The Smith Mansion — Lloyd’s Room
Silence.
Not ordinary silence.
A heavy silence.
A silence that had fallen over the entire mansion like a lead blanket.
Lloyd sat on the bed, staring at his hands.
He was still thinking about that moment.
The wind.
The papers.
That small whirlwind that came from nothing and went to nothing.
Gary sat by the door, his back against the wall.
But he wasn’t groaning.
He wasn’t talking.
He was just listening.
For several minutes, no sound had come from outside.
No footsteps of guards.
No voices of staff.
Not even the wind.
Gary lifted his head.
“Sir…”
Lloyd looked over.
“What is it?”
Gary didn’t answer.
He listened.
The sound of his own breathing.
The sound of Lloyd.
And then…
nothing.
“The mansion is too quiet.”
Lloyd thought for a moment that Gary was joking.
But his face was serious.
Too serious.
“Maybe everyone went to the kitchen or—”
“Sir.” Gary cut him off.
His voice had changed.
Dry.
Professional.
“I’ve been here six years. The mansion has never been this quiet.”
Lloyd closed his mouth.
Gary stood up slowly.
Not like usual, when he’d rise with groans and grumbles.
Quietly.
Like a hunter.
His gaze fixed on the door.
Then on the window.
Without any preamble, he picked up the glass of water that was by the door and threw it to the floor.
The glass shattered.
Water spread across the carpet.
Lloyd jumped.
“Gary!”
But Gary didn’t answer.
He just stood there and listened.
The sound of breaking glass echoed down the hallway.
The ordinary sounds that should have followed — the footsteps of a guard, a shout of surprise, someone’s voice saying “What happened?” — none of them came.
Only silence.
And then, Gary smelled it.
“Blood.”
His face had gone white, but his eyes had sharpened.
“I smell blood.”
Lloyd heard nothing.
Smelled nothing.
But he believed Gary’s words.
Because Gary’s face was no longer the face of that sloppy man.
This was a different man.
Gary went to the nightstand drawer.
He opened it.
From beneath a pile of books, he pulled out a semi-automatic pistol.
Lloyd stared.
“Why do you have a gun in my room?!”
Gary checked the magazine.
“Eleven years ago, on my first day of duty, I got permission from your father. He said: ‘As long as it doesn’t bother Lloyd, put it wherever you want.'”
He fixed his eyes on Lloyd.
“Sir, you go into the bathroom. Lock the door from the inside.”
“Gary, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know. But until I find out, you stay in the bathroom.”
A sound came.
From the end of the hallway.
A footstep.
One step.
Then silence.
Then another step.
Someone was walking slowly.
Not in a hurry. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Not trying to be silent.
Just walking.
Gary gripped the gun.
He went beside the door.
Behind the wall.
He signaled Lloyd to move back.
The footsteps drew closer.
And then, a shadow fell beneath the door.
One shadow.
Two shadows.
Three shadows.
More than one person.
The door didn’t open.
Through the crack of the door, something entered.
Not a hand.
Not a shot.
Mist.
A thick white mist that dripped through the gaps into the room, as if the air itself was turning into something else.
Gary stepped back.
The door opened by itself.
The first agent entered.
Average height.
A neat black suit.
White gloves.
And a mask — a white mask.
Smooth.
Without design.
Without eyes.
Without a mouth.
Just a white surface affixed where a face should be.
Lloyd couldn’t breathe.
The second agent.
The same.
Black suit.
White mask.
Identical walk.
The third.
The fourth.
Four of them.
They stood in the middle of the room.
None of them looked around.
None of them moved their heads.
They just stood there.
Like mannequins.
Like wax.
Like things that had once been human and now only their shells remained.
Gary fired.
The bullet hit the first agent in the chest.
The fabric tore.
Black blood began to drip from beneath the jacket.
But the agent didn’t flinch.
Didn’t fall.
Didn’t even look down.
The second agent took a step.
Toward Gary.
Gary fired again.
The bullet struck the mask.
The mask cracked.
Behind the crack, something was visible.
Skin.
But not ordinary skin.
Burned.
Bruised.
Dead.
The agents felt no pain.
Had no sensation.
They just walked.
Lloyd screamed: “Gary, get out of the way!”
But Gary didn’t jump aside.
He moved back.
Behind the desk.
Behind the chair.
He changed magazines.
Fired again.
This time at the third agent’s knee.
The third agent knelt.
Then stood back up.
As if nothing had happened.
And then — from behind all of them, someone entered.
It was a woman.
Curly brown hair.
Small round glasses with thin lenses.
A black women’s suit, a dark red tie.
Beside her was a man of the same height.
Black suit.
But his mask was different from the others.
On the mask, a smile had been drawn.
A black line from ear to ear.
The woman cast her gaze around the room.
At Gary.
At Lloyd.
At the shattered glass on the carpet.
“Sai, you have five minutes.”
The masked man — Sai — leaned forward.
He stretched out his hand.
Without looking, he caught the bullet Gary had fired out of the air.
Dropped it to the floor.
“Three minutes is enough.”
The woman looked at Lloyd.
“I am Anusha. In the organization, they call me the Final Solution. This is Sai. Field operative.” She pushed up her glasses.
“We have two tasks here. You, and the one standing behind the door. For now, let’s focus on you.”
Lloyd tried to speak.
He couldn’t.
His voice was trapped.
Sai took a step forward.
“Young man, don’t be afraid. This only hurts for a few seconds. Then it’s all over. I’m joking. Then it actually just begins.”
Anusha sighed.
“Sai, don’t talk.”
“Fine. I was just trying to be friendly.”
Anusha fixed her gaze on Lloyd.
Her blue eyes were calm.
Very calm.
“Lloyd Smith. By order of the organization, you are under arrest. Do not resist. Come with us.”
Gary took a step forward.
He held the gun between himself and Anusha.
“Kneel on the ground. Hands behind your head. Now.”
Anusha didn’t even look at Gary.
Said nothing.
Just nodded her head.
Sai moved.
Gary couldn’t even pull the trigger.
Before his finger could reach it, Sai was beside him.
He placed his hand on Gary’s wrist.
Pressed.
And kicked Gary in the stomach.
Gary screamed.
He fell to his knees.
Sai turned back to Lloyd.
“Your turn. Let’s make this easy.”
Lloyd stepped back.
His back hit the window.
There was nowhere else to go.
He called the wind.
In his mind.
Nothing.
He was afraid.
Too afraid.
And power — whatever it was — didn’t work with terror.
Anusha said: “Knock him out. Quietly.”
Sai walked toward Lloyd.
Slowly.
You could count his steps.
One…
two…
three…
Lloyd raised his hand.
He tried to strike.
Sai caught his hand.
“Don’t be a child, boy.”
And then, Sai’s fingers went to the carotid artery in Lloyd’s neck.
Pressure.
Precise.
Calculated.
The world began to blur.
Lloyd heard Gary’s voice screaming: “Sir! Lloyd!”
Anusha murmured involuntarily: “Lady Amelia.”
Lloyd heard Sai’s voice humming a tune under his breath.
Something like a lullaby.
And then, nothing.
Only darkness.
Complete darkness.
To be continued…