Free The Serophim Breach (The Serophim Breach Series) by Tracy Serpa

table. Yelling savagely, the man bared his teeth like a rabid dog, his unfocused eyes scanning the room. Sarah scrambled desperately for the hallway stairs, with Lani close behind her. Just as they rounded the corner, she caught a brief glimpse of the jogger lunging from behind them. Lani screamed in panic as he knocked her to the ground and clambered on top of her.
    “Sarah!”
    Moving without thinking, Sarah scrambled up the stairs on all fours, mouth gaping, sobbing for air, tears spilling down her face. Behind her, Lani screamed again, pinned down. Sarah heard her friend’s legs flailing against the floor and wall as the crazed man attacked her, but she could do nothing to make herself turn back. The image of the man’s face wiped everything from her mind but the command to run. Turning the corner into her room, she scrambled into her closet and pulled the door closed behind her quietly, huddling against the back wall. She stuffed her fingers into her ears and tried not to hear.

Five
    Paul pulled hard against the water once and duck dived into the smooth side of the wave. The surge tugged along his body, and he grinned as he broke the surface. Jones sat on his board ten feet away, his ruined Mohawk dripping saltwater on his face. Sitting up on his board, Paul faced the beach to watch a wave roll over the swimmers closer to shore, then spread out languidly against the slope of the sand.
    “You get up yet?” he asked, turning to his friend.
    Frowning, Jones leaned forward and popped the front of his board out of the water, caressing it.
    “It’s early. We’ve barely gotten to know each other,” he said, and shook a fist at the waves. “I miss my longboard.”
    Paul chuckled, remembering the scene as Jones dragged the two halves of his board out of the surf three days earlier. He looked like a kid who had licked his ice cream right off the cone. Greg and Boomer had goaded him into trying a shorter board like the rest of them, but Jones was clearly less than comfortable with his new purchase.
    “Hey, guys!” Paul heard Derrick’s voice, muffled by the wind and water, and twisted to find him. He was floating several yards away, facing the beach, his eyes squinted and his chin jutting forward. Bringing a hand up to shield the sun off his face, he pointed toward the shore. Paul waited for the swell to roll beneath him, and as he rose with the wave, he caught a short glimpse of the beach.
    Greg stood in the shallow water, waving his arms in sweeping arcs through the air. He was shouting, but the steady wind and sound of waves covered his words. Behind him, Boomer was dragging himself down the beach. It looked like he was yelling too. Greg glanced over his shoulder, then began frantically waving for them to come in as Paul sank down the back side of the wave.
    Derrick cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Did you see that?”
    Nodding, Paul stretched his neck up to see over the line of the swell rolling toward the shoreline. Higher up the beach, a few small groups of people all stood looking in Greg’s direction, but his friends were still obscured.
    “Jonesy! We gotta head in!” he shouted over his shoulder. Behind him, Jones was paddling toward an approaching set. He pulled up short and sat back up on his board.
    “What?”
    “I think Boomer’s real sick,” Paul called back. Turning back to the beach, he saw Greg was helping Boomer stand and still shouting for his friends. He hoisted Boomer up and slung his arms over his shoulders.
    Jones cursed under his breath. “Let him sleep it off in the car,” he said.
    Frowning, Paul said, “I don’t think he’s hungover, man. Greg looks pretty freaked.”
    “God dammit, man. I’m gonna punch that guy square in the chode,” Jones grumbled. With a heavy sigh, he flopped down on his board again and started paddling toward the beach. Derrick caught a wave, popping up easily on his board. He hooted as he passed Paul and Jones, cutting right, then