Alarums. Part 37

'f.u.c.k, no. I just dialed some numbers. Wrote 'em down so I could call you back, buta'

Pen slammed down the phone. With a tug at its plastic base, she removed it from the wall jack.

For a long time, she stood leaning against the doorframe, gasping, arms folded across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, legs tight together. She trembled badly. She knew that she should be feeling relief, even triumph.

Instead, she felt sick.

Knowing such a man was out there, even though she would get her number changed and he would be out of her life forever.

Knowing what she had said to him.

The foulness.

And knowing, worst of all, that she had actually tried to lure him to her.

To kill him with the shotgun.

She felt soiled.

Pus.h.i.+ng herself away from the wall, she walked on shaky legs down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Bodie woke up and groaned at the pain in his head. He felt as if his lids were all that held his eyes inside his sockets, that if he opened them, his eyes might burst out from the pressure behind them.

He also felt ready to throw up.

Must've really tied one on last night. He couldn't remember getting smashed, buta What the h.e.l.l was he lying on? Not a bed.

He rubbed the surface.

Gra.s.s. Dewy gra.s.s.

He opened his eyes. The pain and nausea swelled. He thrust himself to his hands and knees and vomited. The spasms wracked him, driving white-hot nails into the base of his skull. When he had finished, he knelt above the mess and clutched his head. The hand above his right ear pressed against an enormous lump.

Not a hangover. I've beena He'd been driving, taking Melanie back to Phoenix.

A crash? He must've crashed and been thrown clear of the van. Melanie!

He turned his head, groaning at the new surge of pain. The van was nowhere in sight. Neither was a road. Bodie was on his knees behind a hedge. To his right was a field with playground equipment near the far corner. Turning some more, he saw a building - a school?

Where the h.e.l.l am I? What am I doing here?

Bodie pushed himself carefully to his feet and stood motionless, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pa.s.s. He dragged a handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose, and dropped the handkerchief to the gra.s.s. Then he walked slowly through an opening in the bushes.

He found himself on a sidewalk. In front of him was a narrow street, homes on the other side. Cars were parked along the street, but not his van. To his left, about a block away, was a busy road with cars pa.s.sing through its intersection. He walked toward it and tried to remember.

I was at Pen's apartment. With her on the sofa. We kissed. Oh, we did kiss. It had been soa and then Melanie came in. She was supposed to be asleep but she hadn't taken the pills. Should've taken the d.a.m.n pills. Acting very weird. Time to get her out of there, take her back to Phoenix . She was in the back of the van, wouldn't talk. I stopped for gas. Then what?

He could remember signing his credit card slip, but nothing after that.

But we didn't crash. If we crashed, where's the van?

He gingerly fingered the b.u.mp on the side of his head.

Melaniea could she have hit me with something? Must've. Knocked me out. While I was driving? Maybe I was stopped at a light. She could've knocked me out, shoved me over to the pa.s.senger seat and got behind the wheel.

Wasn't ready to go back to Phoenix.

Found the school yard, unloaded me, and dragged me behind the bushes.

Strong enough to do that?

They say crazy peoplea Crazy.

She's gone after someone.

Unfinished business.

Pen?

Bodie's head throbbed.

She's gone after Pen.

No, maybe not, maybe it's Harrison and Joyce. That's okay. Who gives a s.h.i.+t?

But what if it's Pen? What'll Melanie do to her?

Bodie stopped at the corner of the busy street. It was Robertson Boulevard, just as he'd suspected, and he could see the freeway overpa.s.s in the distance.

He had to warn Pen.

He raised his left hand to check his wrist.w.a.tch.

The watch was gone.

No way to know how long he'd been unconscious in the field.

If it was only a few minutes, he might still have time to warn her.

He spotted pay phones across the road.

He slapped the rear pocket of his pants. His wallet was gone. He shoved a hand into his front pocket. No change.

No way to phone Pen. No way to warn her.

He started to run.

Bolts of pain shot through his head but he didn't slow down.

I won't make it in time, he thought. It might already be too late.

What'll Melanie do to her?

All my fault.

Oh s.h.i.+t oh s.h.i.+t oh s.h.i.+t!

The pain!

I've got to save her!

Ahead of Bodie, a man came out of a burger joint with a bag of food, crossed the sidewalk, and stepped in front of a parked Cadillac.

'Hey,' Bodie called, rus.h.i.+ng toward him. 'Mister! Can you give me a ride? Please? It's really urgent.'

'Are you nuts?'

'Somebody's gonna get killed. All I need is a ride. It won't take long. Please!'

The man chuckled, shook his head, and reached into his pocket for the keys. 'Does this look like a taxi, pal?'

'I'm not kidding, mister. It's an emergency!'

'f.u.c.k off.' He turned toward the door of his car.

Bodie grabbed his jacket, spun him around, and smashed a fist into his belly. He was fat and soft. His breath whooshed out. He doubled over and Bodie chopped the back of his neck. The man's knees. .h.i.t the pavement. Bodie yanked him forward by the back of his jacket, and he flopped.

'I'm sorry, mister. I'll make sure you get it back.'

He tore the keys from the man's limp fingers, unlocked the driver's door, and jumped in. As he started the car, the man's face appeared in front of the b.u.mper.

Bodie shot the car backwards. The man crawled toward it, yelling.

The road was clear.

Bodie whipped the car around in a U-turn and floored the gas pedal.

G.o.d Almighty, he thought, what have I done?

a.s.sault and battery, grand theft. Jesus!

Just don't let the cops stop me.

Though he ached to keep the accelerator floored, he lowered his speed to forty-five.

He checked the rearview mirror.

No cars on his tail.

No one had seen him rip off the guy's Caddy and come after him. Lucky-lucky.

A red traffic light.

d.a.m.n!

He didn't dare run it.

He pounded his fist on the steering wheel while he waited for the green.

'Come on, come on!'

It changed. He rammed the car forward.

I stole this thing.

I beat that guy up and took his car.

Oh, we got us a crime wave, folks.

Top o' the world, Ma!

G.o.d Almighty.

Yesterday a mild-mannered student, today a felon.

He felt a tickle in his throat. A giggle? It might come out a scream.

Almost there.

Let her be all right. Please, G.o.d, let her be all right.

Bodie swung onto Pen's street.

Almost there. Let her be all right.

Dead on the floor, her body torn by knife wounds, blank eyes staring at the ceilinga No, no, no!

He was on her block, darting his eyes from side to side, looking for his van. He jerked the car to a stop in front of her building. Still no sign of the van, but Melanie might've parked it around a corner.

He leaped from the car, dashed across the street, threw open the iron gate and ran to the stairs. He charged up the stairs three at a time and raced along the balcony to her door. Light shone through the curtains of the picture window.

He pounded on the door. 'Pen!' he called. 'Pen, it's Bodie!'

Seconds pa.s.sed.

He pounded again.