They found Max at the base of the telescope, sprawled out on the grass beside the security gates that secured the perimeter of the dish itself.
He looked a mess. His torn clothes made him look like he’d been sleeping rough. His face dirty and laced with cuts, none of them looked dangerous.
But, Payne thought, it’s Max.
“He’s kept his face as well.”
“Yes,” Linwood replied. “I wonder what he did.”
Suddenly, Max’s eyes snapped open and he grabbed hold of Linwood’s wrist.
“Where am I?”
“What do you remember?” she asked gently.
“A fight. Lots of noise. Light. Falling.” He struggled to get to his feet but Payne pressed him back down.
“Take it easy son. Let’s make sure you’re OK before you go running around.”
“Is Irulal still alive?” Linwood asked.
Max looked at her then, straight into her eyes. “You should have killed her when you had the chance. She was going to bring her entire race here.”
Payne tilted his head.
Linwood persisted, “I need to know Max, is she still alive?”
He shook his head. “I killed her.”
Linwood finally looked relieved, and sat back down on her backside. Payne sat down on the grass as well. The wet grass soaked his trousers but he didn’t care. An owl hooted amongst the trees beyond the dish. Payne lay back, leaning on his elbows, looking up into the distance. The stars were bright this far away from the city, and now that his eyes had gotten used to the dark, he realised quite how many of them he could see. Hundreds, thousands filled the empty sky. He closed his eyes.
“Can we go home now?” Max was saying. “I think I want to get drunk and pass out on the couch.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. I think you’d better come back to our headquarters. There’s been some developments that you’re going to need to know about, and I’ll need a proper debriefing of what happened here tonight.”
Max grunted a noise that Payne guessed meant he’d come along.
But, for now Payne wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere. He scratched an itch below his eye, then let the finger lay there for a moment longer than he needed to, before tracing its way down to his chin.
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Only the damned leave the Tombs…
The Tombs Legacy is a universe of connected fiction spanning decades and genres. I expect one day that it will consume my every waking thought...but right now I still have some control.
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About the author
Robert Scott-Norton writes to thrill, entertain, and keep people reading until the last page. Raised in Southport, he's lived there most of his life and has concluded that this ordinary seaside town is the perfect setting for all the horrors he can throw at it.
www.robertscottnorton.com
Table of Contents
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Connect
Dedication
The Tombs Legacy
1984
1
2
3
4
5
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52
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About the author
The Face Stealer Page 32