Chapter 9

A loud tearing sound rent the air. Vic felt the metal bar hit his palm with no support behind it. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw it had pulled itself free from the wall at his command—in its place, a dark hole gaped in the broken tiles, and the bar hung at an awkward angle, only anchored at the far end.

Damn.

“Yeah,” he muttered, jamming the loose end of the bar back into the wall. “Only metal.”

How many metal things did he come across during the day? Let’s see,he thought, retrieving his robe from the floor. The car, the bus, the time clock, the lockers at work, the handle on the toilet—he looked over at the commode and, as if on cue, it flushed itself.

This was going to be a longday.

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