Stalk Me

by Richard Parker

  “Kill me?”

  Chapter 72

  Tyler’s defiance forbade a response. Mrs O’Doole opened her mouth to admonish him but thought better of it.

  Beth cut through the family stand-off. “The gun’s definitely locked away?”

  “Yeah. We put it back there after the last time we used it.”

  “And there’s ammo?”

  “In the bottom drawer of the desk,” Kevin chimed in. “Right at the back, behind all the fishing reels.” He evaded the heat of his mother’s gaze as well.

  “Tyler, how long do you think it would take to open the gun cupboard and load it?” Beth asked.

  “He’s not going down there,” Mrs O’Doole interjected.

  “I’m not saying he should. I’m just asking, if we did make a run for it, how long it would take to arm ourselves.”

  Mrs O’Doole bit her lip as she resigned herself to their limited options. “I can load the gun.”

  “Not as fast as me,” Tyler butted in.

  “Tyler, no.”

  “It’s sticky. You haven’t got the knack.”

  “I won’t hear of it.”

  “Mom,” Tyler said firmly, and waited for her eyes to engage his. His voice softened. “It’s not like I have a whole bunch of time left to play with...”

  “Tyler, enough.”

  He continued regardless. “But you and Kevin do.”

  Mrs O’Doole shook her head rapidly.

  “You know it makes sense. You could never handle Dad’s guns. Let me do it.”

  Beth sensed there was something more significant than a mother/son feud being aired and kept quiet.

  “Out of the question.” Mrs O’Doole bit her lip harder to compose herself. “End of discussion.”

  A sound at the window. All their heads turned towards it. It was barely discernible; four sharp scrapes in quick succession as if something were scratching the wood.

  “What’s that?” Kevin’s eyes were suddenly bulging.

  “Quiet,” Mrs O’Doole whispered.

  Four chests halted as they waited.

  *

  “I thought you were going fishing.” Mrs Hollis responded to the sound of the kitchen door opening. She’d just settled herself in front of an old Law and Order rerun in the lounge with a plate of microwaved cinnamon cream hotcakes. Caught in the act. It was the sort of nightclothes brunch that Ned had outlawed because of her hypertension. She waited for a response but none came. “Ned?” She quickly slid the plate under the chair and walked into the kitchen. He was leaning on the counter with the receiver of the wall-mounted telephone to his ear. “What is it?”

  He didn’t look at her. “Police.”

  “What’s going on?”

  He still didn’t respond, just blinked his eyes while he waited to be connected.

  Mrs Hollis hated her husband when he kept her out of the loop. She’d recovered from almost being discovered with the hotcakes, but maybe he could smell them in the kitchen. Why the hell didn’t he just go fishing and let her have her day? “Ned, tell me. Did you stop by Whispering Brook?”

  Ned turned to her and she could see the gravity of the situation in his eyes. “The girl was there... and a guy. He seemed anxious to get rid of me, virtually shut the door in my face. When he turned from the window, though, I saw he had a gun behind his back.”

  *

  Nobody wanted to breathe first. No further sound had come, but none of them shifted their gaze from the window.

  Beth was the first to briefly exhale. “He’s going to try something soon.”

  “Maybe he’ll wait for us to make a move.” Mrs O’Doole swung her weight from knee to knee to stop her legs going to sleep.

  “I don’t think he’ll wait. We’ve got to be prepared. Is there anything in here we can use as a weapon?”

  The four of them cast their eyes about the room, but another sound at the window magnetised them to it again. It was the same as before. They waited a second time. It came again, more insistent. Something was at the shutters and it wasn’t a bird. It was making a concerted effort now, the scratching accelerating. Was a part of the blind being filed or sawed?

  “He’s trying to get in.” Fear gave Kevin’s words volume.

  Beth put her finger to her lips and crawled slowly across to the window on her hands and knees.

  “Stay here,” Mrs O’Doole whispered behind her.

