Companions of the Night

by Vivian Vande Velde

  "Open the passenger door," Ethan told her. "Start the car. All right?"

  Somehow, after all this, he was worried that she would leave without him? "All right," she assured him.

  "The rest of you, sit down," he ordered.

  She walked past Sidowski; past Ethan holding Marcia the hairdresser, who looked as scared as Kerry had been; past the laundry owner. She tried not to feel sorry for Marcia. They've been threatening me for hours, she told herself. For Marcia, it was only going to last a couple minutes. And Ethan wasn't a crazy: Ethan would threaten, but he wouldn't really hurt her.

  Though, of course, Marcia had no way of knowing that.

  Kerry ran out the back door, around the corner, and into the street She opened the passenger door first, then went around to the other side, got in, and started the engine.

  Ethan came around the corner, half dragging Marcia.

  Kerry threw the car into reverse to get closer, sweeping aside a KEEP OUR TOWN CLEAN garbage can with the open door.

  Ethan shoved Marcia away from him, hard enough that she stumbled and fell Kerry tried not to think about it, tried not to wonder if shoving her was all he did. Then he jumped into the car. Kerry floored the accelerator even before he got the door closed.

  Somehow she missed rear-ending Marcia's station wagon. In the rearview mirror she saw the sidewalk flooded by light as the laundry's front door burst open. Somebody—it had to be the laundry owner—headed immediately for the fallen Marcia.

  They were about a block away when she heard the crack of a gun. She ducked instinctively, even though she knew that if the bullet were going to hit, it would have hit already. She had a moment to think that if she brought the car home with a bullet hole, her father would kill her. Then there were two more shots, one after the other.

  "We're too far away," Ethan assured her.

  He had to be right because the windows had all survived.

  "Good," she said, momentarily slowing just enough so that the car wouldn't become airborne when they hit the bump right before the bridge. "You didn't..." She floored the accelerator despite the red traffic light and glanced at him once they made it through the mercifully empty intersection in front of the minimart. He was still waiting. "...kill her? Did you?"

  "No," he said, and shook his head for emphasis. "No." He leaned forward, putting his head between his knees. "God," he whispered.

  Kerry took a corner fast enough to squeal and slide. She slowed down, realizing that at this hour of the night, on these roads, she was more likely to attract the attention of pursuers by speeding than by going the speed limit.

  She went around two more corners, quick rights, so that they would be headed back into town rather than going down country roads where it'd be miles between turnoffs. She knew she'd never have the nerve to outlast a determined driver in the kind of high-speed chase people have on TV.

  "Ethan," she said then because he hadn't moved in all this while. "Ethan."

  He raised his head. Slightly.

  "Are you all right?" She wasn't that experienced a driver. It was hard to take her eyes off the road.

  He nodded. Sat back. Got a handkerchief from his jeans pocket and started tying it around his wrist. "What are you doing?" he asked, finally noticing that they'd returned almost to where they'd started.

  "They saw us head off the other way," she said. "Which is north Hopefully they won't think to look for us to the south." That was assuming, of course, that she wouldn't pass them going the other direction, and that—if she did—they wouldn't recognize her car.

  Ethan nodded again. With his left hand and his teeth he managed to get the handkerchief tied around his right wrist.

  She dared another, longer glance at him, unsure whether this inadequate-looking first aid would be enough to stop the bleeding. It seemed to be. For the moment, at least.

  And then they were passing by the laundry again. The door was still open, but in the glimpse she had, it didn't look as if anybody was still there. Definitely nobody on the sidewalk in front. She didn't think anybody was around the corner. No station wagon. No police, either, despite all their noise. Almost as though she'd imagined it all. Except for the pale and bleeding young man beside her.

  "Is the campus clinic open twenty-four hours a day?" she asked. It was closer than the hospital.

  "I don't know," Ethan said. "I've never had to use it before."

  "Or should we go to the police first?"

  Ethan considered. "Clinic." He saw the anxious glance she gave him. "I'm all right," he assured her. "They can call the police from there."

