Chronicles of Jonathan Tibbs 1: The Never Hero Read Online Free PDF

weapon.”
    Jonathan didn’t want to use the club. He wanted the man to be afraid of it and not escalate the situation. His eyes took a quick glance at the staircase. Soon he’d be able to make a break for it, get outside, get to a neighbor’s house, call the police and get this crazy stalker arrested. As though he could read Jonathan’s mind the stranger spoke again.
    “Don’t, Jonathan,” he said. “You would only prolong this.”
    The man began to move toward him. His face grew heavier with the weight of what he was doing as his hand reached into the front breast pocket of his coat. An urgency surfaced in Jonathan as the stranger reached for that pocket. He knew he had to turn the tables now, psychologically. He had to become the threat giver and not the threatened. If he didn’t make a show of strength, the intruder would only be encouraged by his weakness.
    Finally, he managed to remove the look of fear on his face, to contort his features into anger as he retreated back. He raised the bat and spoke.
    “Don’t.”
    To Jonathan’s credit, it actually sounded like he meant to strike should the man keep moving forward.
    The intruder took notice of the change in Jonathan’s attitude, but didn’t stop. The distance between them began to close. Jonathan cranked the bat back like he was cocking a gun, the last warning to the man that he would defend himself, but the stranger only kept the regretful look on his face and moved closer, finally pulling his hand from the coat pocket, holding something small that Jonathan couldn’t make out in the dark hallway.
    When Jonathan made the decision, every cell in his adrenaline drenched body committed. Swinging hard, the man discreetly brought his arm up, careful to make sure the bat didn’t hit what he had pulled out of his pocket, but would only land on his forearm. It should have shattered the stranger’s arm, but when the bat connected, there was a dull thud, and Jonathan retracted in shock. The vibration ran violently through his hand and wrist. It was as though he had swung full force at a bronze statue. The pain, so sharp and unexpected, made him lose his grip on the bat. He yelled out in surprise, dropping down onto his knees, and clutching his hand protectively as the bat clattered to the floor.
    The man’s free hand reached down and pulled Jonathan up with impossible strength. Moving slowly, he handled Jonathan like he was restraining a toddler, trying not to hurt him though he couldn’t allow him to thrash about. He struggled, but kicking and hitting the intruder was useless. The man held Jonathan up with one arm, gripping his shoulder and neck above his collar bone. Jonathan found himself pinned, feet dangling a foot from the floor, with his back pushed against the wall. Realizing that he was hurting himself more than his attacker, he reached for the hand holding him off the ground. He may as well have had him in a vise for how little Jonathan’s struggle affected the intruder’s grip.
    So close to the man, Jonathan saw the stranger’s distinct face. Even in the darkness of the hallway, his eyes were wrong, seeming to glow, as though they were back lit. They were blue, but an inhuman blue; an unnatural indigo, made all the more eerie by their strange incandescence.
    “Jonathan, try to calm yourself. I mean you no harm. Nevertheless, this is going to be unpleasant, I can’t help that,” the man said. As he spoke, his free hand revealed the small item that he'd pulled from his coat pocket.
    Jonathan had known no dread like seeing a syringe brought to his neck, no panic like struggling against a person he couldn’t push away, to feel like a rabbit trying to hold open the jaws of a bear. As he watched the needle move closer the moment seemed to stretch into an eternity. His muscles shook with the futile effort of trying to resist but were unable to even slow the needle as it plunged toward his throat.
    At the moment he lost hope, when fear and