Ice (3 page)

She didn’t look forward to staying with the Richards, preferring to be on her own, but she’d deal. She worked for an insurance company and had learned, out of necessity, how to interact with people. As a child and, even worse, a teenager, she’d always hung back, never knowing exactly what to say and certain no one wanted to talk to her anyway. She’d hidden all those painful insecurities behind a wall of hostility, so it wasn’t surprising she hadn’t had any real friends here. She didn’t know why she kept coming back, but she managed at least one trip almost every year. She wished she could afford to live here, in the house where she’d grown up, but Wilson Creek simply didn’t have much in the way of job opportunities, and she didn’t have the money to open her own small business.

The windshield wipers swished back and forth, clearing away the light rain that hadn’t varied in intensity all day. There was something unnerving about the sheer unchanging relentlessness of the rain, as if the very lightness of it was proof that Mother Nature didn’t need to make a dramatic statement to squash civilization like a bug. All it took was a rain not much heavier than a mist, and some cold air in the right position,
to wreak havoc. She felt a chill run up her spine; even though it was hours yet until nightfall, the gloom was deepening, and she had to turn on her headlights. She hadn’t met any traffic since turning on this road, and that in itself was kind of spooky. For a moment she felt the urge to turn around, buy some pajamas and underwear in town, and dart for the safety of the Richards’ house.

Then she saw the blur of a vehicle behind her, too far for her to make out any details, but just knowing she wasn’t alone on the road was enough to settle her nerves. She’d allow herself fifteen minutes, no more, to gather what she needed and head back to town. She should be safe and secure well ahead of the storm’s arrival.

Within minutes she had turned off the main road and was carefully navigating the narrower road that wound up the side of the mountain toward the house. She still knew every curve, every tree and rock, of this road, because she had driven it so often after she’d gotten her driver’s license. Even before that, her mother had taken her to school every day, and picked her up in the afternoons, so for almost her entire life she’d had at least two trips a day up and down this mountain. The road held no surprises for her, no fears; it was the weather that made her anxious.

Her sure-footed SUV, bought used three years ago because she’d needed a dependable four-wheel-drive vehicle, climbed steadily. Visibility dropped as the mist grew heavier. She took a quick glance at the outside
temperature gauge and saw that the temp was just a couple of degrees above freezing. The trees had a faint silvery cast to them; was ice already beginning to form?

Then she turned into the driveway, powering up the long slope toward home. It wouldn’t be “home” much longer, she thought, but right now it still looked welcoming and somehow just right. Never mind that the house was almost sixty years old, had faded a bit, and sagged here and there; it was still large and solid, offering a warm, safe refuge on a wintry night. Too bad she couldn’t stay here, but if she got iced in it would be a couple of weeks before she could get off the mountain, depending on how bad the damage was and how many trees came down.

Much as she loved this place, she knew it was time for the house she’d grown up in to be home to a family again, as it had been home to her. Once the few remaining personal effects here were packed away, sold, or stored, her childhood home would go on the market, and it would no longer be hers in any way. Too bad she wouldn’t have the few days of escaping into the past that she’d wanted, but the weather had other plans.

She didn’t bother with parking in the detached garage, just pulled up close to the front porch. Keys in hand, she hurried up the steps and unlocked the front door. As soon as she let herself in she shed her heavy, hooded winter coat, tossing it over the newel post and dropping her purse on the bottom step.
Detouring to the back, she grabbed her snow boots from the mud room and brought them to join her coat and purse.

She didn’t know when she’d be able to come back, she thought as she started up the stairs. Was there anything in the refrigerator she needed to clean out? No, she didn’t think so. She’d been eating granola bars for breakfast, not bothering even with milk for cereal, and at night she’d either had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or picked up a sandwich in town. She knew how to turn off the water at the valve, and turn off the gas to the water heater; other than locking the door, that was all she could do to get the house ready to withstand the coming storm.

