Free The Summoning by Mark Lukens Page A

always-cheerful John who gave him a list of jobs to do. John wasn’t overly friendly, but he wasn’t mean either, like he had gotten used to the idea of tolerating Ryan for the moment.
    Hours later, Ryan felt a little better. He had swept up some empty rooms in one building, getting them ready for the painters. And now he pushed an empty wheelbarrow to another building which he was going to clean up and get it ready for the drywall hangers. He pushed the wheelbarrow past another laborer that he’d seen yesterday. Ryan nodded at the guy, he was pretty sure his name was Miguel.
    “Morning,” Ryan said as he pushed his wheelbarrow past the man.
    Miguel nodded as they walked past each other.
    “Drip, drip,” Ryan heard Miguel say after he was a few steps past him.
    Ryan stopped in his tracks. He dropped his wheelbarrow down to the concrete floor with a crash and turned back to Miguel who was still walking away. “What did you say?” he called after him.
    Miguel turned around and stared at him. “What?” he asked.
    Ryan ran up to Miguel and stood in front of him. “You just said something when you walked past me. What did you say?”
    Miguel stood his ground, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes, a growing fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”
    “You got something to say to me?” Ryan asked. “If you know something, then spit it out.”
    Miguel shook his head. “You’re loco, man.” He turned around and walked away quickly.
    Ryan watched Miguel walk away, and then he went back to his wheelbarrow.
3.
    Ryan picked up scrap pieces of metal, wood, wire, and pipe in a room in the next building. The walls were filled with pink fiberglass insulation and there were stacks of drywall leaning against the metal stud walls.
    Something on the floor a few feet away caught Ryan’s eye as he was about to pick up some scrap pieces of metal. He walked a few steps over to the spot on the floor and stared down at it. It was a small dark spot. It was still wet. It looked like blood.
    There was another drop near this drop. And then another drop beyond that one – a trail of blood drops. He looked up to see where they were leading to and he saw the red-haired man. He had been in the doorway that led out to the hall, but he was already gone, just a blur of movement of his dark suit, red hair, and pale skin.
    “Hey!” Ryan shouted. He could feel an anger boiling up inside of him. Why wouldn’t this man leave him alone? What did he want?
    Ryan ran out into the wide hallway of metal studs and insulation. Work lights were strung along the ceiling.
    The red-haired man wasn’t out there. Ryan looked down at the concrete floor and he saw the trail of blood drops.
    Blood from the red-haired man’s fingers.
    Drip. Drip.
    Ryan ran down the hall, following the trail of blood. He turned a corner and saw just the flash of dark movement at the end of the hall. The red-haired man had just entered a doorway into a dark room. Ryan raced down the hall to the doorway of the dark room. When he reached the doorway, he hesitated. He looked down at the floor in front of the room and he saw more drops of blood, bigger drops.
    Ryan stepped inside the room.
    The room was dark – it already had drywall up on the walls. Almost immediately Ryan’s eyes adjusted to the murkiness. The room was large; it was going to be some kind of utility room and the doorway was the only way in or out. The room was empty except for the red-haired man at the other end; he stood facing the wall, his back to Ryan. His ruined hands were clasped behind his back, his blood dripping down onto the floor, forming dark puddles on the concrete. Ryan could hear the dripping sounds.
    Ryan took a step towards the man. “This can’t be real,” he whispered.
    The red-haired man made no movement – he just stared at the wall in front of him, his back still to Ryan.
    Ryan took another step closer to the man.
    This man couldn’t be real. This was just a dream,