Single white female

37

Allie sprang to her feet as she saw Hedra bolt out the door. Not again! Hedra was real! Here! Now! Allie couldn't bear the thought of her disappearing again. Ceasing to exist.

Kennedy was flailing away, trying to get to his feet; he posed no threat to the swift and panicked Hedra. Allie ran for the open door, banged her hand on the knob as she raced through, and wheeled, almost falling, to dash after Hedra.

As she rounded the final corner in the hall, there was Hedra standing inside the elevator. Her back was pressed to the metal wall and she was watching with strange and dreamy detachment as Allie ran toward her. Fear had rushed her from reality.

When Allie was fifty feet from the elevator, Hedra's eyes widened in mild alarm.

At twenty feet, the elevator doors began to slide closed. Hedra might have smiled.

Allie dived at the elevator like a ballplayer sliding headfirst into a base. She felt the carpet burning her elbows, her chin, her stomach where her blouse had twisted.

She managed to thrust an arm between the closing doors. Her wrist was clamped by hard steel beneath soft rubber. An animal caught in a spring trap.

She struggled to a kneeling position. Something smashed loudly against the inside of the elevator doors. Hedra kicking at the intrusive wrist and hand. Allie could feel the vibrations of each blow. A bolt of pain shot up her arm as Hedra's foot mashed the back of her hand. Her wrist felt sprained.

Writhing to a crouch, she'd managed to work her other hand into the crack between the doors and was prying them open. Hedra gripped a finger and bent it back. Pain! Oh, God! Through her agony Allie could hear Hedra's breath hissing fiercely inside the elevator.

Gradually, then all at once, the doors slid open. Allie flung herself inside.

She grabbed Hedra in a wild, brutal hug, feeling an incredible satisfaction.

Hedra was real, all right. Solid and reeking of terror and in her grasp at last. Hissing, "Let go, Allie. Goddamn you, let me go!"

Allie was aware of Kennedy chugging down the hall, running with a bearlike wobble. The blackened dead cigar jutting from his mouth, his thick legs pumping and his arms swinging wide. The elevator doors were sliding shut. He'd never make it. Would he?

When he was ten feet away the doors met and the elevator lurched into its descent. Pain jolted through the right side of Allie's head as Hedra sank her teeth into her earlobe, whimpering in the ear like a lover in desperate ecstasy.

Allie tried to push her away and Hedra punched her in the stomach. Allie almost doubled over in pain and heard the breath whoosh out of her. She raised her right foot and stamped down hard on Hedra's instep. Again! The teeth loosened their grip on her burning ear.

Finding strength where she thought there was none, Allie shoved away the feverish, rigid body pressed against hers. Hedra slammed. into the corner. Allie grabbed her hair, her blond hair like Allie's own, and slammed her head against the wall.

Slammed it again and again until Hedra went limp and slumped to the floor.

Hedra curled her arms over her head for protection, drew up her knees and began to sob.

Allie leaned back against the opposite wall, drained of rage. She stood surprised and awed by the sense of profound pity she felt. This must be what a twin feels when its sibling's in pain.

The elevator jounced to a stop, and Allie dizzily placed her hands flat against the wall to keep her balance. Hedra was quiet now. Unmoving.

When the elevator doors opened on the lobby, two plainclothes detectives and two uniformed officers were waiting. In the background hovered the mesmerized pale faces of onlookers, silent, watching intently, their expressions unreadable, their thoughts and fears too deep to reach the surface.

Kennedy appeared, breathing hard and looking angry and concerned. He must have ridden down in the other elevator. He'd lost his cigar, and black ash was peppered over his white shirt front. "You okay?" he asked Allie.

"Okay," she said, pressing her trembling palm to her ear, aware of a trickle of blood snaking down her arm.

One of the plainclothes detectives, a tall handsome man with neatly parted dark hair, entered the elevator and helped Hedra to her feet.

She glared at him, an accusation of unspeakable betrayal in her eyes. Her lips quivered. Parted. "You're not Andy. You pretended."

He gave her a fading, lazy smile as he gripped her elbow and ushered her from the elevator, almost as if escorting her onto a dance floor. He said, "What's in a name?"