Authors: Carol Davis Luce
She shuddered with relief. It had been so real. In the nightmare she was looking in a mirror at a blemish on her face. She leaned in closer and was horrified to see it moving, wriggling, squirming to work its way out of her skin. The thing from her face dropped into her hand, rolled and twisted on her palm. A maggot. Tammy looked into the mirror again. Her entire face was alive with slimy maggots breaking out through her pores. She wanted to scream, but she could only make a gagging, choking sound.
Through a foggy stillness. Tammy heard the telephone ringing. It stopped before she was really sure she heard it.
She was lying on her stomach at the foot of the bed, fully clothed except for shoes, a pillow balled under her face, the remote control in her hand. She looked around her bedroom, confused, feeling as if she were in a foreign place. Since Gary had left her, she had trouble sleeping.
The only source of light came from the snowy screen of the TV. She rolled over on her side and looked at the digital clock. 2:22. Two was her lucky number. She glanced away quickly and made a wish. She wished for Gary. If she looked back at the clock while it was changing, the wish wouldn’t come true.
The phone rang. Who would call this late? Gary?
She rolled over and fumbled the receiver off the hook. The clock was changing.
Damnit
. “Hello?”
“
Tamara Blanco?” a raspy voice asked.
Her maiden name. “It’s Kowalski now—hey, pal, do you know what time it—?”
“
You’re next.” The line went dead.
A shiver rippled through her entire body. She remembered why she had fallen asleep fully clothed with the TV on. She’d been paralyzed with fear. Regina had implied they were in danger. All the finalists. She had gone to visit Donna after leaving Perry’s, and although Tammy couldn’t see the wounds under the dressing, God help her, she imagined what was there.
She went into the bathroom, swallowed two Valium, then hurried into the girl’s room and switched on the light. Kerry moaned. Sherry rolled over, pulling the spread over her head.
Warrior barked. The dog barked again, the sounds becoming more excited. She hesitantly she made her way through the house, her heart pumping a little faster with each step. Probably a cat teasing the dog.
As she moved toward the family room she switched on lights. On the counter that divided the kitchen and the dining room, Tammy snatched up the phone. She held her thumb on the button, prepared to punch 911 if necessary.
The barking had stopped.
The silence clung to her like a web. She shivered. With a shaky finger she drew back the drapes at the sliding glass door. Her own reflection in the glass startled her.
She flipped on the porch light.
Warrior was on the concrete patio. He had his backside to her, and from where she stood she could see his head was down and his shoulders were lowered. There was something between his paws and he was sniffing and licking it.
Tammy tapped on the glass door. Warrior turned his head to look at her. “Warrior, what’ve you got there?”
At his feet Tammy saw what looked like a ball of ground beef. Now where would he get a chunk of ground beef at this time of night? Unless ...
“
Oh,
shit ...”
she hissed, sliding the door open. “Warrior, no!”
He jumped, his eyes widening. Then he quickly went back to the thing at his feet. In two gulps it was gone.
Warrior guiltily moved off several feet, head down, tail between his legs.
“
C’mere, boy.” She halted in the doorway, patted her thigh. “C’mere, baby.”
The dog whined. Then he suddenly retched, tenuously at first, then violently. Within moments his body heaved in convulsive spasms. The panic in his eyes threw terror into Tammy. She stopped cold in her tracks, frozen, unable to move.
The dog whined, ran in frantic circles. And she knew then that that was no ordinary hunk of meat. It was deadly.
Tammy quickly looked right and left. Dark shadows were everywhere. What lurked in those shadows? What was waiting for her to come out in the open to help the dog?
Instinctively her hands moved upward to protect her face. She backed up.
“
Warrior.” Her voice a hoarse whisper. “Come, Warrior.”
The dog continued to run in a circle, moving further away from her and closer to those horrible shadows. It pawed frantically at its foaming mouth and throat.
With a sob. Tammy slammed shut the slider, locking it. She dialed 911. As she talked to the police dispatcher, she crouched down under the breakfast bar and cried hysterically, hiccuping. Outside, through the loose weave of the drapes, Tammy watched in agony as Warrior, on his side now, thrashing, chest heaving, no longer able to make a sound, fought against the impossible. Then, with a final paroxysmal shudder, he lay still.
A flood of inconsolable pain, grief, and guilt erupted within her. She buried her face in her hands and wailed.
There was nothing she could have done. Nothing except to try to comfort the sweet baby in his dying moments— but at the cost of what? God Almighty, at the cost of
what?
Bells were ringing somewhere and she wished they’d stop. Moaning softly, Regina rolled over and realized the ringing was coming from the bedside telephone. The luminous hands on the clock read 2:44.
Without turning on the light, she lifted the receiver. Before she could speak, a high-pitched voice screeched out, “He was here! God, Regina, that crazy madman was at my house!”
