Going Under_ A Bill Roberts Thriller - Silas Payton Page 0,1

the table sat a lamp, and a phone. The foyer connected, by way of a wide hallway, to the front entrance in one direction, while the other direction led to the kitchen.

Sitting in the wingback chair, Sarah stared at the door...waiting. Not quite sure what she was waiting for, her mind drifted. Her thoughts fading away to a calm focus. Every time a thought came into existence, it would gently be waved to the side, out of focus.

Once her brain emptied of all consciousness, she heard the words, "You can do it. You can overcome all obstacles." She was aware of the voice, but couldn't process any thoughts of where it came from. "It will all be over soon. Do not be afraid. Feel the calming beat of your heart."

Sarah settled into the back of the chair with the gun resting in her lap. Her right hand perfectly wrapped around the grip. Finger on the trigger. "Breathe. Focus on your breathing. As each breath enters your lungs, feel the power entering your body. As you breathe out, all impurities go with it -- all insecurities are being expelled. Breathe. With each breath you are becoming more able to achieve your goal. More focused on the target. Less can get in your way. Breathe. You can do anything you put your mind to. Soon you will know exactly what to do. Don't think about it, just do it."

With a sense of total peace and freedom, Sarah felt the details of the weapon in her hand -- the grip of the handle, the indentations for the fingers, the trigger. Minutes passed, with her breathing at a steady rhythmic pace, as if she was sleeping. She stared ever so patiently at the door.

Her focused breathing was interrupted by the rumbling of the automatic garage door opener. She recognized the sound of her husband's car driving into the garage, followed by the garage door closing behind him. Sarah's other hand joined the one holding the Smith & Wesson. Thirty seconds later, the side entrance from the garage opened, and a man entered.

Her husband put his keys on the key holder, and said, "Hi, Honey. How was your day?"

He turned to face his wife and froze. A couple of seconds passed. "Sarah," he said, slow and calm. "What are you doing?"

His gaze went back and forth between the gun and her eyes, but she felt nothing. She knew what had to be done. She wasn't sure why, but she knew with all her heart, she had to pull the trigger.

Just as her husband had shown her many times, she took her aim, kept her eye on the target, gently applied a steady increasing pressure with her index finger -- and pulled the trigger.

The blast was deafening in the foyer. Both the noise and the recoil of the gun, jolted Sarah like she'd been kicked while sleeping. Startled and confused, she could smell burnt gun powder. Feeling the weight in her hand, she looked down in her lap at a gun still in her grip. Six feet away, across the room, her husband was leaning back against the closed garage door. His eyes stared into hers, a red dot visible in the centre of his forehead.

She could read the shocked, yet sad look in his eyes, which asked, "What have you done?"

Her husband's legs slid out in front of him and his body slowly moved down the side of the door. He descended to the floor, leaving a smeared red stain remaining on the door behind him. When his butt hit the floor, a jolt to his body caused his head to lean forward -- his chin touching his chest.

Sarah watched in horror as her husband's head fell forward, exposing the missing back half of his skull, and what remained of its contents. She started to scream as she had never screamed before. When she ran out of breath, she started screaming again.

Chapter 2

Bill Roberts

"Who the hell thought a TV on a treadmill was a good idea?" Bill said, to no one in particular.

Take a guy who's a bit out of shape, get him running and out of breath, then stick a touch screen, with an annoying show on, in front of him so he has to figure the damn thing out. What the hell are they thinking?

Bill kept dabbing his finger on the screen trying to get it to change channels.

Who watches these fishing shows anyway?

As he fought to keep his balance on the treadmill,