Free Genesis by Paul Antony Jones Page B

suspicion of the murder of your son, Adam. Please don’t resist.”
    The sound of the bedroom door opening was closely followed by a deep growl. Thor padded out of the bedroom, his teeth bared in a menacing growl, Rhiannon right behind him.
    “Shoot the dog,” Fisher ordered the man holding Emily’s pistol, a hint of panic in his voice.
    “No!” Rhiannon screamed and grabbed Thor’s collar, pulling him back even as he lunged toward the man who had Emily’s arm pinned up behind her back.
    Emily felt the grip on her arm relax as the fat guard holding her reflexively backed away from the snarling malamute. This was her one chance. She slipped her arm out of his grip, twisted to face him, drew her head back, and drove her forehead as hard as she could into the man’s nose. She felt the satisfying crack of his nose shattering like the shell of an egg and a spray of blood splatter across her face. The man screamed in pain, releasing her as both hands flew to his face. He staggered backward, moaning in shock.
    “For Christ’s sake, get her,” Fisher yelled, pointing at Emily.
    The blond guard, Emily’s .45 still in his hand, looked stunned. He had her weapon raised and pointed down the corridor at Thor, but Rhiannon had positioned herself between the dog and Emily’s attackers.
    Emily grabbed his gun hand, twisted around until she had his wrist locked, the gun pointed at the far wall and his elbow moving in the opposite direction, then applied all her weight to his wrist. The man screamed in pain as his elbow hyperextended, ligaments stretching like pieces of rubber.
    Her pistol clattered to the floor.
    If she could just grab the gun, she’d have a chance to seize control of this mess. She released the man, expecting his reactions to be impaired by pain, but he had enough of his wits left to realize what she was attempting and kicked the .45, sending it skittering across the corridor carpet where it bounced against a skirting board and disappeared through Rhiannon’s open bedroom door.
    Emily shoulder-barged him while he was off balance and sent him face-first into the wall, before he tumbled to the floor.
    “Get in the bedroom,” Emily yelled at Rhiannon as she turned back to face her attackers.
    She saw the pistol descending toward her and tried to dodge away, but it was too late, the butt of Fisher’s pistol caught her square on her right temple.
    The last thing Emily sensed was Rhiannon’s high-pitched scream, then her universe disappeared into blackness.

    Adam was five years old. Emily didn’t know how she knew this, but she did. He was asleep on the bed, the blankets pulled up to his chin, his hair spread out around his head like a halo.
    He was beautiful.
    Emily leaned in and kissed his forehead. She placed the pillow over his face and pushed down hard.

    “No ! ” Emily cried out, and instantly regretted it. The yell rang her head like a bell.
    Where the fuck was she? She raised her head, looked around, but didn’t recognize the room. Her mind was full of fog and confusion, her thoughts running from her each time she tried to focus on them. She re membered something about a fight, but the why of it eluded her.
    Emily felt metal beneath her fingers. She was lying on some kind of a gurney, a hospital gurney with collapsible metal sidebars to stop patients from rolling out of them. A gray blanket lay crumpled below her knees. She sat up, reached to caress the throbbing spot on the side of her head, and almost dislocated her wrist, yelping at the sudden pain as her arm was abruptly stopped. Emily stared at the metal handcuffs securing her left arm to the gurney’s railing.
    What the hell?
    And then it all came back to her: the knock at the door. The three men. The fight.
    Those bastards!
    “She’s awake.” Emily looked for where the voice had come from, but her eyes were still blurry, her head swimming. Each time she moved she felt as though she were going to throw up. God! She hoped she didn’t have