The House of Thunder by Dean Koontz Read Free Book Online Page A

out of prison. She had long ago stopped looking over her shoulder.
    And now here he was.
    He looked down at her as she sat helpless in the wheelchair, and she saw recognition flicker in his wintry eyes. In spite of the years that had passed, in spite of the emaciation that had altered her appearance in the last three weeks, he knew who she was.
    She wanted to bolt out of the chair and run. She was rigid with fear; she couldn’t move.
    Only a second or two had passed since the elevator doors had opened, yet it seemed as if she had been confronting Harch for at least a quarter of an hour. The usual flow of time had slowed to a sludgelike crawl.
    Harch smiled at her. To anyone but Susan, that smile might have appeared innocent, even friendly. But she saw hatred and menace in it.
    Ernest Harch had been the pledge master in the fraternity that Jerry Stein had wanted to join. Ernest Harch had killed Jerry. Not by accident. Deliberately. In cold blood. In the House of Thunder.
    Now, still smiling, he winked at Susan.
    The fear-induced paralysis relaxed its tight grip on her, and somehow she found the strength to push up from the wheelchair, onto her feet. She took one step, trying to turn away from Harch, trying desperately to run, and she heard Mrs. Baker call out in surprise. She took a second step, feeling as if she were walking underwater, and then her legs buckled, and she started to fall, and someone caught her just in time.
    As everything began to spin and wobble and grow dark, she realized that Ernest Harch was the one who had caught her. She was in his arms. She looked up into his face, which was as big as the moon.
    Then for a while there was only darkness.

4
    “In danger?” McGee said, looking puzzled.
    At the foot of the bed, Mrs. Baker frowned.
    Susan was trying hard to remain calm and convincing. She possessed sufficient presence of mind to know that a hysterical woman was never taken seriously—especially not a hysterical woman recuperating from a head injury. There was a very real danger that she would appear to be confused or suffering from delusions. It was vital that Jeffrey McGee believe what she was going to tell him.
    She had awakened in bed, in her hospital room, only a few minutes after fainting in the corridor. When she came to, McGee was taking her blood pressure. She had patiently allowed him to examine her before she had told him that she was in danger.
    Now he stood beside the bed, one hand on the side rail, leaning forward a bit, a stethoscope dangling from his neck. “In danger from what?”
    “That man,” Susan said.
    “What man?”
    “The man who stepped out of the elevator.”
    McGee glanced at Mrs. Baker.
    The nurse said, “He’s a patient here.”
    “And you think he’s somehow dangerous?” McGee asked Susan, still clearly perplexed.
    Nervously fingering the collar of her pajama top, Susan said, “Dr. McGee, do you remember what I told you about an old boyfriend of mine named Jerry Stein?”
    “Of course I remember. He was the one you were almost engaged to.”
    Susan nodded.
    “The one who died in a fraternity hazing,” McGee said.
    “Ah, no,” Mrs. Baker said sympathetically. This was the first that she had heard about Jerry. “That’s a terrible thing.”
    Susan’s mouth was dry. She swallowed a few times, then said, “It was what the fraternity called a ‘humiliation ritual.’ The pledge had to withstand intense humiliation in front of a girl, preferably his steady date, without responding to his tormentors. They took Jerry and me to a limestone cavern a couple of miles from the Briarstead campus. It was a favorite place for hazing rituals; they were fond of dramatic settings for their damned silly games. Anyway, I didn’t want to go. Right from the start, I didn’t want to be a part of it. Not that there was anything threatening about it. The mood was light-hearted at first, playful. Jerry was actually looking forward to it. But I suppose, on some deep subliminal