Crush wd-4

by Stefan Petrucha

  “Man, that blows.”

  Jonathan thought about his own parents. Their indifference was so total, they didn’t even bother to comment on his report cards. His mother acted like signing the stupid thing was an act of total martyrdom. His dad just wasn’t around.

  “So your dad just left?” he asked.

  “Not just left. He had to make sure me and Mom were good and miserable before he went. One night he sat us both down in the living room and told us that he was unhappy, and it was our fault. He said he couldn’t take any more disappointment in his life and thought it best to just leave, because he didn’t think we’d ever be the quality of people he wanted to associate with. That’s exactly how he put it. We weren’t the quality of people he wanted to be with, so he was leaving, and we wouldn’t hear from him and we had no one to blame but ourselves.”

  “Jesus, what a tool,” Jonathan said.

  “After he left, Mom had a full-on breakdown. I mean, she kept buying self-help books and writing these long essays about how we could improve ourselves as people, and she’d make me read these things. It was like it never occurred to her that maybe Dad was the screwed-up one. She totally pissed me off there for a while. I mean, when she wasn’t crying over the jerk’s leaving, she was all hyped up about projects that would make us better people. She had time-management programs, and she tried to get me to learn French and Spanish. She seemed to be over it for a while. I mean, she still watched every move I made, wanted to be sure I was acting appropriately, but a lot of the weird crap stopped. Then last night she started in again.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “Oh, I made the mistake of telling her about David.”

  “She didn’t like him?”

  “Are you kidding? He’s like a genius from a wealthy family. She wanted me to marry him, and she’s never even met him. She freaked when I told her that we broke up. You’d have thought I’d just told her I’d guzzled a glassful of poison, and she thought David was the only antidote.”

  “Well, I know he really liked you,” Jonathan offered.

  “I liked him, too,” Kirsty said.

  Her response sounded like a reflex to Jonathan, not really heartfelt, but he understood. After all, she’d only known David for a few days. It was natural for Kirsty to be confused about how she felt. Jonathan knew the feeling well.

  “I wish I knew how all of this happened,” Jonathan said.

  “Maybe he’ll tell you.”

  Maybe, Jonathan thought. But he was afraid to ask.

  Jonathan drifted out of sleep and was startled by the sensation of being covered. Smothered. A Reaper had come for him in his sleep. Desperate to be free, he rolled, but the thing wrapped more tightly around him. He couldn’t breathe. It was all over him, surrounding his head. Jonathan kicked, but his feet were tangled in the fabric of the thing. He swung out with an arm, but it was pinned between his body and the back of the sofa. He tried the other arm and felt the material give. Finally, opening his eyes, he saw the blanket covering him and threw it on the floor. His chest heaved for air, as if he’d genuinely been suffocating.

  He looked around, confused by the strange room. The walls were painted a deep brown. The furniture was old and heavy with intricately patterned cushions. Two wrought-iron stands held candles by a large brick fireplace.

  His waking mind raced, trying to figure out where he was and how he’d gotten there. Then he remembered: Kirsty’s house.

  Jonathan sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A cool film of sweat covered his neck, and his pores felt oily.

  “You’re awake,” Kirsty said.

  He turned toward the voice and saw Kirsty sitting in a high-backed chair. Had she been sitting there long? Was she watching him sleep?

  A cold tingle ran down Jonathan’s back.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  “It’s after five,” Kirsty said. “I tried waking you up at three, but you were out cold.”

  “Damn,” Jonathan said, knowing he’d missed his chance to confront David at school. He could see through the curtains that it was already getting dark outside. If he wanted to speak to David, he would have to go to his house. At night.

  “You must have been exhausted.”

  “Yeah,” he said, still groggy. “I guess I haven’t been sleeping much lately. It must have caught up with me.”

  “Do you want some coffee? I made some.”

  “Sure,” Jonathan said. “Yeah, please.”

