Endless Night Page 5

  “The parents’ room,” she said. “Where?”

  Andy’s vague, pale arm swung up and pointed to a gray rectangle just ahead—a doorway perhaps a shade less dark than the corridor.

  “Go there!”

  He cut across the corridor. So did Jody. “The door, the door, the door!” she yelled.

  She followed him through the doorway. They both skidded and staggered, stopping fast, reversing direction. Andy grabbed the door by its edge and slammed it. They threw themselves against it.

  Shoulder to the wood, Jody reached out and swept her open hand down the wall. She found a light switch. She flicked it up and the room filled with light that made her squint.

  The muffled thud of footfalls rushed closer.

  Jody looked down at the doorknob. No lock.

  No mechanism at all for securing the door.

  Great.

  She flipped herself around. Back to the door, she scooted her feet over the carpet and bent her knees and braced herself for impact.

  Andy did the same.

  She felt his arm against her arm.

  The bedroom was very large. It did look like the master bedroom, but it also looked as if the old Mrs. Youngman had been sleeping in it.

  With permission? Jody wondered.

  Shades of Goldilocks.

  She’s dead. Dead. Jesus.

  The covers were folded at its foot, the top sheet twisted over to one side, the bottom sheet rumpled. The old woman must’ve been too hot.

  The doorknob turned very fast and the door shoved at Jody’s back. The pressure only lasted a second.

  Guy must’ve just pushed with his hand.

  Beyond the bed, open draperies showed a sliding glass door. Only half the expanse reflected the room, and Jody realized the door had been left open.

  Mrs. Youngman must’ve wanted fresh air.

  Maybe didn’t like air conditioning. Or didn’t know how to work it.

  Jody saw a lawn chair and a railing beyond the open part of the door.

  A balcony.

  Between her and the balcony stood the bed. It had an elaborate wooden headboard and nightstands on both sides.

  A white telephone sat on the nearer nightstand, probably fifteen feet from Jody.

  The door slugged her back.

  She and Andy both grunted. Their knees bent. Their feet skidded on the carpet. The men must’ve thrown their shoulders against the door, met more resistance than expected and failed to follow through, because after the burst that nearly threw Jody and Andy off their feet, the door banged shut.

  Jody ached to make a run for the telephone.

  By himself, though, Andy wouldn’t stand a chance of holding the door shut.

  “Yes!” she suddenly said. “Yes, it’s an emergency. We’ve got killers in the house. Dr. Youngman’s. On Laurel Lane. Hurry! They’re trying to get us!”

  Andy met her eyes. Though he looked ready to scream, he said, “How long did they say it’ll be?”

  “A couple of minutes. They said there’s a unit real close to here.”

  From behind the door came a hissing of quick whispers.

  Jody ran for the nightstand. She snatched up the handset of the phone and heard a dial tone.

  She tapped the numbers 911.

  Andy stared at her.

  She waved him to step toward her.

  With a nod, he moved silently away from the door.

  The phone rang once in her ear.

  She pulled open the top drawer of the nightstand, hoping for a handgun.

  Another ring.

  No gun. A flashlight and address book and ...

  The men came in.

  Chapter Six

  Without either Jody or Andy trying to brace it, the bedroom door sprang wide when the two men struck it.

  “Andy!”

  Andy didn’t need the warning. Even as they stumbled into the room, he took to his feet. He raced past the end of the bed while Jody dropped the phone, dived onto the mattress and scurried across. She was still on her hands and knees when Andy got to the open glass door. Speeding through, he grabbed its inside handle. The door shook, but yanked him to a halt. Jody flung herself off the bed. She staggered past Andy. He hurled the sliding door shut. As it rumbled behind her, Jody thrust her hands against the balcony’s toprail to stop herself. Her arms bent. Her belly shoved at the railing with enough force to bow her.

  Below was a concrete slab, pale gray in the moonlight.

  Beyond the edge of the concrete was a massive rectangle of black with ripples that glinted silver.

