Read Voices (Whisper Trilogy Book 3) for Free Online

hands in his pockets. “I’m afraid that when you experience it, you won’t know quite how to react.”
    They went deeper into the woods. For Kimmel, it was a journey filled with dread. For Fisher, it was one of curiosity. He was lost in thought, listening to the pleasant sound of birdsong, when he almost walked into the General who had stopped ahead of him.
    “What’s wrong?” Fisher said, trying to ignore another ripple of goose bumps on his forearms.
    “Nothing. We’re here,” the General replied. His booming, authoritative voice was gone, replaced instead with meekness and uncertainty. His eyes darted toward the trees, lingering on the darkened tangle of roots and branches which hid secrets away from his gaze.
    Fisher smiled, glad to see the General’s discomfort. “Come on then, General Kimmel. Let’s see what it is you want to show me.” Before the general could respond, Fisher strode toward the clearing and back into brilliant sunshine.
    He felt it immediately. The circular clearing bristled with an ominous energy. Fisher smiled, a nervous gesture which quickly faded. His throat was dry and he stared bug-eyed at the circular patch of dirt in which nothing grew. He realized then what it was that disturbed him so much.
    It was the silence. The absolute, deathly silence. He could hear the ragged rattle of his own increasingly labored breathing as he soaked in the atmosphere. He realized he was clenching his fists, and forced himself to relax, if only so Kimmel wouldn’t be able to see how afraid he was. And he was afraid. He felt incredibly exposed, and crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his biceps as he stared into the surrounding trees, sure he could see people moving just outside his field of vision.
    Kimmel.

    He wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was Kimmel’s men out there, creeping around and trying to put the frighteners on him. He could imagine how they would laugh at him later, making fun of how the little man from the government had been so easily spooked.
    “I know what you’re thinking,” he heard Kimmel say at his shoulder. “But it’s not my men. That much I can guarantee you.”
    “Then what the hell can I see moving out there?”
    “The dead. Those who are destined to stay here for eternity.”
    “Come on, Kimmel, don’t screw around with me. I—”
    Fisher turned, expecting to see Kimmel right beside him. However, the General wasn’t there. He was hanging back on the edge of the circle, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his agitation increased.
    “How did you do that?” Fisher asked, his voice wavering. “You were right here next to me. I heard you.”
    Kimmel shook his head. There was at least ten feet between them, and Fisher knew it was impossible for Kimmel to have said the words which he’d heard so close he could feel hot breath on his neck.
    Kimmel was looking at him now, a frown on his brow. Realization came to Fisher that everything the General had said was true. He turned to leave, and felt something stop him, an icy grip on his upper arm. He stared at it, his eyes seeing nothing but his suit jacket despite the feel of fingers digging into his skin. Without warning, the trees shuddered, a coordinated wave traveling from left to right, each flutter of every leaf and branch coming together in a crescendo of noise.
    He heard Kimmel – the real Kimmel – his voice distant and distorted as if coming from miles away instead of the ten feet which separated them. Fisher bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood, which seemed to increase the oppressive darkness stifling him. He was vaguely aware of men dragging him away from the inner periphery of the circle, fatigue-clad soldiers who wore the haunted expressions of men to whom this was nothing new. The soldiers half led, half dragged Fisher out of the clearing, back into the relative safety of the woods. It was a feeling akin to breaking the surface of the water after a particularly deep