“
Tammy?” Regina pulled herself up to lean against the headboard.
“
He warned me. Then he killed Warrior. He poisoned my dog and ... and he was waiting for me to go out there!”
“
Tammy, what are you talking about?”
“
You were right, Regina. He
is
after us.”
“
My God,
Tammy ...”
“
You’ve got to come over, I can’t get through to Gary, his machine is on.”
“
Have you called the police?”
“
They’re on their way.”
Regina raked her hand through her hair, holding it off her forehead. “All right, I’ll be there soon.”
Tammy’s hysteria had unnerved her. Her fingers trembled as she dressed in jeans, a bulky sweater, and jogging shoes.
In the bathroom she splashed cold water on her face and pulled her hair into a pony tail, then she went into Kristy’s room and shook her awake.
“
What’s going on?” Kristy leaned up on one elbow, her eyes still closed.
“
We have to go to Tammy’s.”
“
Another time.” Kristy rolled over.
“
Up. I’ll explain everything on the way.”
Kristy sat up, pulled on the sweatpants and shirt that Regina handed her, slipped her feet into her hi-top Reeboks.
They left the apartment and were halfway down the stairs when Regina heard the distant sound of the telephone ringing in their apartment. She paused, putting a hand out to stop Kristy.
“
I’ll get it.” Kristy turned and hurried back up.
Regina waited on the stairs for several moments listening to the tinny meows of the kittens in the storage room. Then she slowly continued down toward the dimly lit stairs to the first floor. Tammy’s raving conversation raced through her head: “He poisoned my dog ... waiting for
me.”
She shivered.
From the bottom of the stairs she heard a scuffing sound. It came from the rear of the apartment house. At the back door.
She looked up to the second floor where the kittens’ cries were becoming more agitated. The cat? Had the mother cat been locked outside and unable to get back to her hungry brood?
Cautiously, rubber soles silent on the hardwood floor, she crossed to the closed door of the laundry room and stopped. She put her ear to it.
There was a metallic scraping on the other side. The knob turned. Suddenly the door was swinging inward. Regina managed to step back before it could hit her, but not quickly enough to get out of the way of whoever was charging through. He was on her in an instant, his body bearing her backward with such force that her feet went out from under her. Then she was going down and the man, clutching at her now, was falling with her. They fell to the floor. An arm, tight around her waist, squeezed the air from her.
The man whose weight bore down on her was breathing deeply, his shirt was wet, and she could feel his heart pounding at his breastbone. Her arms and legs were pinned.
“
Wha--?” he began.
She braced her body, then drove her head forward. His words were cut off as the top of her head soundly met the side of his face. He grunted. But instead of letting go, he held on tighter, bringing his head in close so it was impossible for her to butt him again. They struggled silently. She tried to reach for her purse and her canister of mace.
A hand found her breast, then jerked away quickly. A moan escaped from his throat. He released her and rolled to one side.
Regina quickly scrambled to her feet. The man lying on his back on the floor, wearing a dark leather jacket, was John Davie. She watched him warily.
“
Mrs. Van Raven, what the hell? —Look, I’m sorry. I thought you were a prowler.” He came to his feet, somewhat slower than she. He reached out to her.
She backed up. “Don’t touch me, all right?”
He shook his head. “Believe me, I’m as surprised as you to meet this way. What are you doing at the back door in the middle of the night?”
“
I could ask the same question.”
“
I tend bar nights. I was coming home. I jog from work, that’s why I’m drenched and out of breath. If I hurt you, I’m sorry.”
She licked her dry lips, but said nothing.
He reached for her again, but when she glared at him, he dropped his hand, saying, “You have blood on your face. I think it’s mine.” He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. It came away bloody. “Yeah, it’s mine. Damn, that hurt.”
She could believe it. The top of her head, where it had connected with his mouth, throbbed. She swiped at the side of her face. She heard an upstairs door close. Kristy. She backed up several steps.
“
Wait. I’ve got to talk to you. You have nothing to fear from me. If I wanted to hurt you, I had the perfect opportunity a moment ago.”
Regina heard footsteps on the stairs.
“
Mother?” A whisper.
“
Here, Kristy,” Regina responded quietly.
Her daughter rounded the banister and walked toward them. “Who’s with you?”
“
It’s me. John Davie.”
“
Mr. Davie was just coming in,” Regina said.
Kristy looked from Regina to John, her expression puzzled. She reached out and straightened her mother’s twisted sweater. To John she said, “You’re bleeding, John.”
“
I did that,” Regina said.
“
But she promised me two out of three,” John said with a straight face.
“
Excuse us, Mr. Davie, we have to go.” Regina grabbed Kristy’s hand and pulled.
He placed a hand over her arm and held on firmly. She looked up at him. His face was set, at the corner of his mouth, which was already swelling, a bead of blood glistened. “All kidding aside, we have to talk. Are you coming or going?”