Fook (35 page)

With that request, the flashlight sprang
back to life, this time from the doorway to the den on her
right.

Startled, “Jesus! How’d you get in there?”
she questioned, throwing her hands up to block the powerful beam of
light from her eyes once again.

There was only one doorway to the den and
she’d been standing beside it the entire time. Even in her
temporary blindness she would have at least heard him passing
directly in front of her. There would have been no way to avoid the
mess in the hall. At least a few rocks and pieces of pottery would
have been kicked. But she hadn’t heard a thing, and now Richard was
once again attempting to blind her with the emergency
flashlight.

“What are you doing? Get the light out of my
eyes,” she grew frustrated.

The light went off again, but as the
swirling lights faded, this time she could still make out her
husband’s shadowy figure, still standing in the doorway just three
feet away.

“I hope you’re having fun,” she playfully
snapped. “I knocked over the orchid. Shine the light down here so I
can pick it up,” she instructed as she knelt down in anticipation,
but the light never came. Looking up at the unwavering figure,
“Richard, it’s not funny anymore. I’m tired. I don’t care if the
power’s out. I just want to pick up my flower and get back in bed.
It’s been a long day.”

Still no light.

“Richard?”

No response.

Deep down, instinct was screaming for her to
run...telling her that something was wrong. For all she knew it had
been screaming at her this entire time, but it was only now that
she was hearing it as a faint click, followed by a beam of light
showed her that the man standing in the doorway was not
Richard.

Frozen by fear, Tabitha just stared up at
the young man. “Richard,” she whined before realizing that the man
standing before her was the same young doctor who’d first treated
her in the E.R. earlier that day.

He smiled, the shadows cast by the light
under his chin, twisting the normally friendly expression into a
thing of sheer terror.

Somehow realizing, that for whatever reason,
her husband wasn’t able to help her, Tabitha broke free of her
paralyzed state and bolted for the stairs. Though close, the front
door wasn’t an option. By the time she reached the door, undid the
deadbolt and lock on the handle, the stranger would have her.

Rounding the end of the railing, leaping up
the stairs three at a time she didn’t bother to look back. It
wasn’t going to do any good to see the intruder close on her heels.
She only hoped that she could reach the bedroom and lock herself
inside where she could call for help before the stranger got a
chance to carry out whatever he had planned.

At the top of the stairs the open bedroom
door came into view. Without hesitation she dashed down the
carpeted hall, darted into the bedroom and slammed the door shut,
locking it and pressing her palms to the thin barrier, trying to
catch her breath and calm her nerves.

“Hello, Mrs. Tillmore.”

Tabitha spun to see that the shadowy figure
was already in the room with her.

Back pressed to the door, “I’m pregnant,”
she whimpered.

Advancing toward her, the only response the
man offered was, “I know.”

*****

“This is a nice house,” Sarah commented as she
navigated the semicircular driveway, bringing the car to rest
directly in front of the steps leading to the front porch.

“Very dark though,” Derek noted, glancing
back at the unlit light posts at each end of the driveway as well
as the dark windows and extinguished lights on the front porch.

“Maybe they don’t like to waste money,”
Sarah knowingly offered up an unlikely explanation. “Besides,
they’re probably in bed,” her voice broke as she continued the
attempt at self comfort.

Sharing in her obvious concerns, Derek took
a deep breath and reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” Sarah stopped him with a hand on his
shoulder. “We don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do this...I do,” Derek
smiled.

“Why?”

“Jason’s my friend. I’m partly responsible
for this situation.”

“How? You didn’t make him kill that guy back
at the liquor store. You didn’t tell him to go off the deep end and
hunt this woman down. Let’s just leave. We can call the Tillmores
from a pay phone and warn them about Jason. That’s all you need to
do.”

Taking his hand off of the door handle, he
placed it over hers. “Tabitha Tillmore isn’t the only one in
danger. There were others, one in particular and if I don’t stop
him now, Jason’s probably going to go after her next. I have to do
this.”

