CHAPTER
78
“Sunrise Court,” said Petra, thumbing through her Thomas Guide.
Wil took his penlight out of his mouth. “I know it, one of the walk streets.” He was outside the stand, recording the details of the Zhukanov crime scene.
“Which direction?” she said.
“North, five, six blocks.”
The license number and Samuel Ganzer’s name hadn’t impressed him. “Could be Zhukanov’s boss, a customer. Zhukanov could’ve recorded the license for a check authorization.”
“Could be,” said Petra, having only instinct to back her up. She closed the map book. “So you’ll stay here, keep Zhukanov company?”
“Sure. Maybe he’ll teach me Russian.”
CHAPTER
79
It’s almost eleven. Sam should be back soon. I thought I’d stay up till he got here, but now I’m tired; guess I’ll go to sleep.
He’s probably having a good time with Mrs. Kleinman. I could eat another carrot, but I’m not really hungry… maybe I’ll take another shower. No, I already had one, don’t want to use up too much of Sam’s water.
I go to turn off the living room lamp-maybe I’ll take some magazines to bed-uh-oh, I forgot to switch the alarm back on.
I head for the panel, reach out for the buttons, and from behind me comes an explosion, then a crash-from the back of the house. Oh no, did I leave the stove on or something?
But I don’t smell gas or anything burning, and when I turn, I see a big black space where the kitchen door was and the door’s down on the floor and a guy’s coming through the space, he’s in the house, now, seeing me, throwing open the door to Sam’s room, looking in, coming out Coming at me.
Dressed all in black.
Weird orange-pink skin and yellow hair.
Big.
He looks right at me. I don’t know him, but he knows me!
PLYR 1!
How?
Oh God, no oh no-he’s coming right at me and he’s got a knife-a big pink man with a knife. I want to scream, but my mouth is frozen. I reach for the doorknob, touch only air, and he’s coming faster, closer, such a big knife-I run to the left, but that just puts me in a corner, nowhere to go, bookshelves behind me. I have to do something — throw something, that worked before-books.
I start pulling them off the shelves and heaving them at him as hard as I can. A few hit him, but he keeps coming, walking slower, smiling, taking his time, holding the knife out in front of him, waving it back and forth.
I keep pulling out books and throwing them, they hit him in the face, the chest, the stomach, he laughs, pushes them away, keeps coming, the room’s dark, but he can see me, he keeps coming straight at me.
I try to shove the dusty couch at him, but it’s too heavy.
He laughs.
I pick up the music stand and throw it.
That surprises him. He loses his balance, and I run around him into the kitchen, toward the back door.
Suddenly I’m down on the floor.
Something around my leg.
He’s pulling me by the ankle, I see his knees bend, see the bottom of his chin, his arm, the knife’s coming down I twist around like a snake, just keep moving, moving, maybe if I move he’ll miss and I can get out through the back door. He’s squeezing my ankle, hurting it, I punch at him, keep twisting, get close enough to the arm that’s holding my ankle and bite it, bite it hard, Billy Snake Billy Viper.
He shouts and lets go and I want to run out the back, but he’s blocking the way-where where where-the only choice is fake him out, move to the left then the right, into the bathroom, next best thing get in there, lock myself in.
I jump up, run faster than I’ve ever run before across the kitchen he’s running too breathing hard I make it into the bathroom slam the door lock it squeeze in between the toilet and the bathtub cold floor breathing fast my chest hurts so bad No sound.
Then he laughs again. I hear footsteps. Slow footsteps; he’s relaxed. I’m trying to breathe slower, but every breath makes a squeaky sound.
Through the door I hear: “Stupid little shit. You cornered yourself.”
He’s right.
The bathroom has no window.
Now he’s kicking the door it shakes the wood swells like a balloon that cracks right in the middle I jump up open the medicine cabinet feel in the darkness for something sharp a razor blade scissors anything no razor blade no scissors here’s something pointy a nail file I think it’s not sharp but I grab it he kicks part of his leg comes through black sweats black tennis shoes I stab down at the pants the nail file hits bone but it slides off doesn’t go in he yells calls me a little bastard Another explosion much louder.
Something comes through the door flying by me the mirror on the medicine cabinet door shatters I feel pain in the back of my head put my hand there warm and sticky needles glass needles.
A gun-he’s got a gun, too.
I throw myself into the tub he shoots again now the door is full of holes splintering and now I can see part of him on the other side his legs and shoes and his pants he’s still shooting I’m lying facedown in the tub as low as I can go but a bullet hits the tub and the porcelain shatters and part of the wall falls off this is it I’m trapped finished I did my best it wasn’t good enough I hate you everyone-another explosion the bullet goes into something above my head stuff falls down on me dust tiles I’m getting buried.
Now there’s no door just him big huge the knife in one hand the gun in another.
He turns on the light.
I’ve still got the nail file. He sees it and laughs.
Puts the gun in his pocket.
Oh no the knife.
I curl up don’t want to see it just don’t let me feel it.
He takes hold of my hair pulls me up so I’m on my knees pulls my head back.
I piss my pants and shit slides out of me running down my leg thank you God for nothing you don’t exist you liar Another explosion.
More and moreandmoreandmore I can’t stand the noise I don’t get it what’s he doing He drops me and I fall into the tub hard.
A woman’s voice says, “My God!”
Then: “It’s okay, honey.”
A hand touches the back of my neck.
I scream.
