Installment 26 of my featured novel “Relentless” is here!

I am publishing the novel in small installments, so it takes only minutes to keep up with the story. Many years ago, I was a fan of Stephen King’s installment-based publishing of “The Green Mile” over many months, so I am following in that vein as a feature on Moteventure.

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RELENTLESS – D.S. FACTOR

ABI

As Winn guided them down from the kitchen’s trap door to the sublevel floor, Abi could hear muffled voices rumbling overhead and a soft rat-a-tat sound growing louder.

Sharing a glance that mingled fear with awe, Abi took in the secret room, where dim lights had come on automatically with the door’s opening.

The space was unexpectedly expansive, flanked by stainless steel shelves that appeared to be dusted regularly, lining both sides of the central aisle. On one side, the shelves brimmed with an assortment of canned goods, including jars of pickled cucumbers with floating spice seeds and a selection of tomatoes, corn, carrots, and peaches, all prepared to be enjoyed during Iowa’s very dark and cold winters. 

Occupying the opposite side of the aisle were some seldom used kitchen appliances, a stack of board games (Monopoly, Trivial Pursuit, Risk, Cards Against Humanity and Catan among them), and a half dozen Rubbermaid containers labeled “Christmas”. 

Adjacent to the shelving unit stood a compact, yet impressively stocked wine cellar, featuring a refrigerated section with chilled bottles ready for tasting and open racks that Abi estimated held close to 100 bottles of wine, each labeled with brand and vintage on the wooden racks. The collection ranged from a 1959 Château Lafite Rothschild to what appeared to be a widely available Copper Ridge Red.

Winn gently opened the door of the wine fridge and carefully selected a bottle from the rack, turning to place her finger on Abi’s lips in a silent gesture. As Winn removed a dark, compact case from the back of the unit, a wave of cold air brushed against Abi’s face. She then placed the case on the counter of the wine cellar and returned the bottle to its original location.

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Upstairs on the main floor, a tumult of noises resounded with pots, pans, dishes, and drawers clattering to the kitchen floor. The muffled voices became clearer, and Abi could distinctly hear a man’s deep voice scolding a subordinate to “keep it down.”

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The case featured an advanced biometric screening mechanism that combined a pin code with the added security of a numeric keypad that only functioned with the owner’s fingerprint on each keypress.

Winn swiftly unlocked the mechanism and opened the case, revealing two Beretta 92FS handguns. She took both, handed one to Abi, and then proceeded to the back of the hidden area.

A bookcase, in a clear homage to Agatha Christie, stood perpendicular to the stainless-steel shelves, acting as a sentinel. Winn approached it and meticulously examined the spines, reading each title sequentially.

High on the shelf to the right of the center was the classic Christie mystery, “The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.” Winn pulled it from its place, and as she did, it briefly opened to the first page, displaying the fitting opening sentence.

“You do see it, don’t you, that she has to be killed?”

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Within seconds, the bookshelf slid into the wall, unveiling a narrow staircase leading to a sliding door that mimicked a service elevator, complete with a vertical hinge at its peak.

As they stood at the edge of the concealed steps, a sudden, startling sound echoed from the trapdoor. The intruder’s misstep had given them away, tripping over the rug that Abi and Winn had left disheveled in their haste.

In that suspenseful instant, the door relented, swinging inward then popping outward to reveal the hidden chamber below. Fingers, icy with resolve, clutched the handleless panel, pulling it open. The once dim room was flooded with light, drawing the intruders ever closer to their target.

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Winn’s fingers brushed against the elevator button, the chill of the metal door looming as she hastily tried to enter. Her expectation of an immediate opening fell apart as the door remained firmly closed. Moments later, it relented, ascending to permit their entry into the compartment. They pressed the “PG” button and waited with bated breath for the door to descend.

Abi spun around, her heart pounding in her chest. The intruder’s silhouette loomed, descending into the concealed chamber beneath Winn’s kitchen. Panic surged through her veins. 

“Winn!” Abi hissed urgently. “They’re here!” She lunged past Winn, fingers fumbling for the “PG” button, desperate to seal the door and buy them precious seconds. 

The men burst through the trap door, their boots scraping against metal. Abi’s heart raced as the elevator door groaned, reluctantly descending. She met the intruder’s eyes—a predator assessing its prey. His gaze promised more danger ahead. This was just the prologue to a relentless and deadly game. 

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