The Dark: A Collection (Point Horror) by Linda Cargill Read Free Book Online

it
all the way over to his seat in the dark.
    She thought, They're
all after me.
    Bianca was
transported back to two years ago, almost to the night. The killer
was after her. She could hear his footsteps. She could feel his hands
around her neck.
    Someone screamed at
the top of their lungs. Bianca didn't realize it had been her until
she turned and raced up the aisle. All the red, scintillating eyes
gaped at her. She had to reach that shimmering light coming from
under the door. She had to get out of this darkness, as she had
escaped from the Shipleys' house two years ago, through a door that
had lighted up with a silver glow.
    Bianca burst through
the swinging doors and straight into a pair of arms. Whoever it was
clapped his hand over her mouth. He dragged her away from the double,
swinging doors into a sequestered alcove in the back of the theater.
Not many people went there, especially late at night when the movie
theater was about to close.
    Suddenly this wasn't
the Island Theater any more. Bianca was struggling again with the
assailant of her nightmares, the murderer from two years ago. Mrs.
Ingersoll once again screamed and took her last plunge down the
stairs. Bianca held Little Katie tightly in her arms. The shadowy
figure once more tried to take the child from her, probably to throw
her down the stairs after Mrs. Ingersoll.
    "No!" Bianca
groaned aloud. "I won't let you take Little Katie. Not for
anything in the world!"
    Bianca kicked her
assailant with such force that she made him let go. She wriggled out
of his grasp and fled across the lobby that led out of the building.
In her mind's eye she saw the Shipleys' front door, illuminated
by the strange, pale, silvery glow from the marsh miasma. She had to
reach that door before the killer did. Light meant life. Darkness
meant death.
    Bianca's assailant
caught her by the ankle. She tripped and fell. She tried to dig her
nails into the cheap, red-and-black movie theater carpet that had
hardly any thickness or texture. Dirt was caked an inch thick. Gum
wrappers, candy wrappers and old boxes of M&Ms littered the
floor. He kept on pulling her back toward him. She didn't see
anybody she could appeal to. Most of the movie theater employees had
gone home. The light at the refreshments stand was out. The CLOSED
sign was up.
    The guy was dropping
her on to a leather, cushioned couch in the darkened alcove. He was
trying to climb on top of her and pin her down. If it were just her
life at stake, she would give up and let him finish her off. That
would be the easy way to make this nightmare end.
    Bianca was again back
in the Shipleys' house. She had to think of Little Katie. Little
Katie didn't know how to walk yet. She hadn't spoken her first
word. If the baby died, she would never know that she'd been alive.
Katie was Bianca's responsibility. Mr. and Mrs. Shipley had
entrusted the little girl's life to her. Bianca couldn't let
Katie die, not if it took every bit of strength left in her body —
not if it took her own life.
    Bianca bit her
assailant's hand. She heard him cry out. She made a run for it
toward the exit. She thought only of the elusive door with the
silvery glow that had begun to look like heaven.
    The thug dragged her
back to the couch and pinned her down again, crushing her with his
whole weight. She flailed back and forth, trying to knock him off
her. Her own strength was running out.
    "Spare Little
Katie! Kill me! But let her go!" Bianca pleaded.
    Somebody shook her by
the shoulders and called her name. "Bianca!" It didn't sound
like the killer.
    She did a double
take. Suddenly it wasn't May 27, the day of the murder. It was now,
almost exactly two years later.
    Chestnut-brown eyes
stared down into hers. His dark hair was mussed up and hanging around
his ears. A big scratch marred his cheek. His usher's cap was gone.
His uniform with the stripe up the sides was torn. His white shirt
had lost a few of its buttons. It hung loose around his waist. It was
Harry