Chapter Sixteen
At last, around midnight, I slouched into bed. At that moment, I considered it absurd to remove anything but my jacket and shoes; I'd clean myself up in the mroning--- right now all my desires were centered on a sound, relaxing drift into oblivion. I later recalled that I had even neglected to say good night to Barry, though, I doubt that he would have heard it, for he had been on the go, and much more strenuously so than I. We had silently gone our separate ways at the front door.
I haven't the faintest idea of how much later, whether minutes or hours, it was that I was jolted awake by the flash of a knife sweeping through the air inches above my face. I opened my eyes and scanned the darkness. Finally, I exhaled a relieved sigh--- relieved that it was only a dream. Doubtlessly the result of the constant fare of horror to which I had lately been subjected. It was then that I became awar of a curious noise downstairs. I tried to analyze the sound, just as a nervous child will listen breathlessly to house noises. My ears groped for the slightest whilsper. First, I assumed that it must be Barry in the bathroom or kitchen, or perhaps, making certain all was secure. "But, no... it's a gurgling sound. Hope the plumbing isn't stopped up again. It's times like this," I thought, "I do wish I had better control over the Gift. Well, no sense lying here wondering." I rolled from beneath the covers. "Why tonight?"
As I padded down the spiral, I could see the shapes of the room quite well. I had forgotten to close the drapes; all was illuminated by the city's lights reflecting from the blanket of high fog--- a source of light not too dissimilar from moonlight. I was absent-mindely contemplating this idea--- that is until I reached about the fifth step from the bottom. Suddenly, something grasped my ankle and yanked it backwards. I plunged forward. I suppose the fact taht I fell on my side, then immediately twisted onto my back saved my life. Had I landed face downward, I should never have seen the knife plunging downwards toward my throat. I wheeled over instantaneously, but it followed me, catching the soft, fleshy part of my arm. I do not think I even felt the pain, nevertheless, I was vaguely aware of the warm blood trickling down my arm. Again, I avoided a blow--- I could hear the slash of the knife through the air--- then another. Somehow, I managed to scramble to my knees, then to my feet.
"Barry!" I screamed, as I tried to keep the staircase between myself and my assailant, whom I now actually saw for the first time. He was the same person I had seen so often before in my mind's eye, except, now his face was hideoulsy distorted through the use of a stocking mask. Nothing, however, could hide the pure, devilish hate, perhaps mingled with terror, revealed in his eyes. "Barry!" No reply. "My God! I've got to get to the balcony! I can shout to the cops below! They've got to be there!"
I made a dash towards the glass doors. All too quickly an enormous weight struck my back, propelling me against the sofa and tipping it over. He flew over the cushions at me. Again I shuddered at the coldness of the blade against my flesh, but this time it was not followed by the scarlet stain. Providence had evidently befriended me once again; the point had caught in one of the pillows.
Where my strength came from, I shall never know--- fear, I suppose (it had certainly never been there before)--- in some way I was able to force him far enough from me to double my leg beneath him and to catapult him violently backwards. Before I could arise, however, I once more had to meet his onslaught. Time and again that blade lashed out at me, only to be checked by the power supplied by my desire to live. Each time, though, he forced his weight and superior strength upon me, I could feel my own supply draining. I would strain to thrust this demon from me, only to have him pounce again a fraction of a second later. I could gain no advantage.
Suddenly, I felt a burning sensation in my shoulder, followed by a warm moistness. He had penetrated my guard. I must have lost consciousness for an instant later, my opponant having been quick enough to seize his second opportunity, I was gripped by a convulsive throe in my side, which ate its way upward beneath my ribs. All my energy oozed from me. I waited. Miraculously, something stimulated me, something protruding from his waist had brushed against my hand--- It was hard and cold and awkward in shape. I groped; I had to find it again. My fingers gripped it--- a gun! Why hadn't I noticed it before? As the blade was withdrawn, I was seized by a shuddering coldness, which increased then subsided. A swell of euphoric gloom washed over me. The portion of my consciousness still clinging to this world forced my hand to cling to the object. There was a report, horrible in its loudness. The dark form stumbled backward. Throught a black mist, I could see a slimey patch on his thigh. The pistol was still in my hand, though I had absolutely no control over its movements. Had the thing not gone off again, once more shattering the glass doors, I think I should have slipped into the abyss right then--- as it was, it only delayed it a second or so. However, in that second it recoiled again--- the thing had a life of its own!
What happened after that, I do not know precisely. I was being swept farther
and farther away by a current of murky nilhility. In the distance, reverberating and
echoing, I heard what seemed to be thunder. Stifling, cottony darkness enveolped
me. Never have I submitted to such peace. Oddly enough, I believe I knew that I
was dying, that this existance was slipping away from me, but I was so very tired
and so very happy--- I really didn't care.
| To Be Continued | HOME |
| E-mail: Dubricus |
