Sam backed up, letting the door between the hall and the chorus room slip shut. Even as he let go of it, as it was swinging back into place, he glimpsed the tall man stepping through the open door of the band room about forty feet away.
It was Shaddack himself.
The shotgun boomed.
The soundproofed door, gliding shut at the crucial moment, was thick enough to stop the pellets.
Sam turned and ran across the chorus room, into the hall, and up the stairs, where he had sent Tessa and Chrissie.
When he reached the top flight, he found them waiting for him in the upper hall, in the soft red glow of another STAIRS sign.
Below, Shaddack entered the stairwell.
Sam turned, stepped back onto the landing and descended the first step. He leaned over the railing, looked down, glimpsed part of his pursuer, and squeezed off two shots.
Shaddack squealed like a boy again. He ducked back against the wall, away from the open center of the well, where he could not be seen.
Sam didn’t know whether he’d scored a hit or not. Maybe. What he did know was that Shaddack wasn’t mortally wounded; he was still coming, easing up step by step, staying against the outer wall. And when that geek reached the lower landing, he would take the turn suddenly, firing the shotgun repeatedly at whoever waited above.
Silently Sam retreated from the upper landing, into the hall once more. The scarlet light of the STAIRS sign fell on Chrissie’s and Tessa’s faces … an illusion of blood.
25
A clink. A scraping sound.
Clink-scrape. Clink-scrape.
Harry knew what he was hearing. Clothes hangers sliding on a metal rod.
How could they have known? Hell, maybe they had smelled him up here. He was sweating like a horse, after all. Maybe the conversion improved their senses.
The clinking and scraping stopped.
A moment later he heard them lifting the closet rod out of its braces so they could lower the trap.
26
The fading flashlight kept winking out, and Tessa had to shake it, jarring the batteries together, to get a few more seconds of weak and fluttery light from it.
They had stepped out of the hall, into what proved to be a chemistry lab with black marble lab tables and steel sinks and high wooden stools. Nowhere to hide.
They checked the windows, hoping there might be a roof just under them. No. A two-story drop to a concrete walk.
At the end of the chemistry lab was a door, through which they passed into a ten-foot-square storage room full of chemicals in sealed tins and bottles, some labeled with skulls and crossbones, some with DANGER in bright red letters. She supposed there were ways to use the contents of that closet as a weapon, but they didn’t have time to inventory the contents, looking for interesting substances to mix together. Besides, she’d never been a great science student, recalled nothing whatsoever of her chemistry classes, and would probably blow herself up with the first bottle she opened. From the expression on Sam’s face, she knew that he saw no more hope there than she did.
A rear door in the storage closet opened into a second lab that seemed to double as a biology classroom. Anatomy charts hung on one wall. The room offered no better place to hide than had the previous lab.
Holding Chrissie close against her side, Tessa looked at Sam and whispered, “Now what? Wait here and hope he can’t find us … or keep moving?”
“I think it’s safer to keep moving,” Sam said. “Easier to be cornered if we sit still.”
She nodded agreement.
He eased past her and Chrissie, leading the way between the lab benches, toward the door to the hall.
From behind them, either in the dark chemical-storage room or in the unlighted chemistry lab beyond it, came a soft but distinct clink.
Sam halted, motioned Tessa and Chrissie ahead of him, and turned to cover the exit from the storage room.
With Chrissie at her side, Tessa stepped to the hall door, turned the knob slowly, quietly, and eased the door outward.