Manchester House Read Online Free PDF

office.
    It was time to go home.
    * * *
    If someone were still standing in the main hall of Manchester House, they would have stated that the surroundings were just too cold for an October night-even in the Midwest. Ice was starting to form on the molded walls, causing the hanging plastic sheets to shatter like glass.
    If one were inside the mansion, they would have thought that they could hear the faint sounds of a young girl crying. Of people shouting out rages, injustices, or trapped animals wanting to frantically break lose-of anger wanting to so desperately attack something.
    There was movement at the base of the basement door.
    There was intelligence there.
    There was&something.

CHAPTER THREE

    Holzer had always hated car trips, but this was such short notice that there was really no other way to go. Manchester House and the study of the evil housed there was too good a deal to pass up, even if it involved getting a little carsick. Since he was a child, Holzer had always suffered from motion sickness.
    “Ohh,” Holzer moaned, holding a shaky hand up to his mouth.
    The passing scenery was placid enough, but Holzer could not seem to bring himself to enjoy the country view. Atchison, at best, was surrounded by the most beautiful farmland the Midwest was able to produce. Almost every mile of the journey contained cows, wheat and soybean fields, rustic farmhouses, and old forgotten barns. The country roads were of the kind that if not watched or paid close attention toward could change within a turn of a car’s wheel into the wrong street leading to the wrong town. In fact, Holzer and his team got lost twice. Stopping in a small town which seemed to consist of a main street, junkyard, and a sheriff’s station, Holzer was directed back onto the correct road by three questionable characters who were fixing a broken down truck-they appeared to be the only ones in the small town. In any case, Atchison, Kansas was no more than thirty miles away and Holzer was thankful. He had puked three times and was sure that he had no more hard matter left in his system for a fourth attack.
    Everyone else in the car, although they sympathized with Holzer, knew that this would happen and could only ride it through.
    “It’s your own damn fault,” someone had said. “We could have booked a private flight out there and you’d be in top form upon arrival.”
    “Oh, shut up,” Holzer tiredly barked, puking once more into a paper bag, tossing it out the passenger window.
    Holzer tried to distract his motion sickness by reading a copy of the S.O.U.R.C.E. Newsletter. SOURCE was the institution that Holzer and his team worked for. This organization was an international federation of scientists, psychics, and craftsmen, dedicated to the explanation of the unexplainable. All made themselves available when the opportunity arose for each to concentrate their talents on the study of the paranormal. Holzer was one of the original founders.
    Three other comrades were able to break away from their duties to help Holzer with Manchester House, although none seemed to know of the importance of the event. All Holzer was able to tell them was that he had a fantastic opportunity for the group and, if they could, please meet him at the college for an investigation trip. All, without question, agreed. Another would also be joining them, but was flying in from outside the country and would arrive later.
    “You know, Professor, I’d be happy if you’d at least tell me where we’re going.”
    Holzer looked up from his newsletter and looked at his driver.
    James Sinclair was thirty-seven years of age, blond hair, blue-eyed, and slightly overweight. The man was incredibly clumsy around women; in fact Holzer had never known the man to have a serious relationship in the entire time that he had known him. However, Sinclair was one of the best cameramen in the business. He had worked for CNN and ABC, and had filmed a great deal of the events that had been