The Biker (Nightmare Hall) (4 page)

He sat up, plunking his booted feet down on the hardwood floor. “Never mind about me. I’m more interested in why
you’re
here.”

“I told you. I just want a ride, that’s all. When I saw the way you handled that bike last night, well, it just looked like so much fun. I mean,” Echo amended hastily, “not the part about scaring people to death, making them fall all over each other. That’s pretty mean if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.”

“But just a ride, maybe to town and back. I don’t know anyone with a motorcycle, so you’re it.”

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “You
want
something from me. You haven’t spoken to me in class all year, not so much as a hello, and now you suddenly find me fascinating? Because of a motorcycle? What is it about the bike that intrigues you? The noise? The power? The strength? Tell me. I’d like to know.”

Echo felt her cheeks burning. He had a point. She hadn’t ever spoken to him, and even now, it wasn’t him she was interested in, it was the bike ride.

“Aren’t you scared?” he persisted, his eyes still on her face. “You said that what I did last night and today, scaring those people, was mean. So why aren’t you afraid of me? How do you know I won’t do something really horrible to the one person on campus who’s guessed the truth? You’ve got nerve, I’ll say that. Hunting me down and blackmailing me into giving you a ride. Pretty risky, Glenn.”

Echo bristled. “I’m
not
blackmailing you! I’m just asking for a favor. One tiny little ride, that’s all. Why can’t I come with you?”

“Because you might tell, afterward.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t. If I were going to, I’d already have gone to the administration or the cops and told them about the boots. Anyway, it’s not like you’ve killed anyone. You’re just scaring them. Is that a crime? Besides, you said yourself no one would believe me. They’d believe you over me any day, right?”

He shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know. Seems risky to me, taking on a passenger. I’ve been doing just fine on my own. Everyone says you’re trouble. I don’t want you screwing things up.”

“I won’t! Just one ride, that’s all. I promise I’ll disappear then, and I won’t say anything to anyone. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about that,” he said, smiling slightly. It was a smile without warmth. He stood up, looking down on her with cool, pale eyes. “Because like me, you’re not stupid. You’re too smart to do something as dumb as telling on me. That would be the worst thing you could ever do. The
worst,
Echo.”

The way he said that made Echo’s teeth ache, and she realized she was clenching them. It occurred to her in that moment that she might have made a really bad mistake.

She didn’t unclench her teeth until Pruitt said, “I’ll think about it. No promises. Call you,” and walked away, with a new and arrogant swagger that she didn’t think he’d had before. Maybe she’d just never noticed it. After all, as he’d pointed out, she’d never noticed
him
before. Not until last night.

It was easy to figure out why he’d taken to riding a motorcycle. Because the bike was all the things Pruitt wanted to be, but wasn’t. Strong. Powerful. Attention-getting. The roar of the engine must especially please him, because he himself was so quiet. Even when he’d been indignant with her, even when he’d threatened her (and she had not the slightest doubt that she
had
been threatened), his voice hadn’t risen. No wonder he needed a little noise in his life.

I guess, Echo thought as she picked up her books and left the library, I’d better not plan on any lengthy, detailed conversations with him if he takes me for a ride. Between the sound of the engine roaring and the wind whistling around us, it will be impossible for me to hear such a quiet voice.

So who needed to talk, anyway?

Her heart skipping a beat every now and then when she thought about racing down the highway with the wind in her face, and thought about feeling free and daring and adventurous, Echo went back to Lester to wait for Pruitt’s call.

E
CHO HADN’T THE SLIGHTEST
idea whether or not Pruitt would call, but during the hour in her room before she had to go on duty at the infirmary, she stayed as close to the phone as it was humanly possible to get. She only left once, to race downstairs to the vending machine for a sandwich and coffee.

“You’re expecting a call?” Trixie asked with as much disbelief in her voice as if she’d asked, “You’re expecting to be crowned Miss America?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Echo answered drily. “But yes, I am expecting a call. So I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t keep the phone permanently attached to your ear for a change.”

Trixie tossed her long, carefully curled blonde hair and said with disdain, “It’s Saturday
night,
Echo.
I’m
not going to be here. So there won’t be anyone distracting you from waiting for your little phone call.”

