Date: Mon, 12 Sep 2016 05:37:11 -0500 From: Kody Boye <boyekody@gmail.com> Subject: His Touch of Ice - Part 40 DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction, and contains scenes of graphic violence and explicit male/male sex. If you are not of the legal age to read this, or are uncomfortable with this sort of content, please turn back now. HIS TOUCH OF ICE (The Ice Men, Book 1) is copyright © Kody Boye. All Rights are reserved. ______________________________________________________________________________ The day passed slowly—largely from the outstanding grief exhibited in my restless actions. Still overwhelmed from the events of the past few days and feeling under the weather from the heatstroke, I kept to Guy's quarters and entertained himself with what few necessities he had, which weren't many considering his position here. Television stations were nonexistent and what few movies he owned had to be played on an outdated player. His collection of books, however, was impressive—to the point where I spent much of the time revisiting old habits of browsing encyclopedias for random and oftentimes useless information. Given my bookworm tendencies, I was surprised I was able to put everything back in the order I had pulled it out. Before I knew it, darkness swamped the outside world—startling in its ability to extinguish a fire and turn it into little more than smoke. For a while, I simply remained inside—sipping water, occasionally munching on chips, and waiting to see if anything would happen. When Guy didn't come in an hour after dark, my worries got the best of me and I left the room. The porch was dark. Save for a pair of sconces posed by the double doors, little could be seen of anything beyond the stairs except the trodden dirt path, thus casting the far distance into absolute blackness. My eyes instantly centered on the area where normally the fields would have been, but even they were invisible. I took consideration of my surroundings. From the fields, to the steps, to the areas illuminated by the lights—even the porch. There was no one here. The sensation that I was being watched lingered like a gun on the back of my head. I never used to be uneasy when I was alone at night. Truth of the matter was, most of those `bad feelings' I'd heard my friends talk about had usually been the result of overt paranoia or drug-induced jitters. But that night the man broke into the house—that had changed everything. I reached back, still focused on the darkness, and grabbed the doorknob. The door was locked. I hadn't bothered to check before I'd left the house. "Shit," I whispered. The feral growl that answered coincided with a pair of yellow eyes appearing and then reflecting the light of the wall sconces back at me. I didn't move. I didn't even breathe, which probably didn't help my thinking much, but I could only concentrate on the thing's eyes as I remembered what I'd always been taught as a child. The natural inclination to run was strong. Dogs were predators though, and when prey took flight, they gave chase. I looked around for something I could use to defend myself. It was just a dog. How bad could it hurt? I had just located a stone centerpiece atop a nearby table when I heard the stairs creak behind me. I froze. The huff of air from its mouth sent the smell of raw meat through my nose. I turned my head to the side just in time to catch a massive, five-fingered claw scraping across the bottom stair and slinking out of sight. Trembling, I felt my way back along the door. There had to be a doorbell, had to be a doorbell, had to be a— My elbow hit the button. The creature vaulted onto the porch and roared. I didn't bother to try and see what it was. I just turned and ran. The creature pursued me across the porch at a pace I knew I couldn't match. Paws slapping on the woodwork, mouth twisted into an open snarl, I cast what little furniture there happened to be in its way before vaulting over the railing. My high school track training should've prepared me for this. Instead, my foot caught in one of the rungs and I whipped forward, cracking my head along the railing before falling onto my shoulders, then flipping onto my back. Stars danced across my vision. I only just barely managed to sluggishly roll to the side before the creature could jump on me. It lunged. I smashed the centerpiece into its face. The creature's head slammed into the side of the house before realigning and centering directly on me. Lupine— Its eyes— I slammed the stone object down between its eyes with all I could muster before taking it in both hands and crushing its snout. Blood and bone matter spattered my face. I stumbled back, breathless, and dropped my weapon, landing flat on my ass with enough force to send a stab of pain through my spine. The thing was dead—twitching, but dead. Nearby, I heard a door open and then the slap of feet across the porch. "Jason?" Guy asked. "Is something going—" He failed to finish as he took in the scene. "I got it," I smiled, my laugh fractured by the nausea that spun about my head. "I got that fucker." "Jason! Jason!" I fell back on the soft, warm grass and closed my eyes. Sleep was bliss. ____________________________________________________________________________ If you enjoyed this installment of HIS TOUCH OF ICE, consider emailing the author with your thoughts or donating to him via Paypal at boyekody@gmail.com. You can also download the novel for free on Smashwords, Amazon Kindle, or any other major eBook retailer, or buy the Audible version online via Amazon.com. You can visit the author online at www.kodyboye.com.