  As she approached them, Beth kept focused on the shutters. If he were on a ladder trying to open them, there would still be glass between them but he could very easily shoot her through it. She scuttled faster and pressed herself against the wall below the window to find Mrs O’Doole crossing the oatmeal carpet.

  “Mom.” Tyler grabbed her leg as she passed him.

  From Beth’s position, the boys were entirely concealed by the bed. At least they would be safe if he started shooting into the room.

  “Let it go.” Mrs O’Doole didn’t look back at her son. “I have to help.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Stay there out of sight with your brother. I’ll be safer under the window if he opens it.” She blinked a few times as she waited, and then moved quickly forward as he released her. When she reached Beth, they exchanged a glance before the sound drew their eyes upwards again. It was becoming more frantic.

  “We’ll stand either side, I’ll open the window and we’ll push the shutters out. If he’s there, they’ll hit him.”

  Mrs O’Doole nodded, and they both slid their backs along the wall and then stood either side of the window. Mrs O’Doole carefully shifted a lightweight dressing room stool with clothes heaped on it to one side and took up position at the edge of the frame.

  Beth looked up and tried to spot any movement through the three holes in the glass and wood but thought it unlikely he’d give away his presence so obviously. Maybe he was crouching below it while he worked. Perhaps opening the shutters was exactly what he wanted them to do. Once they were wide, she and Mrs O’Doole wouldn’t dare reach out to close them again, which would leave the room accessible.

  The scratching came again. Maybe he was about to break open the shutters. If he did, they’d have to shift the chest away from the door before they could escape, and he could shoot all of them through the glass in that time.

  As if in answer to the thought, Beth heard a sliding noise behind her. She turned to see Tyler prising the drawers back from the door.

  “Tyler.” Mrs O’Doole’s alarm grated in her throat.

  Her son whispered back, “I can get Dad’s gun while he’s at the window.”

  “Stay where you are.”

  Beth waved her hands to halt him as well.

  The scratching was frenzied now.

  Mrs O’Doole took a step forward. “Get back behind the bed.”

  Tyler looked down at Kevin. “Shut this after me and be ready to open it again.” He tugged the busted handle and slid through the tight gap.

  “Tyler!” Mrs O’Doole shrieked.

  Chapter 73

  Tyler darted quickly along the landing to the top of the stairs and stopped briefly to look down at the patch of floor visible at the bottom. Once there, he’d have to walk about eight paces to the end of the passage and slip into the den.

  He listened for signs of movement below. Had his argument with Mom been overheard through the window? Was the guy now on his way back around the side of the lodge?

  He put his right toes on the top stair and stopped, his creaking weight teetering on the front of his green sneaker. He had to go now. Had to do this and get it right. Tyler put all his weight on the foot, moved the other one past it and quickly pounded down the stairs.

  The whole staircase creaked with his descent. He attempted to tread lightly, but every step seemed deafening.

  *

  Marcia O’Doole reached the door and opened it as far as it would against the chest. She put her face to the gap and peered along the landing just in time to see the top of his head disapp
ear below floor level. “Tyler.” Her voice was dehydrated, but she knew it was useless trying to call him back. She prayed he was quick.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” It was Beth, and when Marcia turned back to the bedroom, Beth was holding her hand up for silence. She hadn’t opened the window. Kevin was standing on his knees, and Marcia gestured for him to get back on his stomach. He complied, and she stopped halfway back to the shutters as the scratching recommenced.

  Beth looked upwards to the ceiling. “It’s coming from above.”

  Marcia joined her and looked hard at the spot in the plaster above the window, as if it would enable her to see through it to the source of the sound.

  “Could he be in the attic?”

  Marcia nodded. “Although it sounds more like...” Her words butted into realisation.

  “What?”

  “Raccoon.”

  The word immediately demystified the sound. Paws scratching at wood beams above.

  The revelation drained the blood out of Marcia’s frozen expression. “It’s a raccoon.” She was running back to the door. Tyler was downstairs and so was the man who wanted to kill them. She peered back through the gap, her mouth open.

