Читать книгу The Calling - Kim O'Neill - Страница 13

In my mind’s eye, I saw a confusing kaleidoscope of indistinguishable sound and swirling color. Then, it rapidly crystallized into a clear and vivid picture, like a movie. However, unlike any film I had ever seen, I was actually a spectator in the movie as an unseen observer. I knew I was dreaming, but at the same time, I also had the ability to think and rationalize.

As the dream unfolded, I found myself standing in the living room of a large residence. A dark-haired, very petite girl who appeared to be in her early twenties was tidying the kitchen. She was surprised by several light knocks on the front door. Confused, she glanced at the wall clock. It read 11:06. Already dressed for bed, she had obviously not anticipated a visitor so late at night.

When the girl tentatively opened the door, she was confronted by a tall, young man with blond hair and badly pockmarked skin. Waving a gun at her, he pushed his way inside and quickly closed the door behind him. The girl’s eyes popped open in surprise and she staggered a few steps back.

Oh, no! I thought. This is a very bad man. I just know it!

“Where’s everybody else?” he asked quietly, in a slow drawl.

From the hallway, another girl cautiously peeked into the room, having heard the raps on the door. She was wearing cotton babydoll pajamas that were flowered and had puffed sleeves . . . just like mine! When she saw the man wielding a gun and threatening her roommate, her dark eyes widened in fear.

The intruder quickly slipped off his jacket and threw it across the back of a chair. There was a large, graphic tattoo on his left arm that read, BORN TO RAISE HELL. He immediately herded both girls down the hallway and into a back bedroom. I followed after them as if propelled by some unseen force. The big dormitory-style room held several sets of bunk beds. Three other girls were fast asleep in their beds.

“Ya’ll do what I say,” he said calmly. “I won’t hurt you. I just need money.” The man’s voice woke the sleeping girls, who screeched in unison when they saw the armed intruder. A few of the girls ran to hide in the closet.

“I want everybody here,” he told the girl in the babydoll pajamas, gesturing impatiently toward the floor with his gun. “Front and center. Ya’ll gimme your money and I’ll leave.”

The girl hesitated for a moment, nodded nervously, and scurried to the closet. She knocked softly on the door and urged her roommates to come back out. They emerged with obvious misgivings. The man asked all five girls to sit on the floor facing him. Not wanting to prolong their ordeal or anger the intruder, they swiftly honored his wishes. They clung together, holding hands to bolster their courage. As if he was in no hurry to be on his way, the man sat on the floor across from them and comfortably extended his long legs.

“I’m goin’ to New Orleans,” he explained casually. “Where d’ya’ll keep your money?”

The girls stared back at him.

“I promise I won’t hurt nobody.”

In rapid succession, each of the girls told him where he could find their purses. He got to his feet, slowly stretched, and left the room.

Get up! Don’t just sit there! Run . . . while he’s gone! Hurry!

Instead of attempting to escape, the girls remained rooted where they sat. Frightened glances passed between them. One of the girls looked furtively at the windows that lined the wall behind them.

Can’t you hear me? Run! Now!

The man returned holding what appeared to be a meager amount of cash. He was clearly disappointed. “This all?” he asked, his brow furrowed. The girls bobbed their heads. The outside door of the apartment opened and closed. Soft footfalls approached.

Another girl sauntered into the bedroom. “I’m home from my date!” she announced, her voice giddy as if she had been drinking. When she found five of her roommates huddled together on the floor, she frowned in bewilderment.

“Hello,” said the intruder. Startled, the girl whirled, saw him, and yelped. The man gestured for her to join the others by waving his gun in their direction. She hastily complied.

Without speaking another word, he pulled a sheet off one of the beds, removed a large knife from his pocket and industriously began to cut it into a number of long strips. The girls huddled close to one another, their fear mounting as they watched him with wide-eyed confusion. When he had finished, he picked up two of the strips and approached the girl closest to him.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered quietly.

“But you’ve already got our money,” argued another girl in a quivering voice. “You said you’d leave.”

“And I will,” he answered. “I’m tyin’ you up so I have more time to get away. I promise I won’t hurt you. The faster ya’ll do as I say, the quicker I’ll be in New Orleans.”

Clearly apprehensive, the shaking girl turned her back to him. The man proceeded to wind the strips of fabric around her small wrists in a special kind of knot.

“Now . . . I’m gonna tie your feet.”

No! Listen to me! Don’t believe him! He’s lying! You’ll be completely helpless!

Although her dark eyes were filled with distrust, she surrendered her outstretched legs, tightly clenched together.

He bound the girl’s ankles with the same intricate knot. When he finished, he began to caress her inner thigh. Whimpering, she protectively drew her knees close to her body.

The man shrugged, and turned to the next girl. Crying, she shook her head, as if trying to rouse herself from a bad dream.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he gestured impatiently.

Don’t trust him! Run away! Why can’t anyone hear me?

