Someone's Watching, page 23
God, how stupid I was, he thought. How could I not realize someone else was here? All that food Jake brought—the old man could never have eaten it all. I should have known; I should have thought about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted it to be perfect. I deliberately ignored things. He pressed his fists against his temples.
“Calm yourself, O’Neil,” he said. How bad could this guy be, he thought. So they called him an idiot, so what? How many of his friends were called idiots and how many times had he been called that? It’s nothing, nothing. He laughed at his attempt to diminish the seriousness of the situation.
Why did he stalk us like that? Why didn’t he ever show himself? He must be crazy. He’s not an idiot; he’s a lunatic. That’s why the old man said Jake didn’t want to know him or see him. They’ve kept a crazy relative hidden away here because they’re ashamed of him, and now he has Judy. Somewhere.
Realizing that he was carrying on this insane debate with himself, he stepped away from the wall and started for the stairway to the final floor of the hotel. He was just to the corner of the corridor when the sounds of heavy feet pounding the steps above him froze him in place. The whole building seemed to shake. He pressed his body to the wall, swallowed hard, and clenched his fists, bracing himself for whatever would come.
17
When he didn’t see any sign of the old Plymouth at the bungalow colony, Frank almost continued on to the Mountain House. But then he thought, The kid’s too smart to leave the car anywhere obvious. He’d search this place first. He backed up a little and turned into the bungalow colony’s driveway, stopping at the first unit. Before getting out, he leaned over to take out a half-full pint of Old Harper. He took a long swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then grasped the wrecking bar.
He opened the car door and stepped out. For a moment the stillness unnerved him. The dilapidated bungalows looked angry and sorrowful to him, each haunted by the sounds of its long-gone inhabitants. A half-torn screen door on the bungalow across from him squeaked and rapped against its jamb. He spun around, lifting his wrecking bar as he moved. He was embarrassed by his own fear and lowered the bar quickly. Then he put the top back on the whiskey bottle, dropped the bottle on the front seat, and began his unit-by-unit search of the colony.
He had raided this place a few times before, each time coming away with a piece of kitchen equipment or furniture. He was able to sell most of it to people who were grateful to get a kitchen table and chairs for twenty dollars or a toaster for two. The owners of the colony had long since deserted it. All of the units needed painting; some had broken windows. Overgrown grass and weeds climbed the sides of the bungalows and into and over the small porches.
The small children’s playground looked as though a herd of wild children had run through it, turning over swings and sliding ponds. Everything was rusted. There were weeds growing in the sandbox.
Frank opened the doors of the bungalows by shoving the wrecking bar against them. Most swung open onto empty rooms. Some had worn couches and chairs. He made a mental note of any good stuff he saw. After the search was over, he would come back and pick up what he could sell.
Although there were only twenty-four units in the colony, they were spread in a half circle over more than three acres of land. Normally that wouldn’t have been too difficult for Frank to cover, even plodding through the tall grass, but with his head beating away, it seemed like it would take him an eternity to complete the search.
He realized they could still be in any one of the remaining bungalows, waiting for him to walk into one so they could rush out and away. He was careful to watch for a few minutes after he entered each unit. That added to the time.
A couple of times he stopped, thinking that he would give it up and continue on down the road, but he knew this place would make a good hideout, and it seemed logical to him that they would choose a place close by.
His anger mounted as he searched. He had thought they’d return home after a day or so, repentant and hopeful that the time that had passed had softened him some. That they hadn’t returned was outright defiance.
Well, they’re not here, he thought. There’s really no sign of them. He knew now where they had to be. He had to get up to the old hotel, Levine’s Mountain House, as quickly as he could.
Marty saw Eric charge down the next flight of stairs. He looked with horror at what seemed more like a creature than a human being. The mound of hair on his head and the wild beard that connected with it framed his face and emphasized his wild-looking eyes. As the weird-looking man pounded down the steps, he seemed to be muttering the word “milk” over and over, chanting it in rhythm with each step.
