Read Dark Application: ONE (The Dark Application Series Book 1) for Free Online Page A

Travis lying under Chris’s car. Somehow, the car
had lurched forward hard enough to knock Travis to the ground, running him
over. He lay in a pool of blood, which trickled out of an enormous gaping
gash in his forehead and dripped onto the cold pavement. He lay,
unmoving, and Luke only stared in shock until Chris charged from the front door
into the night air.
    “Okay,
everyone needs to go home, NOW!” he shouted. Everyone listened and gathered
their belongings. They tossed their jackets and purses on and disbursed
into the frigid, misty night. The cold sunk in suddenly and deeply. Luke
shivered hard.
    “If
you are underage, I recommend getting the hell out of my house now because the
cops are on their way! And an ambulance!”
    Chris
was stunning in his order-giving. Even falling over drunk, even after an
entire night of dancing, screwing around, and partying, he somehow gathered up
enough muster to deal with a dead guy in his front yard.
    Luke
remained rooted to the spot, staring ahead. His ears were ringing, his
head floating. Men like him should just die and get it over with.
    He began to
walk toward the car and heard Chris shout, “Stay the hell away from my car, Luke,”
but Luke just turned and looked at him.
    “My
phone, dude, it’s in your car.”
    “Let
me get it, Luke. Just stay away from my car right now.”
    Chris
jogged to the driver’s side door and carefully grabbed the phone, shutting the
door gently.
    When
the paramedics arrived, everyone had gone. Amy had gotten a ride with
someone on the rugby team, and Amit had left and gone to Mi’s house for the night. Just Chris and Luke sat on the front door step,
staring with blank faces at the bloody spectacle. They loaded the body
into the ambulance and strapped down the arms and legs. Dead. Travis was now dead. Men like him
should just die and get it over with.
    Thinking
about the phone in his pocket made his leg burn. What next, phone? He thought. Who called Amy at the last second to warn her?
Who started the engine and gave it enough gas to kill a man 15 feet away?
Who invited all these people to my house tonight in the first place?
How does shit like this happen? Luke’s head spun.
    When
the ambulance left, he had to play twenty questions with a cop, who essentially
asked five questions worded four different ways, and then Luke stumbled
upstairs and tossed the phone on his desk. He lay on his bed and stared
hard at the phone, put one leg on the floor, and finally the room stopped
spinning. He either drifted off to sleep or passed out. Either way,
the night was over.
    That
night he dreamt of Amy. Amy checking her text messages.

Finders Keepers
    A my
didn’t show up in class for two weeks.
    The
rain began to harden and freeze, and by the first week of February, the dark
billowing clouds began to let out frozen crystallized snowflakes.
    Luke
sat in his chemistry lecture, tapping his pencil on his paper, staring at the
lightly fluttering specks of white slowly plunging past the window frame.
Tiny drifts of snow had begun to accumulate here and there, and
multitudes of muddy footprints covered the sidewalks and tracked into every
doorway.
    When
Amy did appear, she came in late to class, her voluminous hair dappled with
snow. She shook off her boots and took a seat a few chairs down to Luke’s left. Professor Jones nodded respectfully,
acknowledging her and dismissing her tardiness, and continued the lecture.
    The
class felt so different. No one sat exactly in the same places they had
at the beginning of the semester. The students were much more solemn, and
people had a quiet air about them.
    The
death of Travis the rugby player had deeply affected Brafferton Community
College and had aired on every news station in the state. Everyone felt
scared, stinging , mortal fear. People
whispered about the insane party, the bizarre accident, the mysteriousness of
the situation. Everyone had more and more questions, but there was nothing more
to say about