  The pool.

  But straight down was the concrete. Six feet of it between her and the pool? Or maybe ten feet. Or maybe twelve.

  “You go first,” Andy gasped. “I’ll hold the door.”

  Go first? Jump? Of course, jump. There’s no other choice.

  She looked back. The saber man was reaching for the door handle. The other guy was jogging across the bed—must’ve paused to do something—tike check the phone.

  “Forget the door!” Jody yelled. “Jump!”

  She heard it starting to rush open as she hopped and caught the toprail under her right foot and thrust herself up. Her leg was still bent when she found the rail with her other foot.

  She glimpsed Andy off to the side, using both hands to vault over.

  Maybe he’s got the right idea, she thought as she sprang up and forward, away from the balcony.

  Oh Jesus! I’m so high! Jesus!

  She heard a sword cut the air behind her. It didn’t seem to cut her, though.

  The hot slipstream raised her hair and nightshirt. She tried to see straight down, but the shirt blocked her view.

  She was sure she must be dropping straight for the concrete.

  Would’ve taken a magnificent leap to clear it and reach the pool.

  Maybe it won’t be so bad, she told herself.

  Bend your knees and ...

  Andy cried out. A quick, harsh cry of pain.

  Jody’s feet smacked down. The impact stung. Her knees folded. As she tumbled forward, she flung her arms up, hoping to protect her face from the concrete. But didn’t get them high enough in time. They were only halfway up when she slammed and splashed.

  Water surged into her mouth, rushed up her nostrils.

  Made it!

  She blew out air to clear them, emptying her lungs but getting rid of the water fast before it could trigger a choke or gag.

  Then she clawed for the surface.

  She was amazed that her leap had carried her all the way to the pool. Andy hadn’t even tried for the pool. Maybe he’d known it was too far away, so he’d vaulted the railing instead.

  From the noise he’d made, he must’ve gotten hurt.

  Breaking the surface, Jody sucked air and blinked water from her eyes. She twisted around. Both men were looking down at her from the balcony.

  They could jump right on me.

  Neither looked ready to try it, though. Maybe they didn’t want to risk the concrete.

  She watched them as she breast-stroked toward the side of the pool.

  If they were planning to jump, she thought, they would’ve done it by now. But they know I’m coming for Andy. Maybe they’ll throw their knife and sword at me.

  They won’t do that.

  Where’s the ax man?

  The ax man vanished from her concern when she reached the side of the pool and both men suddenly bolted into the bedroom.

  “Oh, God!” she gasped.

  She jumped and shoved at the edge and burst from the water. She got a knee onto the tiles, flopped forward, squirmed and scrambled up and ran for Andy, her drenched nightshirt glued to her skin, her feet smacking the concrete.

  He was sitting up, clutching his right knee and gasping and sobbing.

  “They’re coming,” Jody said.

  He looked at her. He shook his head.

  Jody scurried around behind him. Squatting, she clutched him under the armpits.

>   “Don’t,” he said. “Get out of here.”

  “We’re gettin’.” She hoisted him. Stood him upright and balanced on one leg. “Try to stand on ...”

  He tried and cried out and hobbled and fell backward against Jody. She stumbled away under his weight, but stayed up. Arms wrapped around his chest, she squeezed him against her.

  “Put me down,” he gasped. “Drop me. My knee’s busted. I’m done for. Please! Get out of here while you can.”

  “Not without you, pal.”

  She hustled backward alongside the pool, hugging Andy to her chest. He tried to help by hopping along with his good leg. The injured leg hung limp, heel dragging.

  “Any ideas?” she asked.

  “They’re gonna kill us.”

  “Have to catch us first.”

  “Leave me here. You gotta. You can get away if you...”

  “Hey, shut up.”

  She scanned the rear of the house. So far, nobody was rushing out.

  At the end of the pool, she stopped. “Which way? You’ve been here. Where can we ... ?”

  “Back there. The fence.”

