Heathen/Nemesis

wardrobes.

‘Call the police,’ she whispered to Julie, who needed no prompting and had already reached for the phone beside the bed. She frowned and flicked at the cradle. The line was dead.

‘Nothing,’ she said, a note of panic in her voice. ‘They must have cut the lines.’ She replaced the useless receiver, her attention now divided equally between listening to the sounds from below and watching her sister.

Donna slid the wardrobe door open, pulling the light cord inside. In the dull glow she was hunkered over what looked like a safe, a metal cabinet encased in oak. She took a key from the top of the cabinet and inserted it into the small lock, pulling the door open.

‘My God,’ Julie murmured as she stared at the contents.

There were four pistols inside the gun cabinet. The light reflected dully off their metal lines.

A .38 Smith and Wesson. A 9mm Beretta 92S Automatic. A chrome-plated .357 Magnum and a Charter Arms .22 Pathfinder revolver. Stacked at the bottom of the cabinet were boxes of ammunition.

Donna took the .38, pushed open a box of shells and flipped out the cylinder, thumbing the high-velocity ammunition into the chambers.

Julie looked on in disbelief, jumping involuntarily as Donna snapped the cylinder into position. She got to her feet and Julie found the image before her disorientating: her older sister, hair still ruffled, dressed only in a thin, short nightdress, gripping a gleaming revolver in her hand. It would have seemed absurd but for the seriousness of the situation.

‘What are you going to do?’ Julie asked, moving across the room, pulling her dressing gown on, glancing warily at the pistol Donna gripped expertly in both hands. ‘You can’t shoot whoever it is, Donna. This isn’t a film, for Christ’s sake.’

‘I know. And whoever is down there isn’t going to back off when someone shouts cut, are they?’

The two women locked stares, Julie blenching as she saw the determination in her sister’s eyes.

‘Come on,’ said Donna, moving slowly towards the bedroom door.

Julie hesitated a moment.

‘Do you want to wait until they’re up here?’ Donna asked challengingly.

Julie shook her head. Both of them paused by the door, listening.

The sounds were still coming from downstairs.

Donna heard a creak, a sound she recognized well.

One of the hinges on the sitting-room door squeaked.

The intruder was moving into the hall.

It wouldn’t be long before he made his way up the stairs.

Thirty-Three

‘Open it,’ Donna said, nodding towards the handle of the bedroom door.

Julie reached for it, hesitated, then closed her shaking hand around the cold brass. The chill seemed to fill her entire body. Goose pimples rose on the flesh of her forearms. She wondered if she would find the strength to force the door open.

What lay beyond in the gloom?

‘Let me out first,’ whispered Donna. ‘When I tell you, put all the lights on.’

Julie nodded, remembering that there was a panel of four switches close to the door which controlled the lights on the landing, the stairway and the hall.

Donna gripped the gun more tightly, her own body quivering slightly in anticipation as much as fear.

What if the intruder was armed?

What if she had to fire?

She remembered the hours she and Chris had spent standing on a firing range, the shooting designed as a hobby to begin with. As they’d attended more regularly they’d become proficient shots, then accomplished marksmen. When firing at a target, anyway, Donna thought.

Targets didn’t shoot back.

Was he still in the hallway?

If so, what would be her best strategy?

Confront him? Hold him in the sights of the .38 until the police arrived? And how were they to arrive when the lines had been cut?

Thoughts tumbled through her mind madly.

What if he was already outside the door, waiting for her to emerge?

She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to push the thoughts aside, trying to clear her mind.

Come on, come on.

She could feel her heart thudding hard against her ribs, the blood rushing in her ears.

You can’t wait all night.

Donna held the gun out in front of her.

Do it.

‘Now,’ she said, and Julie pushed the door open, allowing Donna to slip out onto the landing.

She scrambled across the carpet, the gun held out moving awkwardly as she attempted to keep the .38 raised.

It was pitch black on the landing; the only light came from a small window about half-way up the stairs.

In the light from that window Donna saw a figure.

The figure was moving up the stairs.

‘The lights,’ she shouted frantically and Julie joined her on the landing, slapping at the switches.

The landing, the stairs and the hall were all bathed in light. In the explosion of radiance the intruder could be seen clearly.

Julie screamed.

The sound echoed off the walls and drummed in Donna’s ears as she too recoiled from the figure’s features.

She could scarcely find the strength to stand up as she saw him freeze, startled by the sudden appearance of the two women and, she thought, even more so by the sight of the gun.

Julie put a hand to her mouth to stifle another yell of terror as she looked at the man’s face.

It was pale, almost yellow, the eyes only sunken pits. There didn’t seem to be any whites. The flesh itself was rutted with a dozen or more deep gashes, some of which looked as though they’d partially healed only for the scabs to picked away again, revealing purple welts beneath. On the forehead and cheeks were large protuberances, nubs of flesh that looked like boils on the verge of bursting, brimming with corpulent pus. The man’s head was covered by fine white hair that swirled around his ravaged face as he moved. The mouth was nothing more than a gash between the chin and nose filled with moulding teeth.

Julie took a step back, her eyes riveted to the horrendous sight.

Donna dragged herself upright, the gun still pointing at the hideous intruder.

As he began to move towards her she realized that the repellent features were not those of a man at all.

The intruder was wearing a mask.

The sudden realization fortified her and she took a step towards him.

‘Stand still,’ she shouted.

The venom in her command seemed to take the man by surprise. He looked at her, then down into the hall at something she couldn’t see.

Donna heard the sound of the front door bolts being drawn, the chain being pulled free.

The figure on the stairs turned to run.

‘I’ll shoot,’ Donna bellowed.

As she ran towards him the figure vaulted the bannister.