~ Death Awaits ~

by

Beverley Bateman

She fumbled for the key, her hand still holding the leash, and automatically tried the door with her other hand, fully expecting it to be locked. It clicked opened.

She frowned and hesitated a second. That’s strange. He always keeps it locked.

A soft popping sound came from inside the room.

A low guttural growl became a snarl as the giant wolfhound yanked on the leash, dragging her reluctantly through the doorway.

She let out an involuntary gasp. Her peripheral vision picked out Mr. Andrews, still sitting in his favorite chair, dark blood staining the center of his forehead. Staring straight ahead she saw the man, still holding a gun.

He turned his head at the sound.

Their gazes met and locked briefly. She shivered as she stared into the coldest, palest, blue eyes she had ever seen.

Straining at the leash, attempting to lunge forward and barking furiously, Wolf almost pulled her farther into the room.

In that split second Susan Brown knew the true meaning of terror. Her chest contracted. She heard a scream. But it couldn’t have come from her; she couldn’t even breathe. She felt frozen, unable to move, for what seemed like hours but must have been only seconds. Offering up a wordless prayer that her legs would move, she turned and felt a flash of relief when they responded. Pulling at the leash with both hands, she raced back down the apartment hallway.

Oh God, I’ve got to get to Hank. I can’t let anything happen to my son. He’s too young to be without his mother. Her pulse pounding in her ears, terror clutching her throat, her thoughts on her son, she ran. The enormity of what she had just witnessed was slowly sinking in. The killer would be after her, probably speeding silently down the hall behind her. Even if she got away he’d have to find her. She’d seen him murder a man. He’d have to kill her.

The dog’s leash was still wrapped tightly around her hand. He whined as he resisted, trying to return to his master. Her mind stayed fixed on Hank, sweet, loveable Hank. She had to get to him. She had to make sure he was safe. If the killer shot her, what would happen to her son? She was a single mother. First, no father, and now there was the risk he could lose his mother. And if the killer didn’t shoot her and found out about Hank, he might try to get to her through her son. Oh God, and then he’d kill them both.

Prodded by fear for her son, Susan rounded the second floor landing, feet barely touching the floor. Damn, the dog is slowing me down. She should let go of the leash, but it was wrapped too tightly around her hand. She would have to stop to release it, so she kept running, dragging the reluctant, barking wolfhound behind her.

She didn’t see the man until she landed on top of him at the foot of the stairs. The three of them collapsed in a pile. Man, woman, and dog, all leashed together. Susan’s gaze met his glare and she found herself staring into deep, Mediterranean-blue eyes. Her stomach contracted in a spasm of cold recognition. Then the terror blasted back, full force.

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” he snapped.

Susan struggled against him. The dog leash, tangled around their legs, held their bodies firmly together.

The frantic dog continued barking, struggling for freedom. The result pulled them even tighter together. The barking, the heat, the sweat and the closeness surrounded and compressed until she couldn’t breathe.

With supreme effort, spurred on by terror, Susan managed to slide out of the tangled mess. She hit the floor running, racing out the door, down the few steps and into the descending darkness of the humid air and the crowded New York street.

“You! Stop! Wait! Stop! Damn it!” She heard him call after her.

July rain spattered her face, dripped off the end of her nose and chin. She started breathing again. Behind her, she could hear him swearing and Wolf barking. Free of the dog she sprinted through the crowd, down the street and around the corner. Her feet pounded against the pavement as she pushed past blurs of people, lights, and buildings. She vaguely heard the angry voices as she shoved her way through the crowd slamming bodies that were in her way and for the first time she could remember, she was glad of her height and long legs. They rapidly covered the distance between her and Hank. Once they were safe she’d take time to figure out a plan. Thank God she had grown out of the gangly, awkward stage or she’d be tripping over her feet about now.

She felt badly about leaving the dog. Poor Wolf… he was such a sweet animal. Now he’d lost both his master and the only other person he knew, his hired dog walker. Hopefully, someone would be found to look after him, but that wasn’t her concern. Not now. Her mind was unable to focus and kept flitting from one idea to the next. She had to maintain her concentration and come up with a damn plan, for the sake of her son.

She didn’t slow down until she neared the apartment building. Still jogging, she emerged from the stairwell and approached her second floor apartment door. Okay, girl… just what are you going to do now?

As the youngest of four, her family usually helped solve her problems, even helped make decisions. Until she was thirteen and, as the youngest, was left home alone with her mother, her siblings had done everything for her. She had finally realized she was responsible for her own life. It was slow work and when she was under stress she reverted to her engrained patterns of behavior, wanting someone else to take responsibility. She sighed, she not only had to fight this battle alone, but somehow she had to make sure Hank wasn’t hurt. It might be a stretch, but if she contacted her family the killer might even track them down and use them to get to her. Who knew what a cold-blooded killer might do to keep from getting caught? Her brief experience with the law had taught her that the bad guys won more cases than the good guys. Fear clutched at her chest as she thought of all the different scenarios the killer might try. Her problem was, she really couldn’t think like a killer, only like a scared mother.

She fumbled for the key and jammed it at the lock, hand shaking. Glancing down the hall, she jumped at every sound. It took three tries to get the key into the lock and turn it. Inside, she slammed the door, leaned back against it, took several deep breaths and tried to calm herself, and gather her fragmented thoughts in order to come up with a solution to the problem. Susan wiped her eyes with her sleeve--Oh, to hell with it--and wiped her nose, too. Where can we go?

