One rainy night, p.26
One Rainy Night, page 26
‘Sheena.’
‘That’s me. God, I hope we don’t have to use these things.’
‘I wonder if we should split up, kind of stand guard at different parts of the house.’
‘We do not want to split up,’ Kara said. ‘They do that in all the movies, and it’s absolutely silly.’
Denise smiled. ‘She’s right.’
‘I don’t know if we should just sit here. We could patrol the house.’
‘Together?’ Kara asked.
‘I think we’re better off . . .’ A noise of crashing glass stopped Denise’s voice. Her heart kicked.
Tom leaped up, staring toward the opening of the hallway. ‘A bedroom?’
‘Sounded like it.’
‘Oh, gosh,’ Kara muttered.
‘Let’s get ’em!’ A knife in one hand, his makeshift spear in the other, Tom ran for the hall.
Denise leaned forward with her spear and snatched another knife off the table. She got to her feet and waited for a moment while Kara gathered up her poker and knife. Then she went after Tom. The girl was quick. Denise didn’t need to hold back. Kara stayed close behind her as she ran to the foyer, cut to the right and raced up the hall.
She caught up with Tom when he stopped in the doorway of the master bedroom. He elbowed a switch. Light filled the room. Peering past him, Denise saw no broken window. She stepped aside. Tom rushed past her, and she followed him to Kara’s bedroom.
Again, he flicked on a light. This time, he didn’t stop in the doorway. He dashed across the room. Running in after him, Denise checked the windows but her view of the one on the left was blocked by Tom’s body.
‘Careful,’ she gasped. Lurching sideways, she caught sight of the window. A hole near the bottom. As big as a head. Splintered edges.
Nobody was reaching in.
She saw only darkness through the break.
Tom stopped a yard from the window to avoid stepping on glass with his stocking feet. He crouched toward it and gazed out.
‘See anything?’
‘Huh-uh.’
Denise scanned the pale blue carpet. It was littered with shards and bits of glass. She saw nothing that might’ve been hurled through the window.
‘The screen’s still on,’ Tom said.
‘Maybe it was a trick,’ Kara said.
‘What do you mean?’ Denise asked.
The girl frowned. ‘You know. A division?’
Tom whirled around. ‘A diversion!’
Denise felt her stomach drop. ‘Oh my God,’ she muttered.
12
John dropped the dead boy to the floor beside the freezer door. Lying down, he pulled the body on top of him. He grimaced as its cheek pressed the side of his face.
It was worse last time, he told himself. Last time, he’d buried himself under three bodies. One was Lieutenant Becker, and Becker’s belly had been split open and his guts were all over John. He’d been underneath the corpses so long that, by the time he finally struggled free, Becker’s intestines had dried against his fatigues. They’d come with him when he got up. He’d had to peel them off.
Hours under those corpses.
This won’t be as bad, he told himself.
He wondered how long Lynn and Cassy could last inside the freezer.
They shouldn’t have shut themselves in, he realized. With the door shut, the cold would build up too fast. And he wasn’t sure whether the door could be opened from the inside. If something happened to him, they might be trapped.
He listened. Screams and laughter and shouts still came from the other areas of the restaurant. But he didn’t think anyone had entered the kitchen. Not yet.
He shoved the body off, got to his feet, took a quick look around, then tugged open the freezer door.
Among the bodies of the journalists and two men who’d been killed by them, Lynn and Cassy lay sprawled on their backs. They should pass for crazies, all right, in their soiled wet nightgown and T-shirt. But one glance convinced him that they wouldn’t pass for dead. The blood in their hair, on their faces and arms and legs made them look damn gory, but hardly concealed that they lay there stiff and shivering.
He whirled around to make sure once again that no one had entered the kitchen.
‘Come out of there,’ he said. ‘It won’t work. Hurry.’
Lynn pushed herself up on her elbows. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Don’t ask questions,’ Cassy said, saving John the trouble.