  She swiveled her head and saw a block wall a few yards beyond the side of the pool. It looked like it might be seven feet high.

  “Great,” she muttered.

  She put her back to it and made for it, towing Andy.

  She watched the house.

  What’U I do if they come?

  If I drop him, I can make it over the wall easy.

  Dad would never drop him in a million years. Not even if it meant dying.

  “Maybe they won’t come,” she said.

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “The cops might be on the way, for one thing.”

  “How do you figure that? You faked the call.”

  “Maybe they don’t know I faked it. Besides, maybe the cops picked up when I made the real call ...”

  “Did they?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Anyway, you didn’t tell ’em nothing.”

  “Didn’t have to. You call 911, the computer gives ’em the address. They’ll send out a car.”

  “Do you think they will?”

  “They might. If those bastards think they’re coming, that’s what counts. They don’t wanta be chasing us around if cops’re on the way.” Seeing that she had passed the comer of the pool, she glanced over her shoulder. The wall was only ten or twelve feet away. “We’re gonna make it,” she muttered.

  “Here they come,” said Andy.

  The words turned her insides cold and squirmy.

  They were coming, all right. The two from the balcony—silhouettes backlit by downstairs windows, one waving his saber overhead, the other sprinting ahead of him. The one in the lead must’ve put away his knife, maybe so he could run faster. They raced toward the pool from off to the left.

  At least it’s between us.

  At least the ax guy isn’t with them.

  Things could be worse ...

  Jody’s back hit the wall. She twisted around, swinging Andy, then shoved him at the gray barrier, lifted him, rammed him upright against the blocks. His body shuddered and he cried out. She grabbed the waist of his jeans, stuck her other hand under his crotch and heaved him upward.

  He seemed to spring into the air.

  He flung his arms across the top of the wall.

  The moment Jody saw that he had a purchase, she leaped clear. He kicked up his good leg. She looked back and saw the one guy—the one who’d caught her in the front yard—tilt sideways as he rounded the pool’s comer. He was way ahead of the saber man.

  Jody flung herself at the wall. Leaping, she grabbed its top. Her body made a smacking sound as it struck the blocks. She pulled with her arms, climbed with bare toes digging at the vertical face. Higher, higher, the rough blocks scuffing the bottoms of her toes, snagging her nightshirt, and then the edge of the top row scraping the undersides of her breasts and moving down her ribs and belly like a rasp file.

  “Hurry!” Andy gasped.

  He was sprawled along the top of the wall, his face only inches from Jody’s right wrist.

  In front of her, just beyond the wall, she glimpsed dark limbs and leaves.

  Good. Not just somebody else’s back yard or pool. A field?

  Maybe we can lose them in the trees.

  “Go!” she told him. “Don’t wait.” She threw her left leg high to the side and caught the edge with her foot.

  Her right leg still hung down, knee and toes against the wall.

  “Watch out!” Andy cried.

  And Jody cried out, herself, when her ankle was grabbed.

  “Gotcha!”

  First one hand, then two. One clutched her ankle while the other rubbed upward on the side of her leg, stopped only a bit below her groin and squeezed her thigh so hard that tears flooded her eyes.

  She knew that wasn’t where he wanted his hand to be.

  Just couldn’t reach any higher.

  “Leave her alone!” Andy yelled.

  Jody looked at the boy. He was blurry through her tears.

  He was pushing himself up. And she knew that he meant to leap on the man and save her.

  She shot out her right arm and shoved the side of his face, ramming his head away. His body twisted, started to tumble off the wall.

  Without her arm to prop her up, Jody plunged forward. The hands tore at her leg, trying to jerk her down, but all her weight and the momentum of the push at Andy’s head threw her toward the other side of the wall.

  Probably snap my leg off.

  She tensed every muscle in her right leg.

  Down below, Andy crashed through foliage, thudded and grunted.

  The edge of the top row of blocks dug hard into Jody’s thigh.

  And into the fingers clutching her there. The man yelped and the hand let go.

  The edge acted like a fulcrum.