  She didn't think he looked all right She didn't think she'd ever seen anybody look so pale, except for her Aunt Fern. And the only time she'd seen Aunt Fern had been at Aunt Fern's funeral.

  Kerry turned down the street that led to the campus. "You're going to have to direct me," she told him. "I'm not too familiar with the campus. And I've never driven at night before."

  Damn it! she thought, seeing the sharp look he gave her. Why in the world did I have to volunteer that information?

  "You don't have a driver's license," he guessed.

  She'd always been a terrible liar: her face gave away what her voice didn't. So she didn't even try. She just shook her head.

  He leaned back again, still looking at her. "Kerry," he said gently, "just how old are you?"

  "Sixteen." They were going slowly enough that she could look at him. If he was older than she'd first thought, evidently she was younger than he'd guessed. Me and my big mouth.

  "Left," he told her without enough warning, so that she turned too sharply and ran over the curb.

  "Sorry," she muttered.

  He leaned forward to point. "After this building."

  That time he had given her enough warning—except that she thought it was one big building with a Dumpster between the wings, and by the time she saw the driveway beyond the Dumpster, she was already past it.

  "Just pull over," Ethan told her.

  She did, pulling over to the left because that was where the building was, before she remembered it was a two-way street.

  "Sorry," she said again.

  "It's all right." He leaned back again, and she realized he was laughing.

  "Sorry," she said automatically, not even knowing why. She turned the engine off abruptly. He was laughing at her and she was apologizing?

  He could tell she was angry. "No, Kerry. It's just relief." All trace of laughter was gone. His voice was back to being almost a whisper. "I'm sorry. I owe you my life."

  We both almost got ourselves killed, she thought. Him especially, but it could have been both of us. Now, of all times, she started to shake.

  Ethan slid over and put his arm around her.

  "I'm sorry," she said yet again. This time she knew why: for being so foolish after it was all over. By the glow of the lights in the parking lot across the street she could see him fight back a grin. Then he kissed her, lightly, on the forehead. She told herself it was camouflage, to disguise the fact that he was laughing at her again. But it was very sweet anyway.

  Ethan moved back to his side of the seat, a clear and strong indication that one kiss was all he intended.

  Kerry hadn't made up her mind yet, but she certainly wasn't going to throw herself at him. "I'll come around and help you," she offered, unsure how steady he'd be once he stood up.

  "I can make it on my own," he said, which seemed one of those silly male things, but then he added, "If you come in, you're going to be in a lot of trouble."

  "I'm going to be in trouble in any case," she pointed out.

  Ethan opened the car door without answering. He walked around to her side, favoring the injured right leg, but when she started to get out, he shooed her over to the passenger side.

  "What are you doing?" she asked as he climbed into the driver's seat.

  He held out his hand for the car keys. "Why were you there," he asked, "at the laundry?"

  She was tempted to tak
e Footy out of her pocket and beat him with it. "Doesn't anybody listen? To get my brother's bear that he left behind this afternoon."

  He cut her off before she could add anything else. "How do you think your parents are going to take to that as a motive for being out at this hour, in their car, on a learner's permit? How do you think the police are going to react?"

  "My father," Kerry said, "is going to kill me. The police will probably take away my learner's permit and put me in jail until I'm fifty years old. But since I'll be dead already, that won't matter."

  "I'm going to drive you home," Ethan said. "No, actually, I'm going to drive me to my house. You'll have to drive home from there I'll take my uncle's car and go to the police. I'll tell them that those guys jumped me when I went into the laundry and that I managed to break away on my own. I won't mention you at all."

  "Ethan. That won't work Not only did they see me, they know who I am."

  "Do you think they're going to volunteer the information that they were terrorizing a sixteen-year-old girl? They'll already be up for assault and battery. Conspiracy to commit murder. If they bring you into it ... People go crazy when other people hurt kids. If I don't mention you, they won't mention you."

