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INTRUDER
By Donald Sullivan
Karen Parker was drifting off to sleep when the noise awakened her. She sat up. Her every nerve was taut as she strained to listen. A few moments passed and she heard no new sounds. Probably the icemaker, she decided. It could be noisy, especially when the house was quiet. She glanced at the alarm clock; it was almost midnight. Now that she was wide awake, she might as well go downstairs to double-check the doors and windows.
Jeff, who was frequently out of town on business trips, had insisted on high security locks on all the windows and entrance doors. Karen, however, admitted to being a trifle lax in locking up. She felt much safer out here in this sparsely populated suburban area, even though the house had no near neighbors, than she had in the crime-ridden neighborhood from which they had moved only months ago.
She moved cautiously through the house, checking each door and window. Everything was secure.
She went back upstairs and climbed into bed, but an uneasy feeling still lingered. Her thoughts drifted to Bandit. If she had her beloved dog by her side, she would never feel lonely or insecure when Jeff was away.
She fondly remembered the day she brought Bandit home, a solid white ball of fur, except for the black mask-like marking around his eyes.
While still a puppy, he had suffered a throat infection. The infection had left him with a permanent and peculiar hoarse bark. The bark was so unusual that she'd made a recording of it. While treating the infection, the veterinarian told her that he had discovered a heart defect. That ailment ultimately claimed him at age seven. He'd been gone for six months now, and she was still grieving for him. As much as she missed having a watchdog and companion, she had decided against getting another, at least until she was over her grief.
Another noise? This was getting silly. Maybe she was hearing things because she was all wound up. All in her imagination. She wasn't used to feeling like this; she didn't consider herself the faint-hearted type. But she did find herself regretting that she and Jeff had decided to postpone having a security system installed until they paid up a few more bills.
So here she was, she thought, alone without a watchdog or a security system. Her feelings of security were fading. Fearless Karen suddenly felt naked and exposed.
She heard it again. A loud thump, as if someone was kicking at the door. This definitely was not her imagination. It seemed to be coming from the front of the house. If an intruder was trying to break in, he wouldn't find it easy getting through the thick, hardwood door and the deadbolt lock.
She eased to the bedroom window, a point from which the front steps were visible. She had forgotten to turn on the entry light, which community watch newsletters were always reminding people to do, but the bright moonlight gave her a fairly good look at the intruder. He looked up and she hopped back. It was unlikely that he had seen her in the darkened room.
She picked up the phone to dial 911. No dial tone! Her body went cold. He must have cut the phone line. She thought of the cell phone. "Oh no," she moaned. She'd left it in her car.
Hadn't she seen something in the news recently, about the police looking for an escaped convict? But more likely, the man on her doorstep was a junkie looking for drug money, a problem all too common in her old neighborhood.
She glanced at her alarm clock and waited a good five minutes before pulling back the curtain and peering out the window again. The man was nowhere in sight. After waiting another five minutes, she guessed that he had given up. He had probably gone looking for an easier house to break into.
But to be on the safe side, she decided to go get her cell phone from the car and call the sheriff. She fished the car keys from her handbag and was halfway down the stairs when she heard another loud thump. She couldn't tell where it was coming from. What if he was in the carport, trying to break in the kitchen door? She hurried back up the stairs.
She tried to think of a way to scare him off. Some of the usual ruses came to mind. She could try to bluff him by saying that she had a gun. Or she could pretend that she was calling the dog. Then an idea came to her. The tape of Bandit's barking might scare him off.
The tape recorder was in the bedroom closet, and the tape of Bandit's barking was in the drawer of the nightstand, together with some old music tapes. She turned on the light, got the recorder from the closet, and began searching for the Bandit tape.
Suddenly she heard the sound of shattering glass. So much for all those security locks.
Frantically, she picked through the jumble of music tapes and finally found the tape of Bandit's barking. She jammed the tape into the recorder and pressed PLAY. Nothing happened. Good God! What a time for the thing to break down. But it occurred to her that it had been a bad idea anyway. For if she had a dog, wouldn't it have started barking long ago?
She heard footsteps on the floor below. He was in the house!
She rushed to the bedroom door and locked it, then put her ear to the door. She could hear the shuffle of his footsteps below. Her heart was thumping as she heard his footsteps on the stairs. He was on his way up.
She ran into the bathroom and pressed the knob lock. She heard a loud crack as the intruder kicked in the bedroom door. She had a fleeting thought, wondering why no one had thought to install deadbolts on the bedroom door.
The closet door creaked, and she held her breath. The bathroom doorknob rattled, and he spoke, almost in a whisper, "Gotcha, Baby, like a cat got a mouse. You're mine now."
It was true. She was trapped; the bathroom had no windows.
"I have a cell phone, and I've called the police," she said. "They're on the way."
"You're lyin' to me, sweetie. I purposely made noise and then hid in a safe place to see if the cops would show up. When they didn't, I knew you didn't have a cell phone. It's just you and me, babe."
The junkie wouldn't be bluffed, but maybe she could reason with him. "I don't know who you are. I haven't seen you, and I can't identify you. Please take what you want and go."
"You're lyin' to me again, sweetie. I think you saw my face. I saw the curtains move in your window when I looked up."
"Just take what you want and go, I swear I won't report it."
He grunted. "Your valuables ain't all I want, sweetie. But I'll look around to see what you got. Maybe you got a little jewelry or cash I can use. When I'm finished lookin' around, we'll have a little fun, so don't go away." He chuckled.
She heard his footsteps descending the stairs. She immediately switched on the bathroom light and started looking around for something to defend herself. The creep would not be content with stealing her valuables; he obviously intended to rape her.
She saw nothing but the usual items: medicine, cleaners, and toiletries. There was nothing she could use as a weapon. Escape was her only hope.
She could leave the bathroom while he was poking around downstairs, but then what? If she jumped from the bedroom window, she would risk breaking a leg, or worse. As she was trying to decide if it was worth the risk, she heard him coming back up the stairs.
He reentered the bedroom, and moments later she could hear him rummaging through the drawers. "Hey, baby, I found your undies." He whistled, long and low. "Hey, I like these. Sex-eee."
He turned the knob and laughed. She looked down to see that he had slipped her red silk panties under the door!
"I want you to put these on for me, sweetie. I can't wait to see you in these. You gonna look real sexy for me."
She was not going to let this creep intimidate her. She was angry. "You can go to hell," she shouted.
"You don't wanna make me mad, bitch, cause you gonna wear 'em for me one way or the other. Take a good look at the floor."
She held back a gasp at the sight of the gleaming blade of a switchblade knife shoved under the door. He held it there for an instant and then drew it back.
Conclusion on page 2
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