  After Kirsty left the room, he blinked his eyes rapidly and yawned. When he stood, the room tilted to the left, then rocked back to the right. Jonathan took a deep breath and waited for the room to level off. He yawned again.

  Kirsty returned and handed him a mug of coffee. It was rich and tasted wonderful. Immediately his head cleared. The remnants of his exhaustion faded.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “For falling asleep.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve been through so much.” Kirsty put her hand on Jonathan’s back. She rubbed slow circles over his shoulder blade. “You can talk to David tomorrow.”

  “No,” he said. “We really shouldn’t wait. After coffee, I’ll head over to his house.”

  “That’s really brave,” Kirsty said. She leaned her head on his shoulder; her hand continued to rub his back.

  The scent of Kirsty’s shampoo, a mix of almond and vanilla, filled his nose. He drank more of the coffee and stared at the red carpet. The moment confused him. She was touching him, leaning on him for comfort. Part of his mind was in a full-on panic, and it sent waves of unease through his body. But another part of his mind liked this contact. Needed it. It was warm, and he didn’t want it to stop.

  “Can you stay here tonight?” Kirsty asked.

  The question surprised him. He immediately thought she was making a romantic advance, but that was more his fault than hers. He was so lost in the wonderful moment of contact that he’d forgotten, just for a second, what was happening around them. Kirsty wasn’t inviting him to her bed. She was afraid of being alone.

  “Let me see what David says,” Jonathan told her. He finished his coffee with one last gulp and put his mug on the cocktail table. He stood up, already feeling the loss of Kirsty’s body next to his. “We might want to go to a hotel or something. Someplace with a lot of people around. We can figure it out when I get back, but I better head over there.”

  Kirsty stood up too. She wrapped her arms around Jonathan and pulled him close. She kissed him lightly on the mouth, sending sparks of excitement through his body.

  “For luck,” she told him.

  Jonathan smiled and held her hand. Together they walked across the living room and into the foyer. At the front door, he let go of her palm and said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Be careful,” Kirsty said. “You don’t know what he might do.”

  Jonathan nodded. He opened the door.

  Next to him Kirsty gasped.

  David stood on the sidewalk only fifty feet away. Shock and anger covered his face like a terrible mask.

  High above his head, three Reapers soared in gentle circles, barely visible against the night sky.

  15

  “I knew it,” David said.

  The heavy kid stomped toward them, but Jonathan was already stepping back, slamming the front door. Kirsty lunged forward and turned the locks. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the chain. Twice, she failed to fit the metal knob into the clasp. Finally Jonathan moved her aside and quickly slid the chain into place.

  David pounded on the door. “Kirsty!” he shouted.

  “David,” Jonathan said. “You have to stop this.”

  “Shut your damn mouth, you back-stabbing dickhead. I want to talk to Kirsty.”

  “Go away, David,” Kirsty said, her voice cracking with fear.

  “Just let me talk to you,” David pleaded through the door.

  “Come on, man,” Jonathan said. “Just stop. You’re acting crazy. You can’t keep doin
g this.”

  “Shut up!” David roared. “She was my girlfriend. Mine. You had no right to do this. Christ, after all I’ve done for you, you pull something like this? It’s SAW, man. Totally SAW. How could you? How could you do that to a friend? To your best friend? You didn’t even like her. You only want Emma.”

  Jonathan looked at Kirsty. A flash of hurt played over her frightened expression. She lowered her head.

  “Kirsty,” Jonathan whispered.

  “It’s okay,” she said, not looking at him. “I already knew that.”

  “Kirsty! Open the door. Come on. I just want to talk.”

  Jonathan turned to Kirsty and grasped her shoulders. “You have to call the police,” he said. “Just tell them someone is trying to break in, okay?”