She was halfway up the stairs when she heard the rumble of a vehicle. She stopped, then reversed her path. Knowing the people here as she did, she wouldn’t be at all surprised if someone had heard about the storm, realized she was here with no television or phone, and come to collect her. This had always been the kind of community where neighbors looked after neighbors, and she missed that—some days. She was both glad for the company and concerned at the delay.

Crossing her fingers that she wouldn’t have any trouble getting down the hill, Lolly opened the front door. She expected to find someone she knew, an old friend of her parents or the closest thing she had to a neighbor, and a welcoming smile was on her face. The smile froze when she realized she didn’t know the
rough-looking couple coming up the porch steps, though the woman looked vaguely familiar. Then Lolly remembered seeing her in the grocery store earlier, recognized her even though the stringy dark hair was now partially covered by a knit cap, and a thick coat disguised her thinness.

A couple of possibilities rapidly crossed her mind. Were they lost? Looking for shelter? Maybe they were unfamiliar with the area and didn’t know that they did
not
want to be stuck here on the mountain if the ice was as bad as predicted.

“I’m just on my way out …” Lolly began.

The man right behind the stringy-haired woman pulled a gun from his parka pocket. Shock hit Lolly like a slap in the face; she gaped at the gun, barely comprehending what she saw, then she sucked in a quick breath and instinctively stepped back. The man and woman both rushed at her, shoving her back inside so roughly that she slammed hard into the newel post, staggered, saved herself from falling with a desperate grab at the wood.

The man shoved the door shut behind them. The woman glanced around, at the living room on the left, the flight of stairs straight ahead, the dining room on the right. She smiled, showing discolored and rotten teeth. “See, baby, I told you she was alone.”

Lolly clung to the newel post, literally frozen under the sudden lash of terror, her brain numb, coherent thoughts scattered before they could even form. She groped for understanding, and finally, like a switch
being flipped, her sluggish brain began to function. Home invasion—
here
, in Wilson Creek! It was so wrong, that something like this could happen here, that sheer indignation abruptly shoved terror aside and suddenly she could move, was already moving even before she realized. She ran, ran for her life.

The man shouted, “You bitch!
Fuck!
” as Lolly darted through the dining room, dodging around the table, grabbing one of the heavy chairs and slinging it in his path then racing into the kitchen. Footsteps thudded behind her but she didn’t look, didn’t spare even a split second, just ran for her life. If she could just get outside—

She grabbed for the doorknob, and a hand grabbed her hair. Pain laced her scalp; her head jerked back and she was sent spinning away from the door. Her feet went out from under her and she fell to the floor, the man’s grip cruelly tight on her hair. He shoved her down and she hit the cold, hard linoleum face-first.

Lolly screamed, then caught her breath and held it. She grabbed for her hair, trying to pry his hands away. The sudden weight of his body on hers was heavy and hot. He pressed her into the floor, forcing her breath out, and she couldn’t take another.

“Now you got me all excited,” he whispered in her ear, grinding himself against her bottom. His breath was hot and fetid, and a rough stubble scratched her cheek. She turned her head away from the stink and roughness, but she couldn’t move far. Her fingers
scrabbled at the linoleum, trying to find purchase, trying to find something, anything—

There was nothing. A kitchen was full of weapons, but none of them were on the floor.

He began tugging at her jeans, trying to pull them down.

Damn it,
no!
Both panicked and enraged, she instinctively fought back, slinging her elbows back as far as they would go, trying to hit him. She wiggled and bucked and squirmed, trying to throw him off, but he was too heavy and she was in a helpless position, flat on her stomach on the floor.

He couldn’t get her jeans down. He shoved his hand under her and fumbled with the button and zipper, grunting like an animal. Lolly pressed her hips harder to the floor, trying to mash his hand so he couldn’t get the zipper down, but he jerked her head up and slammed it down on the floor again and white spots swam in her vision. Dazed with pain, she went limp for a second and he shoved his rough hand inside her jeans, against her bare belly.

She was going to die. He was going to rape her, and kill her. Her last minutes alive would be filled with unspeakable terror.

Tears filled her eyes, and she screamed. The sound was rough and raw, like an animal’s, the noise tearing from her throat. She didn’t want to die; she didn’t want her last memory made in this house to be a nightmare. She screamed again and again, unable to stop herself.

