Endless Night (6 page)

He’s
leaving?

He didn’t spot us after all?

He thinks we ran outside!

Right at the start of all this, the guy who killed Evelyn hadn’t noticed Jody standing just behind her in the dark room. Maybe this guy had no better eyesight than ...

He didn’t run out into the night, but whirled away from the open door and rushed for the stairs as his friends with the knife and saber charged into the house.

Andy grabbed Jody’s sleeve. He pulled it hard, stretching the neck of her nightshirt down off her shoulder. The pull sent her stumbling toward him, and a wall blocked her view of the three intruders.

“Come on!” he gasped in a whisper.

“They got a gun?”

She heard a thunder of footfalls on the stairs.

“Phones. Almost every room has a ...”

“It’s too damn late for 911.”

“We can...”

“Let go of my sleeve.”

He let go. The ruined neck still drooped off her shoulder.

“Get ready to run.”

“What ... ?”

She leaped sideways. The ax man was in the lead, rushing up the stairs like a crazed lumberjack. When Jody loomed above him, he hefted the ax.

Jody hurled her Louisville Slugger like a short, stubby spear.

She’d aimed for his forehead.

That’s where the bat struck him, its fat end clouting him above his eyebrows, bashing his head back.

The moment she saw the bat hit him, she sprang sideways past the wall and gasped, “Go!” and hoped Andy would lead them to someplace with a lock.

From the sounds of thuds and slams and outcries she heard as she lunged after Andy, she guessed that the ax man must’ve gone backward down the stairs and knocked into one or both of his buddies.

He’s gotta be out of the picture, she told herself.

But that leaves the other two.

Two against two. Now the sides are even.

Right. Even, my butt.

They’ll kill us.

“Where’re we going?” she blurted as she dashed down the corridor on Andy’s heels.

“Jim’s room.”

“He got a lock?”

“A phone.”

“Does his
door
lock?”

“Don’t know.”

She heard the men behind her.

“Johns got locks,” she gasped.

“No phone.”

A glimpse back showed her two dim figures rushing side by side.

“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.