Both women got to their feet. Hunched over, they rushed to the front. Lynn’s teeth were gritted and she was rubbing her arms. Cassy hugged her chest for warmth. Then they were out and John threw the door shut.
‘What’Il we do now?’ Lynn gasped.
‘Stick with me.’
They followed John as he hurried to the old man who’d tried to bash him with a golf club. The guy was still bound with belts and sitting near the tub with his back against a counter. He wore a sport jacket over his knit shirt. Some of the jacket’s plaid still showed, but it was mostly stained black by the rain.
John kicked him in the head. The man fell onto his side, dazed but conscious. John slashed the belt that bound his arms behind him. He tore off the jacket and struggled into it.
‘Get your knives,’ he said.
Lynn and Cassy searched around and found the knives where they’d dropped them before getting into the wet garments.
‘Now what?’ Lynn asked.
‘We go out there. We act like the crazies.’
‘You’re kidding,’ Lynn said.
‘Let’s go.’
As he rushed for the kitchen doors, he heard Cassy behind him say, ‘Here goes nothing.’
13
Denise let Tom take the lead. She ran close behind him, Kara at her side.
They’ll be in by the time we get there, she thought.
Probably smashed the window and headed for the other side of the house while we were on our way to check it out. We got into Kara’s room and couldn’t even hear them breaking in for real.
She raced out of the hallway. Had enough time for one quick look at the living room – long enough to see that nobody was there – and then the house went dark.
‘Uh-oh,’ Kara murmured.
‘Hold up,’ Denise gasped at Tom. She skidded to a halt near the front door. Kara brushed against her arm.
The thud of Tom’s footfalls stopped. Denise saw his faint shape moving toward her. She heard him panting for breath.
‘They’re at the fuse box,’ she whispered.
‘Someone is. Or was.’
‘Maybe the juice went off,’ Kara suggested.
‘Hang on.’ Denise stepped in the direction of the door. Holding her spear upright, she reached out until she touched the wood. Then she moved sideways, running her hand over the door, its frame, the wall. Draperies brushed her knuckles. She clamped the shaft between her legs, fingered the draperies, found their drawcord and pulled.
The drapes slid open. A hazy, gray glow came in from the window. She glanced out. Through the falling rain, she saw a streetlight casting dim silver onto the top of Tom’s car. Across the street, a porch light burned.
‘It’s not the power,’ she whispered. ‘They’re in the house.’
‘Get away from the window,’ Tom said.
She wrapped her hand around the shaft of her spear and stepped backward. Turning to face the living room, she gazed into the shadows. The light from the window helped. She could make out the dim shapes of the sofa, the lamps, the television.
The entrance from the dining room was as black as the mouth of a cave.
‘We oughta be able to see them coming,’ Tom whispered.
His face was a faint oval blur. His gray sweatsuit was slightly less visible than his face. Though Denise couldn’t see him clearly, he didn’t blend in with the darkness around him. Neither did Kara in her pink nightgown. She looked down at herself. Her warmup suit was royal blue, but it appeared to be black. Her hands were dusky gray. Her white socks almost seemed to glow.
‘They’ll see us, too,’ she said.
Tom squatted down. Denise and Kara did the same.
‘Where the hell are they?’ he muttered.
‘They’re being sneaky. They think we’ve got guns, remember?’
‘I sure wish we did,’ Kara whispered. ‘Wouldn’t it be neat if you could wish for something and make it come . . . ?’
‘Shhhhh,’ Denise warned her.
From off in the distance beyond the living room came the sound of a thud. Someone muttered, ‘Shit!’
‘Stay with Kara,’ Denise muttered.
‘What’re you . . . ?’
‘Shhhh.’ She lowered her spear to the floor, shifted the knife to her right hand, and crawled toward the living room.
I’m out of my gourd, she thought. She struggled to stop breathing so loudly. Her heart wanted to pound the air from her lungs. She felt as if she might wet her pants. But she kept moving.
Away from the front door. Away from Tom and Kara. Closer to the three unseen intruders who’d come here to kill them all.
