Audrey, the walls whispered through the vibrations in the floor. It wasn’t her mother’s voice anymore—it had given that up. It was Schermerhorn, and Clara, and the children. It was the tenants, past and present, too. She could hear their thoughts. All one overpowering thought. The floor rumbled. The walls shook. The vibrations were a furious scream:
BUILD IT, YOU BITCH!
For once, she trusted herself and didn’t hesitate. She ran. The walls went red behind her. Water poured out from the open bathroom door as she passed. Her curiosity did not get the better of her. She did not look inside at the tub. Only heard the sounds of struggle. The sickly-sweet voice of the little girl who, in her terror, had accidentally suffocated her baby sister in her arms. “I squeezed too tight, Momma,” hard-knock Olivia cried.
And then, the monster, in reply. Her voice strangely kind, like she was doing them all a favor. “Into the tub with you, Ol-lovely, and it will all be over. We’ll be together forever.”
Audrey turned the handle and escaped 14B.
31
Do Black Sheep Dream?
Out!
She shut 14B’s door behind her, sweat dripping down her brow, arms and back aching from the weight of the rebar. The hall was lit pink as a little girl’s bedroom. She stabbed the elevator button, decided it would take too long, and raced for the stairs.
As she ran, she passed 14E, which was dark and ajar. Jayne. Hadn’t she mentioned nightmares since Clara’s death? And not sleeping? Hadn’t she been stuck in this miserable place all week, on a wounded knee?
Audrey swung open the stairwell exit. Jayne was a big girl. She could take care of herself.
The metal fire steps rattled. Her bare feet burned as sores reopened, and she left a trail of blood. Already she knew what she’d do when she got out. Have Tom’s Diner call Saraub, and if they refused, call the cops.
Rattle. Rattle. Twelfth floor. She slowed and thought of something. Smashed hula girl still lay in a pile in the hall. Given her ample free time, there had to be a reason that Jayne hadn’t knocked, or written a note, or cleaned it up.
Jayne. That nitwit redhead. Audrey cursed her, then sprinted back to the fourteenth floor. She swung open 14E.
“Jayne, are you here?” she called.
No answer, but something in there creaked. It sounded like a rope. While the common hall was lit by a red bulb, once she walked inside 14E, the light left. She looked behind her. Saw the red carpet and 14B’s shut door. Then faced Jayne’s hall again, where it was so dark that she could not see her hands.
Creeeeaaaak! The sound came from high up, and about twenty feet ahead. What was it?
She reached for a light. Her hands traced cool plaster. Then she remembered that unlike her own apartment, there was no switch, just a string hanging from a bulb about fifteen feet down. She walked farther inside with her hands spread wide. They spanned the width of the crooked hall while she slid her feet across the uneven floor instead of lifting them, to keep from tripping. With each slide, the mouthlike wounds on the pads of her feet gaped, trickling sticky blood between her toes.
Let her be okay. Let us both be okay, she mouthed, though she knew better than to speak, and break the silence. Her heart palpitated faster than when she’d smashed the door, because in this slow-moving dark, she had time to think. The sweat poured from her brow, as if she were still hacking, and she tried not to think about what she’d just come from, because what lay ahead might be worse.
Shhp-shhp was the sound her feet made as they slid. The farther she got, the more distant the common hall appeared. Its light was a pinprick. She wanted very much to run back and meet it. Live in the light, where it was safe. She bit her lower lip to keep from hyperventilating, and reminded herself to breathe. She couldn’t leave, because up ahead, she smelled freshly smoked Winston cigarettes: Jayne was here.
Creeeaaaak!
What was that? A part of her guessed, but the rest of her didn’t want to know. She moved faster. Shhp!-shhp! Then bit her lip, and listened. The sound continued:
Shhp!-shhp!
“Ohhh—” she started, then slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her own gasp: something was in here with her.
Shhp!-shhp! It came a little closer. The sound was like sandpaper against marble. It came from behind,