Page 51 of Call Off the Dark

He seemed to be glancing around the living and kitchen area.

Unnoticed, Helen stood motionless, in shock.

Then the masked man turned his head toward her. The dark holes of his black ski mask stared at her, inhuman.

A terrifying beat.

Life flooded back into Helen’s body as she fled down the hallway to the bedroom.

She slammed the door shut behind her, and Tyler bolted upright in bed.

“What? What?!” he said as she locked the door.

“Someone’s in the living room!”

She ran to Tyler. As she reached him, he was clambering out of the bed.

“Call 911,” he said.

Her eyes went to the bedside table. No phone. That’s when she remembered both their cell phones were plugged into the USB port.

“They’re in the kitchen.” Her voice sounded strange in her ears, like it wasn’t her own. “He has a knife.”

Tyler’s eyes flashed in distress as they both realized how very bad this was. And then the bedroom door was kicked in.

There was a moment suspended in time. The masked man stood in the doorway, knife in hand. He was on the shorter side, thick in the middle, dressed in black from head to toe.

Then Tyler moved between Helen and the man, and he raised both hands: Stop, don’t do this.

The man shouted, “Your phones!”

“They’re not in here.” Tyler’s voice, calm and placating. “Take what you want and you can go.”

“Give ’em to me!” the man said, louder now, and then he charged.

Helen let out a scream.

It happened so fast that all Tyler had time to do was reach a protective hand toward her. She heard him make only the slightest gasp, so at first she thought he’d blocked the knife with his other hand somehow. But then he swayed backward. She grappled to catch him, but he was in a free fall, and she was pulled down to her knees with him.

The man loomed over them, knife in hand, and in the dim light, Helen saw his eyeballs through the eyeholes of his ski mask. She couldn’t detect the color, but she could see the dark irises against the white, crazed and fevered.

“Please don’t do this,” she managed to say.

He stared down at her, unblinking. And then he turned and left the room.

Helen grabbed Tyler’s shoulder. “Honey? Tyler?”

He rolled onto his back, and she saw blood pooling on his stomach. He looked down at the wound, confused. For a moment, she couldn’t process it either. It felt like they were in a bad dream.

“I think he punched me.” Tyler’s voice sounded far away. “It’s not that bad.”

But then he groaned, and she saw the red circle on his faded blue T-shirt was growing, and she knew the nightmare was real.

Helen guided Tyler’s hands to the wound and said, “You’re right. It’s not that bad.” She smiled at him reassuringly and held back a river of tears. “But I need you to press your hands down here while I go get us a phone.”

The door was partially hanging from its hinges, slices of splintered wood sticking out from the frame. She went to it and peered into the hallway. The masked man had to have left the apartment, right? She hadn’t heard the front door slam shut, but when she’d seen the blood on Tyler, she’d momentarily lost track of everything else. She listened at the bedroom door and recoiled when she heard a noise.

Tyler lifted his head from the floor, a disoriented look. “Is he still here?” he whispered.