She sank to her belly and squirmed forward. She passed an end table. Made her way into the narrow gap between the coffee table and the front of the sofa. Through it and past the other end table. Across an area of open floor to the front of an easy chair close to the wall. The wall that stood between her and the dining room.
She got to her hands and knees. The chair blocked her view of the dining room entrance, but she could see the area through which the boys would have to pass when they went for Tom and Kara.
She waited. She held her breath until her lungs burned and she feared her head might explode. Then she let her air out slowly and inhaled. Sweat stung her eyes. The handle of her knife felt oily.
Come on, she thought. Let’s get it over with.
She wondered if this was the dumbest thing she’d ever done. Probably was.
Putting herself out here alone.
Seemed like a good idea at the time.
It is a good idea. I can’t let those bastards get Kara. Or Tom, for that matter.
Off beyond the chair, something moved. A low, bulky shape that was darker than the darkness. Like a black animal creeping forward.
One of the guys. Crawling.
Denise stared at his head. She couldn’t make out who he was. Probably Buddy. He was the worst of the three (if it’s them at all), and he would be in the lead.
She suddenly feared that he might sense he was being stared at. She tried to force herself to look away, but her eyes refused to leave him. So far, he seemed to be watching the area in front.
At last, his head disappeared behind the sofa.
Denise saw another crawling shape behind him. This one had a faint sheen on its back. Whatever light there was seemed to be gleaming off its wet, black skin.
This is them, all right, she thought. One of the three had been shirtless when she’d watched through the window and seen them ride away.
Keep moving, she willed him. Don’t look over this way. Just keep your eyes on Buddy.
The third crawled into view.
Denise held her breath. She waited. The feet of the second intruder vanished behind the sofa. Number three was out in the open. Then the sofa blocked her view of his head.
Do it!
She leaped up, took four quick strides across the carpet, saw the kid look back over his shoulder. ‘Shit!’ he cried out. She rammed the knife down. It sank into his back. ‘No!’ he squealed. ‘Guys!’
She jerked out the knife and stabbed him again. This time, it struck something hard. The kid, shrieking, flopped flat. Denise tugged at the knife. It didn’t come out. Her hand slipped off it. The blade must’ve gone into bone.
The other two guys were scurrying up, coming for her.
‘Tom!’ she yelled.
‘Gotcha gotcha gotcha,’ gasped the kid duck-walking toward her.
She leaped sideways, twisting in the air as she dived over the back of the sofa. Something stabbed her hip, tore skin and ripped the side of her pants. She landed on the cushions, face up.
Her knees caught the kid dropping onto her. His breath gusted out. She shoved at his bare chest, felt his weight shift, and saw him tumble away. He crashed against the edge of the coffee table and fell to the floor.
Denise flipped herself over. On hands and knees, she scuttled along the sofa. From the other side came thuds and grunts. Tom must’ve come to help her. Reaching out, she grabbed the table lamp. She hooked her other hand over the sofa back and pulled herself up.
Tom was there about to drive the knife end of his spear into the chest of the kid at his feet. But Kara, a running blur in her pale nightgown, came up behind him swinging her poker.
‘No!’ Denise blurted.
The brass handle crashed against the side of Tom’s head. He dropped his spear and stumbled away, reeling.
‘Kara!’
The girl chased after him and hit him again. He went down on one knee, covering his head.
‘What’re you doing!’
The sofa shook with a sudden jolt. A hand grabbed Denise’s ankle.
‘Gotcha!’
She swung the lamp off the table and twisted around. A dark arm darted up. She glimpsed a rod of some kind in the hand. Yelped as spikes jabbed deep into her right buttock. Then the base of the lamp clubbed the guy’s face. His head was knocked back. He released her ankle. The spikes were yanked from her rump.
She climbed onto the sofa’s back. Straddling it, she saw Buddy down on the floor. Tom, over by the wall, was on his knees, both arms over his head to protect it as Kara struck downward again with her poker. It whapped his arms and he cried out.
