Not looking back, Jonathan sprinted toward her. Something cold and moist ran over his neck, and Jonathan raced even faster, driven forward by revulsion and fear. As he neared the threshold, he lunged forward. He tossed the poker ahead of him and dove into the room. Behind him, he heard the thwack of the door being slammed.
He hit the floor hard. Pain flared from his hip to his ankle and back again. But he had no time to entertain minor injuries. Jonathan rolled over and got to his knees. He turned and crawled toward the bag sitting on the floor next to Kirsty. He pulled out the duct tape and tore a long strip free. Above him Kirsty was talking, babbling about something, but he was too panicked to listen. He fixed the strip of tape over the gap between the door and the wooden floor. Then he dug in the bag for one of the bath towels. He rolled it up and slid it tight to the door. With more tape he secured the towel.
“Here,” he said, handing the roll of tape to Kirsty. “Seal up the edges of the door. I’m going to find something to wedge against that towel.”
The frantic girl did as she was told, but Kirsty’s fear was so great and her hands so affected by that fear, she kept sticking the tape to itself. She muttered and swore at her own clumsiness. Across the room Jonathan found a wooden dressing bench. It was barely more than a frame with a cushion but the wood was solid and heavy. He tossed the cushion on the floor and carried the bench across the room. He set the top of the bench on the floor and slid it tight against the towel.
Two minutes later, the door was sealed with ragged strips of duct tape, running around the edges and framing the door in gray. Jonathan checked the seal at the bottom—tape, towel, tape, bench. It should hold, but he had no idea how strong the Reapers were. They could obviously break glass. He had to hope they wouldn’t be able to leverage themselves under the door with any real force.
“Okay, now the window.”
“How did you know what things to put in that emergency kit?” Kirsty asked. She sounded awestruck. “I mean, they were exactly the things we needed.”
“I spent three nights awake, thinking about these things,” Jonathan said. “I imagined a dozen different ways they could get into a house or a room or a car. I guess my imagination paid off for once. Now, let’s figure out what to do about the window.”
The window would be tough. It was five feet across and at least four feet high. They might be able to wedge the mattress from the bed in the space, but Jonathan didn’t think so. Besides, even if they got it up there, they had nothing to hold it in place. No way tape was going to work on that.
He searched the room hoping to find something that would act as a barrier but found nothing. The dresser was too heavy and not big enough. The walls were bare except for another one of those faded tapestries, and it was too small as well. The only things big enough to cover the window were the blankets, the sheets, and a set of beige curtains hanging from a wrought-iron rod.
So that’s what they used.
“Can you hand me the hammer and nails?” Jonathan asked.
Kirsty lifted the emergency bag and hurried to close the distance between them. Jonathan took the hammer and a box of nails from it. He hated standing near the window, felt that at any moment it could burst inward, but he was lucky. It took him three minutes to nail the curtains over the window frame and another five to repeat the process with the duvet and a heavy woolen blanket. The barrier wouldn’t keep those things out, not in the long run, but it would slow them down. It should be enough. All he and Kirsty needed were a few seconds to get into the bathroom and lock the door.
Once the window was as secure as he could make it, Jonathan returned to the door and checked it. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. So far…so good.
“What do we do now?” Kirsty asked, still by the window, holding the emergency kit.
“That depends on what they do next,” he said. “For now I guess we wait.”
Everything was so quiet.
Jonathan sat with Kirsty on the bed. Every few minutes he rose and checked the door to make sure the seal was holding. He kept the fireplace poker in his hand, taking comfort in its weight.
“What time is it?” he whispered.
“Almost ten,” Kirsty said. “We’ve been in here for hours. Do you think they’re gone?”
“There’s no way to know. We should probably stay here until morning.”
Kirsty scooted closer to Jonathan. Her hip touched his, and he looked at her, trying to smile. It’s okay, he wanted his expression to say. We’ll be okay. He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed lightly.
“I’m just so glad you’re here,” Kirsty said.
She leaned closer to him until their noses nearly touched. Then they were kissing. The action surprised Jonathan, but he didn’t resist. He pressed his lips to hers, felt the softness and the warmth of her mouth. When her tongue flicked out, running over his, Jonathan responded in kind. He let go of the fireplace poker and wrapped his arms around her. She twisted slightly on the bed to accommodate the embrace and pushed her body against his. Electric charges flared throughout his body, sending his nerves to dancing. His thoughts melted, and he let himself get lost in the feeling of her body. For a brief moment, all of the dread and panic of the night slipped away.
But it was only a moment. Though he hated to end the embrace, practical thoughts flooded back, demanding his attention. They had to stay alert.
Jonathan ended the kiss and eased Kirsty away from him. She looked at him with happy confusion and tried to lean in for another kiss, but he held her shoulders. “I should check the door,” he said.
Kirsty nodded her head and scooted back on the bed. At the door Jonathan knelt down and checked the tape. It was holding, but he stayed at the door anyway, pretending to examine the towel and the bench, even shaking one of the bench legs to test its sturdiness.
He needed to collect his thoughts. Only the night before, Kirsty was dating his best friend. Sure, they went the way of Brad and Jen, but it had only been a day, and here she was, making out with him on her mother’s bed. Was he just a source of comfort for her? Did she expect more? He didn’t know, but he was pretty certain she was an emotional car crash right now, and he needed to be careful.
Besides, he didn’t know how he felt about her. Did he feel any genuine attraction to her at all? It certainly wasn’t the kind of thing he felt for Emma, but then that was a fantasy, a dream of love. He couldn’t consider that real because he didn’t even know Emma. He hardly knew Kirsty. Were his feelings simply the result of the night’s confusion?
Jonathan tugged the bench leg again. Then he straightened up. He looked at Kirsty, who had climbed all of the way onto the bed and rested her head on a pillow. Her eyes followed his every move. He walked to the window and ran his hands down the fabric nailed there.
“We’ll hear the glass break if they try to get in that way,” Kirsty said.
“Yeah,” Jonathan replied. “Just checking things out.”
Kirsty lay on her back, looking at him. Her hair cascaded over the pillow and one of her shoulders. His eyes followed the strands to her breasts. His eyes lingered there a bit longer than they should have, and he forced himself to look away.
He returned to the bed and sat on the edge, facing the door.
“I think they’d already have gotten in if they could,” Kirsty said. She reached up and touched Jonathan’s back.
“Probably,” he said, not taking his eyes from the door.
“You know,” Kirsty said. “I was really hoping you’d ask me out that day I saw you at the bookstore. I mean, I liked David, but I really wanted to spend time with you.”