Code 61 - Donald Harstad [158]
Sally was the one watching at about 04:40 when we heard the noise. I wasn't dozing at the time, and joined her at the wall before she even tried to get me.
We both listened. Nothing. Just the patter of raindrops, and the heavier dripping from the eaves of the house, striking the porch roof.
“What was it?”
“It sounded to me,” said Sally, “like somebody hitting something. Thumping sound, like wood on wood. Two, maybe three times.”
“I only heard one,” I said. “Loud, but soft, you know?”
“Yep.”
“Loud footsteps, maybe?”
“I don't think so,” she said. “Maybe like somebody throwing a snowball at the side of the house.”
Obviously there was no snow. But she'd described the sound perfectly.
We waited. Any more dozing was out of the question. I really missed that night scope.
About ten minutes later, I could have sworn I heard a muffled male voice, angry. It sounded like it came from inside the Mansion.
“You hear that?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Shhh.”
It was quiet again, but not for as long.
Even in the dark, we could see the front door fly open as a figure ran down the porch steps, slipped, fell flat in the driveway, rolled, got up, and came running toward us as fast as it could go. The sound of bare feet slapping onto the drive was audible even at our distance, and got louder as the figure approached.
Sally and I didn't utter a word. We just both started moving quickly to our left, to intercept whoever it was.
We beat whoever it was to the gate by about two seconds.
“Stop!” I said it loud enough to be clearly heard. The figure didn't even slow down.
I didn't have time to think, I just stepped out, lowered my right shoulder, and got bowled over by the impact. But I hung on, and rolled on top.
Sally shined her flashlight on us, just in time for me to see Toby's mouth open as he took a deep breath and screamed right in my face.
I was startled, but clamped a hand over his mouth, and said, loudly, “It's just cops!”
He went silent, but I kept my hand in place. His eyes were darting, and I could feel his chest heaving under me. I shifted, to let him breathe, and he started to try to get up.
“Stay put!”
He was looking right at me, but I don't think he had the slightest idea who I was.
“Get ten-seventy-eight,” I said to Sally. If we ever needed help, it was going to be now. Whatever had scared Toby out of that house….
His first words, at least those that were understandable, were “Oh, fuck, oh shit.”
“Toby, what are you doing here?”
I got a frightened, blank look. Sally stopped talking on her portable long enough to say, “He signed himself out.”
Of course. Voluntary commitment meant that he could sign out of the treatment center whenever he wanted to.
“Listen up!” I said to him. “Get a grip!”
“He's here!”
“Who?”
“Dan, you dumb fuck! He's here, I gotta go … ” And with that he began to struggle to get away from me.
“Settle down, damn it!” I needed him to at least stop struggling.
It was then that he brought his fist up and smacked me on the left side of my head. I think it was a reaction, nothing more, but I responded by hitting him squarely in the face. I felt his head thud back down into the drive, and saw his eyes cross. But he stopped struggling.
“Ow,” he said groggily. He had one of those instant nosebleeds, that looked much worse than it was, because the rain was keeping his face wet. “That hurt.”
No time for an apology, although I was aware of a surprised look from Sally. I was just glad I hadn't hit the stud between his eyes.
“Tell me what's happening in there!”
“Don't fuckin' hit me again,” he said.
“Talk!”
“Dan's back, man. He's in there, and he's really, really pissed. I told you fuckers, he's not gonna like this shit. I told you!”
“Who all's in there with him?”
“What?”
I grabbed him by the collar, becoming aware for the first time that he was clad in flannel pajamas.