Devin felt sheer rage explode in his gut. It rose into his chest, rippled out into his head and arms. He was going to start screaming, tell that stupid son of a bitch exactly what he thought of him, tell him about all the times he’d stood up for him, how tonight he’d ruined things with Cheryl for his sake, then kick his sorry ass out of the band, out of his house and into the street where he just didn’t care what would happen to him.
The first in a long torrent of abusive, ugly words was about to erupt from Devin’s mouth when…
WHUNK!
Something heavy slammed into the garage door so fast and loud it made them both leap a foot.
“What the hell was that?” Devin said, taking a step forward.
In a flash, Karston was on his feet and next to Devin. “An animal?”
Devin shrugged. “Squirrels and raccoons come for the trash sometimes, but nothing that…”
WHUNK!
The garage door rattled visibly. It looked like some of the vinyl slats had actually bent from the force of the blow.
And then, all the lights went out.
6
“Okay, so maybe not a squirrel,” Devin said softly.
The garage door rattled again, but this time it wasn’t a short, sudden noise. The white slats kept shaking, first the ones low to the ground, then higher and higher, making a more and more awful racket with each slat. After reaching eight feet, where the door met the ceiling, the shaking stopped.
“Crap, how tall is this thing?” Karston whispered.
Devin, more familiar with the sounds of his home, shook his head. “It’s not tall. It’s climbing.”
There was a bit of a creak, then a light thud, like a jumping child or small man landing. A skittering went across the roof, sounding like long nails scraping against the tiles. Devin and Karston looked up into the darkness, trying to follow with their eyes. It slowed, tapped lightly, rushed to the far end of the garage roof, which connected to the rest of the house, then fell silent again.
“Call someone,” Karston said.
“No,” Devin said, making a face. “It’s just an animal. Raccoons can get pretty huge. And the lights…”
A vaguely muffled explosion of splintering glass issued from above. Whatever it was, it had smashed a window.
Not an animal.
The rush of fear hit Devin hard and fast. It was stronger even than it had been when the car had cut him off in the road. This felt as if something in his chest had grabbed his heart and was trying to force it out of his mouth.
Human?
“This isn’t over.”
Could it be the Slits? Had they followed him?
Above and deeper inside the house, it sounded like the furniture was being pushed around in the master bedroom suite.
“It’s inside,” Karston squealed, his thin voice whiny and afraid.
The racket in the master bedroom grew. More things were being thrown around, as if in a rage. Devin wondered how he would explain the mess to his parents, then realized what a stupid worry that was right now.
Could Cody be playing some kind of sick joke? No. The Slits. It had to be. They were making some kind of point, taking revenge for messing with them. Even though he was still very much afraid, the thought focused Devin, made him angry. All he had to do was call the police. Response time for the local cops to get to Meadowcrest Farms was like two seconds. They’d show up in force and arrest all their criminal asses. There were advantages to having money.
Devin slapped his side, fingers feeling for his cell phone, then he remembered he’d left it outside in the car.
“Give me your cell,” Devin hissed, turning to Karston.
Karston looked at him like he was nuts. “I don’t have a cell phone.”
Right. In addition to all his other attractive qualities, Karston was also one of the only kids in Argus High School who didn’t have a phone.
A loud bang from above made Karston shake worse than the garage door had. “What is that? I’m starting to freak,” he said loudly.
Devin grimaced and spoke quietly. “Shh! Calm down. Stay quiet. The stupid genius Cody borrowed money from the Slits for his new axe.”
Karston’s eyes popped. “The Slits? The Slits? Let’s get out of here!”
He raced over to flip the switch for the garage door, but with the power off, nothing happened. Idiot. Still, it was the right idea. Devin could grab the phone from the car and run to a neighbor’s. He went up to the door and pulled. It rose an inch, but the bent slats wedged into the guide rail and the door stuck fast.
Oh crap.
The thrashing became more distant. Whoever it was seemed to be taking their time, maybe trying to do the most damage possible. Should he just bolt the door and wait it out until morning? But then they’d wreck his room, his things. His father’s study, his mother’s collection of Hummel figures. He and Cody had beaten them once before. He could do something. But what?
“I’ll go get the phone in the kitchen,” Devin said. “I’ll have to be fast, before they come downstairs.”
He was talking to himself, really, but Karston heard. “I’m not waiting for you alone in here! What if they get you?”
Karston was looking more frightened with each passing second. Devin wasn’t doing much better; his heart was beating fast and his breathing was short and frantic.
“Okay, we’ll both go in. I’ll grab the phone,” Devin said slowly, trying to catch his breath. “You open the sliding door off the dining room. Once I dial, we’ll go out onto the deck and head for a neighbor’s house. I won’t even have to say anything; the police will come and they get here in like less than a minute.”
“Really? Mrs. Wroth next door once called and it took two hours.”
“Different neighborhood, Karston. Got it?”
“Got it.”
His own hand shaking, Devin moved for the door, but Karston pulled him back.
“What if they come downstairs before I get to the door?”
Devin clenched his teeth. “Then hide. Just hide. And stay quiet.”
“Where? Where should I hide?”
Devin whirled on him, furious. “Geez, man! There’s a cupboard and two closets in there. I dunno! Fold yourself up and put yourself in the freaking toaster oven! Hide! This isn’t like playing the bass, Karston! You’ve got to pull yourself together.”
Karston nodded, but it was the same nod Karston had given him a hundred times that very night, right before he loused up the simplest bass line in the world. And here was Devin doing what he always told Cody not to, yelling at him, making him more nervous.
A sick feeling in Devin’s stomach made him wonder if he might really die for this pathetic sack of self-consciousness. Whoever the Slits sent this time had to be worse, right? No. No, no, no. Everything would be fine. The sounds were still upstairs. The phone and the door weren’t that far. He just needed Karston not to freak out.
He put his hand on Karston’s shoulder and felt how badly he was shivering. He shook him, patted him, looked him in the eye. “We’re going in now, okay? Just head for the door, slide it open, and run. That’s all you have to do. You can do it.”
Can’t you?
All his pity for Karston vanished as he realized that in a situation like this—life or death—Karston could drag them both down.
Wasn’t that what Cody was trying to say? Could that be Cody up there?
Swallowing, Devin walked up and felt the cold knob in his hand. He turned it and pulled the door open a crack, letting filtered street light into the sealed garage. He could see clearly enough, but all he had was a view of the small hallway that led to the kitchen, the door to the pantry closet, and the small room with the washer and dryer. The open door also gave him a different sense of the sounds. The banging was still violent, but more muffled, more clearly distant. The empty garage had acted like a big drum, amplifying the noise and making it echo.