Realizing that she wasn’t going to convince
him otherwise, all she could do was stare into his eyes. They
possessed a comforting quality that seemed out of place given the
situation, but nonetheless, was appreciated as she leaned forward
and gently pressed her lips to his.

Caught off guard, Derek closed his eyes as a
tear and then another rolled down Sarah’s face, lending a salty
quality to the sensual exchange. Countless kisses had been placed
on his lips over the years, but none like hers. There was almost no
movement, no sound, just the warm, moist touch of those velvety
lips, lightly pressed against his. He’d been attracted to Sarah
from that first meeting outside the restaurant and now it was clear
that she’d felt the same.

Opening their eyes, they broke their
embrace. He wanted to tell her to stay in the car and that
everything would be alright, but he didn’t have to say anything.
With a nod and a smile, she seemed to acknowledge the unspoken
words of comfort as he broke eye contact and exited the
vehicle.

The house was completely dark. Given its
brand new appearance, he wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that
the Tillmores hadn’t even moved in yet, but as he climbed the
unexpectedly creaky front steps, he noticed the welcome mat in
front of the door and a narrow placard hanging on the front door
which read,
Welcome Home
.

Though apparently moved in, it was clear
that they hadn’t yet addressed the window coverings as most of the
windows along the porch remained completely open to the outside
world, the faint glow of the waning moon offering what limited
resources it had to illuminate the house’s interior. Pressing his
face against the narrow window to the left of the door, he
attempted to see inside but other than the faint, shadowy outline
of a staircase, he couldn’t see anything.

“Maybe this will help.”

Startled, Derek turned to see Sarah behind
him, holding her keys in the air. On the key ring, pinched between
her fingers, was a tiny flashlight which she had turned on and was
shining in his eyes.

“I thought I told you to stay in the
car.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Well I thought it,” he added, taking the
flashlight from her and shining it in the window.

The tiny light didn’t do much, other than to
expose a toppled plant and a floor covered in shattered pottery and
rocks.

Sarah pushed in to see what he was looking
at. “We have to get in there,” she gasped.

Surprised by her willingness to go charging
into a potentially dangerous situation, he took a step back and
prepared to kick in the door, unsure if he’d even be able to
without breaking his foot.

Anticipating his plan, Sarah reached for the
handle and turning it, pushed the door open.

“It’s open,” she whispered.

“I see that.”

Nervously, he stepped inside with Sarah
close behind. He didn’t want to just go charging up the stairs and
into the master bedroom. There was still the chance that the power
was just out and that the Tillmores had simply forgotten to lock
the front door. The toppled plant and shattered vase could have
been the result of no lights and a new environment. Maybe they’d
bumped into the table, knocking the plant over and didn’t have any
candles or a flashlight to aid them in cleaning it up, so they left
it for morning.

Derek continued to run logical explanations
through his head as he slowly entered the living room. Sensing
Sarah’s growing fear through the tightening grasp of his arm, he
paused in his advance. “Are you okay?”

Receiving a simple nod, he continued toward
what appeared to be the kitchen. Shining the tiny light ahead of
him, a bar height counter came into view, followed by a marble
island covered in the debris of what appeared to be a fallen rack
of pots and pans. Stopping at the bar, Derek shined the light
around the room. Other than the mess on and around the island,
everything seemed completely normal.

Sarah grasp tightened once again.

Looking over his shoulder to see what was
wrong, he was met with a look of horror as she raised her index
finger toward the island. At first he didn’t see what was so
horrific, just some pots and pans; but, scanning lower with the
flashlight, the source of her panic and the future bruise on his
arm became clear as the soft beam of light fell upon the bloody
head of who he could only assume was Mr. Tillmore. Most of his body
was hidden behind the island with only his head from the mouth up
exposed to view, however, given the pool of blood around his head
and a missing eye, there was no mistaking the man’s condition.

Thump.

Startled by the sudden noise, Derek and
Sarah both directed their gaze toward the ceiling, then toward each
other.