Echo laughed. Trixie hadn’t said, “from
answering
your phone call.” Because Trixie didn’t believe the anticipated call would ever come.

Echo wasn’t sure she believed it, either. Had she been convincing enough when she’d promised Pruitt that she wouldn’t tell?

She ate her sandwich, drank her coffee, and lay down on the bed, not sleeping, not thinking, just waiting and hoping the phone would ring. She
wanted
that bike ride!

Still, when the phone did ring, she jumped, startled.

It was Pruitt. “No way am I coming to your dorm,” he said abruptly. “That’d be stupid. Meet me behind the infirmary, near the stone wall. Nine o’clock. If you’re not there, I’m taking off.” He hung up.

Echo laughed aloud. The guy knew absolutely nothing about making polite, idle conversation. But then, it wasn’t her strong suit, either. And she
was
going to get her ride.

First, she had an hour shift at the infirmary. Good. It would make the time go by faster. If she had to stay in her room until nine o’clock, she’d jump out of her skin.

Deejay, Marilyn, and Ruthanne were already in the whirlpool, comfortably settled, when Echo arrived. They were deep in conversation about the two biker attacks.

“I don’t understand why no one has apprehended him yet,” Ruthanne complained.

Echo had to hide a smile. Apprehended? Ruthanne was an English major.

“Me, either,” Marilyn agreed. She was lying so low in the whirlpool only her pale, moon-shaped face showed. “There aren’t that many motorcycles on campus. How hard can it be to find the right one?”

“He’s going to hurt someone,” Deejay added, “I can feel it in my poor, aching bones. I think he’s just been toying with people. But sooner or later, that will bore him. Then we’re really in for it.”

“Oh, he’s
not
violent,” Echo heard herself saying. “He’s just scaring people, that’s all.”

There was a second of surprised silence before Deejay said, “Echo? Do you know something no one else does?”

“Of course not,” she said hastily. She kept her back to the three in the tub. “But he really hasn’t hurt anyone, right?”

Another second or two of silence. Then Ruthanne spoke up. “Echo,” Ruthanne said slowly, as if she were choosing her words carefully, “now that I think about it, you must know some really weird people. Any of them bikers?”

Startled, Echo looked up from the pile of towels she was folding. “I know some really weird people? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ruthanne failed to look abashed. “Well, when you circulated that silly petition, you must have met lots of people the rest of us don’t know.”

Meaning, Echo realized, people who weren’t “normal.” Because if Ruthanne didn’t know them, they couldn’t possibly be normal. “You’re right, Ruthanne,” she replied with false brightness. “I
do
know scads of really weird people.” She glared pointedly at Ruthanne. “Some
really
weird people.”

Ruthanne ignored that. “Any of them own bikes?”

“Almost all of them. I own a bike. You own a bike, Ruthanne. I’ve seen you riding it, in spite of your arthritis.”

Ruthanne sighed, clearly impatient. “I meant a motorcycle, Echo, and you know it. One of those Hailey things. Why do you have to be such a pain all the time?”

“Takes one to know one,” Echo muttered under her breath. “Well, maybe I
do
know a biker or two. So what?” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wanted them back. If Pruitt ever found out she’d said even that much, he’d be furious. He’d cancel her ride, and she was so looking forward to it. It was such a gorgeous spring night.

The girls all pounced on her. “You know a biker?” Deejay sounded astonished. “Who? I’ve never seen you with anyone on a motorcycle.”

Like Deejay paid that much attention to who Echo was spending her free time with. What did Deejay, or any of her friends, know about Echo Glenn’s life? When did they ever ask? They had dumped her into the box labeled “Antisocial Activist Slightly on the Weird Side” and left her there. She could be spending her afternoons skywriting obscene messages directly over campus and they wouldn’t notice because she wasn’t one of
them.

She wasn’t one of them because she wasn’t always at the mall, and she didn’t join clubs or sororities and she didn’t work in campus theater or on the newspaper or at the radio station or sing in the campus Chorale. She didn’t have a cute little nickname assigned to her by a bunch of giggling girls, and she didn’t have a boyfriend. Hell, she didn’t even have parents, at least none to speak of, and all three girls in the whirlpool did.

