Hush, Hush

Page 43

“He’s got chains on all the doors.”
A moment of rigid silence dropped between us. I remembered Jules wishing me luck escaping, and now I knew why. A perceptible chill rippled from my heart through the rest of my body. “Not the door I came in,” I said at last. “The far east door is unlocked.”
“It must be the only one. I was with him when he chained the others. He said that way nobody would be tempted to go outside while we played hide­and­seek. He said outside was out­of­bounds.”
“If the east door is the only one left unlocked, he’ll try to block it. He’ll wait for us to come to him. But we’re not going to. We’re going out a window,” I said, devising a plan off the top of my head. “On the opposite end of the building—this end. Do you have your cell?”
“Jules took it.”
“When we get outside, we have to split up. If Jules chases us, he’ll have to choose one of us to follow.
The other will get help.” I already knew who he’d choose. Jules had no use for Vee, except to lure me here tonight. “Run as hard as you can and get to a phone. Call the police. Tell them Elliot is in the library.”
“Alive?” Vee asked, her voice trembling.
“I don’t know.”
We stood huddled together, and I felt her pull her shirt up and wipe her eyes. “This is all my fault.”
“This is Jules’s fault.”
“I’m scared.”
“We’re going to be fine,” I said, attempting to sound optimistic. “I stabbed Jules in the leg with a scalpel. He’s bleeding heavily. Maybe he’ll give up chasing us and go get medical attention.”
A sob escaped Vee. We both knew I was lying. Jules’s desire for revenge outweighed his wound. It outweighed everything.
Vee and I crept down the stairs, keeping tight to the walls, until we were back on the main floor.
“This way,” I whispered in her ear, holding her hand as we speed­walked down the hall, heading farther west.
We hadn’t walked very far when a guttural sound, not quite laughter, rolled out of the tunnel of darkness ahead.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” Jules said. There was no face attached to his voice.
“Run,” I told Vee, squeezing her hand. “He wants me. Call the police. Run! ”
Vee dropped my hand and ran. Her footsteps faded depress­ingly fast. I wondered briefly if Patch was still in the building, but it was more of a side thought. Most of my concentration went into not passing out. Because once again, I found myself all alone with Jules.
“It will take the police at least twenty minutes to respond,” Jules told me, the tap of his shoes drawing closer. “I don’t need twenty minutes.”
I turned and ran. Jules broke into a run behind me.
Fumbling my hands over the walls, I turned right at the first intersection and raced down a perpendicular hall. Forced to rely on the walls to guide me, my hands slapped over the sharp edges of lockers and doorjambs, nicking my skin. I made another right, running as fast as I could for the double doors of the gymnasium.
The only thought pounding through my head was that if I could get to my gym locker in time, I could lock myself inside it. The girls’ locker room was wall­to­wall and floor­to­ceiling with oversize lockers.
It would take Jules time to break into each one individually. If I was lucky, the police would arrive before he found me.
I flung myself into the gym and ran for the attached girls’ locker room. As soon as I pushed on the door handle, I felt a spike of cold terror. The door was locked. I rattled the handle again, but it didn’t give.
Spinning around, I searched frantically for another exit, but I was trapped in the gym. I fell back against the door, squeezed my eyes shut to stave off fainting, and listened to my breath hitch up.
When I reopened my eyes, Jules was walking into the haze of moonlight trickling through the skylights.
He’d knotted his shirt around his thigh; a stain of blood seeped through the fabric. He was left in a white undershirt and chinos. A gun was tucked into the waistband of his pants.
“Please let me go,” I whispered.
“Vee told me something interesting about you. You’re afraid of heights.” He lifted his gaze to the rafters high above the gym. A smile split his face.
The stagnant air was sodden with the smells of sweat and wood varnish. The heat had been turned off for spring break and the temperature was icy. Shadows stretched back and forth across the polished floor as the moonlight broke through the clouds. Jules stood with his back to the bleachers, and I saw Patch move behind him.
“Did you attack Marcie Millar?” I asked Jules, ordering myself not to react and give Patch away.
“Elliot told me there’s bad blood between the two of you. I didn’t like the idea of someone else having the pleasure of tormenting my girl.”
“And my bedroom window? Did you spy on me while I was sleeping?”
“Nothing personal.”
Jules stiffened. He stepped forward suddenly and jerked on my wrist, spinning me around in front of him. I felt what I feared was the gun press into the nape of my neck. “Take off your hat,” Jules ordered Patch. “I want to see the expression on your face when I kill her. You’re helpless to save her. As helpless as I was to do anything about the oath I swore to you.”
Patch took a couple of steps closer. He moved easily, but I sensed his tightly reined caution. The gun probed deeper, and I winced.
“Take another step and this will be her last breath,” Jules warned.
Patch glanced at the distance between us, calculating how quickly he could cover it. Jules saw it too.