“Upstairs,” he whispered, though immediately
questioned why. She’d obviously heard it as well.

Sarah looked terrified.

“Go back to the car,” he instructed, turning
back toward the living room.

Nodding, Sarah again took hold of his arm as
they made their way back toward the front door. With a better sense
of the house’s layout and an eagerness to get outside, the brief
journey back to the front door seemed much quicker than the initial
trip in; however, upon reaching the foyer, they found that the door
which they had left open behind them, was now shut. Pulling at the
handle, it became evident that not only had someone closed the door
behind them, but they had also locked the double keyed deadbolt,
snapping the key off in the lock.

Spinning, Derek quickly scanned the foyer
and surrounding doorways. All seemed quiet. “We’re going to have to
find another way out,” he whispered, motioning back to the living
room in hopes of finding a back door somewhere in the kitchen.

“Help me!” a muffled scream came from
upstairs.

Stopping in the doorway to the living room,
Derek turned to Sarah.

“Let’s just go,” she insisted. “We can call
the police.”

“Go. Find the phone and call the police,
then get out of the house,” he instructed.

“No, come on,” she begged, pulling him
toward the living room.

Derek stood his ground.

“I have to go up there,” he insisted.
“Go.”

Reluctantly, she did as instructed as he
turned for the stairs.

Slowly making his way up the staircase, he
noticed small red spots of blood every few steps as well as random
pieces of what looked like tiny shards of ceramic from the broken
flower pot. He didn’t know what he was walking into but, against
all rational thought, he continued on, pausing at the top of the
stairs to assess which door he might be looking for.

Based on the noise from the kitchen, he knew
the room was toward the back of the house. At the far end of the
hall stood a wide open door to what appeared to be an empty
bathroom. Three doors lined the remainder of the hallway; two to
the right and one on the left.

Cautiously, he proceeded forward,
approaching the first open door on the right. Peeking around the
doorframe he scanned what appeared to be an empty bedroom, filled
with boxes and a disassembled bed. Continuing on, he came to a stop
in front of the open bathroom door with a closed door to either
side of him. Choosing to go left, he pressed himself against the
wall just to the side of the door as he reached for the handle,
slowly turning it and pushing the door inward.

“Help!” a suddenly excited female voice
called out from within the room.

Peeking into the room, the terrified woman
came into view. Mrs. Tillmore was standing in the center of what
appeared to be the master bedroom. She was dressed in baggy pajama
pants and a silky night top, a flow of steady tears adding to a
growing, dark stain in the center of her chest. Behind her stood
Jason, peering over her shoulder as he held a blood stained hunting
knife to her throat.

Though only a day had passed, Jason’s
appearance, much like his personality, was dramatically different.
The glasses, that Derek had grown accustomed to seeing him in, were
gone, likely replaced by contacts, and his usually neatly groomed
hair had been buzzed, leaving only a dark shadow on top of his
head.

“Please, don’t be shy,” Jason greeted his
friend. “Come on in. Mrs. Tillmore’s been waiting for you,” he
pulled the knife closer to her throat as she tensed with fear.

Cautiously, Derek stepped into the room,
holding his hands out in front of him to let Jason know that he
wasn’t armed.

“Why don’t you just go ahead and close that
door behind you,” Jason nodded at the door.

As instructed, Derek turned and closed the
door.

“Ah, don’t forget to lock it. We wouldn’t
want your little girlfriend out there to interrupt our reunion now
would we?”

Derek did as he was told. “Jason, put down
the knife.”

“No hello for an old friend?” Jason seemed
hurt by the lack of a greeting. “Two years go by and all I get is,
‘Jason, put down the knife’,” he mocked.

“Two years?”

“Oh, that’s right. What’s been two years for
me has only been a day for you,” he chuckled. “This whole time
travel thing is kooky isn’t it? Don’t move,” Jason pressed the
knife tighter against the woman’s throat as Derek attempted to take
a step toward them.