‘Kara! Stop it!’
Buddy sat up. Denise threw herself off the sofa. She dropped both knees onto him, smashing him flat. His arm hooked around her back. He rolled, hurling her to the floor beside him. ‘What’re ya . . . tryin’ to do to me?’ he gasped.
Not Buddy’s voice.
‘Tom?’ She ran her hands over his chest. Felt a sweat-shirt. A dry sweatshirt. ‘Oh God.’
That was Buddy who’d had the spear? And Tom on the floor about to be stabbed when Kara came along? Didn’t seem right. But this was Tom on the floor beside her.
Denise rolled away from him as Kara yelped. Looked up. Saw Kara spin away. Her hands looked empty. Buddy – the real Buddy – had the poker. He swung it at her. Denise heard the rod hiss through the air. It missed the girl. Buddy staggered, fell to his knees.
Then hands dug into Denise’s armpits and pulled her up.
‘Your room, Kara!’ Tom shouted. ‘Run to your room.’
The girl glanced back, then ran for the front of the house.
Denise got her feet under her, stumbled as Tom thrust her forward. ‘Go!’ he snapped.
‘We can Finish ’em!’
‘Go!’
She raced after Kara and heard Tom close behind her. Her buttock felt as if it were burning inside. Her pants were wet and clinging around the wound. Warm blood spilled down the back of her leg. Each time her right foot hit the floor, pain bolted through her body.
Shouldn’t be running away, she thought. We almost had them.
With what?
Did we all lose our weapons?
Like some kind of a damn nasty joke. We go in armed to the teeth and now we’ve got nothing.
I got one of the bastards, she reminded herself. That’s something, anyway.
Ahead of her, Kara Hinged to the left and vanished into the doorway of her bedroom. Denise rushed in. She felt a shove. As she staggered forward, the door slammed.
‘Gotta block it shut,’ Tom gasped. ‘I’ll hold it. You two, get something over here. A dresser or something.’
14
Maureen was beginning to give up hope of ever finding them. Maybe the guys hadn’t stopped, at all. Maybe they’d just kept on riding and were miles away by now.
I’ll get them, she told herself. I’ll get them if it takes forever.
But maybe this searching was pointless. She wondered if she should return to Buddy’s house. Wait for them there. Sooner or later, they would probably show up.
She saw the motorcycles.
Three Harleys standing in the driveway of a corner house. But no Buddy. No Doug or Lou.
She knew they’d gone into the house.
Grinning, she swung her Jeep onto the driveway and stepped on the gas.
This’ll bring ’em running!
Three hogs, all in a row. She hit the first bike, smashing it into the second before her front tires bumped over it and she rammed the second bike into the third. The third stayed up somehow – maybe locked to the front of her Jeep – and it skidded along sideways with shrieking rubber until she crashed it through the garage door.
It came loose when she backed up. She bounced her way over the other bikes, metal groaning and crunching, glass bursting. Then she was on smooth pavement again.
Maureen grinned at the debris.
She couldn’t even see the third bike. It was somewhere in the darkness under the remains of the garage door.
She beeped her horn.
‘Come on out, guys. See what happened to your hogs.’
She scanned the front of the one-story house. The porch light was off, but the draperies behind the picture window glowed. The draperies didn’t stir. The front door didn’t open.
Maureen honked again. This time, she kept the horn blaring for a long time.
Nobody came from the house.
‘They deaf or something?’ she muttered.
She shut off the engine, took the key from the ignition, and climbed out. The rain poured down on her. It felt even better, more exciting, than she remembered. She stopped at the rear of the Jeep, threw back her head and arched her spine, savoring the touch of the water as it splashed her face and soaked through the front of her T-shirt. One hand held the keys, but the other was free to peel the shirt up above her breasts. The raindrops made her bare skin tingle. They tapped against her breasts, teased her nipples, slid down her body like the tips of tongues. Trembling, she pulled, the elastic band of the shorts away from her waist and let the hot little streams run down to her groin and thighs.