Not once had they ever asked her about her own family or where she was from or what her major was.

And now Deejay had the gall to pretend she had ever noticed who Echo was or wasn’t with? The only reason Deejay had asked Echo to go to the mall was that even Echo Glenn was better than nobody at all. But Deejay had still ditched her to go to a party.

“All I meant,” Echo said forcefully, “was that since today’s attack took place on campus, maybe it’s someone we know. Someone we
all
know, someone right here at Salem. That’s all I meant.” Her voice was smooth and slick as glass. “And by the way, Ruthanne,” she added as she turned to leave the room, “that happens to be Harley, not Hailey. As in Harley-Davidson. A really gorgeous one, as a matter of fact. And the guy who owns it knows what he’s doing. The way he handles that bike is sheer poetry in motion.”

She left behind her a shocked silence.

But she took with her an uneasiness. She had said too much. Ruthanne had made her so mad! Great vocabulary or not, the girl was really ditsy.

I shouldn’t have let her get to me like that, Echo thought as she threw a load of towels in the washing machine. She doesn’t even matter. None of them do. So why do I let them jerk me around?

When she returned to the whirlpool room after stalling as long as she could, they were gone. The room was empty.

Echo stood in the doorway, wondering how many people they’d already told, “Echo Glenn knows a biker.” Unless she was mistaken, the quote would rapidly become, “Echo Glenn, you know, that girl who’s always stirring up a fuss on campus, well, she hangs out with bikers. She told us so herself.”

Not that she cared what people thought. But if word somehow got back to the administration, possibly even the police, she could be called upon to ask some hard questions. That would
not
be fun.

Whatever. She was going to have her ride, that was all she cared about now.

Echo hurried back to the dorm to dress in jeans, boots, and a sweatshirt. It wasn’t a leather jacket, but it would shield her from the wind. Tying her thick, curly hair up in a careless ponytail, she left, so excited her heart was beating erratically. This was going to be
fun! If
Pruitt hadn’t chickened out. If he was really there.

He was there. He was waiting for her at the brick wall behind the infirmary, helmet on, an extra black helmet in his hand. Even if he’d shouted a hello, which she suspected he hadn’t, she’d never have heard him over the roar of the idling engine. Silently, he thrust the helmet at her, and she obediently put it on. Then she climbed on the back of the bike, wrapped her arms around his waist, and, heart pounding, sat back to enjoy the ride.

She understood why, at the end of Campus Drive, he turned the bike left instead of right, toward town. There was nothing in this direction except the state park and acres of uninhabited woods. No one to see them, except an occasional car. This was much safer. She’d have her exciting, windblown drive without the risk of being linked to the Mad Biker.

Echo was sure he was being cautious more for his sake than for hers. It would be stupid of him to venture into town this soon after the chaos he’d created last night at the mall. The Twin Falls police force, small though it was, would be on the look-out for any and all motorcycles, probably stopping them to ask questions even if they weren’t speeding.

This direction was safest, for both of them.

The ride was everything Echo had hoped it would be. The wind in her face was exhilarating, the speed thrilling. Even the roar of the engine, making conversation impossible, pleased her. It sounded so incredibly powerful. She felt freer than she ever had in her life as they raced along the highway, no one watching them but the deep, dark, quiet woods on both sides of the road.

Pruitt attempted no fancy stunts, no bobbing or weaving, no sudden stops. He just drove.

That suited Echo just fine. She didn’t need any fancy maneuvers. The ride itself was enough.

What didn’t suit her, however, was how short the ride was. It was over much too quickly. Breathless and windblown when Pruitt stopped the bike behind the infirmary and motioned for her to get off, she couldn’t help asking, “Just a few more minutes? Couldn’t we take a quick ride along the river road behind campus? It’s really too early to go in on a Saturday night. Please?”

He seemed to hesitate, then shook his head. “Better not. Time to put this baby to bed. Another time, okay? Let me have the helmet.”

Reluctantly, she handed it to him, and the next thing she knew, she was standing there alone while the bike raced off into the distance until it became no more than the faint red dot of its taillight blinking at her out of the darkness.