after hour, on into eternity.
The lobby.
Please, no!
The doors opened.
The lobby was deserted.
They poured out of the elevator, and Faye said, “Where are we going?”
Jack said, “Rebecca and I have a car-”
“In this weather-”
“Snow chains,” Jack said, cutting her off sharply.
“We’re taking the car and getting the kids out of here, keep moving
around, until I can figure out what to do.”
“We’ll go with you,” Keith said.
“No,” Jack said, ushering the kids toward the lobby doors. “Being with
us is probably dangerous.”
“We can’t go back upstairs,” Keith said. “Not with those . . . those
demons or devils or whatever the hell they are.”
“Rats,” Faye said, apparently having decided that she could deal with
the uncouth more easily than she could deal with the unnatural. “Only
some rats. Of course, we’ll go back. Sooner or later, we’ll have to go
back, set traps, exterminate them. The sooner the better, in fact.”
Paying no attention to Faye, talking over her head to Keith, Jack said,
“I don’t think the damned things will hurt you and Faye. Not unless you
were to stand between them and the kids. They’ll probably kill anyone
who tries to protect the kids. That’s why I’m getting them away from
you. Still, I wouldn’t go back there tonight. A few of them might wait
around.”
“You couldn’t drag me back there tonight,” Keith assured him.
“Nonsense,” Faye said. “Just a few rats-”
“Damnit, woman,” Keith said, “it wasn’t a rat that called for Davey and
Penny from inside that duct!”
Faye was already pale. When Keith reminded her of the voice in the
ventilation system, she went pure white.
They all paused at the doors, and Rebecca said, “Keith, is there someone
you can stay with?”
“Sure,” Keith said. “One of my business partners, Anson Dorset, lives
on this same block. On the other side of the street. Up near the
avenue. We can spend the night there, with Anson and Francine.”
Jack pushed the door open. The wind tried to slam it shut again, almost
succeeded, and snow exploded into the lobby. Fighting the wind, turning
his face away from the stinging crystals, Jack held the door open for
the others and motioned them ahead of him. Rebecca went first, then
Penny and Davey, then Faye and Keith.
The doorman was the only one left. He was scratching his white-haired
head and frowning at Jack. “Hey, wait. What about me?”
“What about you? You’re not in any danger,” Jack said, starting through
the door, in the wake of the others.
“But what about all that gunfire upstairs?”
Turning to the man again, Jack said, “Don’t worry about it. You saw our
ID when we came in here, right?
We’re cops.”
“Yeah, but who got shot?”
“Nobody,” Jack said.
“Then who were you shooting at? ”
“Nobody.”
Jack went out into the storm, letting the door blow shut behind him.
The doorman stood in the lobby, face pressed to the glass door, peering
out at them, as if he were a fat and unpopular schoolboy who was being
excluded from a game.
The wind was a hammer.
The spicules of snow were nails.
The storm was busily engaged on its carpentry work, building drifts in
the street.
By the time Jack reached the bottom of the steps in front of the
apartment building, Keith and Faye were already angling across the
street, heading up toward the avenue, toward the building where their
friends lived.
Step by step, they were gradually disappearing beyond the phosphorescent
curtains of wind-blown snow.
Rebecca and the kids were standing at the car.
Raising his voice above the huffing and moaning of the wind, Jack said,
“Come on, come on. Get in. Let’s get out of here.”
Then he realized something was wrong.
Rebecca had one hand on the door handle, but she wasn’t opening the
door. She was staring into the car, transfixed.
Jack moved up beside her and looked through the window and saw what she
saw. Two of the creatures.
Both on the back seat. They were wrapped in shadows, and it was
impossible to see exactly what they looked like, but their glowing