The Edge of Darkness

by Tim LaHaye

  Murphy was ready for Shari to say that she was followed to Paula’s but she didn’t.

  “We talked until about two A.M. and I ended up spending the night at her place. I got up early and came back to my apartment to get ready for work. As I opened my door, there was an extremely strong odor of gas. I had to hold my breath as I ran to open some windows. I went back outside for a bit while it aired out, and then went into the kitchen. Two of the burners on the gas stove were on but there was no flame.”

  “Did you accidentally leave them on?”

  “I don’t think so. I did have a cup of tea before bed but I think I turned the gas off. And besides, I only used one burner to heat the water.”

  “I don’t like the sound of all this. Maybe you should call the police.”

  “I had the same thought. But what could I tell them? ‘I have no real evidence, but I feel like someone’s following me and turning my gas on when I’m not there’?”

  Murphy nodded. She was right. Without more to go on, the cops couldn’t do anything.

  “Anyway, that’s why I’m late. It was just a very strange incident.” “It was a good thing you went to Paula’s. Her tears saved your life.” Shari looked at Murphy thoughtfully. She hadn’t considered that.

  Shari looked at her watch. It was 8:10. Wow! I guess I do get involved in my work. I’ve skipped dinner and didn’t even realize it.

  She took off her lab coat, gathered a few items, and put them in her backpack. She turned off the lights and locked the door. All of the other lights in the building were off, making her feel a little apprehensive. She didn’t like being alone at night.

  Shari, get a grip. Life isn’t going to be much fun if you get scared at every little thing.

  The only sounds she heard were her footsteps as she walked down the hall and pushed open the door to the outside. She waited until it closed and rattled it to be sure it was locked.

  She looked around the campus. It was empty and growing dark. Only a few lights were on in the other buildings. She walked around to the side of the lab and unlocked her ten-speed bike. She was grateful that the walkway lights stayed on all night. It would be a scary trip across campus without them.

  She felt a little more comfortable when she got to the road, where the streetlights were on and cars were passing. She began peddling the ten minutes to her apartment.

  She reached the grocery store and thought, Oh, I need to get some eggs and milk. I’ll have breakfast for dinner.

  After locking up her bike, she went into the supermarket, feeling rather hungry.

  This is not a good time to go shopping. Everything looks so good. Especially the sweets.

  As she walked the aisles, she began to have the feeling that she was being watched. She turned around but no one was there.

  Shari, stop thinking like that. You’ve seen too many scary movies.

  She picked up her milk and eggs and slowly walked by the cookies, eyeing each package.

  Mo. I’ll get some microwave popcorn instead.

  The clerk was smiling as she approached.

  “Did you find everything all right?”

  “Yes, thank you. By the way, could you please double the plastic bag? I’m on my bike.”

  “You bet.”

  When biking at night, Shari had a habit of riding on the sidewalk. She didn’t like the idea of cars not seeing her and possibly hitting her from behind. When she came to intersections she would follow where the curb dropped down for handicap accessibility, ride across the street, and back up onto the sidewalk. She was not far from her apartment when it happened. She was just approaching an intersection and the light was green. She wanted to get across before it turned red, so she started to peddle faster. As she came to the corner of a building, a calico cat darted out in front of her.

  She squeezed the front handbrake as hard as she could, trying not to hit the cat. The sudden deceleration threw her forward before she reached the curb.

  She tumbled to the ground, her head narrowly missing a vehicle that ran the red light at about forty miles per hour. She sat there shaking. If she hadn’t slammed on the brakes because of the cat, she would have been hit.

  Then came the tears. When she fell, she had scraped some skin off both hands, bruised her right shoulder, and hit the back of her head on the pavement. No one was around to help her.

  She crawled away from the street, rocking back and forth until she regained her composure. She looked at her bloody hands coated with sand and gravel. She could see the cat over by the building meowing as if nothing had happened. Her carton of milk was spilled all over the sidewalk and the dozen eggs were destroyed. The cat went over and started to lick the milk. Her bike lay half in the street and half on the sidewalk.

  As she stood, she realized that she had sprained her ankle. She didn’t feel like riding. She picked up the popcorn, put it into her backpack, righted her bike, and used it like a crutch to hobble home.

  The next morning, Paul Wallach was walking across the campus when he saw Shari limping toward the lab with her backpack on and both hands wrapped in bandages.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  Shari looked at him and tried to smile through the pain she felt all over.

  “I almost ran into a cat last night on my bike. It darted out in front of me.”

  “Looks like you got the worst of it.”

  “You could say that. At least the cat still has eight lives left.”

  Paul helped her over to a bench and they sat down. Shari explained how the accident happened.

  “It sounds like the cat may have saved your life.”

  “It certainly did. Another split second and the car would have hit me. That’s two times my life has been spared in two days.”

  “Two times?”

  She told him about the incident with the gas burners and he looked very concerned.

  “I think that you’ve had enough excitement. You should go home and get some rest.”

  “It’s probably a good idea but I have some test papers Dr. Murphy needs today. I had to bring them to him.”

