the thump of a body falling. Zulu's growls were cut off abruptly, and
there was silence. Something had happened to the dog.
Now she was completely alone in the silence.
No, not silence. There was the sound of breathing a heavy panting
breath.
Debra shrank back against the veranda wall, listening and waiting.
She heard footsteps, human footsteps coming through the garden towards
the front door. The footsteps squelched and splashed in the rain
puddles.
She wanted to call out a challenge, but her voice was locked in her
constricted throat. She wanted to run, but her legs were paralysed by
the sound of the intruder climbing the front steps.
A hand brushed against the wire scieening, and then settled on the
handle, rattling it softly.
At last Debra found her voice. Who is that? she called, a high panicky
cry that ran out into the night silence.
Instantly the soft sounds ceased. The intruder was frozen by her
challenge. She could imagine whoever it was standing on the top step,
peering through the screening into the darkness of the veranda, trying
to make her out in the gloom. Suddenly she was thankful for the dark
blouse and black slacks.
She waited motionlessly, listening, and she heard a little wind shake
the tree-tops, bringing down a sudden quick patter of droplets. A
hunting owl called down near the dam. She heard the thunder murmur
bad-temperedly along the hills, and a nightiar screeched harshly from
amongst the poinsettia bushes.
The silence went on for a long time, and she knew she could not stand it
much longer. She could feel her lips beginning to quiver and the cold
and fear and the weight of the child were heavy upon her bladder, she
wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to.
Then suddenly the silence was broken. In the darkness there was the
sound of a man giggling. It was shockingly close and clear, and it was
a crazy sound. The shock of it seemed to clutch at her heart and crush
the air from her lungs. Her legs went weak under her, beginning to
shake, and the pressure on her bladder was intolerable, for she
recognized the sound of that laughter, the sick insane sound of it was
graven upon her mind.
A hand shook the door handle, jerking and straining at it. Then a
shoulder crashed into the narrow frame. It was a screen door, not built
to withstand rough treatment. Debra knew it would yield quickly.
She screamed then, a high ringing scream of terror, and it seemed to
break the spell which held her. Her legs would move again, and her
brain would work.
She whirled and ran back into her workroom, slamming the door and
locking it swiftly.
She crouched beside the door, thinking desperately.
She knew that as soon as he broke into the house Akkers need only switch
on a light. The electricity generator would automatically kick in on
demand, and in the light he would have her at his mercy. Her only
