The Shepherd by Ethan Cross Read Free Book Online Page A

crawl. But as I sit here in great enjoyment of the moment, it feels as if time is slipping away at an amazing pace. It’s all relative, but that’s what is so interesting about this device.”
    He held up the baking timer. “No matter how the passage of time may feel to a person whose perception is altered by their situation, this device is constant. In all actuality, the seconds count down on this device no faster or slower based upon who you are, and that’s something else I love about time. It’s fair. No matter who you are, what you’ve done, or how much money is in your bank account, time passes the same for us all. And sooner or later, it will catch up to every living thing on this planet. Time is the greatest killer of all.”
    He placed the timer on the tabletop in front of her. “So, in honor of this most interesting device, the little game we’re going to play is a fight against the clock for the both of us. We’ll call this game… The Theory of Relativity . First of all, I’ll set this timer to six minutes. Then, I’m going to let you go hide somewhere in the house. While you’re hiding, I’m going to sit here at the table and watch as three minutes worth of time counts off the timer. After the three minutes have passed, I’ll have three minutes remaining to find you. If I find you within that time, you will die a death more horrible than anything you’ve ever imagined. If you manage to elude me and the timer reaches six minutes, then I’ll leave you unharmed, and you’ll never see me again.”
    Ackerman stood and picked up a dishtowel from the counter. He moved to one of kitchen cabinets and removed two glass cups. Her eyes followed the madman as he put the cups in the dishtowel, closed the towel tight, and smashed the glasses within, leaving a towel full of broken glass.
    He turned back to her and continued. “But before we play, we need to establish some rules for the game. Number one, you must remain inside the house.” Ackerman walked to the back door and sprinkled some of the glass shards in front of the exit. Once finished, he moved down the hall toward the front door.
    While her attacker was out of the room, she stiffened her resolve and grabbed the knife that pinned her in place. She wiggled it back and forth slowly, but each movement caused her great pain and forced her closer to the brink of unconsciousness.
    She could hear the killer approaching, his footsteps growing in volume as he grew nearer.
    With her heart thudding violently in her chest, she intensified her efforts. If only I can free the knife, I can stab the killer before he knows that I’m free .
    She rocked the knife back and forth, desperately trying to release it from the grasp of the table’s thick wooden top. She was not a weakling, but she was not a strong woman either. Her wounds, both physical and emotional, had sapped any strength that she did possess.
    Each movement of the blade severed skin and cut nerve endings, sending sharp, shooting pains up her arm and down her spine.
    The killer was now in the hallway just outside the kitchen.
    She steeled herself for one final effort, and with every ounce of strength that she had left, she yanked up on the knife. She felt sweat running down her forehead from the exertion of her efforts. The streams of sweat and tears coalesced into one. The knife moved up slightly.
    She continued her efforts, but it would not budge a millimeter farther. It was of no use. The knife was secure, and her traumatized muscles could not remove it.
    Ackerman reemerged from the hallway and eyed her like a parent who had found their child with a hand in the cookie jar. He walked over to the table and stood over her. “You see, darling, a knife is kind of like a band-aid. You just have to rip it off.”
    With a quick movement, he grasped the knife and pulled it from the table and out of her hand.
    The trauma almost overwhelmed her. Cold tendrils of pain shot up her arm. She could feel her vision