Читать книгу Bogeyman - Gayle Wilson - Страница 10

Her first thought was it was too soon. It had been only four nights ago that Maddie’s screams had awakened her, and now—

Not screams. Whatever she was hearing didn’t follow the normal pattern of the nightmare. And then, in a blood-chilling flash of recognition, she knew the sound for what it was.

Smoke alarm.

There was only one, located at the top of the stairwell. She’d meant to buy another for the kitchen, but with everything involved in the move and with what had been going on since—

She threw off the covers and leapt out of bed, adrenaline flooding her system. She was halfway to the door of the second bedroom before she encountered smoke. As she ran, her mind analyzed the possibilities. None of them were comforting.

It was thicker in the hall, but she didn’t slow. As long as whatever was burning didn’t keep her from getting to Maddie, she wasn’t concerned with it right now. Once she had her daughter, she’d think about the terrifying reality that in the middle of the night her rented house was filled with smoke.

As she neared the door to the main bedroom, where Maddie had been sleeping since Blythe had heard the tapping on the window, she fought her panic, reassuring herself that despite the density of the smoke there was enough breathable air….

The little girl was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide as the alarm continued to sound its warning. “Mama?”

Blythe threw back the quilts and scooped her up off the bed. Maddie clung to her neck, her legs automatically wrapping around her waist.

She carried Maddie into the hall, heading toward the stairs. In the darkness, framed by spindles at their top, she could see the glow of flames, already licking up the stairwell.

The most immediate danger was the smoke, which was already thick in the upstairs hall. Toxins would be released by the burning furniture, and the smoke itself would rapidly eat up the life-sustaining oxygen.

How long did that give her? Blythe wondered, reversing course. How long would there be air for them to breathe? How long did she have to try to find a way out?

Running now, she carried Maddie toward the window at the end of the short hall. One look at the two-story drop below it made her rethink that solution. She turned away, glancing over her shoulder at the glow from the stairwell.

Mentally she reviewed the windows on this floor. The one where she’d heard the tapping overlooked the roof of the screened-in porch. And apparently the fire had started on the other side of the structure….

She hurried into what had been Maddie’s bedroom. She leaned over the secretary, putting her forehead against the cold glass. Below stretched the gently peaked roof of the addition.

She bent, setting Maddie on the floor. “Lie down and stay down,” she ordered, in her I-mean-it voice.

She jerked the desk away from the wall as if it weighed nothing. Even if she decided the drop to the roof below was too great, once she opened the window, they would at least have fresh air.

She turned the metal latch at the top of the sill and then tried to push up the sash. No matter how much pressure she applied, the window refused to budge, not even when she bent, using the muscles of her thighs and buttocks. Either moisture had caused the wood to swell or it had been painted shut.

She looked back toward the hall, which was now thick with smoke. There had to be another way. Another window. Some other access to the roof.

Even as she mentally sought other possibilities, she knew there were none. The other windows on this floor offered a straight drop to the ground two stories below. And there was no guarantee that any of them would be easier to open than this.

Her eyes fastened on the small desk chair that had been shoved into the keyhole of the desk. When she’d moved the secretary, it had carried the chair with it.

Coughing, she jerked the chair free, holding onto the back of it with both hands. It seemed incredibly light, far too fragile to accomplish what she needed it to do.

“Keep your head down,” she ordered Maddie.

She moved back to the window, swinging the chair at the bottom half, the part without the wooden mullions. The first time the legs and seat hit the broad pane of glass, they bounced off.

The second time she swung the chair with all the strength she possessed. The glass cracked, and when she struck it the third time, it shattered.

She took a deep breath of the cold night air rushing in through the opening. Behind her, the fire crackled and hissed with the renewed flow of oxygen. The sound destroyed her sense of euphoria, replacing it with another burst of panic.

Using the chair and her hands, she broke out the shards that clung to the frame. Then she turned, picked Maddie up off the floor and started back to the window.

“Mama? What are you doing?”

“It’s okay,” Blythe said. “We’re going out the window. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

Against her body she felt the little girl’s nod.

Dear God, don’t let me lose her, too.

