"Laymon Richard - No Sanctuary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laymon Richard)

He knows I'm here.

Rhonda squeezed her eyes shut. This isn't happening, she thought.
Please.

The bed shook a little. Turning her head, Rhonda watched fingers
curl under the edge of the quilt near her shoulder. The quilt lifted.
There was more rustling above her. The quilt stayed up. Hands

lowered and pressed flat against the carpet. Then an upside-down
head filled the space between the bed and the floor.

A man, perhaps twenty-five or thirty years old, stared in at
her. His light brown hair was cut short. Even though his face
was upside-down, he looked handsome. In other circumstances,
Rhonda might have found herself attracted to him. But she felt
only revulsion.

She squirmed sideways, moving toward the center of the bed.

'Go away!' she gasped.

The man did a quick somersault off the bed, landed lightly on his
back, rolled over and peered in at her. One hand darted out like a
paw. The hooked fingers missed her upper arm by inches and raked
back along the carpet.

Pushing himself up, he crawled on hands and knees toward the
end of the bed.

Heading for the other side?

Rhonda heard nothing. She turned her head to watch the quilt
along the right side of the bed. It was lower there, touching
the floor.

She shrieked as cold hands grabbed her ankles.

They pulled. Rhonda skidded, the carpet burning her back. She
swept her arms away from her sides, reached up and clung to the
metal bedframe. The pulling hands stretched her. She kicked, barking
a shin on the end of the frame. The hands tugged. Her body jerked,
leaving the floor and pressing the underside of the boxsprings for
an instant before she lost her hold and dropped.

The carpet seared her buttocks and back. She clawed at the bed,
ripped the flimsy cloth, tried to grab springs, curled fingertips over
the edge of a wooden cross-slat. But the man was dragging her too
hard and fast. Nothing could stop her rough slide.