He shifted upward, lifting his weight from her. She gulped in a deep breath and tried to gather her strength, then he rolled her over and started yanking again at her jeans.

“Don’t,” she said, sobbing. “Please. Please don’t.” She hated to beg but she couldn’t seem to stop herself, and what did pride matter anyway? She’d do anything to get him to stop. Desperately she searched for some reason she could give him, something that would appeal to him. “I can pay you. I can give you all the money I have.”

He didn’t seem to hear her at all.

The kitchen was dim, with only the scant light from the window, but she could see that he was almost as thin as the woman, most of his teeth were dark with rot, and his eyes … they were strangely wide open and feral, glittering with something that was inhuman.

Drugs. He had to be on drugs, both of them did. There wouldn’t be any reasoning with him, so she stopped trying. He continued jerking at her clothes and she kicked, she screamed, she clawed at any patch of skin on him she could reach, but his coat was heavy and protected him from her nails, so she went for his face. He couldn’t hold both her hands and undress her at the same time, so she punched and clawed at him with every ounce of strength she had, but the blows didn’t seem to affect him at all.

He got her jeans halfway down and reared back to
unzip his own pants. Laughing, he clamped one hand around her throat and leaned his weight on it. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t reach him … her vision grayed, and she couldn’t see anything except his grinning face above hers.
Tunnel vision
, she thought vaguely, and knew she was about to pass out. If she did, she’d be entirely helpless, and his maniacal face with the rotten teeth would be the last thing she ever saw.

Desperate, on the verge of unconsciousness, she tried to jerk her knee up. He shifted, blocking the movement, and laughed.

“Darwin, you son of a bitch!” the woman yelled in a grating tone.

The overhead light came on, the lights shining right in Lolly’s eyes and blinding her. The weight on her throat eased and she coughed, sucking in air. Darwin was very still. “I was just having a little fun,” he said sulkily.

The woman with the stringy hair stood over them both, and with blurred vision Lolly looked up at her. There was no sympathy in the woman’s face, no woman-to-woman empathy, nothing but fury. She had a gun, too, and she had it pointed at Darwin’s head. “Get up.”

“Now, Niki,” he began, belatedly placating as he realized where the pistol was pointing. “Baby, I—”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me, you two-timing son of a bitch.”

Darwin’s gaze shifted from Niki, back to Lolly. She
saw the animal in his eyes, saw him weighing his options. He smiled a little, and then he forced Lolly’s thighs farther apart.

Niki swung her pistol and hit Darwin on the side of the head with it. He yelped, and finally …
finally …
moved off of Lolly. “Fuck, Niki, you could’ve killed me!” he shouted, getting to his feet and pulling up his pants from where they’d drooped over his skinny ass. “Are you fucking crazy?” He grabbed a dish towel and pressed it to the bleeding wound on the side of his head, where the pistol had split the skin.

Lolly struggled to pull her jeans up, scooting across the floor as she did, toward the back door and icy freedom. Maybe these two bags of shit would kill each other. She was dimly shocked by the violence of her own thoughts, but if she could just get away, she didn’t care what happened to them.

Niki’s gaze swiveled from Darwin to Lolly, and so did the pistol barrel. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she spat, then glanced at something in her hand. Lolly froze, blinking. “Lorelei Helton. Portland,” Niki said, and Lolly realized the something was her own driver’s license. Niki had apparently been going through Lolly’s purse while Darwin had been trying to rape her. “What the hell kind of name is ‘Lorelei’? It sounds like a hooker.”

Lolly didn’t bother arguing, just nodded her head in agreement.

“Get up,” Niki said, and Lolly obeyed, using the motion to take another step back, toward the door.
Could she beat both of them, and a bullet? They were druggies, they were likely high right now … their eyes were wide, the pupils shrunk down to tiny dots. How clearly could they think?

Clearly enough. Darwin suddenly said, “Whoa there, bitch,” and lunged across the kitchen to place himself between her and the back door. He shoved her forward.