  Kirsty nodded her head slowly and eased out of his grasp. Jonathan returned his attention to the door. “David,” he said, “we’re calling the police. You “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Jonathan didn’t know what else to say. He leaned against the door, feeling miserable. He was jacked up on adrenaline, but he also felt bitter sadness. His best friend was a killer, a murderer with dark powers. No matter what else happened, his best friend was gone. The realization hurt worse than anything he could remember.

  A touch at his shoulder startled him, and he spun to find Kirsty.

  “He did something to the phones,” she said. “There’s no dial tone. Just static.”

  “You’re going to be sorry,” David said through the door.

  Kirsty ran into the living room. Concerned, Jonathan followed and found her standing at the window, holding an edge of the curtain back.

  “He’s leaving,” she said.

  “What about those things?”

  “They’re still out there.”

  “Okay,” Jonathan said. “Grab the emergency kit. We’d better get ready for a fight.”

  Jonathan pulled a fireplace poker from its rack. He tested the weight in his hand and slashed it through the air once, like a swordsman preparing to duel. Kirsty grabbed the bag from the floor and checked through its contents.

  “Do we have the duct tape?” Jonathan asked.

  “Yeah. It’s here on top.”

  “Okay, do you guys have a basement? Someplace without windows?”

  “The basement has windows on two sides. A lot of them, but they’re small.”

  That wouldn’t work, Jonathan thought. Likely, these things could creep through just about any space they wanted. They had no bones or muscle to give them bulk.

  “What about a closet?” Kirsty asked.

  “Too small,” Jonathan said. “We might be trapped in there for a long time. What about your room?”

  Kirsty’s eyes lit up. “No. My mom’s room. It has a window, but we can block it. If they manage to get into the bedroom, we can still hide in the bathroom. We might need water or something anyhow.”

  A window shattered at the back of the house. Jonathan’s heart leaped into his throat.

  “That’s the kitchen,” Kirsty whispered. “God, they’re in the house.”

  “Come on,” Jonathan said. He put his hand on her lower back and pushed her toward the stairs.

  They ran, Jonathan one step behind Kirsty. At the bottom of the stairs, movement caught Jonathan’s eye. He turned to look down the hallway. Two of the Reapers glided into the hall from the kitchen. They rippled and spun as if caught in a violent ocean tide. But they continued forward, jostling for space in the narrow hall.

  “Run!” Jonathan yelled.

  They pounded up the stairs. On the landing Jonathan turned with the poker raised above his head, ready to bring it down on the attacking phantoms, but he didn’t see them. He scanned the foyer with his eyes and tried to hear the rippling of their bodies through the thundering pulse in his ears.

  Jonathan noticed a broad stain beside the front door. It looked like someone had splashed a bucket of water on the wall. Except the stain moved. It pulsed and shimmied, moving slowly upward. Jonathan stepped back.

  Another Reaper peeled away from the wall above the staircase only three feet from him. Jonathan stumbled back as a grin spread over the creature’s transparent face. Jonathan spun quickly, using the momentum of his misstep to drive him down the hall. At the end of the hall, Kirsty stood in an open doorway. She called his name, waved for him to hurry.

  Not looking back, Jonathan sprinted toward her. Something cold and moist ran over his neck, and Jonathan raced even faster, driven forward by revulsion and fear. As he neared the threshold, he lunged forward. He tossed the poker ahead of him and dove into the room. Behind him, he heard the thwack of the door being slammed.

  He hit the floor hard. Pain flared from his hip to his ankle and back again. But he had no time to entertain minor injuries. Jonathan rolled over and got to his knees. He turned and crawled toward the bag sitting on the floor next to Kirsty. He pulled out the duct tape and tore a long strip free. Above him Kirsty was talking, babbling about something, but he was too panicked to listen. He fixed the strip of tape over the gap between the door and the wooden floor. Then he dug in the bag for one of the bath towels. He rolled it up and slid it tight to the door. With more tape he secured the towel.

  “Here,” he said, handing the roll of tape to Kirsty. “Seal up the edges of the door. I’m going to find something to wedge against that towel.”

