TimeSlip by Caroline McCall Read Free Book Online Page A

was turning hysterical . She was laughing
out loud when the key turned in the lock. After that there was nothing to laugh
about.
     
    “You’re sure this is the place?”
    “That’s what the Sat Nav says. Twenty-first century heap of
junk.”
    “Pull into the driveway, Pete, we’ll walk the rest of the
way.”
    Jake delved into the trunk, pulling out the lightweight
amour and tossing it to Strom. They suited up in the shadow of a tree. This
looked like a class area. There was no sense in upsetting the neighbors. The
big guy was packing enough weapons to wipe out a small city. Jake prayed that
they would be on time.
    “I’ll take point.” Strom’s tone brooked no argument. He was
going to kill someone, or maybe several someones.
    Jake stretched out his hand, palm down. A kind of pre-battle
good luck ritual they had started at the academy. Pete placed his hand on top
of his and they both looked at Strom. The big guy reached out his hand and
placed it on top of theirs.
    “Let’s go kill something.”
    Staying in the shadow of the trees, they approached the
house. They could hear a TV blaring, but the curtains were open and they could
see no one inside. Strom could see a chink of light upstairs in a rear bedroom.
His hands gripped his weapon tighter. He raced across the open area until he
reached the back door. It was locked. Strom waved for Pete. They couldn’t
afford to alert Raoul that they were here.
    Pete got the door opened in seconds. A twenty-first century
lock was no match for a twenty-sixth-century laser tool. Strom motioned them
into the kitchen. Raoul was dirtier than a Yarran boar—one of the filthiest
beasts he’d come across on his travels. Their stench was bad enough to knock
you out at fifty paces. The surfaces were littered with dishes and half
finished plates of food. Beer bottles littered the wooden table. They must have
had quite a party. There was a curious smell coming from the cupboard under the
stairs. Strom knew that particular stench far too well. They had found David
Martin.
    Inch by inch, they made their way along the darkened
hallway, checking each room as they went. Upstairs, they heard a shrill scream,
a woman’s scream. When Strom made for the stairs, Jake blocked his path. “Not
like this. You’re too emotionally involved. We’ll take them. You get Ingrid.”
    Strom nodded, Jake was right.
    Jake took point, making his way silently up the carpeted
stairs, keeping his back to the wall. There were no guards. The landing was
empty. The bedroom doors were open and Jake checked each one swiftly, trying to
ignore the sobs coming from the room at the end of the hall. They couldn’t
afford any surprises. He gave the all clear signal to the others. God help them
now.
    Strom burst through the wooden door as if it was made of
cardboard. His eyes scanned the room quickly. No Raoul. Jorge had a knife in
one hand. He had cut her face, Ingrid’s beautiful face. Then Strom saw red.
    He didn’t bother using a weapon. That would have been too
quick. He wanted to kill Jorge with his bare hands. Strom’s fists pounded into
his face, his ribs and his chest. Anywhere he could inflict pain. Jorge tried
in vain to slash Strom with the knife, but Strom barely felt a scratch. His
hands circled Jorge’s throat, watching with grim satisfaction as the
Cyraelian’s skin slowly turned purple and his eyes bugged out. Jorge made a
choking sound, gasping for breath. In the end, throttling him wasn’t good
enough. Strom wanted to rip his head off.
    Jake and Pete had to pull him away. “He’s dead, Strom. Come
on now, leave him, we have to help Ingrid.”
    They had broken both of her arms, his precious Ingrid. Her
blue dress was torn where Jorge had cut her with his blade, and her face. Her
pretty face was a mess. This was his fault. She didn’t deserve any of this.
    Ingrid’s left eyelid fluttered open. The other one was
sealed shut with blood. “Strom, I didn’t tell them,” she whispered. “I