Robin Cook - Fatal Cure

Angela unlocked the door, opened it, and began to say something about how great a costume it was when she noticed that the man was not accompanied by a child.

Before Angela could react, the man lunged inside, grabbed Angela around the neck with his left arm, and enveloped her in a headlock. His gloved right hand slapped over her mouth, suppressing a scream. Angela dropped the bowl of chocolates to the marble foyer floor where it shattered into hundreds of pieces.

Angela vainly struggled with the man, desperately trying to pull free. But he was strong and held her tightly in a vise-like grip. The only noises she could make were muffled grunts.

"Shut up or I'll kill you," the man said in a raspy half whisper. He gave Angela's head a fearful shake; a sudden stab of pain shot down Angela's back. She stopped struggling.

The man glanced around the room. He strained to see down the hallway toward the kitchen.

"Where's your husband?" he demanded.

Angela couldn't respond. She was beginning to feel dizzy, as if she might black out.

"I'm going to let you go," the man snarled. "If you scream I'll shoot you. Understand?" He gave Angela's head another shake, bringing tears of pain.

As promised, the man let Angela go. She staggered back a step but caught herself. Her heart was racing. She knew that Nikki was upstairs in the bathtub. Rusty, unfortunately, was out in the barn. He'd been a nuisance with the trick-or-treaters.

Angela looked at her attacker. His reptile mask was grotesque. The scales appeared almost real. A red forked tongue hung limply from a mouth lined with jagged teeth. Angela tried to think. What should she do? What could she do? She noticed the man had a pistol in his hand.

"My husband is not at home," Angela managed to say at last. Her voice was hoarse. The headlock had compressed her throat.

"What about your sick kid?" the man demanded.

"She's out trick-or-treating with friends," Angela said.

"When will your husband be back?" the man asked.

Angela hesitated, not knowing what was best to say. The man grabbed her arm and gave it a tug. His thumbnail bit into her flesh. "I asked you a question," he snarled.

"Soon," Angela managed.

"Good," the man said. "We'll wait. Meanwhile, let's take a look around the house and make sure you're not lying to me."

"I wouldn't lie," Angela said as she felt herself propelled into the family room.

Nikki was not in the bathtub. She'd been out for some time. When the door chimes sounded, she'd rushed to finish dressing and put on her mask. She'd hoped to get downstairs before the kids had left. She wanted to see their costumes and surprise them with her own. She'd just gotten to the head of the stairs when the glass bowl shattered, stopping her in her tracks. Helplessly she'd watched from upstairs as her mother began to struggle with a man wearing a serpent mask.

After the initial shock, Nikki ran down the hall to the master bedroom and picked up the telephone. But there was no dial tone. The line was dead. Rushing back down the hall, she'd peeked over the edge of the stairs just in time to see her mother and the man disappear into the family room.

Advancing to the head of the stairs, Nikki looked down. The shotgun was leaning against the back of the newel post.

Nikki had to jump back out of sight when her mother and the reptile man reappeared from the family room. Nikki could hear their footsteps crunching the broken glass of the candy bowl. Then the footsteps stopped. Nikki could only hear muffled voices.

Nikki forced herself to peek over the edge of the stairs again. She saw her mother and the man reappear briefly from the living room before they vanished down the central corridor toward the kitchen.

Nikki inched forward and again peered down at the shotgun. It was still there. She started down the steps, but no matter how slowly she moved, each step creaked under the weight of her light, seventy-pound frame.

Nikki only got halfway down the stairs before she heard Angela and the man coming back along the corridor. Panicked, Nikki raced back up the stairs and partway down the upstairs corridor. She stopped, intending to return to the top of the stairs and then to descend to the foyer when it was safe. But to her horror her mother and the man started up the stairs.

Nikki ran the rest of the way down the corridor and dashed into the master bedroom. She ducked into one of the walk-in closets. In the back of the closet was a second door leading to a short hall connecting with the barn. Several store rooms ran off it. At the end of the hall was a narrow, spiral staircase that led down to the mud room.

Nikki raced down these stairs, then through the kitchen and along the first-floor corridor, finally reaching the foyer. She snatched up the shotgun. She checked to see if there was a shell in the magazine just as her mother had taught her. There was. She released the safety.

Nikki's elation quickly changed to confusion. Now that she had the shotgun in her hands, she didn't know what to do next. Her mother had explained that the gun sprayed pellets in a wide arc. It didn't have to be aimed too carefully; it would hit just about everything it was pointed at. The problem was her mom. Nikki didn't want to hit her.

Nikki had little time to ponder her dilemma. Almost immediately she heard the intruder marching her mother back along the upstairs corridor and down the main stairs. Nikki backed up toward the kitchen. She didn't know whether to hide or run outside to the neighbors'.

Before Nikki could decide, her mother appeared in the foyer, stumbling down the last few stairs. Apparently she'd been pushed. Right behind her was the reptile man. In full view of Nikki the man gave Angela another cruel shove that sent her flying through the archway into the living room. In his right hand was a pistol.

The man started after her mother. He was about twenty feet away from Nikki, who was holding the shotgun at her waist. She had her left hand around the barrel and her right hand around the stock. Her finger was on the trigger.

The intruder turned briefly to face Nikki as he walked, then did a double take. He started to raise his gun in her direction. Nikki closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

The sound of the blast from the shotgun was horrendous in the narrow hallway. The recoil knocked Nikki over backward, yet she stubbornly held onto the shotgun. Regaining her balance enough to sit up, she used all her strength to cock the gun. Her ears were ringing so much, she couldn't hear the mechanical click the shotgun made as a fresh shell was rammed into position and the spent cartridge ejected.

Angela suddenly appeared out of the smoky haze, coming from the direction of the kitchen. Immediately following the blast she'd run from the living room into the kitchen, doubling around and back up the main corridor. She took the shotgun from Nikki who was only too glad to give it up.

From the family room they heard the sound of a door banging open, then stillness.

"Are you all right?" Angela whispered to Nikki.

"I think so," Nikki said.

Angela helped Nikki to her feet, then motioned for her to follow her. Slowly they advanced toward the foyer. They inched past the archway leading into the living room, catching sight of the damage caused by Nikki's shotgun blast. A portion of the pellets were embedded in the side of the arch. The rest of the charge had carried away another four panes of glass from the living room's bay window, the same window damaged by the brick.

Next they rounded the base of the stairs, trying to avoid the shards of broken glass. As they approached the archway leading into the family room, they felt a draft of cold air. Angela kept the shotgun trained ahead. Edging along together, Angela and Nikki spotted the source of the draft: one of the French doors leading to the terrace hung open and was gently swinging back and forth with the evening breeze.