  Marcia wanted to scream his name but stopped herself. If she shouted a warning, would that alert the killer to her son’s presence?

  *

  Tyler shut the door to the musty den as quietly as he could and tiptoed to his father’s desk. He quietly rolled the leather chair back, his stomach muscles clenching against every sound, gently sat down and leaned to the bottom drawer. He lifted the metal ring out of its mounting and half closed his eyes as he slid it slowly outwards so he wouldn’t disturb the clutter inside.

  He silently blew out short blasts of breath as his shaking fingers carefully dragged back the fishing reels and spools of line and he sought the bullets he’d positioned in a hiding place at the back.

  Tyler’s hand settled on the box, and the bullets rattled slightly as he drew it clear. He delicately stood and then crossed the rug to the gun cupboard on the opposite wall above his father’s old music system.

  *

  Marcia O’Doole was almost through the door when she felt Beth’s hand firmly clasp her shoulder.

  “Stay here,” Beth whispered at her ear.

  Marcia tried to struggle free.

  “Stay here,” Beth said again firmly. “Someone needs to look after Kevin.”

  Marcia felt drawn to the stairs and the situation at the bottom but knew she had to protect her youngest as well. How could she warn Tyler? If she screamed his name, it would telegraph his having left the room. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t know the killer could be in the house.

  *

  Tyler’s fingers slid over the cool metal of the keys as he slipped the correct one into the lock and opened the wooden door. The hinge groaned a little as he swung it wide and grabbed his father’s Merkel RX Helix hunting rifle. He’d introduced Tyler to it when he was thirteen, extolling its close-range virtues. It was a straight-pull, bolt-action weapon designed for rapid follow-up shots. Tyler fumbled the shells out of the box and quickly loaded up the detachable box magazine.

  He remembered to slide the safety button back on the tang, then stopped at the door and listened. Tyler expected to hear a commotion from the bedroom, but all was quiet. He gulped and it felt like a rock bouncing in his throat. He put his fingers on the handle and opened the den door a crack to peer into the passage; nobody in evidence. He hadn’t looked back as he came down the stairs, but could see through the screen that the back door was hanging open. Tyler cycled the bolt so he had a round in the chamber, and opened the door.

  The weapon felt unwieldy in his clammy hands. He and Kevin had taken shots at rabbits but had never hit anything but his father’s Miller cans. Tyler had no doubt he could pull the trigger on the fucker who had put a gun to his brother’s head, though. He gripped it tighter and grazed the trigger with the pad of his sweaty forefinger. The wall clock ticked in the kitchen.

  He pointed the rifle down the passage as he crept back to the bottom of the stairs. Still no sound from above. Perhaps he’d given up on trying to get in through the window, which meant he definitely was on his way back into the lodge. He decided to sprint up the stairs and not worry about how much noise he made.

  He’d just braced himself to make the dash when the screen creaked and the man he’d stabbed with the antlers entered the kitchen, holding a sledgehammer.

  Chapter 74

  Tyler’s finger jerked against the trigger, but the shot slammed into the wooden floor of the passage, fragments of fibre bursting from the corner of the coconut mat at the kitchen doorway. His target didn’t falter and marched steadily towards him, swinging the sledge to shoulder height in readiness.

  Tyler’s hand gripped the bolt but he estimated the sledgehammer would be arcing down on him before he’d ejected the spent case. He tore up the stairs and felt heavy footfalls behind him. He didn’t look back, just had to get the gun to his mother. Get back to the room and safety so he could reload.

  He saw her terrified face at the gap in the door.

  “Tyler!” She pulled herself out of the way so he could squeeze back in.

  Halfway through, he could feel fingers on his tee shirt collar dragging him back. A hot, solid fist bunched the material on his bare shoulder to secure its grip, and he could hear it stretching as he tried to tug his body clear. Mom and Beth were digging their nails into him, gripping and yanking on him as the fist wrenched Tyler back towards the landing.

