BACKTRACKER Milo Fowler (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📖
- Author: Milo Fowler
Book online «BACKTRACKER Milo Fowler (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📖». Author Milo Fowler
VOICE 1: "Looks like we need to take ashort detour, boys."
VOICE 2: "You're going to let those twohave at him? Won't be much left by the time he gets to headquarters."
VOICE 1: "They'll get their turn. Firstwe've got to swing by The Pit."
VOICE 2: "Didn't realize you were intothat sort of thing, Captain."
VOICE 1: "That place makes me sick. Butthe owner—Lennox—has to I.D. this freak before we can take him in. Sounds likehe started out his evening of murder and mayhem by destroying two of Lennox'smandroids."
Peter turned toward Mary. "The Pit."
She nodded.
VOICE 2: "He's had a busy night."
VOICE 1: "Never knewWayists could be so much trouble."
VOICE 2: (Laughing) "See you back atheadquarters, Captain. Have a good time."
The recorded voices ended their call. But no one was listening tothe computer console. The man in the driver's seat was out cold with afractured windshield in his face. The man on the ground was equally dead to theworld. Everything lay cold and silent, save for the footsteps racing from thenarrow side street out onto the vacant boulevard beyond.
Six blocks, no more. That was all that separated Mary, Peter, andPaul from The Pit.
But for Kuan Ti, only a thin pane of glass separated him from thebrutal mayhem on the stage below.
He winced and jerked back as if he had been slapped. Eyesunblinking, he watched, unable to turn himself away, unable to cry out even ashe knew it would do no good. This was not his world. He had been brought hereagainst his will, and now he found himself locked in what could have been afashionable penthouse at one point in time.
No more. It had long since deteriorated.
Broken bottles and discarded wrappers of all kinds littered thefloor. The faux-leather couches and sofa chairs were ripped at odd angles, likethey had been attacked by wild cats, the stuffing protruding from ragged holes.The epitome of neglect. And completing the picture were three naked women lyingon the floor, breathing deeply on top of one another and drooling out of thesides of their open mouths. Unconscious, discarded like trash.
Time passed. The only way to judge its departure was by watchingthe cruel antics of the band on center stage. They thrashed their instruments,screamed their guts out, beat senseless their adoring fans. Brief intermissionswere taken to down full bottles of fluids and inject themselves with othersubstances. Then with renewed vigor, the macabre routine resumed afresh.
This was not The Pearl, not by any stretch. There was no glitz orglamour here, no elegance. No well-dressed synthetic waiters serving drinks, nosmiling dancers on the floor around the stage, bobbing in rhythm to the livelymusic. Instead, young people convulsed and writhed across one another on theground, seeming oblivious to each other's presence, their eyes wide butunseeing. Instead of bistro tables and chairs on all three tiers, there werelong black couches and enormous padded ottomans. Upon them, patrons of all agesparticipated in lascivious acts meant for private quarters only—if even there.
This was not The Pearl, yet Kuan could not shake the reality thatthis was the same building—the same design, down to the number of steps betweeneach tier. He was sure they would be the same as The Pearl's, if he countedthem. It was The Pearl, but an abysmally dark, distorted mirror image. Belchedfrom the pits of hell itself.
Minutes ago, two men, identical with their white faces, blackmake-up and silver piercings, had brought the boy into this room. He was outcold, and they had said nothing. Fixing their hollow eyes on Kuan, they droppedthe small, limp body onto one of the couches.
"Why am I being held here?" Kuan demanded, startingtoward them. It had been hours since Gavin Lennox abandoned him in that filthy male's roomdownstairs, transporting him from The Pearl to this horrible place. The two menstaring at him were the same who had escorted him upstairs without much in theway of respect.
The resemblance had been uncanny—both men looked very much likeThe Pearl's SYN waiters, the identical George models. But again, the similaritywas only in the way a broken mirror captures the essence of its original image.
"Sir Gavin has not decided what to do with you," said the one onthe left with no facial expression.
"You are to wait here until he returns," said the otherone in the same tone of voice—or lack thereof.
With that, they had turned away. Kuan clenched his fists down at hissides and fought the trembling of his muscles—born of fear and fury in equal measure.
"Where am I?" he demanded.
One of them paused a moment. "You are at The Pit. Tormentis here for your evening entertainment. Enjoy."
With that, they had stepped out, and the door slid shut, lockingautomatically behind them.
Kuan glanced across the spacious room at the boy. He still slept.He had yet to stir. He will not be pleased to see me again.
At their last encounter, Kuan Ti and his brother, Yeng Zhu, hadslipped inside an apartment to kidnap him. That is how it would have seemed tothe boy. He would never have understood the truth.
Just as Kuan could not comprehend the bizarre nature of hiscurrent situation. He stood at an expanse of glass with a panoramic view,gazing down at a horrific scene below, breathing the rank air of a derelictpenthouse...unable to fathom the truth he was presented with. That he had,somehow, been forced to cross over into another world.
The boy awoke with a fierce curse.
"You?" He rose onto one elbow and stared at Kuanincredulously.
Kuan kept his distance. "Are you all right?"
"Like you care." He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbedbetween them. He groaned as if he were suffering from a serious headache. Thenhe touched his bruised neck, and he seemed to remember something."Lennox."
"Yes." Kuan took a step toward him and stopped. "GavinLennox. He brought you here, and me as well."
The boy scowled, glancing at Kuan's white robe. "What'she want with you?" He looked around the
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