The broken window loomed before her. For a moment she couldn’t decide if she should drop onto the roof and then have Maddie jump down so she would be there to break her fall.

It took only a second to realize too many things could go wrong with that plan. She could be knocked unconscious by the fall. Maddie could refuse to jump. The fire could reach her before—

She destroyed the thought as she set Maddie on her feet. Then, putting her arms around the little girl’s torso, Blythe locked her hands around her back. She lifted her daughter and lowered her body through the open window.

The roof below looked much farther away than before. She would have to drop the little girl on the right side of the peak so that when she fell, she would roll down into the valley formed by the wall of the original house and the roof of the addition. If she dropped her on the other side, Maddie might roll off and onto the ground below.

Blythe edged nearer the right side of the window, ignoring Maddie’s sobs. One chance to save her daughter’s life. If she blew it…

She bent as far out as she could, so that her belly was pressed against the bottom of the frame. She could feel a piece of the broken glass that had clung to it slice her skin, but she ignored the pain, carefully positioning Maddie for the drop.

Blythe’s shoulders screamed for relief from the weight they held, but she ignored them, too. Instead, her left arm still around Maddie’s back, she managed to slide her right hand up until it was fastened around Maddie’s wrist. She closed her eyes, anticipating the strain on her shoulder as she held on to the small, dangling body with one hand while with the other she completed the same maneuver to grasp Maddie’s other wrist.

She thought she could feel the heat of the fire behind her. She could definitely hear it. Despite the length of the drop and the chance of injury, she had to release her daughter and let her fall.

Only chance…

“I’m coming, Maddie,” she said, pitching her voice to carry over the noise of the inferno behind her. “I’m coming. Just stay there, and I’ll jump down beside you.”

Opening her hands to let Maddie go was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life. Heart in her throat, she watched as the small body, clad in its white flannel gown, fell. The little girl rolled over twice, coming to rest in the protection of the valley, just as Blythe had planned.

She waited just long enough to see Maddie raise her head to look up at the window. The intensity of the heat behind her allowed no further hesitation.

She put one leg over the frame, turning so that she could hold onto the inside edge of its sill with her fingers. That would allow her body to extend to its full length before she let go and dropped to the roof. Through the pall of smoke in the bedroom, she could see the glow of the conflagration that was now consuming the upper hall.

Only chance…

She let go, falling hard onto the side of the peaked roofline. As she slid down into the valley between the two rooflines, she tried to slow her progress by grabbing at the shingles, scraping her hands as well as her hip.

“Mama.”

She turned to find Maddie looking up at her, her eyes wide. In the moonlight, which seemed bright as day, there were no visible injuries. Even if there were…

“We’re okay,” Blythe reassured.

She pushed onto her feet, putting one hand on the wall of the house to keep her balance as she moved toward her daughter. She tried to keep her right foot in the center of the flashing, which, compared to the roof itself, was relatively flat.

She held out her free hand. “Come on,” she ordered as she pulled the little girl to her feet.

Afraid of what she’d see, she refused to look up at the window through which they’d exited. As she moved toward the front of the addition, she listened instead for the wail of fire trucks. There was nothing but the sound of the fire, devouring the rich heart pine from which the little house had been constructed.

Please, God, let me get her down. Don’t take her away from me. I’ll do whatever you want, if you just won’t let anything happen to Maddie.

When she reached the edge of the roof, holding tightly to Maddie’s hand, she stooped to look out over it. The concrete patio that had probably been constructed at the same time as the screened porch was directly below them. There was no sign of the fire here at the very back of the house. If she could get them down, they should be safe.

But there was no drainpipe. No conveniently placed tree. Nothing.

She couldn’t remember how close the trees on the other side of the addition were. She knew there were a couple, however. And shrubbery. But they would have to go over the peak of the roof to reach them.

She shifted her grip on Maddie, so that she held her wrist rather than her hand. It would be too easy for those small fingers to slip away from her.

“Where are we going?”

“To the other side.”

Maddie shook her head, tears welling. “I’m scared, Mama.”

Me, too, baby. Me, too.

“I’ve got you. I won’t let go. It’s going to be all right, Maddie. I promise.” As she made the pledge, she started up the incline.