  “Here, let me take them for you. You sit right here and I’ll be right back.”

  “I doubt that Dr. Murphy is in yet. Just put them on his chair behind the desk.”

  Within a few minutes, Paul returned.

  “I’ve got an idea. You drive back home and rest for the day. Don’t plan on doing any cooking. I’ll get a pizza and bring it for dinner. I’ll also pick up a movie and we can watch it after dinner. You can’t beat good food and some entertainment. Will you let me do that for you?”

  “It sounds very good, Paul. I don’t feel like cooking or going out.” Plus, she was starting to feel like she didn’t want to be alone in the evenings.

  “Shari, you go on home and I’ll go back and leave a note for Dr. Murphy explaining why you won’t be in to work. What time would you like to have dinner?”

  “How about six-thirty?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Thank you, Paul.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  SHARI’S HEART JUMPED WHEN she heard her doorbell ring. The uneasy feelings she had about being followed and two near-death experiences had made her jumpy. She reached over the edge of the couch and grabbed a baseball bat. Earlier in the day she had taken it out of the closet for security. She hobbled to the door and peered through the peephole. It was Paul Wallach holding two pizza boxes and a bag. She unlocked three latches and let him m, then quickly locked all three behind him.

  “These are hot, right out of the oven. I’ve also got drinks in the bag and some cheese bread and dressings.”

  “It sounds great. I’m starving.”

  He looked at the bat in her hand.

  “Planning a little batting practice tonight?”

  Shari laughed.

  “No. It’s sort of a security blanket for me. I just feel safer when it’s around.”

  Paul went into the kitchen and got down a couple of plates
. Shari paused at the door and looked outside. Even though she did not see anyone she still had that eerie feeling that something was wrong. She shook her head.

  You are getting paranoid.

  She leaned the bat up against the back of the couch and went into the kitchen to help Paul. He wouldn’t let her do anything but go sit down at the small dining table.

  Dinner was pleasant and yet a little uncomfortable. Paul wanted to talk about their relationship but held everything inside so as not to pressure Shari. She, on the other hand, was trying to determine if Paul really wanted to change or if this was some kind of passing phase.

  At one point Shari shared with Paul her thoughts about being followed and the two close calls.

  “Well, aren’t you a Christian? Won’t God protect you?”

  “Yes, to both of those questions, Paul. But even Christians pass away at some point. I’m not afraid to die, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to go just yet.”

  “Shari, I don’t mean to make things worse, but what if your apartment filling with gas and the near-miss with the car weren’t accidents? What if they were deliberate?”

  “That’s a terrible thought!”

  “Can you think of anyone who is mad at you or wants to do you harm?”

  “No. I don’t think I have any enemies.”

  “How about an angry ex-boyfriend?” Paul was fishing to see if Shari had been dating other people during his absence.

  “No. I’ve been too busy helping Dr. Murphy to do any dating.”

  Paul visibly uncoiled. “Well, let’s try to put recent events behind us and think of something else. How are things going at the Preston Community Church?”

  Shari noted that Paul was trying to get into her world and her concerns. In the past, his conversation seemed to focus more on himself.

  This is new. Maybe he has changed.

  “Pastor Wagoner is doing a series of messages on false teachers and things involving the occult. It’s quite interesting. You ought to come. I think you’d enjoy it.” Shari was putting out a feeler to get Paul’s reaction to spiritual matters.

  “That sounds good. I would like to start going back to church. The people there are certainly more honest than those at the Barrington News Network.” He was obviously still bitter.

  “That would be great, Paul. If you really mean it.”

  Paul hesitated and then spoke candidly. “Shari, I am not putting on an act for you. I do want to change. And I do want to turn my life around. I just hope you’ll give me a chance to do that.”

  “And how about spiritual matters, Paul?”

  “I want to see that change also. I may not believe everything you do yet, but I am keeping an open mind.”

  “It’s not that complicated, Paul. The Bible tells us that all you have to do is believe in Jesus. That He’s God’s son … that He died for our sins, and that He was raised from the grave to give us new life. And then, just invite Him into your heart.”

  Paul nodded his head.

  “A person can do that anywhere, anytime. It doesn’t have to be in a church. It could be in a car, or while you’re walking, or even all alone in your bedroom.”

  Shari realized that she should not put pressure on Paul. It had to be his decision. Even though she had plenty more to say, she thought it would be best to take it slowly.

  “Let’s clean up the dishes and watch the movie you brought.”

  “No. You turn on the TV and relax and I’ll clean up. You should stay off that ankle.”

  Shari smiled. “You’re the doctor.” This is a nice change, she thought.

  Partway through the movie, Shari thought she heard a noise. But she couldn’t tell if it came from her bedroom or from the television. Paul didn’t seem to hear it. He was deeply involved in an action scene in the movie.

  Shari started to get up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I was just going to check something in my bedroom.”

  “Can I do it for you?”

  “No, I’ll be right back.”

  Shari limped over to the doorway of her bedroom and turned on the light. She couldn’t see anyone, and everything was in its place. The window was slightly open and the wind was blowing a curtain back and forth against the lamp shade by her bed. She laughed to herself.

