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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/587362-Chapter-26
Rated: 13+ · Book · Thriller/Suspense · #1430797
An action-packed thriller in the vein of Dan Brown...
#587362 added May 26, 2008 at 8:12pm
Restrictions: None
Chapter 26
Chapter 26


DiBianco's back hurt. He felt lost, like he'd been sleeping for days. There was a stiffness in his neck and when his eyes opened he realized he had only been out a matter of moments--seconds even.
         People were running toward them from Winsland Street, just a block from Paddington Station, there were even a few from South Wharf, a hundred yards away. They must have made quite the spectacle of themselves to cause such a reaction.
         If the pain hadn't been so damn real, so horrific, DiBianco may have found comic relief in the lucid vision of himself falling down the side of a building with his testis flapping in the wind.
         He looked at Clinton, who laid motionless to his right. His eyes were open. He held his bag at his chest, which raised and fell with choppy, irregular breaths. He was alive, but wasn't making any announcements to the effect.
         "Hey kid, you okay?" DiBianco propped himself up on his badly bruised tush. Sitting upright, he looked into Clinton's eyes. "Anyone home?"
         Clinton smirked. "Good thing we weren't any higher."
         "Can you get up?"
         He nodded.
         "We're about to have company." DiBianco pointed at the people flocking around them. Yet, DiBianco knew they were the least of their concerns. The dark-faced man in the window would be after them at any moment.
         "Come on kid," DiBianco said, raising perhaps a bit to quickly. Immense pain exploded in his head. A sudden, unbearable migraine--one that could devour every migraine he had ever had. Something spoke, spitting words within his mind.
         The Eye. It watches you. Go!
         His knees buckled. He barely caught himself on a lamppost before falling to the ground.
         "Are you okay?"
         DiBianco was silent, holding the post.
         "Mr. DiBianco?"
         "We've gotta get our asses out of here."
         "Yeah," Clinton snickered, staring at the scant hospital gown, "especially yours."

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