Student Body (Nightmare Hall) (9 page)

No one in the house on the hill above me heard my screams. The door didn’t open, no one rushed down the gravel driveway to help me.

But there
was
help up there. There had to be. Someone had to be home, someone to make this terrible pain go away, someone to take me back to the safety of my room on campus.

Because I still felt someone was after me. And I felt so vulnerable standing there alone on the side of the road.

When the excruciating pain eased a little, I let my hands drop from my face and looked up at the house. There seemed to be only a few lights on inside the house. The branches of the huge old oak trees were still bare, their branches pointing like wizened fingers toward the moonless sky. I heard no music coming from the house, no voices or laughter. But someone
had
to be inside, I told myself.

I did
not
want to go up to that house. I’d been in it once or twice, at parties, and I’d had a good time. But I could remember thinking then that being inside Nightmare Hall while a party was going on, while there were people and music and laughter and talk and dancing, had to be very different from being there late at night when the lights were off and all was quiet. Nothing to distract you then from hearing the eerie sounds the huge, drafty old house must make or from seeing things in the shadows that you didn’t want to see.

If I hadn’t been in so much trouble, I would never have trudged up that curving gravel driveway. But I had no choice. My footsteps as I reluctantly climbed the hill crunched softly. The only other sound was my pained breathing.

The porch light wasn’t on, and I had only the faint light from several windows to guide my way. But even in that dim glow, I could see that the porch tilted slightly, as if the posts holding it up were different lengths, and the tired black shutters could have used a coat of paint. An old wooden swing moved slightly as the oak tree branches overhead tossed a brisk breeze toward the house.

The breeze moved the swing gently backward, toward the white railing, and then forward again before allowing it to settle into place.

That was when I noticed that it wasn’t empty.

My knees went weak with relief. Someone
was
home, after all. I wouldn’t even have to go inside Nightmare Hall to get help because here they were, sitting outside, almost as if they’d been waiting for me.

Waiting for me?

If they’d been sitting on that swing for more than a few minutes, they had to have heard my screams. I was surprised that the people
inside
the house, if there were any, hadn’t come rushing out, my screaming had seemed so shrill and loud. It would have been impossible for anyone sitting outside on that swing not to have heard me.

Then why hadn’t they rushed down the hill to help?

There was something else odd about the figure sitting on the swing.

It was dressed all in white.

I moved closer but slowly, cautiously, still wondering why whoever this was hadn’t come to help me.

Suddenly I had that feeling again, the feeling of eyes on me, watching me, angry and filled with hate. It hit me like a hammer to my chest, so strong, so powerful that it took my breath away.

I stopped walking, I stopped breathing, I stopped wondering, but my eyes remained fixated on the figure in the swing.

And then I realized why he or she appeared to be dressed all in white. Because of the bandages.

The figure on the swing was completely swathed in bandages, from the top of its head, around its head and face, down its neck and shoulders, arms, chest, legs, and feet. The only visible parts of its body were its eyes, staring out from between the wide, white strips of gauze.

My mouth fell open, and my breath caught in my throat. Hoop. It looked exactly like Hoop sitting there.

It couldn’t. This … thing … wasn’t Hoop. It was something else. Had to be. But …
what!

I couldn’t see the expression in its eyes, but I could
feel
it. Hatred … undiluted, raw hatred. I felt it as surely and as strongly as if we were only inches apart and I was staring directly into its face.

It stood up, stiffly, like an automaton, and, arms swinging at its sides, began moving away from the swing. Toward
me.
I heard a hoarse, whispery voice utter one word. “Tory,” was all it said. “Tory.”

But that one word was so full of hatred, of disgust, of contempt and loathing, that I recoiled as if I’d been struck in the face.

The mummylike figure kept coming, murmuring my name over and over again as it moved across the porch and then, stiffly, awkwardly, down the wide steps of Nightmare Hall.

It was coming for me.

A strange, strangled sound slipped from between my lips. I began backing up, unable to look away from this strange figure that was heading straight toward me. When it was almost upon me, I finally shook myself free, and turned to run.

