Redhouse IV
This is not a tale of heroism. There is no plucky heroine finding the means to outwit and defeat the killer that stalks the greenhouse. This is a story of adrenaline, and fear, and luck, and the dead will outnumber the living before we reach the end. If you’re okay with that, by all means read on.
Lyida had pissed herself a little, and she didn’t even realize it. Her blood was pumping too furiously for her to sense such minutiae. She could only hear the roar of madness as her mind imagined the sensation of metal sliding into flesh. She crashed into the main corridor of the garden center, knocking a display of terra cotta over with a calamitous splash. Everyone looked in her direction, including the blood splattered maniac.
“Help us! Please! He’s got a knife!” Her resolve faltered, hysteria lacing her words. Three people vanished like smoke, content in anonymous oblivion. Two froze in mute disbelief, and two others, to their credit, actually moved toward Lydia. One was an employee of the greenhouse, and his face was a mixture of concern and anger.
Lydia didn’t see him approaching from the outdoor section behind her. She bolted toward the front of the store and clawed at the slender man who intercepted her. His words were lost as she clung to him and looked back for her pursuer. For a moment she thought the other man, the employee stalking toward her, was the killer, but her senses quickly registered otherwise. His attention wasn’t focused in the right direction. He was looking at her, not toward the bloodshed. Lydia could envision the knife wielding lunatic emerging from the side greenhouse and flaying into him.
She napped an arm toward the opening, and he drew up, looking sideways. His head tilted and then he stepped toward the opening, his voice loud enough for them to hear. “Oh holy Christ.”