One by one, each of the six roommates reluctantly submitted, allowing him to bind their wrists and then their ankles. After they were all subdued, he stood and surveyed his captive prey. Unnerved and completely helpless, they anxiously stared up at him. The man smiled, clearly enjoying his position of power. Swiftly—without warning—the intruder reached for one of the terrified girls, lifted her into his arms, and carried her out of the room. Her shrieks echoed down the hallway.

All of the other girls gasped and looked at one another in alarm.

“Where is he taking Pamela?”

“He said he wouldn’t hurt us!” cried another in a frantic whisper.

“God is watching,” said the petite, dark haired girl who unknowingly admitted the intruder. She had an unusual accent. “Have faith.”

The front door to the apartment suddenly opened again, and two more female voices could be heard chatting quietly as they made their way down the small hallway. The captive girls tried to call out and warn their friends, but it was too late—they had already stumbled upon the intruder. Two sets of footfalls flew down the hallway. The terrified girls escaped into the back bedroom but stopped in their tracks when they saw four of their roommates bound and held captive. The man was right behind them. He looked frenzied, eyes wild. He lurched at them, and they vigorously fought back. As they struck at him, he was able to grab a flailing arm of each girl in a vise-like grip. In desperation, they kicked, cried out, and fiercely resisted as he dragged them from the room. For the next few minutes, there was the sound of a tremendous struggle coming from an adjacent room. Suddenly, it became eerily silent. Then there was the sound of water running in the bathroom sink.

The girls in the back bedroom became panic stricken. They tugged against their restraints, and several tried to squeeze under the small bunk beds that lined the room. They couldn’t fit.

Open the window and shout for help! No! He’s coming! Look out!

The man strode back into the room. He eagerly reached for another girl. She was too frozen with fear to struggle. He untied her feet and marched her out of the room as she pleaded for him to release her. In a few moments, we could hear her loudly moan. This was followed by an ominous, palpable hush. Then . . . the sound of running water.

What is the man doing to the girls? He’s hurting them! He broke his promise! And what is he washing?

Heavy footfalls strode down the hallway.

He’s coming again!

The intruder returned, now covered in sweat, face flushed. Four petrified girls stared up at him with wide-eyed dread. “You’re next,” he informed the smallest girl, who had dark hair and eyes. She wasn’t much bigger than I. With some kind of accent, she shrieked, “No! Please!” Like a ferocious, rabid animal, he snarled, barring yellow, uneven teeth. His helpless captives recoiled in alarm. He reached down, effortlessly picked up the tiny girl—who was still bound—and swept her out of the room. Endless moments passed.

The girl’s voice echoed throughout the apartment.

“What did she say?” asked one of the girls.

“It ‘hurts,’ in our language. Filipino,” whispered the other slight, dark-haired girl. Her small body quivered as she began to sob. More time passed in silence. Water ran again. The heavy footfalls approached.

Oh, no! When will he finally go away? Why is he doing this?

The man reappeared, this time seeking out one girl in particular. He angrily confronted the pretty, big-boned girl. “Are you the one with the yellow dress?”

Eyes huge, she shook her head, but it was clear that she was lying. The girl cringed as he cut the restraints on her ankles and pulled her to her feet. In spite of her arms still tied behind her, she resisted athletically, but in vain, as he forced her from the room. From down the hall, there was the sound of grappling, then a powerful punch. Thud! “Ohhhh—stop!” the girl begged. “Please! Why are you—” Thud! Thud! “No! Noooo! . . . ” A body heavily fell to the floor. Thud! Thud! Thud! Then an awful silence that seemed to go on forever. Water splashing in a sink. Footfalls.

The intruder was back, his expression maniacal. Beads of sweat dripped from his face. Only two of the roommates remained, bound, on the floor where he had left them. It didn’t take more than a second for him to decide who his next victim would be.

The man strode up to the girl who had fatefully returned from her date a short time earlier. He took out his knife, crouched down, and severed the binds on her ankles.

“No! Not me!” she implored, as he yanked her to her feet and shoved her onto a nearby bed. She fell back upon her arms, which were still bound behind her. Over her strident protests, the man used his knife to shred her blouse, her bra, her skirt, and her panties. Her naked body trembling, her eyes wild with fear, she pleaded, “No . . . please don’t hurt me . . . ” She clamped her legs together and tried to draw her knees close to her body.

In a deranged frenzy, he swiftly unbuckled his trousers, pulled them down, and brusquely spread her legs.

“No! Please don’t! I’m begging you! No—”

The man roughly settled on top of her. “Put your legs around my back,” he huskily demanded. Then he began to brutally push into her, grunting and moaning with each savage thrust. His movements were so forceful that the sturdy bed squeaked loudly.

What are you doing? Stop it! You’re hurting her!

The dark-haired girl with the child-like frame now cowered on the floor nearby, all alone, tightly bound hand and foot. In a foreign language, she began to pray loudly in an attempt to drown out the other girl’s tortured cries for mercy.