He disappeared below and Marty emerged slowly and waited, listening to the echo of the giant’s footsteps. Then Marty considered the fifth floor, now more concerned about Judy than ever. She was up there with that! He ran up the flight as quickly as he could, and when he reached the corridor, he began to shout her name.
After Eric had slammed the folding stairs back into the attic floor, Judy decided to wait a few minutes to be sure he had really gone. She considered sticking her head out the window and shouting for Marty, but then she thought that might attract the wild man and bring him running back. She couldn’t take that chance.
When she thought she had waited long enough, she went to the ladder and pushed it as hard as she could. It opened only partway because it had long since lost its spring action. Now it took brute strength to shove it down and shove it up. She leaned over and pushed as hard as she could. It moved a few inches more.
She began to panic, thinking that he would return and see that she had tried to escape. Who knows what he would do to her then, she wondered, if she were still trapped up here. She had to get down. She put her right foot on the top rung of the first section, hoping that if she placed her weight on the ladder, it would unfold sufficiently for her to walk down. It did move, but it was very unsteady.
“Oh God,” she cried. She was sobbing now, although she wasn’t really aware of it. She put her left foot on the rung and gradually lowered her full body weight to the ladder. Without warning, it unfolded nearly all the way. She almost lost her grip on the sides of the opening. Shaking with fear, but driven on by an even greater fear of what would be if she didn’t go, she started her descent.
When she reached the bottom, she found the door was locked and burst into tears. She shook the handle and pulled and pulled, but the heavy old wooden door didn’t budge. The small room she was in was tiny and bare. There was no place to hide when he came back. She was trapped with the ladder down. He would know she tried to escape and he would have her.
She crumpled at the door, crying hysterically now.
She couldn’t think or move. Her legs felt so weak that she was sure she was unable to stand. She tried desperately to get hold of herself. There was only one more possibility. If she could push that ladder back up and then hide behind the door when he opened it, he might just go up and not see her standing here. She could rush out and get away before he discovered what she had done.
The plan renewed her strength. She rose to her feet and took hold of the folding ladder, lifting and pushing it with all her might. She half expected what followed. When she shoved the ladder, she didn’t have the strength to drive it all the way up, so it stopped in midair just beyond her reach.
“No, no, no,” she said, jumping to push it a little more. It barely moved. Now she was surely trapped. She couldn’t go back up and she couldn’t get out. The moment he entered the little room and saw the ladder like that, he would look around and discover her. She couldn’t hide behind the door. It was hopeless.
“Marty,” she moaned. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come looking for her by now? “Marty,” she said a little louder. It didn’t matter if the wild man heard her now. “MARTY!” she shouted. She began to pound the door. “MARTY, MARTY, MARTY!”
He was just midway down the fifth floor corridor when he heard her and located the door in the old part of the hotel. When she heard him call back, she began to cry even harder, now out of happiness.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his face to the door.
“Yes, but the door’s locked.”
“Stand back,” he said. He stood back and then lunged at the door, smashing it with his shoulder. It barely moved off the jamb. He hit it again and again, but he wasn’t making much progress. The door, being part of the old structure, was thicker and stronger than the doors in the more modern sections.
“Marty,” she called anxiously.
“Hold on. I’ve got to find something to pry it open with,” he said.
“Hurry. He went down for some milk.”
“Milk?” Damn, he thought and looked up and down the corridor. There was nothing there, nothing he could use. He began to panic himself. He went into one of the guest rooms. There was only a stripped-down bed, an empty dresser with a mirror, a night table, and another small dresser. He opened a closet. There was nothing in it but some hangers. Hangers, he thought, and wondered if he could shove an end in and manipulate the door lock. What else could he do?
He ran to another room and another, but there was nothing different in any of them. The hanger idea was the only hope. He seized one quickly and bent it out. Then he went back to the door.
