Relentless Read Online Free PDF

hot blade and
watching my blood and my life ebb away, unable to do anything
about it. It's been with me ever since a guy we went to school
with was fatally knifed in a local nightclub a decade ago. Two
thrusts, both straight to the heart. The doormen threw him out,
not realizing what had happened, and he died on the pavement
outside. This was the fate that awaited me. A lonely, terrifying,
messy death.
As I moved through the open door, I slammed it shut behind
me. My mind registered two more doors: one to the left, one
opposite. I took the one opposite. The men's. Behind me, the
main door flew open again. He was still on my tail.
I charged into the men's, saw a row of stalls directly in front of
    me, swung right, slipping on the tiled floor but somehow keeping
my balance, and kept going round the corner where there were a
number of individual urinals arranged against the wall in a rough
semicircle. Directly above one was a narrow window, maybe
eighteen inches high and three feet across. There was an ancient
latch at the bottom of it, the paint almost entirely peeled off. I
ran forward and jumped up onto the urinal, flicking the latch off
its guard in one movement, and using both palms to knock open
the window. Then I was scrambling through, head-first, my legs
flailing. As my upper body lurched out into the open air, I could
see a flat roof six or seven feet below me where the building had
been given a single-storey extension. Safety. I was halfway out,
arms outstretched, already prepared for impact, when I heard
the scuff of his boots from inside and felt him grab my leg and
pull up the material of my jeans in an effort to expose my calf.
As the blade touched my flesh but before he could make an
incision, I lashed out with the other leg and could tell by the
impact that I'd caught him in the face. For the first time I heard
; him cry out, and I kicked again, like a donkey, then put the flats
I of both hands against the outside wall and launched myself
jjbrward into thin air, as if making a championship dive.
The roof shot up to meet me and I hit it in an unsteady
Handstand, pain shooting up my wrists. My legs hovered preriously
in the air then made a rapid descent, and I ended up
lersaulting over, the roof's material digging into my scalp,
didn't even strike me to look back, to check whether my
lant was coming or not. I half-crawled, half-ran, over to the
of the building and, using my hands as a pivot, swung
slf over and slid down the wall, jumping the last couple of
et to the ground. ¦ I %ras in a small paved area enclosed by a brick wall some ten
    feet high. In front of the wall were two lines of car-sized green
wheelie bins, the majority of them overflowing with rubbish.
There was a strong smell of refuse. Beyond the wall, I could hear the sound of a car coming past. Freedom.
I stood where I was for several seconds, panting heavily, then
heard movement on the roof above me. It was like being trapped
in a nightmare. The bastard was still coming.
Summoning up my remaining strength, I ran between the lines
of wheelie bins and tried to haul myself up on one that had been
positioned adjacent to the wall. I failed with my first attempt.
I'm no longer as fit as I used to be. My gym membership lapsed
three years ago, and now the occasional game of tennis in the
summer is my only real exercise. Bizarrely, as I went to try it a
second time, I made a vow to renew the gym membership if ever
my life returned to normal.
This time, with a grunt of exertion, I managed it, flopping
onto the bin's plastic top on my belly before struggling to my
feet, pulling myself up the last couple of feet to the top of
the wall and scrambling over, unable to see my pursuer in the
half-second timeframe I had before the view behind me disappeared.
I
hit the pavement feet-first and saw that I was in an unfamiliar
residential street of terraced housing. A car came past
but the driver didn't seem to notice me. I'd lost my bearings,
having never exited the