Heathen/Nemesis

Thirty-Two

At first she thought she was dreaming, that the sound was the residue of a sleep-induced image. But as Julie sat up she realized that it wasn’t.

She listened intently for a moment, the silence of the house closing in around her, then she heard it again.

Below her.

Movement.

Soft and furtive, but nevertheless movement.

She shot out a hand and pushed Donna hard, shaking her when she got no response. The other woman rolled over slowly and looked up, her eyes heavy with sleep.

‘What’s wrong?’ she murmured, rubbing her face lazily with one hand.

‘I heard something,’ Julie told her, keeping her voice low. ‘I think there’s someone in the house.’

Donna blinked hard, her head suddenly clearing. She swung herself onto the side of the bed and sat there, her feet just touching the carpet, ears alert for the slightest disturbance.

‘There,’ said Julie as she heard another sound beneath them.

Donna nodded and got to her feet, moving swiftly and quietly across the room towards one of the wardrobes.

‘Call the police,’ she whispered to Julie, who needed no prompting and had already reached for the phone beside the bed. She frowned and flicked at the cradle. The line was dead.

‘Nothing,’ she said, a note of panic in her voice. ‘They must have cut the lines.’ She replaced the useless receiver, her attention now divided equally between listening to the sounds from below and watching her sister.

Donna slid the wardrobe door open, pulling the light cord inside. In the dull glow she was hunkered over what looked like a safe, a metal cabinet encased in oak. She took a key from the top of the cabinet and inserted it into the small lock, pulling the door open.

‘My God,’ Julie murmured as she stared at the contents.

There were four pistols inside the gun cabinet. The light reflected dully off their metal lines.

A .38 Smith and Wesson. A 9mm Beretta 92S Automatic. A chrome-plated .357 Magnum and a Charter Arms .22 Pathfinder revolver. Stacked at the bottom of the cabinet were boxes of ammunition.

Donna took the .38, pushed open a box of shells and flipped out the cylinder, thumbing the high-velocity ammunition into the chambers.

Julie looked on in disbelief, jumping involuntarily as Donna snapped the cylinder into position. She got to her feet and Julie found the image before her disorientating: her older sister, hair still ruffled, dressed only in a thin, short nightdress, gripping a gleaming revolver in her hand. It would have seemed absurd but for the seriousness of the situation.

‘What are you going to do?’ Julie asked, moving across the room, pulling her dressing gown on, glancing warily at the pistol Donna gripped expertly in both hands. ‘You can’t shoot whoever it is, Donna. This isn’t a film, for Christ’s sake.’

‘I know. And whoever is down there isn’t going to back off when someone shouts cut, are they?’

The two women locked stares, Julie blenching as she saw the determination in her sister’s eyes.

‘Come on,’ said Donna, moving slowly towards the bedroom door.

Julie hesitated a moment.

‘Do you want to wait until they’re up here?’ Donna asked challengingly.

Julie shook her head. Both of them paused by the door, listening.

The sounds were still coming from downstairs.

Donna heard a creak, a sound she recognized well.

One of the hinges on the sitting-room door squeaked.

The intruder was moving into the hall.

It wouldn’t be long before he made his way up the stairs.