  The frantic girl did as she was told, but Kirsty’s fear was so great and her hands so affected by that fear, she kept sticking the tape to itself. She muttered and swore at her own clumsiness. Across the room Jonathan found a wooden dressing bench. It was barely more than a frame with a cushion but the wood was solid and heavy. He tossed the cushion on the floor and carried the bench across the room. He set the top of the bench on the floor and slid it tight against the towel.

  Two minutes later, the door was sealed with ragged strips of duct tape, running around the edges and framing the door in gray. Jonathan checked the seal at the bottom—tape, towel, tape, bench. It should hold, but he had no idea how strong the Reapers were. They could obviously break glass. He had to hope they wouldn’t be able to leverage themselves under the door with any real force.

  “Okay, now the window.”

  “How did you know what things to put in that emergency kit?” Kirsty asked. She sounded awestruck. “I mean, they were exactly the things we needed.”

  “I spent three nights awake, thinking about these things,” Jonathan said. “I imagined a dozen different ways they could get into a house or a room or a car. I guess my imagination paid off for once. Now, let’s figure out what to do about the window.”

  The window would be tough. It was five feet across and at least four feet high. They might be able to wedge the mattress from the bed in the space, but Jonathan didn’t think so. Besides, even if they got it up there, they had nothing to hold it in place. No way tape was going to work on that.

  He searched the room hoping to find something that would act as a barrier but found nothing. The dresser was too heavy and not big enough. The walls were bare except for another one of those faded tapestries, and it was too small as well. The only things big enough to cover the window were the blankets, the sheets, and a set of beige curtains hanging from a wrought-iron rod.

  So that’s what they used.

  “Can you hand me the hammer and nails?” Jonathan asked.

  Kirsty lifted the emergency bag and hurried to close the distance between them. Jonathan took the hammer and a box of nails from it. He hated standing near the window, felt that at any moment it could burst inward, but he was lucky. It took him three minutes to nail the curtains over the window frame and another five to repeat the process with the duvet and a heavy woolen blanket. The barrier wouldn’t keep those things out, not in the long run, but it would slow them down. It should be enough. All he and Kirsty needed were a few seconds to get into the bathroom and lock the door.

  Once the window was as secure as he could make it, Jonathan returned to the door
and checked it. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. So far…so good.

  “What do we do now?” Kirsty asked, still by the window, holding the emergency kit.

  “That depends on what they do next,” he said. “For now I guess we wait.”

  Everything was so quiet.

  Jonathan sat with Kirsty on the bed. Every few minutes he rose and checked the door to make sure the seal was holding. He kept the fireplace poker in his hand, taking comfort in its weight.

  “What time is it?” he whispered.

  “Almost ten,” Kirsty said. “We’ve been in here for hours. Do you think they’re gone?”

  “There’s no way to know. We should probably stay here until morning.”

  Kirsty scooted closer to Jonathan. Her hip touched his, and he looked at her, trying to smile. It’s okay, he wanted his expression to say. We’ll be okay. He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

  “I’m just so glad you’re here,” Kirsty said.

  She leaned closer to him until their noses nearly touched. Then they were kissing. The action surprised Jonathan, but he didn’t resist. He pressed his lips to hers, felt the softness and the warmth of her mouth. When her tongue flicked out, running over his, Jonathan responded in kind. He let go of the fireplace poker and wrapped his arms around her. She twisted slightly on the bed to accommodate the embrace and pushed her body against his. Electric charges flared throughout his body, sending his nerves to dancing. His thoughts melted, and he let himself get lost in the feeling of her body. For a brief moment, all of the dread and panic of the night slipped away.

  But it was only a moment. Though he hated to end the embrace, practical thoughts flooded back, demanding his attention. They had to stay alert.

  Jonathan ended the kiss and eased Kirsty away from him. She looked at him with happy confusion and tried to lean in for another kiss, but he held her shoulders. “I should check the door,” he said.