Wrong5
Morrie fell against the bathroom door in terror, staring at the writing on the mirror. He grabbed at a washcloth and jerked forward, his cleanliness overriding his shock for a moment. Then he noticed the footprint.
Footprints.
He jammed the washcloth in his mouth to keep from screaming. A long line of talcum powder footprints led into the kitchen. No … from the kitchen!
And stopped in-front of the mirror. Simply stopped.
Morrie followed them back into the kitchen, his legs moving almost against his will.
In the kitchen, on the table, sat a gleaming trumpet. The trumpet. Maurice’s trumpet. The trumpet that was supposed to be locked in the case.
The white footprints led past the table to the door to the garage.
Mouthing “no, no, no, no” over and over again, Morrie opened the door to the garage and peeked inside. All the lights were on and the footprints led back to the storage room.
Morrie slammed the door closed, shot the locks, and ran back to his bedroom. He tore a fingernail getting the secret drawer open. No keys, just powdery streaks.
Without hesitating, he reached under the mattress and pulled out a shotgun. He broke it open to ensure that both barrels were loaded and snapped it shut again. Morrie knew his life was on the line now.
Back to the door, unlock and open, and enter the garage barrel first.
Check behind the car, around the car, under the car … right.
Carefully move back towards the storage room. Check every possible place a grown man could conceal himself and be ready to fire.
Quickly glance around the corner, heart hammering. The lock hung loose and the storage room door was ajar. Go around the corner low and fast.
Morrie stopped to wipe the heavy flow of sweat from his eyes and to study the footprints.
A glance showed that the lights were out in the storage room. Shift shotgun to the left hand and brace against the hip. Snake right hand around the door frame and snap on light. Quick glance into the room and …
Morrie stood, transfixed, staring at the unlocked trunk.
The footprints … there were none going into the room. The footprints started at the trunk, as if …
As if someone had climbed out.
His shotgun dropped onto the concrete floor from his unfeeling fingers, making a loud racket as it hit. Morrie numbly stepped into the room and walked up to the unlocked trunk.
He stood there for a moment, staring at the trunk, then grabbed the lid with both hands and threw it open.
As the lid flew open, an apparition in red and black leaped out at Morrie and everything went black.
End part 5