    Pascal said, “ Salut! ” and began
conversing with one of them.
    They were all dressed in boots, blue
coveralls, and white gloves. Their ages ranged from twenty-five to
forty, give or take. Two oxygen tanks, fins, and an assortment of
other diving gear rested beside them.
    The guy Pascal was speaking to was the
oldest. He had beady eyes and a hangdog face with the loose jowls
of an aristocratic banker. Greasy black hair, parted down the
center, gave him a Dickensian air. His voice was gruff, atonal,
sort of pissed off.
    The other two complimented each other only
in that they were opposites. One was short, Rob’s height, but much
skinnier. He had a bad case of acne, and he seemed nervous, staring
fixedly at a spot on the ground in front of him. His buddy, on the
other hand, cleared six feet. I couldn’t tell if he was as tall as
me because he wore his hair in a volcano of dreadlocks, but he
would have been a good thirty or forty pounds heavier. Judging by
his barrel chest and knotty neck and broad shoulders, he subsisted
on a diet of eggs, meat, and protein shakes. His face had that
young Arnie look, all thick slabs and bony protrusions. His
coveralls were stained with clay, no doubt from previous descents
into the catacombs.
    He was ogling Danièle in a way I didn’t
like. He sensed my eyes on him, turned toward me, and said
something.
    When I didn’t reply, he scoffed and reached
for my helmet.
    I batted his hand away. “Fuck off.”
    Surprise flashed on his face. Then a toothy,
Neanderthal smile.
    Pascal and the old guy stopped talking.
Everyone’s attention turned to Dreadlocks and me.
    “You American, huh?” he said, stepping
toward me. His size made it feel as though he was crowding my
personal space. “You go catacombs?”
    Either he was as dumb as he looked, or that
was a rhetorical question. I waited for him to continue.
    “You take many photographs, huh?”
    “I don’t have a camera.”
    “You going to paint your name? Paint a
pretty picture?”
    “Why would I paint a picture?”
    “That’s what you touristes do. You
come here, you paint pictures.”
    “Not today.”
    He licked his lips. He had either exhausted
his English, or he was thinking of something else to say. He nodded
at Danièle. “She your girlfriend, huh?”
    “Why do you care?”
    He sneered at her. “You touriste too?”
    She fired off a string of French. He
chuckled, though not in a friendly manner, and replied. Their back
and forth devolved into a heated argument.
    For a moment I was absurdly proud of Danièle
for standing her ground.
    Pascal was keeping his distance. Rob was
grinning amusedly, maybe even manically. His hands were balled into
tight fists. I had the feeling he was about to throw himself at the
big guy.
    I stepped between him and Dreadlocks and
said to Danièle, “Let’s go.”
    Dreadlocks gripped my shoulder and spun me
around. I stepped on one of his boots and shoved him in the chest,
removing my foot so I didn’t break his ankle as he dropped, arms
pin-wheeling, to the ground.
    Sitting on his ass, he appeared momentarily
dazed. Then his eyes stormed over. Roaring, he lunged at me,
thrusting his meaty hands in my face. Everyone in both parties got
into it, yelling and pulling us apart.
    Danièle tugged me free. I was panting, not
yet done. Dreadlocks continued to hurl curses, towering above his
two buddies, who were doing