A spasm finally gripped the man’s body. Then he became very still. After a few moments, he slowly stood and pulled off his pants and underwear. There was blood between the girl’s legs. He dragged her to her feet, took the knife out of his back pocket, and cut the restraints that held her wrists. “I’m not finished with you,” he said, poking one of her breasts with the sharp blade. “Not by a long shot.”

“Oh, my god . . . no, please . . . ” she whimpered, wiping tears and a runny nose with the back of her hand. He took her by the arm and forced her to limp behind him. Their footsteps traveled down the hall, and then they could be heard descending a flight of stairs. A few moments passed before the girl’s loud cries rose from downstairs, followed by the intruder’s bestial grunting that continued interminably.

In the back bedroom, there was only one girl left. Hours before, she had been the one who unknowingly opened the door to the intruder. As she heard the man terrorize the last of her friends, her face became a mask of determination. It took several long minutes, but she was able to successfully wiggle under one of the bunk beds.

Abruptly, the first floor fell silent.

The dark-haired girl inexplicably scooted back out of her hiding place! From her position on the floor, she craned her neck to rapidly survey the room, her expression full of urgency—and the will to survive.

The sound of footfalls could be heard coming up the stairs.

No! What are you doing? He’ll see you!

She propelled herself completely across the room in a series of jerky, panic-stricken movements. When she reached the other bunk beds, she kept maneuvering her small body until she forced herself completely underneath the low bed frame. Once again, she was totally out of sight. I trotted over and peeked underneath. She had scrunched up against the wall, and her breath was coming in huge, but silent, bursts. She closed her eyes and began to pray again.

You’re hidden! You’ll be safe under there! I sat on the floor by the bed, Indian style. I kept peering down at her to see if she was okay. I hoped she wasn’t going to start sneezing from all the dust.

Right down the hall, water flooded into the sink. Then it stopped. Eager footfalls. Instinctively, I jumped to my feet and fled to the other side of the room. The dark-haired girl hiding under the bed stopped praying and was silent.

Here he comes! Don’t make a sound!

The naked intruder strode back into the large dormitory bedroom, his lower body smeared with blood. He was a carnivorous animal ready to devour the last of his disabled prey, but he was visibly surprised to find the room empty. His cold blue eyes narrowed. He crouched to look under a bunk bed. No one there. Then he searched under an adjacent bed—the exact place where the girl had been hiding a short time before. No one there, either. Frowning, he stood back up. His eyes darted to the bed where the rape took place. Drying blood stained the crumpled sheets. There was an excruciating silence.

A shrill ambulance siren pierced the stillness, fading as it continued on its way. The intruder stealthily moved across the room toward the bunk bed that concealed the girl. I followed on tip-toes. Abruptly, he stopped. I paused. Like a predatory beast stalking with telepathic senses, he twisted his head slightly to listen. He turned around slowly, but deliberately . . . and looked right at—me! He had sensed my presence! I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth. Can you see me? Please . . . .no!

My heart began to pound out of my chest! Our eyes locked—and he leered . . . right at me! It made my skin crawl. “So you’ve watched everything, little girl?” he drawled, emphasizing every word. “Too bad I can’t do you like all the others—but you’ll never be able to forget me just the same.”

I awoke from the dream with a start. I was so scared I couldn’t catch my breath! I looked around my room. I grabbed a handful of my pink blanket to make certain I was really back home and no longer in that dormitory! I could hear my parents snoring loudly in unison. That meant my Mom was okay . . . until the next weekend.

Shaking, I turned on my bedside lamp. Outside my ruffled curtains, I could see pale strips of light just beginning to streak the dark sky. It was morning. That had been a long nightmare! And I didn’t understand anything that I saw. It was the worst dream I ever had. I was so glad that it wasn’t real . . . and that I was back home. Dorothy’s voice from the Wizard of Oz ran through my mind: There’s no place like home. Boy, was she right about that!

My cheeks were wet from tears, and I wiped them with the top of my flowered pajamas, pulled on my slippers, and trudged downstairs to the kitchen. I yanked on the door of the fridge, grabbed the orange juice, and drank from the carton. Standing inside the open door, I welcomed the peacefulness of being the first one up that Sunday morning. I placed the carton back on the shelf, closed the fridge, and walked outside through the unlocked front door to get the Sunday paper.

Although it was the middle of July, I was still shivering with goose bumps from what I had “seen” the night before. How would I possibly erase it from my mind? I bent to pick up the heavy rolled bundle from the front lawn and carried it inside. I dropped it on the kitchen table, untied the string that held it together, and sank into a chair to read the funnies.

As the Chicago Tribune unrolled, a picture of the man from my dream—was staring up at me! I gasped and my eyes popped from my head. It was really him!

POLICE NAB KILLER SUSPECT Picture Identified By Surviving Nurse

Richard Franklin Speck, 24, the ex-convict from Dallas, was seized by police last night . . .