THE SUBWAY COLLECTION-A Box Set of 8 Dark Stories to Read on the Go Read Online Free

.38.
                  Now I was on my feet and trying to cross the distance between us. "Davey, no. Let me call the police."
                  "No way, big brother. I'm a Marine now." He was down the hall leading to the back door before I could reach him.
                  "Get out of my way!" I pushed Millie aside and hurried after Davey. Now I understood two things. The gun, which I loathed, was not mine. It was Davey's and being stored here. And whoever or whatever was prowling in the dark in the back yard was Davey's killer. Because Davey didn't really belong anymore, not in any reality. If I couldn't stop him from going out the back door, Davey wasn't coming back.
                  I slipped near the stairs on one of Millie's slippers. She must have lost them on her rush down the stairs. My left foot went out from under me on the slick wooden floor and I tried to grab for the stair bannister, but I missed. I came down hard on my ass with a yell. I screamed for Davey, who was moving purposefully toward the back of the house and beyond my reach. "Davey!"
                  Millie tried to help me up. I rushed away through the shadowy hallway, breathing heavy, my heart not just pounding, but throbbing like an iron fist opening and closing in my chest. This wasn't fair. This was not fair. If I had in some way slipped over into an alternate reality where things were changed and I had a chance to keep my brother safe, then these precious minutes were a joke on me. Because I felt it, the reality behind the reality. The truth of it. If a person has died, and you enter some strange other world or reality where they are alive, they're not going to stay alive.
                  That kind of thing is bigger than a missing beer or a shabby coat rack.
                  Larger than a strange pile of rocks that some boy must have gathered, photographs in a place they weren't before or a gun that had never existed.
                  And it was stronger and more important than a wife switching brothers or a different birthday or a change in attitude about military service.
                  Death, in any reality, was final.
                  I reached the back door, flung it wide, and stumbled down the three cement steps to the dark back yard. "Davey?" I thought I was choking, I couldn't breathe, I had to find him and stop...
                  There was a gun shot and it was so loud and sudden it shook me from my feet to my jawbone. I ran straight into the darkness not caring what happened to me, it didn't matter about me, it was about changing things even if I thought I probably couldn't. It was about making a change that mattered to me so much that it meant I was willing to do anything to make it.
                  I fell over something, let out a scream, and felt with my hands in the dark only to find what I prayed I wouldn't. I felt a man's form, my hands sliding up ribs to shoulders and the dark retreated as a beam of bright white light from a flashlight shone down on Davey's still face.
                  Millie stood over him with the light, a gasp escaping her. She fell to her knees. I saw the blood on his shirt, the hole, the gun powder burns. I saw his eyes rolling back and I yelled, "Davey, stay! Don't die, Davey, please!"
                  In some far distance I heard the crackling sounds of rustling bushes as the anonymous killer (or had it been the Grim Reaper, the Wild Thing that Feed on Souls, the Destroyer?) fled the yard, lost in the darkness.
                  Millie was weeping. I was crying openly.
                  Davey shut his eyes and he died.
                 
 
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                  Today, two months since we buried Davey for the second time, I woke to find Millie missing from