Susan moved to the bedroom, mind racing, she glanced at the bed, wishing she could curl up and have a good cry. Instead, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and wiped another tear away with the back of her hand. Susan grabbed a large gym bag from the floor of the closet then started yanking open the dresser drawers. Snatching handfuls of clothing, she stuffed it into the bag. After a quick glance around, she picked up a smaller tote from the floor, and strode to the bathroom. She shuddered as the vision of the gun and the killer’s eyes flashed through her mind again.

In the bathroom, Susan swept stuff from the cabinet and the counter into the tote, making sure she remembered Hank’s ventilator. He didn’t need it very often now, but not knowing what was ahead for them, his stress-induced asthma attacks might very well be more frequent. She paused in front of the mirror and stared at the image of a woman about thirty, with tousled shoulder-length dark hair, the unruly curls a result of the rain. The woman staring back at her looked pale and tired. The usual reflection, of a self-confident woman, the one she tried to portray to the world, was missing from the image. It had always been a false image. Inside she had never been very confident.

Now, terrified and confused, the reflection was probably closer to the true picture. She was that child again, dependent on someone, everyone to help with her problems. Her finger paused over the faint jagged scar under her left eye. Almost immediately the old feelings of never fitting in flooded her. The scar certainly wasn’t a big deal now, but it was a constant reminder that she didn’t belong. She pulled her shoulders back, sighed and headed for Hank’s play area where she shoved a few of his favorite toys into the smaller bag.

Susan grabbed the phone and started to call for a cab, then banged the receiver down. A cab would be too easy to trace. They’d have to take the subway to the bus depot. It would take a little longer, but it would be safer. They’d catch a bus going somewhere, anywhere. Then she’d figure out a plan. First, they had to get away from here.

She passed a picture of her son, stopped, picked it up and stared at it briefly, then dropped it into a bag. Grabbing both bags, she headed for the door. Pausing, she turned and surveyed the apartment to see if she had forgotten anything then hurried out. Across the hall, she pounded on Mrs. Muldoon’s door until it opened.

“Good gracious, child. What is the matter? We’re not deaf you know.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Muldoon. Family emergency. I’m here for Hank. We’re in a hurry. Have to go away for a couple of days.”

“A family emergency? Now that’s too bad. Nothing too serious I hope, dear.”

“No. No, I don’t think so. I hope not. I… here darling, put your arm through here.” Susan kneeled and helped Hank on with his jacket. “Thanks for taking care of him, Mrs. Muldoon. I’ll send you what I owe you.”

“Now you don’t worry about that. We’ll settle up when you get back. You just take care of yourself. And you take care of that lovely little boy of yours. He’s a good one, that one.” She leaned over and gave them both a hug.

“Thanks. I will. Uh, maybe you could keep an eye on the apartment for me? Until we get back?”

“Don’t you worry about your apartment, dear, I’ll watch it for you. Then we’ll have a nice cuppa and you can tell me all about this emergency of yours.”

“Right. Thanks again, Mrs. Muldoon. Come on, Hank, we’re in a hurry.”

“How come, Mommy?”

“Mommy will explain later. Bye, Mrs. Muldoon.”

“Bye now. You take care, love.” Mrs. Muldoon stood in her doorway, waving, as Susan scurried down the hall.

At the end of the corridor Susan turned briefly and waved. Then she tightened her grip on Hank’s hand.

“Let’s go, honey.” As she started down the stairs, she had a sudden feeling that she wouldn’t be seeing Mrs. Muldoon again. Fear overshadowed any sadness the idea might have caused.

She headed toward the subway, holding Hank’s hand tightly. The crowd was thinning. People had arrived home for dinner, and it was too early to be going out for the evening. The rain had almost stopped. It was still hot and humid. Hank trotted along beside her, looking confused and a little forlorn. She couldn’t slow down to talk to him, not yet.

“I’m sorry, honey. Please try to keep up. Mommy will explain soon.”

She kept checking over her shoulder. It was silly. No one could have found them yet. Still…

They took the subway to the bus depot. For the first time in hours she felt she could breathe. They were going to make it. She almost smiled. Imagine, feeling safe on a subway. She hugged Hank tightly, brushing back his blond hair and planting a kiss on the top of his head.

“Don’t worry, honey. We just have to go away for a little while. It will be fun, you’ll see. We’re going to take a bus ride.” She had to remain calm for his sake.

He gazed up at her with gorgeous blue eyes, frowning. “But why are we going away? Don’t you like Mitheth. Muldoon anymore?”

“Yes, of course I do, dear. Something happened at work and I need to go away for a while.”

“But…”

“No more questions right now. We can talk when we’re on the bus.” She gave him a quick squeeze, then placed her finger across his lips.

“Where…?”

“No more questions. We’ll talk later.”

As soon as they arrived at the bus depot, she checked the departure schedule. A bus, leaving for Albany, was already boarding. Susan bought two tickets and walked quickly toward the coach. Her son clung desperately to her, looking tired, confused and sad.

“It’s okay, honey. You can nap on the bus.”

She didn’t really know where they were going after Albany, or where they would end up. She just knew they were running for their lives and they had to get out of town fast. She checked over her shoulder as they boarded, wondering if anyone watched from the shadows.