Although she had to bend in order to maintain her hold on Maddie’s wrist, she managed to reach the peak with relative ease, using her free hand on the shingles for balance. Only when she reached the top did she realize that the real danger would be going down. How could she ensure that she wouldn’t slip on that slanting surface, carrying Maddie with her?

She eased down so that she was sitting on the peak of the roofline. She drew Maddie to her, relishing her small, solid warmth. The little girl was trembling like someone in a chill, but the act of comforting her gave Blythe hope. And it renewed her determination. After all, they had made it this far.

She looked again at the downward slope. Although it wasn’t steep, for someone barefoot and guiding a terrified four-year-old, it would be treacherous.

“You remember when Daddy used to ride you piggyback?” Blythe leaned back, sweeping Maddie’s bangs from her eyes, as she looked into her face.

The little girl nodded.

“Think you can do that again?”

“Up here?”

“Hold on around my neck and put your legs around my back. I’m going to scoot down on my bottom.”

In the silence that followed, Blythe could hear the fire again. She had no idea how long it had been since the alarm had awakened her. It felt like an eternity, yet there were no fire engines. For the first time she realized they might not come until it was too late.

With that incentive, she brought her other leg over the peak and, still holding onto Maddie, scooted down perhaps a foot. Her nightgown rucked up under her, but there was nothing she could do about it. The shingles would abrade her buttocks and thighs, just as they had her hands.

“Piggyback,” she said, trying to position the little girl behind her without losing the grip she had on her arm. “Put your legs around my waist and hold on.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to, Maddie. You have to.” Again she made her voice hard. Demanding.

She knew the child was at a breaking point, but she couldn’t deal with hysterics. Not up here. She had to get her off the roof now, even if it meant dropping her over the side as she had dropped her out of the window.

“Get on my back,” she said, pulling sharply on Maddie’s arm. “Do it now, Maddie. Do you hear me?”

Trembling arms fastened around her neck, almost choking her. She reached down and lifted her daughter’s legs to wrap them around her body. She had to push the constriction of the little girl’s gown out of the way, but finally the child was in position, clinging to her back, her cheek resting against Blythe’s neck.

She could hear Maddie sobbing, but she ignored it. She ignored everything except what she had to do.

Using her palms and her feet, she inched down the sloping roof. Given the size of the addition, it was a matter of less than a minute before her toes were at the edge. Then she realized that she wasn’t sure how to proceed from there.

Try to position herself, with Maddie still on her back, to dangle from the roof as she had from the window? But there was nothing here to hang onto. Even if there had been, she wasn’t sure that her arms could support their combined weight—not even long enough to extend her body over the edge.

Drop Maddie, as she had done before? The grass below would be softer than the roof, and she’d suffered no serious injuries from the previous fall. Of course, working on the slanting surface would be much harder than standing on the floor of the bedroom and lowering her out the window had been.

Her eyes searched the area below. Stripped by the winter of their leaves, the foundation plantings looked like stakes, pointing upward, ready to impale them.

The ground then, she decided. Even the dead brown grass would offer some cushion. And what choice did she have?

She glanced up and back. Tongues of flames shot out of the window she’d broken. They had only a couple of minutes at most before the fire would involve the rest of the house, including the place where they were sitting.

“I’m going to swing you off the edge, just like we did before.” She reached up, trying to pry Maddie’s hands from around her neck.

“No. No, Mama. I don’t want to.” The child’s denial was mindless. Panicked.

Blythe didn’t have time to reason with her. Ruthlessly, she pulled at the child’s right wrist, breaking its hold. In response, Maddie’s legs tightened around her waist as she clung like a limpet to what she perceived to be safety.

“Maddie, let go. We have to get down.”

A wail answered her. The wrist she’d captured was ripped from her hold as Maddie again locked both arms around her neck, threatening to cut off her supply of air.

“Look at it. Look up. Do you see the fire? We have to get off the roof, damn it. We have to.”

Uncertain whether her words would have any impact against the child’s fear, she reached again and pulled the clenched hands apart. This time she didn’t let down her guard and allow Maddie to free her wrist. This was life and death. And it was up to her to make sure the choice was not the latter.