“Don’t try it,” he said.
“You’re not going to shoot her, Chauncey.”
“No?” Jules squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked, and I opened my mouth to scream, but all that came out was a tremulous sob.
“Revolver,” Jules explained. “The other five chambers are loaded.”
Ready to use those boxing moves you’re always bragging about? Patch said to my mind.
My pulse was all over the place, my legs barely holding me up. “W­what?” I stammered.
Without warning, a rush of power coursed into me. The foreign force expanded to fill me. My body was completely vulnerable to Patch, all my strength and freedom forfeited as he took possession of me.
Before I had time to realize just how much this loss of control terrified me, a crushing pain spiked through my hand, and I realized Patch was using my fist to punch Jules. The gun was knocked loose; it skidded across the gym floor out of reach.
Patch commanded my hands to slam Jules backward against the bleachers. Jules tripped, falling into them.
The next thing I knew, my hands were closing on Jules’s throat, flinging his head back against the bleachers with a loud crack! I held him there, pressing my fingers into his neck. His eyes widened, then bulged. He was trying to speak, moving his lips unintelligibly, but Patch didn’t let up.
I won’t be able to stay inside you much longer, Patch spoke to my thoughts. It’s not Cheshvan and I’m not allowed. As soon as I’m cast out, run. Do you understand? Run as fast as you can. Chauncey will be too weak and stunned to get inside your head. Run and don’t stop.
A high humming sound whined through me, and I felt my body peeling away from Patch’s.
The vessels in Jules’s neck jumped out and his head drooped to one side. Come on, I heard Patch urge him. Pass out … pass out …
But it was too late. Patch vanished from inside me. He was gone so suddenly, I was left dizzy.
My hands were in my control again, and they sprang away from Jules’s neck on impulse. He gasped for air and blinked up at me. Patch was on the floor a few feet away, unmoving.
I remembered what Patch had said and sprinted across the gym. I flung myself against the door, expecting to sail into the hall. Instead it was like hitting a wall. I shoved the push bar, knowing the door was unlocked. Five minutes ago I’d come through it. I hurled all my weight against the door. It didn’t open.
I turned around, the adrenaline letdown causing my knees to shake. “Get out of my mind!” I screamed at Jules.
Pulling himself up to sit on the lowest rise of the bleachers, Jules massaged his throat. “No,” he said.
I tried the door again. I got my foot up and kicked the push bar. I smacked my palms against the door’s slit of a window. “Help! Can anyone hear me? Help! ”
Looking over my shoulder, I found Jules limping toward me, his injured leg buckling under each step. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus my mind. The door would open as soon as I found his voice and swept it out. I searched every corner of my mind but couldn’t find him. He was somewhere deep, hiding from me. I opened my eyes. Jules was much closer. I was going to have to find another way out.
Drilled into the wall above the bleachers was an iron ladder. It reached to the grid of rafters at the top of the gym. At the far end of the rafters, on the opposite wall, almost directly above where I stood, was an air shaft. If I could get to it, I could climb in and find another way down.
I broke into a dead sprint past Jules and up the bleachers. My shoes slapped the wood, echoing through the empty space, making it impossible to hear whether Jules was following me. I got my footing on the first ladder rung and hoisted myself up. I climbed one rung, then another. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the drinking fountain far below. It was small, which meant I was high. Very high.
Don’t look down, I ordered myself. Concentrate on what’s above. I tentatively climbed one more rung.
The ladder rattled, not properly welded to the wall.
Jules’s laughter carried up to me, and my concentration slipped. Images of falling flashed in my mind.
Logically, I knew he was planting them. Then my brain tilted, and I couldn’t remember which way was up or down. I couldn’t decipher which thoughts were mine and which belonged to Jules.
My fear was so thick it blurred my vision. I didn’t know where on the ladder I stood. Were my feet centered? Was I close to slipping? Clenching the rung with both hands, I pressed my forehead against my knuckles. Breathe, I told myself. Breathe!
And then I heard it.
The slow, agonizing sound of metal creaking. I closed my eyes to suppress a dizzy spell.
The metal brackets securing the top of the ladder to the wall popped free. The metallic groan changed to a high­pitched whine as the next set of brackets down tore from the wall. I watched with a scream trapped in my throat as the entire top half of the ladder broke free. Locking my arms and legs around the ladder, I braced myself for the backward fall. The ladder wavered a moment in air, patiently succumbing to gravity.
And then it all happened quickly. The rafters and skylights faded away into a dizzying blur. I flew down until, suddenly, the ladder slammed to a stop. It bounced up and down, perpendicular to the wall, thirty feet above ground. The impact jerked my legs loose, my hands my only attachment to the ladder.
“Help! ” I screamed, my legs bicycling through air.
The ladder lurched, dropping several more feet. One of my shoes slid down my foot, caught on my toe, then dropped. Far too long later, it hit the gym floor.