Читаем Stone Bruises полностью

There’s something terrifying about his unhurried intent, and while Jules is still distracted I grab one of the bottles lying nearby and hurl it at his head. He sees it coming and ducks, and as it shatters behind him I make a run for it. There’s a shout as I barge past, and I feel the bat whoosh past my head close enough to ruffle my hair. Then I’m pounding down the street as hard as I can. Jules’s footsteps are just behind me as Lenny angles across the road to cut me off. There’s nowhere to go, but Jules’s car is dead ahead. Its passenger door is still open, so I throw myself inside. Jules grabs for me and cries out when I slam the door on his arm, trapping it. The baseball bat clatters to the pavement as I heave on the handle, keeping him pinned. His arm’s bleeding where the edge of the door has gouged into it, and as he clutches for me across the seat I see that Lenny has almost reached the car. I can’t keep them both out, so as Jules tries to wrench free I shove the door against him. He stumbles backwards, and as his arm clears the door I yank it shut.

There’s a beautiful clunk as I hit the central-locking button and the bolts shoot home. Then the car shudders as Jules hurls himself against it.

‘Open the fucking door!’ he shouts, banging on the glass. ‘You’re dead, you hear me? Fucking dead!’

I’m sprawled across the front seats, gasping for breath. Pushing myself upright, I see why Jules hasn’t used his key to unlock the car.

It’s still in the ignition.

I scramble over to the driver’s seat as he pounds on the passenger window. ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’

My hand shakes as I turn the key and jam my foot down. The car jerks forward and stalls. I flinch at a sudden bang on the door next to me as Lenny rams an elbow against the window. The car rocks as Jules wrenches at the door, yelling as I turn the key again.

‘No, wait! Don’t—!’

The engine drowns out his voice. Lenny has picked up the baseball bat but I’m already accelerating away. He jumps back but Jules runs alongside, still hammering on the glass. He’s screaming at me now, but I stamp on the pedal and he abruptly disappears. There’s time for a moment’s relief, then the steering wheel is almost torn from my hands as the car bucks and judders. A clattering comes from the passenger side, as though something’s snagged underneath. The juddering stops as I brake, jerking forward as the car screeches to a halt. I twist round, but there’s no one nearby. In the rear-view mirror I can see Lenny standing motionless in the road behind me.

There’s no sign of Jules.

The engine chugs softly. I look over at the passenger side. The seatbelt is trapped in the door, unspooled and twisted like a miniature noose. When I reach over and open it, the belt snakes sluggishly back inside as it tries to rewind. But the mechanism’s damaged and it soon stops. I stare at the frayed fabric, thinking about Jules groping for me across the seat. How he banged on the window as I sped off.

Leaving the engine running, I climb out of the car.

Lenny is staring down at something lying in the gutter. It isn’t moving, and in the glow from a streetlight I can see the back-to-front wrongness of its limbs. Something black and viscous pools around it, glistening like oil. Any doubts I might have are snuffed by Lenny’s lack of urgency. I automatically take a step forward but stop when he raises his head and looks at me. He’s still holding the baseball bat, and I back away as he starts walking towards me with a deliberation that’s chilling. The driver’s door bumps against my legs, then I’m scrambling into the car and grinding through the gears.

As I roar away, I glance in the rear-view mirror. Lenny has stopped in the middle of the road. My last view is of him staring after me, the baseball bat still gripped in one hand.

I drive until I feel I’ve gone far enough to be safe. Pulling over, I manage to open the door in time to throw up, hanging onto the door as I heave scalding bile into the road. When the spasm’s passed I grope for my phone to call for an ambulance. It won’t do Jules any good but I’m functioning automatically now, obeying the Pavlovian response of a good citizen. Besides, I can’t think of anything else to do.

But my phone’s broken. Its screen is cracked and the casing threatens to come apart in my hand. I don’t know when it happened, but it’s useless. I start driving again, intending to stop at the first public phone I come to. Except I don’t see one. I turn on the windscreen wipers as a sudden downpour smears the glass, turning the world outside into an Impressionist blur. I feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare, but gradually my mind starts to work again. Soon I’m able to think clearly. At least, that’s how it seems at the time.