Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1835804" data-attributes="member: 2292">Exit 23, Part ElevenThe floor of the restroom is slick with bloodstains and melting frost.  Nick holds one hand to his shoulder as he paces out the fight as best he can, judging the position of the beast and the exec based on the angle of blood splatters.  He’s been part of a forensics team for nearly three years now, which makes it easier, but forensic science hasn’t quite caught up with the challenges of seven-foot snow demons in hotel restrooms.It takes a while, but eventually he gets the fight clear in his mind.  The beast comes in…Exec turns to face it…gets a claw to the ribs, goes flying…picks himself up near the washers….tries to run for the door…gets pulled from the hinges…Nick pauses, midway through the pace.  He retraces his stems and follows the blood, just to be sure.The executive isn’t running for the door, not to open it.  Instead, he’s running for the side that doesn’t open.  And the bloody handprints in the corner don’t match someone clawing at the door in a panic.***Ammie looked at Zac over the windshield.“Anything?”Zac shook his head.  They’ve hooked up the battery twice now, tried to match the plugs as best they could.  It’s not working, but the last time Zac had looked on the inside of a car engine he was twelve.  It’s entirely possible he was trying to hook the battery up to something completely unrelated.Or the battery could be dead.“I think we’re stuffed,” he yelled against the wind.  “Unless we can convince that kid to come out, we’ve done the best we can with my knowledge of engines. ”Ammie leans her head against the steering wheel, the frost slowly settling in.  She feels tired.  Very tired.  She’s acutely aware that her own mechanical skills add up to less than Zacs.“Think we could force him out at gunpoint?” She asks.  It’s a hopeful question, but not very serious.  Zac just shakes his head.“Lets head back in then.  I’m freezing, and this is getting us nowhere.”***The briefcase was in the wastepaper basket, its hefty weight making it awkward to carry with his shoulder.  Nick steadies himself against one wall, forcing himself to keep walking.  He’s almost thankful when Ammie meets him at the door to the rest stop and takes the burden.“Any luck?” Nick asks.“Cold thumbs,” Zac tells him.  The big man is grinning despite the dire straights.  “What’s in the case?”Nick shrugs, winces.“It’s the suits,” he says.  “I remembered he had it earlier, found it in the wastepaper basket.  Hopefully, it might have some clues.”“How you figure?”“Demon attacked him first.”Zac nods carefully.  It makes sense.They start jimmying the lock with a butter knife the moment they get into the store.  It’s a cheap case, all told, but it still takes them a few minutes to force it open.  When it pops, they lean in and stare with bated breath.  It’s contents don’t disappoint.One stack of papers and files, all prominent displaying the letterhead of something called the Hoffman institute.One small mobile, although no one can pick the design.One small glass sphere, about seven or eight inches across.  It’s interior spins with white dots, like the tourist snow globes out in the store.  Just like those snow globes, this one depicts the rest stop deep in the heart of the storm.  Only the snow never settles in this globe, and the howl of the wind turns into an unearthly shriek the moment Zac reaches out and touches the globe with his finger.</blockquote>

Verification