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pool, she'd ached to rush straight into the house and find whatever weapons might be handy and tear the boys apart. The boys and their damn girlfriends. But she'd known she wouldn't stand much chance against the four of them . . . five, if Buddy should come back in after discovering she'd lied about the keys. |
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As much as she'd wanted their blood, caution had won out. So instead of blundering into the house, she'd raced to the front. She'd rounded the corner just in time to see Buddy burst in through the door and slam it shut. Then she'd snatched up her coat and taken shelter under her Jeep. |
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To wait for them, to watch for her chance. |
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Waiting, she'd heard distant screams, some far-off bangs that sounded like gunshots. Somewhere, people were getting creamed. She imagined bodies being ripped by knives, blown open by bullets. She saw guts spilling from a slashed torso. She saw herself kneeling over a stranger, sucking blood and clots of flesh from a bullet wound. Thinking about such things took her breath away and made her moan and squirm against the pavement. |
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A couple of cars had gone by, their tires swishing over the wet road. |
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Then she'd heard a strange, quiet rumbling sound accompanied by clicks and clatters. Roller skates? Sure enough, when she raised her head and peered back she saw a guy on skates dancing and whirling his way up the middle of the street. He must've been well over six feet tall. He appeared to be entirely hairless. He was shiny black under the streetlights. All he wore |
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