Endless Night (48 page)

She didn’t have time to thumb off her safety, much less bring up the pistol and fire it.

She didn’t have time to cry out.

Chapter Forty-three

Jody had time only to see him.

A man about her own size, the top of his head bristly with short whiskers, his eyes atwinkle with glee in a face that looked feminine and might have been very pretty except that one side of it was so wrecked with bruises and runny wounds. She got the impression that he was naked.

Even as she caught her first glimpse of him, she wanted to call out for help and she wanted to shoot him.

Before she had time to do either, he slammed a fist into her belly.

Jody folded at the waist.

As she sank to her knees, she saw that he wore a mini-skirt. It was nearly the same color as his skin. A hunting knife was sheathed at his hip. On his feet were white socks and blue sneakers.

He stepped on her left hand, pinning the pistol down and mashing her fingers. The pain wrenched her mouth open. She had no breath to cry out.

Crouching in front of her, he grabbed her hair and jerked her head up. “Hello, Jody,” he whispered. “I’m Simon. Remember me?”

She didn’t try to answer. All she could do was fight to suck air into her lungs.

But she remembered him, all right.

“We’re gonna have some great fun,” he whispered.

He took his foot off Jody’s hand and pulled the pistol out from under her throbbing fingers. Then he stood up, lifting her by the hair.

Pivoting, he swung her across the hall and pushed her backward into her father’s bedroom.

She choked out, “Dad!”

The overhead lights came on. Simon’s right arm was out, the barrel of the gun at the switch.

Now the barrel was swinging toward Jody.

He shoved her.

Stumbling away, falling, she watched him aim at a point above her head.

Bam Bam Bam Bam! Bam Bam!

In the midst of the gunshots, she heard her father cry out.

Then she struck the floor—rump, then back, then head.

Simon, beyond her feet, had stopped firing. White smoke curled up out of the muzzle. The pistol’s slide was back.

It’s out?

There could’ve been two more rounds. Andy had been last to load the magazine. He must’ve quit at six.

He shot Dad six times, oh my God, oh my Jesus, no!

Simon dropped the pistol. He pulled the knife from its sheath. “One down, one to go.”

One to go?

Does he mean me or Andy?

Maybe he doesn’t know about Andy.

Simon shook the blade at her. “Stand up.”

As she got to her feet, she turned around to see her father. She glimpsed him sprawled on the mattress, motionless, his pajama shirt open, blood everywhere.

“No!”

She spun and threw herself at Simon.

His knife was out, waiting for her.

She didn’t care.

She expected it to push way deep into her belly, and she wondered how it would feel.

At the last moment, she hunched down slightly and rammed him with her shoulder. Simon grunted. He fell backward through the doorway and crashed to the hall floor, Jody on top of him. The impact jolted her. But she didn’t feel any horrible sickening pain, didn’t feel a blade buried in her anywhere.

Underneath her, Simon chuckled.

“Knew you’d be like this,” he said. “Feisty. A real scrapper. Love it.”

She tried to push herself up, but he clamped an arm across her back and held her tight against him. When she tried to kick, she found her legs trapped between his legs.

She felt a tug down by the side of her left thigh. Then came a ripping sound.

So that’s where the knife is.

Where’s Andy?

Go on ahead and cut the thing to ribbons, you bastard.

“ANDY! ANDY! RUN FOR IT!”

“Shut up!”

“GET OUT OF THE HOUSE! HE’S HERE! HE’S HERE! YEOW!”

“Shut up, or I’ll stab you again.” Simon rolled and hurled her aside. He scrambled to his feet and raced up the hallway toward the guest room.

How does he know ... ?

“HE’S AFTER YOU!” Jody shouted. “GET OUT THE WINDOW! HURRY!”

Simon snarled over his shoulder at her.

She propped herself up with an elbow and looked down to check the damage.

There was plenty of light from the open doors on both sides of the hallway.

Her nightshirt had been slit up the side almost to her armpit. Simon had stabbed her just below the hip. The half-inch wound sent blood trickling both ways, down to her groin and down the slope of her buttock.

She struggled to get up, and was on her knees by the time Simon slammed open the guest room door.

A moment later, light spilled into that end of the hallway.

“You little shit!” she heard Simon yell.

Eyes on the guest room’s doorway, Jody got to her feet.

I could get away!

Instead, she dashed for the guest room. She was surprised that she could run so well. Her left leg looked strangely healthy, striding out bare and sleek, but pain from the stab wound radiated down to her toes and all the way up the back of her neck.

How bad’ll it hurt if he really stabs me?

If?

When’s more like it.

So what!

She was almost to the guest room door when Simon lurched out in front of her.

He was not splattered with blood.

He clutched the front of Jody’s nightshirt, swung her, and slammed her hard against the wall.

“Neat play,” he muttered through his clenched teeth. “But it isn’t gonna help you.”

“He got away?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got you. You’re mine.” He jerked her away from the wall. Using the clump of nightshirt like a handle, he rushed her down the hall. She stumbled sideways. Though Simon was no larger than Jody, he seemed far stronger. He didn’t even seem to be
bothered
by her struggles.

In her father’s bedroom, he threw her to the floor.

He went to the bed, grabbed Dad by one arm and dragged him sideways.

On hands and knees, Jody cried out, “Leave him alone!”

Dad tumbled off the edge of the mattress and struck the floor.

“You dirty fucking bastard!”

Simon came at her, grinning. “That’s what I like. Spirit. Give me hell, honey.”

Jody started crawling backward.

She saw that Simon had an erection. It stuck straight out, propping up the front of his mini-skirt, terribly big and stout, the slot at its tip glistening.

He’s gonna stick it in me.

That big, awful thing.

“Cops,” she gasped. “They’ll be here in a minute.”

“Oh, I doubt it. Bet I’ve got at least ten. And that’s
after
Andy calls. First he’s gotta get to a phone that works—find a neighbor to let him in? We’ll have
plenty
of time.”

He clamped the knife between his teeth to free his hands, rushed Jody, grabbed hold of her upper arms and hoisted her up. He swung around. He drove her backward. He hurled her down on the bed.

She bounced on the mattress and slid on the warm goo of her father’s blood.

Taking the knife from his teeth, Simon knelt on the end of the bed. He leaned forward and grabbed her ankles. As he pulled her toward him, he spread her feet apart. Kneeling between them, he tugged at a Velcro fastener at the side of his skirt. He tossed his skirt to the floor. He still wore a leather belt and knife sheath.

He crawled between Jody’s knees. He flapped the loose front of her nightshirt out of the way, bent over and resumed cutting it.

Jody listened for sirens.

She didn’t hear any.

She heard only her own rough heartbeat and breathing, and the whispery sound of Simon’s knife slicing the fabric beneath her arm. Then came a quiet giggle and a blast of pain that made Jody buck and whimper.

He’d stabbed her armpit.

“Was it good for you?” he whispered.

“Fuck you,” she gasped.

“Oh, no. Fuck
you.”
Instead of continuing to cut her nightshirt, he put the knife between his teeth and grabbed the neck of the garment with both hands. He jerked. As the fabric split in front, he tugged it off her shoulders and down to her knees. There, he was in the way. He crawled backward until he was past her feet.

Where he had to be kneeling at the very end of the mattress.

Jody raised her head. She saw him pull the bunched rag of nightshirt off her feet and toss it aside.

She spread her legs. She raised her knees. She pushed at the mattress with her heels and slid herself a few inches toward the head of the bed.

She was careful not to move far.

Simon grinned. He took the knife out of his mouth. “Where do you think
you’re
going?” he asked, and began to crawl toward her.

“Leave me alone,” she gasped.

“You’re so beautiful. This is gonna be so great.”

She drew her knees up and farther apart.

Simon’s gaze latched on where she knew it would. He moaned. He licked his lips. He leaned toward her. “Oh, this is even better than ...”

Jody shot her legs forward. Her feet clapped against his shoulders. With a yelp, he tumbled backward and vanished off the end of the bed. He thudded to the floor and grunted.

Jody rolled fast to her right, to the side of the bed that didn’t have her father on the floor. Even in her rush to save herself, she didn’t want to step on him. She didn’t want to
see
him, not all bloody and dead.