  You’re going to go to the psycho ward if this keeps up.

  She went over to the window and looked outside. She saw no one. She closed and locked the window, turned out the light, and left the room.

  What she failed to notice was that her closet door was slightly open.

  THIRTY-SIX

  PAUL HAD GOTTEN UP for another soda while Shari remained on the couch. He was rummaging through the refrigerator trying to decide what to drink. Cherry Coke, Dr Pepper, or a Pepsi.

  Shari was still feeling jumpy, so when she heard the slight squeaking sound, it registered that she had a loose floorboard just outside of her bedroom. She glanced in the direction of the squeak and let out a bloodcurdling scream. It startled Paul and he dropped the Cherry Coke he had in his hand. He followed her gaze and his heart skipped a beat.

  There in the hall stood a large, thin man dressed all in black, with bone white skin and a black mustache. His eyes burned with evil, sending a stab of fear into Shari. She had never seen eyes like that before. It was like looking into the face of death.

  The man entered the living room and something flashed in his right hand. Something sharp. Something deadly.

  The stranger’s cold eyes coolly appraised the two of them like a predator deciding which of its prey to devour first. As Shari scrambled up off the couch, the man in black sprung into action, leaping forward and planting a fist into her face.

  The blow struck her on the cheekbone and she went backward over the couch and onto the floor. She seemed disoriented and lay there defenseless.

  Paul’s ignored the instinct to run to Shari, and instead rushed to the back of the couch, grabbed the baseball bat, and came up swinging. The man in black ducked in the nick of time and Paul hit the lamp on the stand at the end of the couch. The lamp went flying across the room and shattered against the wall.

  Paul cocked his arms back, preparing for the next swing. He knew that he couldn’t afford to miss this time. Something about the man told him that he was a trained fighter. He would have to make every blow count or he and Shari were done for. They danced around each other, the man in black first going one way and then the other, looking for an opening. Paul was doing the same thing, mirroring the stranger’s moves and blocking each feint. One good swing, that’s all he needed.

  Paul caught a glimpse of Shari on the floor and shouted, “Get up, Shari! Get out! Run!”

  His words penetrated her stupor and she struggled to her feet, limped to the door, and fumbled with the three locks. Blood dripped from her cheek and tears streamed down her face. She tried to move faster but it seemed like one of those dreams where you’re trying to escape from a monster but cannot move.

  She heard Paul calling out behind her, “Get out, Shari! Run! Run!”

  The man in black did not like the idea of her leaving. He circled around the other side of the couch to get her. Paul blocked his way, brandishing the bat. He could hear Shari behind him screaming and crying and struggling with the locks.

  “You stay away from her!” Paul warned.

  The standoff continued a few moments more, until Shari unlocked the last latch. As the attacker lunged toward her, Paul swung. The man ducked, reaching for Shari. Paul swung the bat around blindly and connected with the man’s right index finger, crushing it against the molding of the door.

  The man in black screamed in pain. Blood spattered all over Shari as she finally got the door open and ran the best she could with a sprained ankle. She was yelling for help at the top of her lungs.

  The bat had completely ripped Talon’s artificial finger off his hand. The pain was excruciating and as he stared at his deformed hand, Paul swung one more time and caught him
on the back. He slammed hard into the door but was up like a shot. That was the final straw. This kid was dead meat.

  He spun around and fired off a side kick into Paul’s gut, making him gasp and fall to the ground. His brain told him he had to get up and he had to breathe but nothing was working. His eyes were wide with fear.

  Talon could hear Shari’s voice disappearing down the street. She was screaming and crying for help.

  “Call the police! Somebody, help! Call the police!”

  People began to open their doors to see what all the commotion was about. Two men approached Shari and she tried to stop sobbing and tell them what was happening. One elderly lady called 911.

  Talon had never been this angry before. All he could think about was inflicting the maximum amount of pain.

  Paul somehow struggled to his feet. His only thought was to try to escape, not stay and fight. Talon kicked him in the chest, breaking several ribs and knocking Paul over a footstool. He went down hard and was really hurt this time. It was an effort to catch his breath, and the broken ribs almost made it unbearable.

  Talon could hear sirens in the background, but he wasn’t through with this punk yet. He kicked him repeatedly until Paul coughed up blood. Talon then struck a downward blow into Paul’s face with his left hand. The wound started to bleed profusely and Paul felt lightheaded. He was finished.

  Talon strode into the kitchen, grabbed a dishtowel, and wrapped it around his throbbing stump of a finger. The sirens grew louder and he heard car doors slamming. Talon walked toward the door and retrieved the metal finger that had been effectively amputated by the bat. He walked over to Paul.

  “You’re dead. You hear? Look at me! You are dead!”

  He grabbed Paul by the throat and held the sharp steel edge of the finger close. Paul’s head lolled to one side. Talon heard footsteps on the stairs, close now. One swift motion and it would be done. He searched for fear in his victim’s eyes, the terrible certainty of his imminent demise, the knowledge that Talon’s sneering face was the last earthly sight he would ever see….