  She felt her leg shoot backward and up, ripping her ankle from the man’s grip. The heel of her foot pounded him somewhere. An instant later, her leg flipped high and cleared the top.

  She was upside-down, dropping headfirst, her face only inches from the back of the wall. Then her legs started coming down behind her. The rate they were moving, she figured her heels might be the first part of her body to strike the ground.

  But her legs kept dropping even after she sensed that her body was stretched out level. They swept lower and lower. Then her rump smacked the steep ground, mashing crisp and prickly weeds, bouncing, throwing her forward in a headfirst somersault down the slope.

  A tree pounded her shoulder, knocking her sideways, turning her tumble into a quick, wild roll. She flipped and flipped. She tried to spread-eagle, hoping that outstretched arms and widespread legs would stop her, but the ground battered her arms out of the way and knocked her legs together and she kept on spinning downward like a log. Once, she grabbed a handful of weeds. Their roots popped from the soil. Later, something gouged her side. Finally, the ground dropped out from under her.

  A freefall made her heart lurch with dread.

  But the fall only lasted a moment. She landed on her back on a bed of rocks that rolled and clattered as Jody’s momentum slid her across them and flipped her over one last time.

  For a while, the world seemed to go on tilting and swaying. Then it settled down.

  She lay there, huffing, her heart slamming.

  I’ve gotta get up, she told herself. Gotta get up and run. They’re gonna be coming. They’ll kill me ...

  She didn’t hear them coming, though.

  The wall’s way up there, she thought. Way, way up there. If those guys didn’t have the nerve to jump off the balcony, what’re the chances they’ll make a try at this?

  Who knows?

  If I hear them coming, I’ll get up and run. But not till then.

  For now, she didn’t want to move. Not even to fix her nightshirt.

  The fall had twisted her nightshirt and rucked it way up, leaving her
naked below the midriff. She didn’t like it. Bad enough that her butt showed, but she didn’t enjoy having her bare front against the ground. God-only-knew-what might be there. Bugs, spiders, worms, snakes ...

  All she could feel under her body, however, were rocks. Some small as marbles, some big as baseballs, some round, some blocky, some pointy—each of them pushing against her someplace. They were under her legs and groin and hips and belly and ribs and breasts and arms and face. In some places, they hurt more than in other places. Nowhere did they feel good.

  With an effort that made her dizzy, she moved her arms away from her sides and folded them under her head. She pillowed her cheek on a forearm.

  Better.

  But she still ached everywhere. The rocks weren’t the worst of it, either. Her skin seemed to bum with countless harts. Beneath her skin, her muscles everywhere quivered and jerked and flinched. Under the muscles, her bones seemed to ring from the pounding they’d taken.

  Just to make sure her legs weren’t broken, she moved them slightly. The rocks beneath them rolled a bit. Some scratched her skin. The movement hurt her in many ways. It convinced her, though, that she’d broken no bones in her legs.

  Broken bones.

  Andy! Where’s Andy?

  Slowly, Jody lifted her face off her crossed arms. She swiveled her head.

  The area was very dark, but specks and patches of moonlight glowed here and there. She seemed to be lying on a path of rocks. Its sides were bordered by steep banks a few feet high.

  A creek bed. A dry creek bed.

  Up ahead, where she could see over the banks, the place looked like a jungle.

  This is okay, she thought. This is really good.

  They’ll never find us here.

  She knew that she had to find Andy, though. Lowering her head, she rested for a while longer. Gradually, her breathing and heartbeat calmed down.

  While she waited, she listened. She heard birds twittering and squawking, cars passing on a distant road, the far-off hum of a prop airplane, a door banging shut, a dog yapping, music and voices that apparently came from a television.

  She did not hear anyone crunching through the foliage on the hillside.

  That was a very good thing.

  It was also good that she could hear a television. Though sounds might carry long distances on such a quiet summer night, the TV meant that a house was within a reasonable distance. She could probably get to it if she needed to.