Her feet hit the floor. As she stood up, she saw Simon on his back past the end of the bed. He was propped up on his elbows, gaping at her. He had the knife in his right hand. He shook its blade at her. “Which do you want first, babe? This—or
this?”
He thrust up his hips.

I’ll never get past him!

Then she seemed to hear her father’s voice.
Never say never, kid. Go for it. Go for broke.

She went for it. Hurling herself forward. Dashing alongside the bed, teeth gritted against the pain of her old and new wounds. Pouring on the speed. Seeing the surprise on Simon’s face.

Surprise and joy.

He rolled to intercept her.

She leaped high.

The knife got her in the back of the leg, in the crease behind her knee.

She cried out. When she came down from her leap, her left leg folded. She slammed the floor. The rug scorched her as she slid.

Gotta have the knife!

Squirming, she reached back to pull it from her leg. Her fingertips found only the raw gash.

She twisted around and saw Simon crawling toward her. The knife was still in his hand.

“FREEZE! DON’T MOVE A MUSCLE OR YOU’RE DEAD MEAT!”

Andy!

Jody looked up and saw him standing in the doorway only a few feet in front of her. He wore the pale blue pajamas that Dad had bought for him in Indio. He held Jody’s .22, its muzzle aimed beyond her.

He hadn’t escaped out the guest room window, after all.

Must’ve hidden somewhere.

Couldn’t run away and leave me to this bastard.

Came to save me.

To save me with an empty gun.

The Smith & Wesson in Andy’s hand was the same pistol that Simon had used on Dad.

Simon had dropped it—almost in the same place where Andy now stood—after running out of ammo.

But its slide was forward as if it were loaded and cocked.

Andy’s arm stiffened, “I said FREEZE! I mean it! I’ll shoot!”

“Not with
that,
you won’t.”

“You wanta bet?”

“Fire away.”

Andy shook his head. “You just want me to waste my ammo.

“You don’t
have
any ammo,” Simon said. “Have you ever seen Jody naked before? Look at her. Look at her lovely legs.” Hands clutched her ankles. “Wouldn’t you like to do this to her?”

Andy watched, his eyes very wide, his mouth open.

Jody twisted her head around and saw Simon, on his knees, sink down and kiss the calf of her left leg. He kissed it only once, then began to lick up her blood. He worked his way higher, his tongue darting out and stroking her. It felt slimy. She supposed a snail would feel like this. Or a slug. A leech, a blood sucker.

When he came to the back of her knee, he sucked hard on the gash.

Jody flinched and swung her head around and looked up at Andy.

The boy seemed transfixed.

“Don’t
let
him!” Jody gasped. “Shoot him!”

Right. Shoot him with an empty gun.

“You’d like to do this, too, wouldn’t you?” Simon asked, his voice soft and sweet. “Look at her lovely ass. Mmm.”

Jody felt him kiss one buttock, then the other. Then his tongue slid down her crack.

“For God’s sake, Andy!”

The front of Andy’s pajama pants now jutted out.

“Don’t let him. Please.”

“Stop,” Andy said. He didn’t sound as if he meant it. His voice was a quiet monotone. “You’d better stop, mister.”

Simon bit her right buttock.

The pain was odd and familiar. She knew it from sliding into bases. A pain that hurt but also made you feel like giggling. She felt a thickness in her throat. Tears blurred her vision. She lowered her head and started to cry.

Simon’s teeth clamped her other buttock.

Bam!

She jerked. Simon’s teeth released her, this time without biting.

Jody blinked tears from her eyes and raised her head. Andy had the pistol pointed at Simon. She twisted her head around.

Simon, on his knees between her legs, was straightening himself up from the waist. His hands were by his sides. The knife was in the sheath hanging from his belt. He had a surprised look in his eyes. His face was all bloody—the tip of his nose, his lips and cheeks. Blood even dripped off his chin.

He’s shot through the mouth!

Wait, she thought. No. He couldn’t have been shot through the mouth. Not with my butt in his teeth.

Then where ... ?

Nowhere, that’s where.