Ever mindful of how near the edge they were, she tried to drag the child around in front of her. Realizing she wasn’t going to be able to do that one-handed, Blythe lifted her other hand off the roof, using it, too, to try to manhandle the little girl off her back.

Now beyond any threat that might coerce her to obedience, Maddie struggled desperately to maintain her position. Eventually Blythe’s superior size and strength won out. She wrestled the child forward, breaking the hold of those trembling legs.

As soon as she realized what was happening, Maddie lunged upward toward the peak of the roof, trying to escape. Blythe was forced to turn to keep hold of her daughter. As she did, her foot slipped on the shingles, sending her sliding toward the edge of the roof. Although the distance she traveled was small, her left foot dropped over, almost unbalancing her.

She let go of Maddie, throwing herself prone in an attempt to stop the downward slide. Moving carefully, she pulled the dangling foot back onto the roof and, then using her feet and hands, painstakingly inched her body up the incline.

Although the exertion required had not been great, she was panting, breath sawing in and out of her lungs. When she finally felt secure enough to move again, she turned her head, searching for her daughter.

Maddie was sitting halfway up the slanting roof. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, which had been drawn up to her chin, her nightgown draped over them. Her eyes were the only dark spot in a face literally without color.

In the sudden stillness between them, Blythe was aware of heat beneath her body. The fire had apparently reached the porch. Once it broke through…

“We have to do this now, Maddie. You can’t fight me or we’ll both fall off.”

Or worse. She couldn’t say that, of course. The child had clearly moved beyond the reach of reason. Reminding her of the fire would only drive her further into hysteria.

Blythe pushed up, still moving carefully after the near disaster. She reached one hand out imploringly to her daughter.

For a long moment nothing happened. She had begun to despair when the little girl finally moved. With the same crab-like motion Blythe had used to make the descent, she edged down the incline.

Blythe took the child’s left wrist in her right hand. “I’m going to swing you off and drop you down on the grass. Bend your knees when you hit. You’ll be fine. I swear, Maddie, you’ll be fine.”

She expected resistance. Arguments. Something. The little girl nodded instead.

There was no time now to do anything other than swing her over the side and then let her go. One chance. One chance.

She took Maddie’s other wrist, pulling her around in front. Then, fighting to keep from falling off the roof, too, she swung the little girl over the edge, her shoulders screaming again with the strain.

She bent forward, her breasts touching her knees, in an attempt to hold Maddie away from the house. She took a final glance at the ground to verify that her daughter would fall onto the thick zoysia below. Then she closed her eyes for a final wordless prayer, before she allowed her fingers to release, dropping the child to the ground.

Blythe’s eyes followed her descent. For a long heartbeat, Maddie lay where she had fallen. Then slowly, more slowly than Blythe believed she could bear, she began to sit up.

“Maddie? You okay?”

Another eternity before the small blond head moved up and down. Blythe stifled the sob, knowing there was no time for tears, not even of relief.

“You have to run,” she said.

Despite the moonlight, the woods that stretched behind the house seemed dark and frightening. But if she sent Maddie toward the front, she wouldn’t be able to see her. She couldn’t be sure that the child wouldn’t go back inside the house to find a toy or because it had once been a place of safety.

“The woods,” she said. “Can you run to the woods and wait for Mama?”

“I want to wait here. You said you were coming.”

“I am. I’m right behind you. But you need to get away from the house. Away from the fire. Go on, Maddie. Just to the edge of the woods.”

She watched as her daughter reluctantly climbed to her feet. As soon as Maddie moved out of the way, she would jump down. Even if she broke an ankle, she’d still be able to get away from the fire. Even if I have to crawl…

“Go on, Maddie. To the edge of the woods and wait for me.”

As Blythe said the words, she raised her eyes to the thick pine forest that marked the property line. Something in the trees caught her eye. A shape, darker than the trunks themselves, was moving along the edge of the woods.

She blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. When she looked again, whatever she’d seen seemed to have melted into the shadows. Still…

A movement below drew her gaze from the forest. Looking like a small, white ghost in her pale nightgown, Maddie was running across the back lawn toward those woods. Just as Blythe had told her to.

And she was running directly toward whatever—or whoever—had been moving there.