But before I’d taken a step, a powerful hand came from behind me and slammed against the side of my head.

My feet came up off the ground and my body flew sideways. When I landed, my right temple slammed into a rock imbedded in the ground, and without a sound, I slipped away from the world, into nothingness.

T
HE FIRST THING I
was aware of was Jessica Vogt’s voice saying, “Tory, wake up, wake up!” Jessica lived at Nightmare Hall. I couldn’t understand why Jessica, who didn’t live in my dorm, was telling me to wake up. If anyone was going to wake me up, it should be Nat, my roommate, shouldn’t it?

What was Jessica Vogt doing in my room?

Before that question was answered for me, I realized that her boyfriend, Ian Banion, was with her, because I heard him say, “I checked out her car. It must have overheated.” A flashlight played around my head. “The steam must have burned her when she opened the hood. Look at her face.”

When I opened my eyes, I saw him standing over me, and Jess kneeling by my side.

Where was I? I peered around in the darkness.

Ian’s words sank in as I hauled myself up to lean on my elbows. Overheating? “My car isn’t on fire?”

“No. And please don’t mention the word fire,” Ian cautioned. “After that blaze at the park the other night, that word all by itself makes people nervous. But no, your car wasn’t on fire. You thought it was?”

I nodded as Jess helped me to my feet and I saw that we were in front of Nightingale Hall. The lawn and the house and the oak trees and the gravel driveway swam around me like a carousel, making me dizzy.

“Radiator must have a leak,” Ian added. “Not a drop of water in it.”

“No, that’s wrong,” I said in a surprisingly firm voice. “I just had them check it at the gas station on Wednesday. I took it to Griff’s in town. They said everything was fine.”

Ian shrugged. “Well, it’s not fine now. I’ll put some water in it, but you’d be better off not trying to drive it. Could do more damage. We can take you back to campus. I’ll call Griff’s for you, and they can come and get it.”

“I don’t see how they could have missed a radiator leak,” I groused. But at least the car hadn’t been on fire.

“Did you fall, Tory?” Jess asked. “This ground is so rocky. You have to be careful.”

I couldn’t remember how I’d ended up on the ground. But my temple hurt, and I put my hand to it. It came away sticky with blood.

“I think,” Jess said, “that Tory should come into the house with us. Mrs. Coates will have something to put on her face, to stop the pain.” Peering into my face, she added, “I didn’t know radiator steam could do that much damage.”

I should have said, It can’t. The radiator had some help from the tanning capsule. But I didn’t. Because I’d have had to explain, and I didn’t feel like it. They’d never understand. I was having trouble myself, trying to remember why we’d gone into that stupid tanning salon in the first place. Oh, yeah, Mindy. To keep Mindy occupied so she wouldn’t spill her guts. I couldn’t very well tell Jess and Ian that, could I? So I said nothing.

It wasn’t until we started up the wide steps to the porch and I saw the wooden swing swaying gently that I remembered the figure in white. It all came back to me in a rush. I jerked backward, my eyes on the swing.

“Tory, what’s wrong?” Jess asked when I stopped moving up the steps. “What’s the matter?”

“Did you see it?” I asked, my eyes never moving away from that swing. “When you came out, did you see it?” I turned on the steps to point down at the lawn. “There, where I was, was anyone else there when you came out?” I turned around again to look at Jess. “Why did you come outside, anyway?”

“Did we see
what
?” Ian asked.

“We came out because Ian looked out the window and saw your car on the highway,” Jess said. “He figured someone might be in trouble.”

“Well, did you
see
it?” I repeated, my voice rising unsteadily.

“We can’t answer that question,” Ian said with remarkable patience, “until you tell us what we are supposed to have seen.”

“That … that
person,
all wrapped up in bandages. Like … like Hoop. Just like Hoop.”

“Wrapped in bandages?” Jess looked incredulous. “Tory, what are you talking about? There wasn’t anyone out here but you. At first, we couldn’t imagine why you were unconscious, because it didn’t look like your car had had an accident. But then we saw your head, and I said you must have tripped and fallen. But there wasn’t anyone here with you.”

