Free Hellraisers by Alexander Gordon Smith Page B

hit thin air as the girl ducked beneath him. The blade flashed as it slashed his way again, scraping his skin. He let loose a gargled scream, backing away.
    Something grabbed him from behind, a bear hug that could have popped his rib cage. The guy and the girl were closing in and Marlow tried to look over his shoulder to see who was holding him.
    There was nothing there.
    What?
    The invisible arms tightened, lifting him up and slamming him into the ceiling. Then they were gone and he fell, crashing back to the floor. He kicked out with his legs, not aiming for anything in particular, just trying to keep them both away. There was a meaty crunch as the heel of his right foot connected with the guy’s face, a gargled scream. Marlow propelled himself up, seeing the man on his knees, hands to his face, blood pouring through his fingers like somebody had turned on a faucet. The girl had gone two shades paler, the knife gripped in shaking fingers. They all stood there for a moment, catching their breath, nobody sure what should happen next, the elevator grumbling steadily downward.
    â€œI don’t want any trouble,” said Marlow, his voice paper-thin. “Just let me go, okay? You’ll never see me again, I promise. I won’t tell a soul.”
    Neither of them responded, the girl looking nervously at the man, the man on his knees, clutching his broken face like he was worried it might slip right off. Marlow sucked in an airless breath, coughed it out again, his lungs feeling like they were full of water, like he was drowning. It didn’t make any sense. Why didn’t they just kill him when he was trussed up like a turkey? Why wait until he could fight back? The elevator counted down the floors, ding , ding , ding.
    The man’s hand darted forward, so fast that it sprayed a line of blood across the wall and floor. An invisible force connected with Marlow’s chest and he thumped back against the side of the elevator, the breath snatched from his lungs. He tried to push himself away but the force was too strong, pinning him there.
    â€œDo it!” the guy yelled.
    The girl moved, that blade flashing as she stabbed it down toward his neck. Marlow twisted but he still felt it punch into his flesh, no pain just a cold heat. He screamed, threw himself at the guy, his fist catching the man in the middle of his face, crunching broken nose bones. Moose guy dropped like a ton of bricks, the girl stepping away, hands in the air.
    Empty hands.
    Marlow lifted a trembling finger, felt something sticking out of his neck. He plucked it free, his eyes swimming, the whole elevator starting to spin around him. It wasn’t a knife after all. It was a hypodermic needle, empty, the tip slick with his blood. It came loose and he threw it to the floor. Everything was swinging back and forth like he was on a ship.
    â€œâ€™Chu do to me?” Marlow said, trying to remember how to form a sentence. He jammed himself into the corner of the elevator to stop himself falling over. The girl showed no sign of moving, the guy shuffling back across the floor holding his face.
    He heard the slowing of gears, felt his stomach sucked into his feet as the elevator slowed. There was a final ding and they came to a halt—although it felt like the elevator was still moving in every direction at once. He had to feel his way across the cab, unable to take his hands off the wall for fear of falling flat on his face. All the while he waited for a shot behind him, a bullet in the back, or those phantom hands. But he didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t even recall why he’d been in the elevator in the first place.
    Something about monsters, he thought, and it was so absurd that he was laughing as he tugged and wrestled with the doors. He managed to get them open, swaying out into a small lobby, all marble and bronze. It was empty, and he weaved his way left and right toward the doors. It was like being on a fairground