Counting his steps, she calculated where the midpoint would come, the music and the thumping of her heart almost blocking out the sound of his footfalls. But as he reached eight she sprang up and with all her force threw the can at the top of his head. He saw it coming and, letting go of the ladder, put up his arms to ward off the blow. The can hit his arms, bounced, and glanced off the side of his head. Balanced precariously, his arms windmilled while he tried to regain his equilibrium. A horrified expression passed over his face as Annie gave the top of the ladder a shove. It swung out, stopped upright for an instant, teetered, then finally fell backwards. Drew let go of the ladder in midair and fell to the floor with a sickening thud.
Still on her knees, Annie watched and waited. The Beatles finished their song. Immediately another record began, loud and metallic-sounding. Drew lay unmoving for several moments. For a second she was hopeful. And then he stirred, slowly sitting up. He raised his head. "I'm going to get you!" he yelled.
Annie remained where she was, watching to see what he'd do, deciding what her next move should be. She was astonished to realize that she no longer felt fear. Something more powerful had gained control of her. Perhaps the will to survive. And with it came energy, adrenalin pumping through her body.
Awkwardly, Drew got to his feet, took a step, limped. He grimaced in pain, muttering to himself. Then he glanced her way again, kicked out in anger, hitting the fallen ladder.
She smiled as he limped toward the far end of the bar. Now they were more evenly matched. Drew disappeared under the overhang of the second story. She couldn't imagine where he was going. Was there another way up? Would he suddenly appear before her, pop up as if he were a jack-in-the-box? She had to be ready for him.
Frantically, she looked around for other weapons, hoping to find a pitchfork, a spade at least. Behind her was a stall, remnants of hay littering the floor. Cartons were piled up against the far wall. She ran to them, opened the top one, peered in at books, moldy and old, earwigs crawling over the covers. She whirled around, searching for something else. And then she saw it in the corner, covered with dirt and bits of hay.
Kneeling down, she wiped away the filth with the sleeve of her blouse. The red of the cylinder began to show through. God, let it still work, she prayed. She'd never used a fire extinguisher before and had no knowledge of how it operated. She turned it around searching for directions. A chrome band circled the middle of the cylinder. There was print beneath the grime. She gave it a swipe, but the dirt was caked and needed more than a wipe with a sleeve.
She looked around the floor of the stall for something sharp to scrape off the dirt. A rusted can opener was near her foot. Perfect. She dug at the dirt on the chrome band. It seemed to take forever. While scraping away, she managed to remain alert to the sounds around her even though the rain on the tin roof and the blaring music of the Rolling Stones were almost deafening.
When she'd gotten most of the dirt removed, she brought the extinguisher closer to read the instructions. But she saw immediately that instead of instructions on how to use it, what was printed there were instructions for maintenance and recharging. Frustrated, she slammed it with the heel of her hand, cried out in pain, then slapped the hand over her mouth as she heard the squeak of a board from the far end of the upper floor.
Fear returned as Annie realized Jim Drew had gained access to the second floor. Her heart pumped overtime. She breathed, mouth open, as if somehow taking in great gulps of air would help her. Quickly, she turned the extinguisher around. She knew there had to be instructions somewhere. The front of the metal band also revealed bits of printing. She struggled with her can opener again, scraping and scratching. Slowly, a black band within the chrome one appeared. Large chrome printing spelled out, TO OPERATE: She knew she had to hurry as creaks in the distance told her Drew was moving closer.
The words were finally visible. TO OPERATE: HOLD UPRIGHT. PULL PIN. SQUEEZE LEVER. DIRECT AT BASE OF FLAME. Pin? Pin? She started to panic.
Then suddenly, “I’m going to get you, Annie.” Drew’s voice, hollow and menacing, came from nearby. “You’ll never get away,” he warned. “Never!”
– -
Hallock and Colin had had two close calls. The first with a trailer truck obviously heading for the ferry at Point Haven, the second with a Volkswagen bug. No one was hurt or pushed off the road in either instance, but privately each man thought that his number was up both times.
The rain had increased the last five minutes as if they were driving under a continuous waterfall. In any other circumstances Hallock would have pulled off the road. But he couldn't do that now. Now they had to creep along the back road, both of them hanging out of the windows, trying to see, trying to keep on the right side, but not too far over.
Colin knew there was a possibility that when they made it to Drew's barn, he and Annie might not be there. He was sure that Drew had gotten to her somehow, but chances of him taking her to his barn were slim. Still, they had to check it out. He couldn't allow himself to think that Annie might already be dead; it was totally unacceptable.
There were no lights on the back road, but in the distance, on Colin's side, he could see a glow through the downpour. He pulled in his head.
"I think we're here," he said, water running down his face.
Hallock slowed to a stop. "Get out and see, will you, Maguire?"
Colin opened the door, jumped out. The wind buffeted him backwards against the car, flattening him as if he were a bug. Rain stung his face. He cupped his eyes with both hands, tried to see. Something was swinging near him, its iron creakiness cutting through the storm.
He pushed against the wind, moving forward until he crashed against something hard. It was the sign to Drew's antique barn. Calculating the distance to the drive from memory, he got back in the car.
"About six feet, Waldo. Six feet and turn right."
The car inched forward as both men tried to gauge six feet.
Colin pulled his head in, "Now. Turn now."
Hallock did, and they felt the wheels grip the entry road as they drove slowly forward up to the barn.
– -
She knew he was only four or five yards away from her at best. This was no time to panic, not now. Then a new feeling of calm descended, her hands stopped shaking, her heart slowed. She read the directions on the extinguisher again, and this time she saw the pin. She pulled but the pin didn't move. There was rust around the hole. She pulled again. Nothing.
"Come on out, Annie," Drew yelled. "If you come out I'll do it quick. If you don't I'm going to take my time."
Still calm, she gave the pin a wrenching tug and it slipped out, almost making her lose her balance. Next she unhooked the black hose from its holder. Standing up, she lifted the extinguisher in her arms. It was heavy but manageable. She placed herself at the edge of the stall so that as Drew came past she could squeeze the lever, aiming the hose at him.
As she listened for his footsteps, she thought of the possibility that the extinguisher might not function. It was obviously old. And even if it did, what then? Time. It would buy her more time. She knew now there was another way down, and she would try and find it.
"Last chance," Drew called.
He sounded closer. Eight or ten feet away. She held the extinguisher in one aching arm, balancing it on her hip, and with the other hand she pointed the nozzle like a gun. She was ready.