This is really only half a chapter: I wrote it in about ten minutes at lunch today and figured I may as well post it! Sorrysorrysorry for not updating for so long! x
The street stretched out ahead of him, sombre and unforgiving. The streetlamps had all flickered out and died years ago; torn posters fluttered feebly in the breeze. The houses stared at him with their blank, empty eyes and he knew that this was a dead place.
Something was at the other end of the street, moving. It was just a shadow and for some reason it seemed suited to this place, like it belonged there. He almost turned around to leave the long-dead creature in the shadows, where nobody would ever see it.
The houses stared at him and he knew that if anyone ever came here again, they would die.
That was what made him turn around again, to face the creature. The creature that was no longer in the shadows, but advancing towards him at a ridiculous speed…
…and that was when he heard the gun and saw it slump forward. Not dead, just asleep.
He turned around and grinned at Stephen. "Thanks."
For some reason the scene kept playing in his head. That had been the worst night, not because of what had happened but because of that place. Out of all the times and places Nick Cutter had seen, that cold, empty street had been the worst of them all.
He'd thought at the time that it had been kind of ironic, the street. It had reflected him- once, it had been alive, now it was dead, and cold, and lonely…
That was before Stephen had saved him. On the street, in life.
He couldn't sleep. With a sigh, he got up and got dressed. He climbed into his car and drove, he wasn't sure where. When he returned it was bright, and he headed straight off to the ARC.
Stephen didn't turn up.