"Laymon, Richard - Bite" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laymon Richard)

I gave her the hammer and stake, then turned around and checked the clock.
11:29
Before I could turn my eyes away, it changed to 11:30.
Though we still had half an hour, my stomach seemed to shrivel.
I hurried into the bathroom, nicked its light switch, and shut the door. I was surrounded by mirrors. Suddenly, there were several Sams walking past the sink and bathtub.
I still hadn't shaved or combed my hair. I still wore my old vulture T-shirt and blue jeans.
_Who let this guy in?_
I looked more like the fellow who might show up to repair the toilet than to use it.
But use it I did.
Someone had positioned a mirror behind the toilet, so I was forced to face myself. When I went, it looked like my twin was taking a leak on my knees.
I finished and got out of the bathroom as fast as I could.
Cat was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands resting on her thighs, the hammer in one hand and the stake in the other. She appeared to be gnawing on her lower lip.
I glanced at the clock.
11:32
"You all right?" I asked.
"Just a little scared. If anything goes wrong . . . I'm starting to wish I hadn't gotten you into this."
I stepped up to Cat and placed my hands on her shoulders. "Hey," I said, "you made my day."
"This'll probably get both of us killed."
"We'll be fine," I told her. "You've just got a case of the last-minute jitters."
"That's "cause I know what he'll do to us."
"He won't do anything. He'll be dead."
"God, I hope so."
I gave Cat's shoulders a gentle squeeze, then bent over and took the hammer and stake from her hands. "Where do you want me?" I asked.
"Over there." She nodded to her right.
The far wall, about fifteen feet beyond the foot of the bed, looked like a series of sliding doors. There were several of them side by side, all painted white, all with golden handles, all shut. At the end of the row, way over to the right, the door to the hallway stood open.
"It's all one closet in there," Cat said, getting to her feet. "Come on, I'll show you."
I followed her to the doors.
She slid one open.
Leaning in, I looked both ways. The closet was long and narrow. Light slipped in from cracks around the doors. There was plenty of room for me. Near the doors, the floor was clear of shoes and other obstructions. Clothes on hangers stretched along the entire length of the closet, but they were set back a couple of feet; I wouldn't bump into them if I stayed close to the doors.
Though the hangers were spread out to eliminate major gaps, the closet looked half-empty.
Emptiness thanks to her dead husband.
I realized that I didn't even know his name.
And didn't want to.
I pulled my head out of the closet and nodded at Cat. "Looks fine," I said.
"Elliot never checks in here," she told me. "I don't think I've _ever_ seen him open any of these doors. So you should be perfectly safe as long as you don't make any noise."
"I'll try to be quiet."
"The room'll be fairly dark. Nothing but candle light. And once he's on the bed, he'll have his back this way. He won't notice if one of these doors is open an inch or two."
"Fine."
"Any questions?"
"Nothing that can't wait, I guess."
After I said that, we both looked at the clock.
11:35
A tremor rippled through me.
"Maybe I'd better go ahead and get inside," I said. "In case he shows up early."
"He won't. But that's all right. I have a few things I need to do, so go on ahead and wait in there if you'd like. It'll give you a while to check things out."
Nodding, I stepped into the closet. I turned around to face her and said, "I do have one question."
She lifted her eyebrows.
"Should we have a signal?"
"For what?"
"For when I should jump him?"