“I’m going to try to trigger the lock,” he said. “There’s nothing here I can use as a wedge.”
“Hurry, Marty.”
He shoved the hanger end in and probed. Skeleton key locks weren’t that complicated, he told himself, but the faster he worked and the more she pleaded, the clumsier he was at it. The lock itself might be too old and rusty to be jabbed open, he thought. In any case, time was running out. Frustrated, he went back to slamming his shoulder into the door, bashing it and bashing it until his arm and shoulder ached. When he paused to catch his breath, he heard him returning.
The wild-looking man was pounding the steps with a fury. He could hear the bannister squeaking from the creature’s grip as he pulled himself upward.
“Stand back,” Marty whispered loudly, “he’s coming.”
“Oh God, no,” she said. Marty retreated to the doorway of the room across the way and waited.
Eric had been so excited about Judy that he ran the entire way to the kitchen and back. When he went through the dining room, he slammed into a table and sent goblets crashing to the floor. On any other occasion that would have been enough to send him into hiding, but he disregarded it completely now. Nothing else mattered but getting her some milk and getting back to her. They were going to look at all the pictures and the toys and all the old things.
Pop was sitting in the kitchen when he got there; he was having a cup of tea. As soon as he saw Eric, he looked up and began to chastise him.
“Where have you been? You hide when there’s real work to do. Don’t you see what we’re doin’ here? Why aren’t you out there? The grass has to be raked. I want the grass to be raked.”
“Not now, Paa—Pop, nnnn . . . not now.”
“Why not now? You’re so busy?”
“We’re lookin’ a . . . a . . . at pic . . . hires.”
“Pictures? Lookin’ at pictures don’t get work done.”
“No,” Eric said defiantly.
The old man’s eyes widened. He watched him take a bottle of milk and glasses and run out of the kitchen. Then he shook his head and nodded. “An idiot,” he said, “an idiot.”
Eric attacked the stairway with a vengeance. It was all that stood between him and Judy. He tripped a few times, trying to take too many steps at once. At the third floor he grabbed the old bannister so hard that he tore a section of it away. He let the wood go crashing below. When he reached the fifth floor, he jogged down the corridor with glee.
He forgot that he had locked the door and nearly tore off the handle trying to open it. He had to put down the milk and glasses to reach into his pocket for the key. He fumbled it into the lock, turned and clicked it open, and then put the key back into his pocket. He turned the handle and opened the door. As it swung open, he bent down to pick up the milk and glasses. At that moment Marty charged forward.
Marty knew it would be a matter of split-second timing. With someone that big, the only hope lay in hitting him when he was off balance. Judy was just behind the door. He had to shove him through the doorway sufficiently for her to get by. He crouched and ran forward, turning his aching shoulder in and hitting the giant like a football linebacker.
He caught Eric at the center of his buttocks and sent him flying forward. Surprised and awkward, he went crashing and sliding to the floor of the little room. The milk bottle flew out of his hands and the glasses smashed against the wall.
“QUICKLY!” Marty yelled and Judy was around the now-open door. Marty pulled it shut and they began to run down the corridor, taking no time to look back. He held her hand as they turned the corner and practically leaped down the stairs.
For a few moments Eric was too stunned and confused to react. He heard the boy yell “Quickly” but he didn’t see the girl get out. Instead he sat up and gazed at the half-folded ladder. He saw the milk pouring out of the bottle and the glasses broken into bits. That angered him more than anything.
“Her milk,” he said. He clenched his fists and stood up. The boy just didn’t want them to have fun, he thought. He pulled the door completely open and stepped out in the corridor. They were gone, but he could hear them descending the stairs. It wasn’t fair. He was sure the girl would have enjoyed herself if the boy would have left them alone.
He started for the stairs, walking slowly and deliberately at first. He was unsure about what he could now do, but he knew he had to do something. When he reached the corner, he broke into a run. He would catch them; he could catch them. Then he would tell the boy to leave them alone and he would bring her back upstairs. That’s what he would do.
