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teens. But she made him feel young and forget what a train wreck his long dead marriage had been.
He still wore the ring. He'd been waiting for her to tell him to take it off.
Now she never would.
I stumbled into the pool of bright light. My lungs burned; I was too exhausted to move. I tensed as I waited for the killing
blow, but it never came. I raised my head. Nothing moved in the darkness beyond.
For the moment, bathed in the cold light, I was safe.
lobby like a rag doll and hit the far wall hard.
It didn't hurt until he tried to move and saw his leg bend the wrong way, felt the broken rib stabbing him on the inside. Rusty
howled in pain and fear, suddenly afraid to die alone.
grave.
Rusty kept coughing blood. My eyes were drawn to the twisted shape of his broken leg. The attack had been vicious. Max
whined in his cage. Rusty's eyes were wild with fear and terror.
He gasped: "Mr. Wake, it happened just the way it was on that page."
something had happened to Alice -- and here was Al, armed with a gun and saying things people got put in padded cells for.
It was as if his friend had experienced a massive psychotic episode and was now totally disconnected from reality.
It scared the ♥♥♥♥ out of Barry.
figure standing in the shadows behind the cabin, like a thin woman in a black dress.
She lowered the camera and looked again -- no one there, just a collection of bushes that looked vaguely human-shaped.
She shook her head and laughed.
"See, nothing to it, Wake."
The thought of Alice in his hands was revolting. We stood on the wooden platform of Lovers' Peak, the waterfall and the mountain behind us, the lights of the radio-mast blinking red in the heights above. I fought with the urge to take a swing, forced myself to speak.
"Let's cut the act now. Where's my wife?"
Nonetheless, it found the one spot in the diner that was dark enough. Some light spilled into the corridor, ravaging it, but it took the pain, horrible as it was. The writer would soon fix that. He would be coming to the one place where it still had power.
My blood painted the snow red -- a gruesome slushie -- dissolved all the scattered painkillers, and leisurely dripped down to the sewer, mingling with the bile of the city, becoming one with it.
I can see them now, my wife and my baby. Honey, I'm home.
I'd lain here in the snow while the lurid chain of scenes that had led me here kept playing in my head, a rerun of my own private snuff movie, a memory of my corpse. Alone at my own wake. Thinking in metaphors again.
The femme fatale was gone. Only a sour taste remained of the kiss that killed me.
Barry had years of experience dealing with Alan Wake, and he couldn't ignore it; something was wrong.
She watched as he got in the car with his wife. She was pretty, confident, at ease with Wake, not like Rose. They were perfect for each other.
She'd have given anything to be called their friend.
Something -- a feeling -- caught his attention. Stucky looked up and stared as his brain tried in vain to process the horror before him. He stumbled back, knocking over a can of oil; a black pool spread across the floor while he struggled for a brief moment, then let go as the unrelenting darkness engulfed him.
The Sheriff looked at me suspiciously. The early morning light flooded through the office windows. I would probably never have gotten out of the woods alive without her help, but I couldn't tell her the truth of what I'd faced the previous night. She'd think I was lying, or crazy. She'd lock me up.
And she wouldn't help me find Alice.
Without any warning, I was blinded by a bright light. An old portable TV on the shelf had come alive by itself. Impossibly, I could see myself on the screen, talking like a madman.
With it I could save myself.
With it I could save Alice.
I spun around just as the cloud was upon me. For an instant, I stared into a hundred dead eyes, black pearls glittering in the darkness.
I raised the flashlight and the swarm exploded like fireworks. Feathers burned, turned into ash. I couldn't hear my scream above theirs.
Now it was waking up, the writer like a fly caught in a spider's web, each jerk and kick vibrating the strands that led deep into its lair. It was aware of him now, and it could use him.
All he'd need was a little incentive.
I was terrified. I squeezed the flashlight like my life depended on it, willing it to stop it coming any closer. Suddenly, something gave, and the light seemed to shine brighter.
He grinned madly. The shadows were alive, distorting his features.
It was a scene from a nightmare, but I was awake.
by
Alan Wake