Corrupt, p.1Russell Judd / Thrillers & Crime
By Russell Judd
Copyright 2014 Russell Judd
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedicated to my loving wife
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A deep muffled voice explodes into the room, its power shaking my entire body, waking me up from my sleep. Panic wraps its bony fingers around my heart trying to force every last drop of adrenaline into my veins. My heart beats faster and faster as this foreign sound echoes in and around my skull.
I can feel an unnatural pressure on my chest, my eyes dart around but I can’t see this illusive being that is trying to crush my every breath.
With every shallow exhalation I can see a cool mist rising up into the air and slowly disappearing. I think to myself how unusual for a warm summer’s night. This slight distraction allows me to take a valuable moment and pause for a second. “Focus on your breathing Nate, slow it down,” I say under my breath. I can still see the cool mist of air with each breath, “What is happening?”
Instantly I’m answered by the same deep muffled voice but this time its clearer. “Don’t you fucken move,” it says. Each word spoken with a degree of calmness and threatening confidence. As these words are unwillingly forced into my ear drum I can feel the cool menacing breath of this creature.
Of course I try and move but my body refuses to respond and my eyes strain around the room to find this alien presence. All I can see is the ominous red glow of my alarm clock and the outline of my door. I try to focus on the glow but the numbers blur together and become fuzzy the more I concentrate. My mind screams and commands my body to move but fear and frustration envelopes me as I realise that my body’s insubordination is going to leave me at the mercy of this being.
Again the deep muffled voice reverberates through my head, the intense volume silences my thoughts. “I told you not to fucken move!”
With the lack of an ultimatum given I again send every muscle the message that it’s time to move. But nothing happens. “Fuck this.” The temperature plummets further, I can feel the coldness creeping closer and closer, and realise that I’m all alone. My only ally, the light, made its escape long before the darkness came. My heart is now trying to force its way out of my rib cage and with every heart beat adrenaline is being forced around my body. I can feel my muscles starting to come to life as I am overcome with a tingling sensation, finally my body responds, my fists clench and my chest tightens.
With one explosive movement my body erupts from its paralysis and I sit up to confront this presence. But see nothing and realise I am alone.
When I look around the room and everything is how I left it. The bedroom door is still shut, the wardrobe is still hiding my cluttered mess, my prized possession a Gibson Les Paul Gold top is proudly sitting in the corner and the French doors are closed. There is nothing to suggest that anyone else has been in the room.
I breathe a sigh of relief when a shiver crawls up my spine, my sweat has turned from warm comfort into a cold blanket. Suddenly this uneasy feeling is interrupted by a noise from the street piercing through the thin window. Shuffling across the bed, I place my feet on the carpet and hope that my legs have regained their strength. Randomly, memories come flooding back of the countless times my sister would warmly criticise my so called ‘chicken legs’. I’d be the first to admit they are not the most spectacular legs but at least I could reciprocate the jibe as she also inherited a sturdy pair of tooth picks.
The soft carpet beneath my feet steadies me and I squeeze the wool fibres between my toes. My muscles fire in unison as I stand and I start to analyse what just took place.
“There’s no way that voice came from outside”. Curious, I open and slam the window shut to reassure myself before I turn around to get back into bed. I glance at the alarm clock and I can see its red glow glaring at me. I’m sure it’s getting some kind of sadistic satisfaction in reminding me that it’s only 2am. As I lie there looking at the ceiling I release a heavy sigh, another night of broken sleep I think to myself. A sudden feeling of disappoint takes over when it becomes apparent that I only have a couple of hours of solace before I have to face the world and her wretched inhabitants once again, and deal with their shit.
Being a cop does have its benefits but after ten years the negatives are finally starting to distort the positives.