Acolyte (The Wildermoor Apocalypse Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

When he had finally come to, he had been surrounded by total darkness once more. A wall of fabric had surrounded him, swaying as he turned his body left and right.  There hung coats and shirts. One garment had seemed to hang the height of the room; his towelling dressing gown that his mother had forced upon him two Christmases ago.  He was inside his wardrobe.
    When Colin had finally summoned the courage and the involuntary trembling of his hands had slowed enough to push open the wardrobe door, his room was empty.  He turned full circle to ensure he took in every corner of the room until he had been satisfied that the shadow was no longer there. He then sank down onto the floor and crossed his legs, gently rocking back and forth, regulating his breathing once more.  Then the tears came, turning quickly into sobs.  No-one had come to check he was okay. That had been the last time the Colin Dexler cried.
     
    *****
     
    Colin glanced once more at the clock on the wall, mocking him with its sarcastic ticks, drawing out each second as his next appointment with Dr. Thacker drew nearer.  His hands began to tremble involuntarily, but he fought each with the other trying to hold them down and bury his palms in his lap.  It was no use.  The spasms were now spreading up his arms to his shoulders.  His breath became shallow and coloured spots started to dance before his eyes.
    Then he felt the room grow warmer.  As his breathing lightened even more he could feel the first of the beads of sweat coat his neck.  Then that smell.  Overcooked meat slowly becoming stronger, the crackling sound of fat burning built in the distance.
    His body bolted upright and ran for his bedroom door.  Once Colin was through and into the darkness and cool of the small landing he slammed the door behind him.  He rushed down the steep staircase that brought him to the long entrance hallway.  He paused by the small telephone table halfway down and the handset started to chirrup as it rang.  He cautiously lifted the phone but said nothing.  After a pause, a tinny voice on the other end of the line greeted him,
    ‘Mr Dexler?  Hello?’ Colin tried to speak but his throat was as dry as the desert and he could only muster a whisper.
    ‘Hello?’ The voice searched for Colin once more.
    Colin tried again to force a sound but all he could muster was a dry wheezing.
    ‘Is anyone there?  Are you okay?’ the voice asked, sounding mildly concerned but also irritated. The voice on the other end wheezed also and rasped as it spoke.
    ‘ We know you’re there, Colin.  You can’t hide from me.  I’m everywhere. ’
    Colin’s breathing once more slowed and almost halted.  His hands once more started to tremble from the sound of the voice he had come to fear for many years.  As he started to whimper helplessly into the mouthpiece, he summoned the courage and strength to address the caller.
    ‘Just leave me alone!  What do you want from me?  Just go away!’  He slammed the receiver down and sobbing uncontrollably, ran for the front door. He could not display any weakness.
    Once outside, he hung a right and ran to the narrow alleyway separating his house from his only neighbour. At the end of the passage, a rotten wooden door hung on its hinges that almost dropped to the ground every time Colin attempted to open it.  He caught it this time expectantly and roughly threw it against the wall of the neighbouring property as it softly flopped to the damp ground with no more than a wet thump.
    Dexler reached inside under a tower of brittle and broken plastic boxes and pulled out a small rusted toolbox.  He clambered with the folding lid, which screeched as it opened, stiff and rusted from years of being left out in the winter cold and summer rains.  Colin knew exactly where to find it.
    He pulled out a twelve-inch long wrench, the only item that held a happy memory for him.  He looked at the tool and fondled it before stashing it down through his