Page 36 of Nothing Special X: The Last Stand

He hurried and finished washing and shut off the water.

He wrapped a towel sheet low around his hips, grinding his jaw when the soft cotton rubbed over his sensitive head.

Damnit.

He was still too awake and now overstimulated to go to sleep.

He grabbed his script again.

If he botched another rehearsal, the director might have an aneurysm.

An hour later, Xander sat cross-legged on the chaise in his bedroom, concentrating on a particularly intense scene when every light in his house shut off.

It was pitch black, and his heart stopped at the frightening silence that followed.

Don’t panic. It’s probably a neighborhood outage…or a blown transformer.

He rushed toward the window trying to see through the darkness, but he didn’t see anything. No flashlight beams from the guards, moving silhouettes or radios crackling.

Fear tried to shut him down.

He almost called out to security until he spun around at the sound of glass exploding downstairs.

Xander jerked as the blood drained from his face so fast it made him lightheaded.

“No no no—”

He scrambled toward the nightstand and grabbed his phone with shaking hands.

He dialed 911 and almost cried when he got a busy signal.

He stared at the screen in disbelief and dialed again.

…busy.

Xander thought he was going to throw up.

Something heavy scraped across the floor downstairs.

He crept toward the railing before common sense could stop him.

He glanced over, and saw a tall shadow of a man, stalking through the darkness.

Xander bolted backward into his room and eased the door closed. His hands shook so bad he just managed to turn the lock. When it clicked, he knew it wouldn’t stop anybody determined enough to get in.

Where was his security? Were they unconscious? Dead?

His eyes filled with tears. Had someone else been hurt because of him?

Another crash downstairs.

Xander dialed 911 again.

Busy.

“How is that possible?” he whispered hysterically.

Something else shattered.