Free Deep Within The Shadows (The Superstition Series Book 1) by Teresa Reasor Page B

heavy-duty cleaner used to scrub the facilities permeated the air.
    He looped his arms around his knees. His stomach ached with the added pressure. He’d gone hungry before, but he’d been high, and the drugs had made it bearable. Sober, it was impossible for him to think of anything but his hunger. He pressed his hand against the ache and rested his head against one knee.
    Exhaustion pressed down on him. It had been days since he’d had more than a couple of hours of sleep at a time. Like a bat, he’d slept in complete darkness only to wake every few minutes, his heart racing.
    Would being arrested finally end this? Would whoever had sent the monsters be satisfied, knowing he was behind bars? The things he and Willy had done. His eyes stung again. He’d had weeks of sobriety to contemplate it. He should never have tried to kidnap that woman.
    “Abbott.”
    He jerked his head up at the deputy Bowhan’s voice, a momentary panic sending his blood rushing through his chest. He hadn’t even heard him approach. Had he fallen asleep?
    “It’s your lucky day. Scott’s wife swung by and brought him another supper by mistake. It’s yours if you want it.”
    “Hell, yeah, I want it.” He gripped the metal sink and hauled himself to his feet. His mouth had begun to water before he ever reached for the paper bag and plastic water bottle. “Thanks, man.”
    “Thank Scott next time you see him.”
    “I will.” He was already tearing into the paper bag and taking out the sandwich and potato chips before the Deputy turned and padded back down the hall.
    Gerald tossed the empty bag on the blue blanket covering the lower bunk and returned to his seat against the wall. When he took the first bite of the sandwich, he groaned in pleasure. Roast beef, sliced thin, with mayonnaise, lettuce and tomato. He’d never tasted anything so good. The chips were barbecue, salty and sweet. He crammed them into his mouth a handful at a time, scattering greasy crumbs all the way down his clean orange prison uniform.
    After three bites of the sandwich and two handfuls of potato chips, his stomach was already feeling better. He forced himself to slow down and savor the food. It might be a while before he got anything but bologna, since the jail was famous for serving the cheap meat and plastic-tasting processed cheese at every meal.
    Ten minutes later he licked his fingers and even the inside of the potato chip bag to get the last few crumbs. It was probably the best meal he’d ever had. He cracked the lid on the water bottle and took a deep drink. Now his stomach was full, his weariness returned. Still not trusting the position of his bunk, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
    A flicker of color teased his eyelids, turning the inside pink and he opened his eyes a slit. A strange sheen came from the paper bag he’d ripped open. Two long, clear, almost clawlike legs gripped the side of the cot, and the creature attached to the legs dragged itself forward, bag and all. It was a spider, only bigger. He hated spiders.
    His heart hammered against his ribs. Bile filled his throat as he pressed back against the wall. He wanted to move, needed to move, but his limbs felt heavy and uncooperative as a numbing paralysis gripped him.
    He was dreaming. He was asleep and fucking dreaming. He needed to wake up. Please let me wake up!
    The paper ripped and the creature shook free. It poised, hunched on the cot, swaying back and forth in a threatening dance.
    It was going to jump on him, bite him. Gerald’s feet dug at the floor, but the flimsy slip-on house shoes the guards had given him had no traction. He had to scramble onto his knees to get to his feet, and then he hugged the wall.
    The spider bunched its eight long legs and leapt. Gerald gasped and threw up an arm, expecting it to land on him. When nothing happened, he lowered the limb to find the thing clinging to the well-lit area opposite the bunk.
    An odd rainbow patch of