  Kerry thought about it, wishing that it could be that easy.

  "I'll only tell them about you as a last resort," he promised.

  Still she hesitated. She'd never be able to pull it off. She'd have to clean up Ethan's blood, which had gotten all over the seat, and her jeans had a bloody smear where she'd wiped her hand before grabbing Footy. Would Ian have gotten Dad up when she didn't come home? Did Dad know already?

  Ethan was watching her, looking a lot stronger now that he'd caught his breath. He was terribly brave, Kerry thought.

  She dropped the keys into his outstretched palm, knowing she'd have to wash them off, too, now, and the steering wheel. It'd never work.

  "We can try," she said.

  Chapter Four

  KERRY KNEW THE street where Ethan lived—it was behind the supermarket where she worked Fridays after school and on Saturday afternoons. She even recognized Ethan's uncle's house. A sprawling Victorian with a wraparound porch, angled roofs and dormers, and turrets topped by conical towers, it was the one about which she always said, "Someday, when I'm rich and famous, I'm going to buy that house." The thing that set it apart from the other fine old Victorians in Brockport was the enormous yard, never subdivided in the crunch for land. Every spring and summer there were lovely flowers and bushes, so this yard always seemed to have more color and life than anyplace else.

  "Does your uncle do all the gardening himself?" Kerry asked as Ethan pulled into the driveway.

  Ethan gave her a startled look, as though wondering what kind of gardening she thought anyone would be doing in December. Before she could clarify, he said, "No. He hires in people." And she realized it wasn't so much her question that had taken him aback but that something was distracting him.

  "What is it?" she asked as he shifted the car into reverse.

  The car lurched backward as he stepped hard on the accelerator. But an instant later, he hit the brake. "Sorry," he said. "I know I didn't leave the light on, but it's all right."

  Good thing they weren't dependent on her reflexes. Kerry had seen the light in one of the front windows and hadn't given it a thought. She had even seen the door open, but her only reaction had been her heart sinking when she saw that it was an attractive woman. Silly, she told herself. She had no claim on Ethan.

  Ethan pulled the car up till it was opposite the porch, and he turned off the engine.

  Close up, the woman was about Kerry's mother's age, but Kerry very much doubted she'd turn out to be Ethan's aunt. For one thing, Ethan had mentioned only an uncle; for another, she just didn't look like anybody's aunt, standing there on the porch in stocking feet, holding a glass of white wine. Kerry had seen enough of her mother's boyfriend, before they disappeared in Florida, to know that some women prefer younger men. This woman leaned on the side railing and gave Kerry a smile that was probably about as friendly as the one Kerry returned.

  "Well, well," the woman said, never taking her gaze off Kerry as Ethan got out of the car, "so much for dropping in unannounced."

  Kerry hesitated to open the car door, she'd have to step closer to the woman on the porch before she could step away. But her reluctance put her in a worse position, because Ethan came around to open the door for her, as though that had been what she was waiting for, which made the woman raise her eyebrows appraisingly. "She seems rather young, mon cher," she said as Kerry stepped out of the car, "but I'm sure you know what you're doing. Just let me get my shoes."

  Kerry felt her cheeks go hot. Thinking that Ethan was incredibly good looking, and that it was a sign from heaven that he lived in "her" house, then being disappointed to find that he apparently already had a girlfriend—a much older girlfriend—this was not the same as planning to spend the night with him. Or anybody, at this point in her life.

  She guessed Ethan was probably as mortified as she was. "This is Kerry Nowicki," he said hastily as the woman started to turn. "She just saved my life."

  The woman turned back, looking mildly amused.

  "And, Kerry, this is Regina Sloane." He hesitated before finishing, lamely, "My technical writing instructor."

  Regina blew him a kiss that couldn't disguise she was miffed at how he'd chosen to identify her. "Mon cher," she said again—Kerry found her use of the French endearment pretentious in the absence of a French accent—"there's a minimum number of classes you must attend before even I must penalize you."

