“Police!” cried Gordon into the receiver.
If Jackson heard, he gave no sign. His hard, glassy eyes, sunken and horrible, were fixed on his victim’s throat. Gordon stared up and caught the odor which had assailed him from the first. It was the smell of moist earth mingled with the perfumes of the undertaking parlor. The stench of the grave!
“I have come to kill you, Gordon!” repeated the murderer. It was as though this phrase was all that remained in the man’s mind.
“My God, Jackson! Get away!” Too late, Gordon tried to scramble out from behind his desk.
Jackson lunged, hands convulsing. When the sunken eyes were a foot away from Gordon’s, the fingers snapped down on the victim’s throat. There was a shriek and the crash of the overturned chair. Gordon whipped about, writhing under the maniacal strength of the hands.
Shuddering sobs were coming from the victim’s distorted mouth. Slowly the body under the hands relaxed and lay still. Jackson’s fingers still clutched the throat.
Seconds ticked by before the murderer moved. Then, with his expressionless face turned toward the door, he walked slowly from the room.
Terry Lane
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Genre - Mystery/Zombie
Rating – PG13
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Website http://www.galaxypress.com/
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