He flew over the steps in pursuit.
It had taken longer than Frank imagined it would to check out the old bungalow colony. The walking had tired him out and started up the pain in his head again. Back in the car he took half a dozen good belts of whiskey before he felt good enough to go on. The more pain he felt, the angrier he became. He started the engine, pulled out of the colony, and headed for Levine’s Mountain House.
He arrived at the driveway and stopped the car and studied the buildings and grounds. There were no signs of anyone about, but Marty could have parked the Plymouth behind the main building. He started up the driveway slowly. Halfway up he caught sight of the car parked in the tall grass to the right. Despite his head pain he smiled to himself and looked at the hotel. They were in there somewhere.
He decided to pull his car alongside the Plymouth, check to be sure the key wasn’t still in the Plymouth, and go looking for them. If they fled from him, they’d have to flee on foot. The key was still in the car. He took it and put it in his pocket. Then he grabbed hold of the wrecking bar and headed for the hotel. He would go in through the side entrance. If the door was locked, he’d just pry it open.
He wasn’t surprised that the door was unlocked. He didn’t give it a second thought; he just entered the hotel and started down the first-floor corridor toward the lobby, hugging the wall and listening as he went.
He thought of nothing else but confronting them. He wanted one good swing at Marty and then he would be at the girl. Damn her for teasing him and teasing him and causing all this, he thought. He listened hard for the slightest indication of where they could be. He was nearly to the lobby when he heard them coming down the stairs.
As Judy and Marty made their turn to the final flight of stairs, they were both looking up behind them. They didn’t see Frank as he stepped forward and swung the wrecking bar into Marty’s stomach. Judy screamed as Marty doubled up and fell forward, tripping on the last step and throwing his hands out to break his fall.
Frank grabbed Judy and pulled her to him, embracing her from behind. Her piercing screams reverberated throughout the hotel. The nightmare had surrounded them. They had descended into the hell where madmen awaited them.
“Thought you had me fooled, didn’t ya?” Frank laughed hideously. “Thought if you stayed away long enough, it would all be forgotten. Well, none of it was forgotten, girl,” he said savagely, keeping a tight grip around Judy. He laughed as Judy kicked out and tried desperately to pry his arms loose.
“Some son I have,” he said, looking down at Marty. “Takin’ her part against me.” Marty was still face down, his hands on his stomach. Frank took a step forward and kicked him in the ribs. Then he spun Judy around.
“Let me go!” she screamed.
Frank laughed again and brought his face to hers, pressing his lips against her ear.
“Where are your teasin’ ways now, little princess? Huh? Where?” He lifted her from the floor and swayed her from side to side. “Why don’t you wag your ass now, huh?” He turned her around so they both faced Marty again. “Look at your hero there. Come behind me and smash me, huh.” He kicked Marty in the buttocks. Judy reached back to claw his face. He caught her hand in the air and twisted her wrist so hard, he nearly snapped it. She cried out in pain until he laughed and released it. Then he embraced her tightly again and turned her away from Marty.
This time he seized her by clamping his hands over her breasts and lifted her so hard against him that her feet left the floor. With her arms pinned against herself, she was helpless.
On the floor behind them Marty crawled and gasped, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. His eyes bulged with the effort and his face turned red from the strain. He had to help Judy. Frank had torn open her waitress uniform and had her naked breasts in his hands. She continued to scream and kick, now from the pain he was causing.
Frank turned toward Marty, who was now on all fours, and before he could stand, drove his foot into Marty’s rib cage, sending him over on his back.
“Bastard,” he said. “I ain’t finished with you yet. First I’m goin’ to take the little princess here to the honeymoon suite.” He started toward the first-floor corridor of rooms. Judy was hoarse from screaming. She continued to fight weakly, almost in shock.