  As though she were here only to check on a truant student. And let herself into his house. And into his refrigerator. It doesn't make any difference to me if he chooses to make out with a teacher old enough to he his mother, Kerry thought. She fought back the little voice that argued Regina might be old enough to be her mother, but not Ethan's. She shrugged to show she didn't care.

  "Did you walk here?" Ethan asked Regina. "Or did you drive?"

  She gave him a tight smile. "Oh, I drove," she said. "My car's back by the garage." She indicated with a nod where the driveway curved around behind the house. And still no request for an explanation of what had happened.

  "I'd like to get Kerry back to her home before her father catches on that she's missing," Ethan said. "And she isn't supposed to be driving without someone who has a license." Kerry noticed that he'd picked up on the fact that her mother didn't live with them. Quick, she thought. As well as incredibly attractive.

  Stop it, she told herself. As Jar as he's concerned, you're a kid.

  If Regina was his type, Kerry would be a kid until she hit her thirties.

  "Could we use your car?" Ethan asked.

  "Certainly." Regina gave another of her predatory smiles. Finally, offhandedly, she asked, "Are you going to tell me what happened?" She'd shifted her attention to Ethan now that she'd seen Kerry was no competition, and Ethan dismissed Kerry, too, with an "I'll be back in a minute," which obviously meant, Don't come in. Regina walked along the porch railing, keeping pace as Ethan limped down the flagstone path to the front steps.

  "There'll be more time later," he said, somewhat breathlessly He had to lean on the front post before he could make it up the three stairs.

  Standing by the car, Kerry was too far away to be any help, and Regina, standing right there, didn't budge. "Nasty," she said, indicating his torn and bloody leg. She downed the rest of her wine and hurried into the house, as though the cold had suddenly seeped into her feet.

  "I'll be back in a minute," Ethan told Kerry again, and he disappeared into the house behind Regina.

  Standing where she was—rather, standing on tiptoe where she was—Kerry could see into one corner of the living room Ethan might not be able to afford a jacket or a car of his own, but his uncle was certainly well off. She could see part of an Oriental rug, a grand piano, a grandfather clock, and a huge gold-framed mirror. Regina walked int
o the part of the room that was reflected in the mirror. She stopped abruptly and turned, and in a moment Ethan caught up.

  Kerry ducked, afraid to be caught staring with her nose pressed against the glass, but then she estimated that—unless there was another mirror—she could see in better than they could see out.

  When she peeked in again, the two of them were talking, though with the windows closed Kerry couldn't hear a thing. Ha! she thought of Regina. Too sophisticated to care what happened, are we? She would have loved to hear Ethan's obviously condensed story. She couldn't tell, from Regina's face, what she made of it all.

  Then, suddenly, they were kissing, too fast for Kerry to catch who had made the first move. Kerry ducked again. She'd never had a teacher kiss her like that, she thought. On second thought, she'd never had a teacher she'd have wanted to kiss her like that. And just when she'd begun hoping that maybe she'd misinterpreted the situation.

  Kerry wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the cold.

  When she glanced in again, the mirror showed only the fireplace, flanked by leaded-glass bookcases. She'd just gotten off her tiptoes when the front door slammed and Regina came out.

  No telling if she guessed Kerry had been spying. She came and leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette, never quite looking at Kerry, wearing a distant but smug smile. What was that for? Kerry wondered. Surely not relief? Surely somebody that gorgeous couldn't have been nervous about competition from a sixteen-year-old who didn't have any makeup and who was wearing a nightshirt that was now hanging below her jacket? More likely, it was just Regina's natural expression.

  When Ethan finally came out, he'd changed clothes. Still no jacket, but he'd wrapped a fresh bandage around his right hand, and in his left he was carrying a bucket of sudsy water.

  Regina moved a fraction of an inch so he could open the passenger door. Stiffly, and without a word to either of them, Ethan got down on his good knee and began scrubbing at the blood that had gotten onto the seat and floor mat. Regina pulled out another cigarette.