WATCHERS by Dean R. Koontz

were howling all over the neighborhood, and now lights appeared in the house,

which gave her hope of survival. However, she sensed that the attacker wasn’t

ready to give up, that it was already circling the frantic stallion to make

another try for her. She heard it snarling, spitting. She knew she would never

reach the distant house before the thing dragged her down again, so she

scrambled toward the nearby stable, to one of the empty stalls. As she went, she

heard herself chanting, “Jesus, oh Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus . .

The two halves of the Dutch-style stall door were bolted firmly together.

Another bolt fastened the entire door to the frame. She unlatched that second

bolt, pulled open the door, rushed into the straw-scented darkness, shut the

door behind her, and held it with all the strength she possessed, for it could

not be latched from inside.

An instant later, her assailant slammed into the other side of the door, trying

to knock it open, but the frame prevented that. The door would only move

outward, and Tracy hoped the amber-eyed creature was not smart enough to figure

out how the door worked.

But it was smart enough— (Dear Lord in Heaven, why wasn’t it as dumb as it was

ugly!)

—and after hitting the barrier only twice, it began to pull instead of push. The

door was almost yanked out of Tracy’s grasp.

She wanted to scream for help, but she needed every ounce of energy to dig in

her heels and hold the stall door shut. It rattled and thumped against the frame

as her demonic assailant wrestled with it. Fortunately, Goodheart was still

letting loose shrill squeals and whinnies of terror, and the assailant was also

shrieking—a sound that was strangely animal and human at the same time—so her

father could have no doubt where the trouble was.

The door jerked open a few inches.

She yelped and pulled it shut.

Instantly the attacker yanked it partway open again and held it ajar, striving

to pull the door wider even as she struggled to reclose it. She was losing. The

door inched open. She saw the shadowy outline of the malformed face. The sharply

pointed teeth gleamed dully. The amber eyes were faint now, barely visible. It

hissed and snarled at her, and its pungent breath was stronger than the scent of

straw.

Whimpering in terror and frustration, Tracy drew back on the door with all of

her strength.

But it opened another inch.

And another.

Her heart was hammering loud enough to muffle the first shotgun blast. She

didn’t know what she’d heard until a second shot boomed through the night, and

then she knew her father had grabbed his 12-gauge on the way out of the house.

The stall door slammed shut in front of her as the attacker, frightened by the

gunfire, let go of it. Tracy held fast.

Then she thought that maybe, in all the confusion, Daddy might believe that

Goodheart was to blame, that the poor horse had gone loco or something. From

within the stall she cried out, “Don’t shoot Goodheart! Don’t shoot the horse!”

No more shots rang out, and Tracy immediately felt stupid for thinking her

father would blow away Goodheart. Daddy was a cautious man, especially with

loaded guns, and unless he knew exactly what was happening, he wouldn’t fire

anything but warning shots. More likely than not, he’d just blasted some

shrubbery to bits.

Goodheart was probably all right, and the amber-eyed assailant was surely

hightailing it for the foothills or the canyons or back to wherever it had come

from— (What was that crazy damn thing?)

—and the ordeal was over, thank God.

She heard running footsteps, and her father called her name.

She pushed open the stall door and saw Daddy rushing toward her in a pair of

blue pajama bottoms, barefoot, with the shotgun cradled in his arm. Mom was

there too, in a short yellow nightie, hurrying behind Daddy with a flashlight.

Up near the top of the sloped yard stood Goodheart, the sire of future

champions, his panic gone, unhurt.

Tears of relief sprang from Tracy at the sight of the unharmed stallion, and she

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *