Primal - By D.A. Serra Page 0,82

too, a last humiliation. I’ve been dirty, I’ve been soaked in mud and covered in blood and I really do want to die clean. Does this explain why we clean a body before we bury it? She feels oddly peaceful about that even as she realizes it is such a strange thing to be pleased about. And no matter how this ends, at least it will end and that is something to be thankful for she tells herself. She scrambles into Jimmy’s room.

Ben walks after her following with the ease since he is the greater more powerful predator. He will do this deliberately. He has a right to enjoy this. She killed Theo. He steps into the bathroom and glances into the shower stall - empty. She killed Kent. He steps toward the other bathroom door, which leads to Jimmy’s room. She killed Gravel. Bitch! He wants her suffocating in fear. He is excited by her terror and thrilled to see her crawl. He has been patient for this moment. Now, he owns her and all the waiting is worth it.

Alison rolled to the left as she scurried into Jimmy’s room and so now she is trapped. She must get across to the doorway that leads to the hall and the stairs. Moonlight streams in white through Jimmy’s bedroom window. She wedges up against the side of his dresser trying to calculate her chances of making it to the door. She is only partially hidden. She has seconds - only seconds to decide but time stretches as her brain works at peak efficiency. To get out and into the hallway she must cross the bathroom door opening. Stupid, stupid, she scolds. I should have gone the other way! Crossing the door now will expose her to him as he walks through the bathroom. It would put her directly in his line of fire. What? What to do? Too late. Ben emerges from the bathroom into Jimmy’s room. He turns toward her. He has her. There is nowhere to go. She reaches for the remote on Jimmy’s dresser and presses it. Bells! Whistles! Lights! Ben twists around startled as Jimmy’s robot bursts to life nearby and walks toward him. “What the fuck!” He fires at it! He’s never seen anything like it. Alison uses the one instant of his distraction to cross behind and at a dead run she escapes the bedroom. With big strides nearly flying she heads for the stairs. The Mossberg, she thinks. I need the Mossberg in the basement.

Ben smiles at his reaction and surprise. She tricked him, very funny. She is so inherently competent. He takes off after her with huge powerful strides and complete confidence.

He will not expect another weapon. If I can just get to the basement. Her legs know these stairs. Her body has learned the curve of them and the width of them. It is ingrained into her muscle memory from going up and down them thousands of times. The darkness is no impediment. She easily springs down three stairs at a time landing with exacting surety and sure-footed. At the halfway point, where the staircase opens up to the first floor, she throws her legs over the banister and vaults to the foyer floor below easily clearing the little foyer table she knows is there. She feels a twinge in her right knee when she lands. She ignores it.

Ben giggles at himself for being startled by the toy robot as he takes the stairs. He is really having such a good time now. He pursues her with agility and speed. He vaults over the banister too, but lands on top of the foyer table smashing it to pieces and getting thrown off his feet. Knowing every inch of this house intimately is her advantage. This is her home, her ground. She scrambles into the kitchen. He is only seconds behind her. She knows there is not enough time to get safely across the kitchen to the basement door. It would allow for at least one clear shot. One clear shot is all it would take to bring her down. Immediately as she enters the kitchen and darts by her microwave she presses the preset timer button. She could do this in her sleep. It starts automatically at 15 seconds. She dives down behind the far side of the center island’s butcher’s block and freezes. It is the only solid thing between them as Ben enters the dark kitchen. The timer: thirteen…twelve…