Mind Secrets: A Science Fiction Telepathy Thriller (Perceivers Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

were still coming.

CHAPTER FOUR
    FIRE CONSUMED the hall. It feasted on its wooden floors. Devoured curtains at the window. Licked at paper pinned to the noticeboard. The children’s paintings blackened, their corners withered in the heat and started to burn.
    The half-dozen seats of fire where petrol bombs had exploded were merging into one, carried by the accelerant which had burst from smashed glass bottles.
    Michael ran. He dodged the flames which pawed at his trouser legs. Their heat was fierce and each breath sucked hot air into his lungs. But the fire hadn’t entirely taken hold of the building yet. His escape route was clear. He ran through the main door and out into the open.
    He breathed deep and savoured the clean air. Around him, other teenagers were standing with shocked faces, staring back at the burning hall. A girl was crying and being comforted by a friend. Michael turned and saw what they saw. The fire flickered orange through four smashed windows and an open door. A boy ran out, screaming in terror, flames flapping around the sleeve of his sweatshirt. An adult ran past Michael and engulfed the boy with a jacket. Pushed him to the ground and smothered the flames.
    “Are you all right?” said the adult.
    The boy nodded, his face streaked with sooty tears.
    The adult – a man with thinning hair – stood. “Everyone back from the building.” He waved his arms like he was shooing a herd of cattle. “Back!”
    The teenagers moved a few steps away from the burning hall, Michael among them.
    The man pulled a phone from his pocket and dialled. He put it to his ear and asked for the fire service.
    “Oi!”
    Michael looked up and saw Otis and Jack picking their way through the crowd towards him.
    “Where’s Jennifer?” said Otis.
    “She came out before me,” said Michael.
    “She’s not here,” said Otis.
    “Are you sure?” Michael looked around at the ragtag collection of teenagers. He couldn’t see her.
    “I told you,” said Jack. “She must’ve gone back for her stuff.”
    “We’re gonna have to go in and get her,” said Otis. He took a gulp from the bottle of water in his hand.
    “Are you mad?” Michael looked at the building, its fiery glow now lighting up the night. “You need to wait for the firemen.”
    “She could be dead by then,” said Otis.
    Jack shot Michael an accusatory glance. “He should go, he’s the one who left her in there.”
    “Hey!” said Michael. “I thought I followed her out, remember?”
    “ForChrissake!” Otis glared at both of them. “Are we gonna argue or are we gonna get Jennifer?”
    “I’ll go,” said Michael. Somehow, he knew what to do. Like he had known talking about the weather was a British trait, the knowledge was inside of him. He thrust his hand towards Jack. “Give me your T-shirt.”
    “What?”
    “My jumper’s the wrong material. Give me your damn T-shirt.” Michael presented his open hand again.
    “Do it,” said Otis.
    Grumbling, Jack took off his T-shirt – pulling it awkwardly over his plaster cast – and handed it to Michael.
    “I’ll need that.” Michael grabbed the bottle of water from Otis’s hand and poured it over the shirt. The water expanded the fibres in the material, making a crude smoke filter. Michael took a last, deep breath of clean air, put the material over his mouth and nose and headed back inside the hall.
    What wasn’t fire was smoke. It hung in black clouds from the ceiling so thick that it was impossible to see more than a metre in front of him. The heat was searing. His sweat did nothing to cool him. Michael knew he was potentially walking into his own grave, but he walked anyway.
    He made a conscious effort to remember each step as he hopped from one tiny piece of non-burning floor to another. He trod a winding path towards the door to the back room, his breathing laboured through the wet T-shirt as his lungs sought to find the oxygen in the air.
    The door to the back room was closed. Michael