  “Kevin!” he shouted to his brother who was lying with his hands over his head next to the bed. Tyler lobbed the rifle at him. He looked down at it as it skidded to a halt in front of him. “You know how to load it!”

  But Kevin didn’t move from his position.

  “Kevin!”

  Beth hooked her fingers over his belt and yanked him at the waist.

  “Let go of him!” Mom screamed as she frantically jabbed at the man’s hand with a pair of nail scissors.

  Tyler heard the tee shirt rip and grunted to propel himself forward. He heard a male howl and the hot fist briefly lost its grip. But the fingers quickly reattached themselves, first to the knot of his bandana and then, when that was dragged off, the few curls he had left at the nape of his neck. His head was bent backwards as Tyler gripped the edge of the chest and attempted to use its weight to lever himself inside.

  “Mom!”

  She was still lunging at the hand holding him.

  Tyler could hear the hairs being torn from the roots. He heaved his shoulders forward so he couldn’t snap his neck all the way back, and his whole body shook with the exertion.

  “Let him go!” Mom’s hand flashed past him again and again.

  Another growl from the landing and Tyler was released. He staggered a few paces into the room and then fell onto his knees in front of Kevin. The door slammed.

  Without exchanging eye contact with his brother, Tyler scooped up the rifle and cycled the bolt as he turned. The spent case was ejected and pinged across the floor, and a new one was locked in the chamber. Mom and Beth were pushing the chest of drawers up against the door again and he ran to their aid, leaning against it as they all anticipated a further assault.

  For a few seconds, their panting was the only sound. Tyler looked at his mother’s hands against the chest. Her right was a fist of blood. The pair of bent nail scissors blades poked out of her grip.

  The room shook with the impact of something heavy. The two women put their shoulders against the chest to hold it in place.

  “He’s got a sledgehammer.” Tyler stood back and aimed the rifle at the door. “I’ve got a full magazine! I’ll fucking shoot you if you come in here!”

  Another impact; a picture fell from the wall beside the door and smashed.

  Beth yanked Mom back from the door. “If he punches a hole in the door, we’d better take cover. Sure you know how to fire that thing?”

  Tyler nodded but didn
’t take his eyes off the panel. “Might take him some time to work through that. It’s solid.”

  “But that’s not.” Beth pointed to a fissure that had appeared in the plaster beside the door. With the next swing, the head of the hammer poked through the wall.

  Chapter 75

  Beth watched the hammer disappear from the crack and then slam back harder, the metal waggling as the handle was twisted to open the gap. He just needed an aperture wide enough to shoot them through.

  “It’s a stud wall.” Mrs O’Doole gripped Tyler’s ragged tee shirt and tried to drag him back towards Kevin. “Just drywall.”

  Tyler, minus his bandana, the back of his bald skull raked and scratched by fingernails, stood his ground.

  “Let’s not wait for him.” Beth gripped Tyler’s arm tight. “Can you shoot him through that?”

  He nodded, aiming the rifle at the crack as the hammer was extracted again. He fired once, and his whole body jerked with the recoil. The gun had done its best to dislocate his shoulder, but he quickly reloaded and pulled the trigger again.

  The noise in their enclosed space was deafening. Beth’s ears hissed as they waited for a sound from the landing. The head didn’t return. Daylight was seeping in through the crack.

  The same thought occurred to everyone at once.

  “Down!” Beth reached Kevin first and dragged him around to the other side of the bed. The four of them crouched there in the three spotlights from the holes that had been punched in the shutters.

  A different ear-piercing shot rang out. The bullet thumped into the wall above them. Beth put her arms around the O’Dooles and pulled their heads as far down as they would go.

  Another quickly followed, and she watched a column of holes working its way down the smashed wall. Only the angle of the end of the bed protected them, and his bullets would easily puncture it as soon as his shot was aimed a foot further down. He was quickly working his way towards that. Either they’d be dead by then or he could just kick out the perforations he was making and finish the job.