Writing in the style of... Stephen King

For the "writing in the style of a popular fiction author", I chose Stephen King, because I read a lot of his books and really like his writing style. The piece I wrote is a fictional scene for the book Desperation. All the characters are present in the book, but the scene is made-up. The plot and characters can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Desperation_(novel) . I decided to focus on the character of David, an 11 year-old boy who has a strong relation with God.

Scene from Desperation

David closed the door, short of breath, and sat on his bottom. Well, fell on his bottom would be the word. He suddenly felt really tired, as tired and sad as an old man who would sit behind his window all day long, watching life go on without him. He had escaped the giant policeman, yes, but his mom and dad were dead, and he was all alone now. He couldn’t get the look on the man’s face out of his mind, this crazy look he had while he was ripping off his dad’s left arm. And what had he said to David? The little boy didn’t pay attention on the moment, too occupied that he was to be horrified at the sight of his parents being butchered by a representative of law and order, but now the sentence kept rolling in his head. «Where is your God, now, David?». He had said it with the kindest voice, full of empathy.
He got up on his feet. The room was plunged into darkness, and David couldn’t see past his nose, but he had no doubt about the smell. Maybe he was only an eleven year-old boy, but what he had lived though in the past twelve hours was enough for him to be able to recognize the smell of death until his last day - which, he thought, might come sooner than expected. Suddenly, the weight of what he had just witnessed fell on his shoulders, and he crumbled to his knees, hands put together in a prayer. His knees touched something flabby and there was a wet noise, but he decided to ignore it. He started focusing on what he was doing. He obstructed every negative thought, and began. «God, it’s David Carver, and I need your help...
Where is your God now, David?
... I need you to tell me what to do, where to go, I can’t do it on my own, help me, please. Please...»
Where is He, David?
A loud noise made him come out of his trance, and raise his head. He was holding his breath, without even thinking about it. He was coming for him. It was coming for him. A noise of footsteps got closer to the door of the room he was hiding in, and stopped. David felt his trousers become warmer, and realised he had just peed himself. If his friends heard about that... The doorknob began to move. David tried to step to the back of the room, but he slipped on something slimy and fell on what he thought to be a corpse. Under nomal circumstances, he would have vomited, cried or at least been horrified. But he didn’t, because his brain had switched to another mode, and was now similar to the one of a hunted deer. All he could think of was «It heard that, it definitely did. It knows I’m in here». And he was right. The policeman -the beast- started striking the door more insistently. «David, open the open the door, everything will be fine, the bad monster is gone». The boy could hear that the voice was trying to be sweet, but didn’t manage to do the trick. It was thick, like the voice of someone whose throat was full of phlegm, except it was not, and David knew it. It was blood. The thing inside the policeman, whatever it was, was slowly killing him, piece by piece. The last time David had seen him, about an hour ago, one of his eyes was already falling out of its orbit. He was probably in a bad shape now, and the beast probably wanted to find a new host.
The door was really close to giving up now, and David’s heart was too. He had never been more frightened in his life than at this exact moment, and couldn’t think of anything to do. Stepping back, he reached a table and crawled under it. It was only a matter of seconds before it would enter the room... His pupils had widened and he could see better in the dark. The shape he had identified as a corpse was John’s body. The head must have been somewhere in the room, but not in David’s sight anyway. The little boy reacted in a quarter of second, trying not to realize what he was doing. He grabbed the body, and after a few seconds of struggling, managed to cover himself with it, so as to be hidden from someone who would stand on the doorstep. He didn’t have time to refine his cover, because the door slammed open as he stopped moving. It was inside. David could hear the policeman sniff out the room, looking for him. Chasing him.
Where is your God now, David? Not here, not now.
The boy heard another wet and disgusting noise when the policeman kicked another corpse. He glanced upon John’s shoulder, and saw it was Peter. Or what was left of him. The man was getting closer to the table, and David was really worried about the smell of piss covering him. The thing inside the policeman was definitely an animal, and it would smell that.
A second before David was indeed discovered, something saved his life. A cry. The most dreadful cry David had ever heard, and would ever hear, in his life. And what made it even more terrifying was the fact that he knew who was screaming: It was Cynthia, the hitchhiker girl with pink hair. David did not know why she was making this noise, but it made the policeman look up, and after a few seconds, go away, and it was enough for him. Once he was sure the beast was far enough, he crawled out of his hideout and touched his limbs to check he was really alive.

«Thank God.» he thought.