“There
was
someone,” I insisted. “It was sitting on the swing, and then it got up and said my name and came at me. Didn’t you
see
it? It was right
there
!”

“It?”
Ian said, puzzled. “Why do you keep saying
it,
if it was a person?”

It was hopeless. Whatever it was that I’d seen, it was gone now, and there was no describing it to anyone who hadn’t seen it. “Never mind,” I said. “I guess I was dreaming.”

Nightmare Hall’s housemother, Mrs. Coates, an elderly, sympathetic, gray-haired woman, applied a cool, soothing cream to my face that stopped the pain instantly. And she washed the cut on my head and put some gauze on it. Ian called Griff’s to come get my car, and when I had pulled myself together, Ian and Jess insisted on driving me back to campus. Not that I would have argued. I was in no shape to walk back.

But when we got outside, there was another car parked behind mine down on the highway. A big, old station wagon. Someone was climbing out.

“Bay’s here,” I said unnecessarily as we all glanced down the hill. “He can take me back to school.” I decided right then and there that I wouldn’t lie to Bay about where I’d been. I’d just tell him I’d changed my mind about going to bed. I was sick to death of lying.

He came running up the driveway, and when he saw me, he sagged with relief. “Tory! What the hell? I saw your car, and when I checked, it was empty. I thought … I don’t know what I thought. You okay?”

Judging from the look on his face, he’d been thinking that something pretty horrendous had happened to me.

“Where were you?” I asked when I explained about my car, thanked Jess and Ian for all their help, and Bay and I had begun walking back down the hill. “Have you been to town?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

I knew the feeling.

“So, I went for a ride. No place special. Thought about stopping in at the hospital, but I decided that would be pretty stupid. Can’t see Hoop anyway, and it might make someone suspicious. For all we know, the police are watching to see who comes to visit him.”

That made
his
feelings pretty clear. No way was he going to approve of
my
visit. “Who would it make suspicious?” I said sharply. “Nurse Lovett? She’s not an arson investigator, Bay. I think she’s more interested in helping Hoop get well than she is in finding out how he got that way. As for the police, I think they have better things to do than hang around a hospital all day and night. And Hoop’s parents are too messed up with worry over him to be suspicious. His mother looks terrible.”

We were almost to the station wagon. Bay stopped walking and looked at me. “How do you know how Hoop’s mother looks?”

I sighed. “I was there. Just a little while ago. I wanted to see if Hoop had talked to anyone yet. He hasn’t. Lovett said he can’t. She also said he probably won’t be able to for quite a while.”

“You went to the hospital? Are you crazy?”

Maybe. Seeing tall, threatening figures all wrapped in white coming at you out of the darkness isn’t exactly a sign of sanity. “Yes,” I said, climbing into the wagon and sliding as far as possible away from him on the front seat, “I am definitely crazy. Or I would have told the truth about the fire from the very beginning. We never meant to start a forest fire, we never meant for anyone to get hurt. It was an accident. Maybe the police would have understood. Maybe they’d just have made us pay a fine, or do community service or something.”

Bay started the car and aimed it toward school. He pointed straight ahead of him. “You see that up ahead, Tory? That’s the campus tower. See how the lights shine for miles? You told me once that you loved coming back to campus at night because you could see the tower from so far away and it made you feel like you were on your way home.”

I remembered saying that. It was true. Salem university felt more like home to me than my own house ever had.

“Even if the police and the state cops had let us off the hook,” Bay continued grimly, “the University never would have. We’d be out on our sorry little rear ends. And what other school would take us, with arson on our records?”

“It wasn’t arson!” I protested vehemently. How I hated that word! It sounded so … deliberate. And what we had done wasn’t at all deliberate. It was an accident.

“Tell that to the admissions committee at any school in the country and see how understanding
they
are. Maybe you’re willing to toss your whole future away, but if you trash mine with it, I’ll …” He stopped abruptly and fell silent, his eyes on the road.

I turned my head, very slowly, to stare at him. “You’ll what, Bay? What will you do?”