Читать книгу The Dinner Party - R. J. Parker - Страница 6

Ted awoke and felt like he’d been in a deep sleep. But as the bare leg he was clinging to slithered away from his sticky bloody fingers, the events that had left him sprawled on the kitchen floor crashed in. He’d blacked out for precious seconds and couldn’t afford to again.

‘Let go!’ the owner of the leg spat.

He gripped the limb harder, dug his nails into their warm calf and skated forward on his front through the smeared blood on the granite tiles. If he relinquished the leg, he knew what would happen.

Their bodies thrashed around on the floor and noisily scattered metallic utensils. He tried to rise, but the object stuck in his back wouldn’t allow him. It was a long stainless-steel prong, the type with a digital thermometer attached for testing the temperature of cooked meat. The acute pain along his spine severed his breath.

How deeply had it been planted in him? Was he paralyzed? He could still move his arms.

A scream.

It tugged his eyes open again. Consciousness was as slippery as his grasp on the leg, which jerked from under him as a bare foot caught him full in the face. The harsh impact deadened his hearing, warm blood filled his left nostril and darkness closed on his thoughts like a snare.

Wake up!

But his internal voice scarcely penetrated the barrier his brain was erecting against the assault.

Wake up.

No urgency in the muffled command now. He was withdrawing, leaving physical sensations far behind. Oblivion beckoned.

‘Ted!’

His eyelids shot open. The return to the kitchen was as painful as the injuries to his body.

His hand was empty. They’d got free. The consequences of that rushed into him as fast as the room.

‘Ted!’