The Jungle Kids

The Follower

The teen-ager followed her home again that night.

She caught a quick glimpse of him as she stepped off the bus, and when she turned her head to look behind her, he ducked into the heavy shadows of the big oak on the corner, a tall young man with wide shoulders and narrow hips.

It was still not dark at this hour of the evening, but autumn was rapidly drawing to a close and she knew darkness would come earlier in the next few weeks. She walked fast in the gathering dusk, listening to the small click of her heels against the pavement, hearing the boy’s footsteps behind her like an echoing whisper. It was five blocks to her house from the bus stop, five lonely blocks of weed-grown lots, of immense trees which cast huge pockets of shadow.

Tonight, she almost ran the last two blocks, listening to the padded footsteps speeding up behind her as she quickened her pace.

She threw open the door, slammed it shut when she was inside, and then leaned her back against it, the palms of her hands moist. A shudder trickled down her spine like a cold drop of water. She felt the reassuring sturdiness of the door behind her, sighed deeply, and walked into the living room.

“That you, Ella?” Bob called from the den.

“Yes, darling.” She draped her topcoat over the arm of a chair, dropped her gloves and purse onto the seat. She stopped before the long mirror over the couch, fluffed her hair, and then walked into the den.

Bob looked up from his desk, and she walked to him and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“Hey now, that’s a hell of a greeting for a man,” he complained.

He pulled her down onto his lap, kissed her on the mouth, and then pulled away and looked at her curiously. “Something wrong, hon?” he asked.

“No, nothing,” she said quickly. She watched his brows pull together into a pucker, shading the intense blue of his eyes. “Well, yes, Bob, there is something. I... you’ll think I’m foolish, but...”

“The Shadow again?”

She stood up abruptly. “Don’t joke about it, Bob!”

“I’m sorry, Ella. What happened this time?”

“He... he was there again.”

“At the bus stop?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He followed me again. He... he was right behind me all the way.”

“All the way to the house?”

“Yes.”

Bob shoved his chair back and swung his legs from beneath the desk. He walked past Ella and into the living room. He stood near the window then, spreading the slats of the blind apart with his fingers. Ella watched him nervously.

“I don’t see anyone out there,” he said over his shoulder.

“You don’t expect him to stand out there all night, do you?”

Bob sighed deeply, releasing the slats. “No, I suppose not.”

“Bob, we’ve got to do something about him. It’ll be getting dark early in the next few weeks and I’m... I’m afraid of what he might do.”

“Ella,” Bob said, “don’t be silly, honey.”

“What’s so silly about it? I’m young and... well, fairly attractive, and—”

“You’re beautiful,” he corrected. He went to her and took both her hands in his. “Honey, I’d follow you home myself.”

“Well, then, there is a real danger, Bob. Can’t you see there is?”

“Ella, if I thought there was—” He stopped, suddenly releasing her hands. “But where is this mystery teen-ager of yours? The first night you told me about him, I rushed right out and scoured the neighborhood. There wasn’t a soul in sight, unless you want to count old Mr. Jaeger next door.”

“This isn’t Mr. Jaeger,” she said firmly. “This is a boy. He can’t be more than nineteen.”

“All right, honey,” he said earnestly, “but who is he? Where is he? I’ve met you at the bus stop three times since you claim he—”

“Claim? Don’t you believe me, Bob?”

“Of course I believe you. I shouldn’t have said ‘claim.’ What I meant was... well, each time I met you at the bus, I didn’t see anyone lurking around, or anyone who looked even mildly suspicious.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he saw you waiting there and just went away.”

“Maybe. But the last time I met you, I got there about three seconds before the bus pulled in. He certainly wouldn’t have had enough time to spot me and high-tail it. Not unless he lives in the big apartment house near the bus stop. Honey—”

“Maybe he just wasn’t there that night. You know he’s not there every night.”

“Honey,” Bob said, “can’t you just forget him? Can’t you see it’s these stories about teen-agers in the newspapers that are upsetting—”

“How can I?” she wailed. “How can I forget him when I hear him behind me? Bob, he frightens me to death. And when I think of it getting dark soon...”

“Baby, baby,” he said gently. He took her in his arms. “Come on now, none of that. Look, as soon as it starts getting dark, I’ll meet you at the bus every night. How’s that?”

“What about your work? You have so much to do at night,” she said hesitantly.

“Never mind my work. We’ll try meeting you instead, okay? Maybe The Shadow will just—”

“You’re joking again,” she said.

“But not about meeting you. I’ll be there every night. Does that make you feel better?” He lifted her chin with his bent forefinger. “Does it?”

“Yes,” she answered in a small voice.

“Fine. Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

Winter came quickly, and with it the early darkness she had been dreading. Bob met her at the bus stop every night, and they chatted on the long five-block walk to their home.

They saw no one.

The lot-spraddled streets were deserted, and the only footfalls they heard were their own. She began to feel extremely foolish about the whole matter now, especially when Bob joked about it in his easy way. But at the same time, she could not ignore her earlier fears. Bob did not complain. He met her religiously every evening, even though he lost valuable working time which he had to make up later in the night. She thought of this often and was tempted several times to tell him to forget all about it.

But one week stretched into another, and she could not forget the young man or the furtive way he had ducked out of sight whenever she had turned to look at him. She still remembered the rasping scrape of his shoes against the pavement, and the terror that had gripped her walking the lonely stretch of streets to her house. She was still frightened, and so she didn’t ask Bob to stop meeting her.

They never spoke of her fears any more. As the weeks expanded into a month, and then two months, Bob’s meeting her became something of a ritual, an almost-courtship thing that she looked forward to each night. She almost hoped that he had forgotten exactly why he was meeting her, that he looked forward to their brisk evening walk as much as she did.

It wasn’t until January that anything happened.

Bob called her at the office one day. The sky was gray with the promise of snow, banks of foreboding clouds piled against the horizon. When she heard his voice, it relieved her melancholy mood almost instantly.

“Darling,” she said, “what a surprise!”

“Hello, honey,” he said, “how’s it going?”

“A little dreary, but otherwise fine.” She paused, wondering suddenly why he’d called. “Is anything wrong, Bob?”

“Well, no, not exactly. In fact, this may really turn into something good.”

“What, Bob?”

“I’ve got to see the vice-president of Thomas Paul and Sons tonight. They’re thinking of taking their account to us.”

“Why, that’s wonderful!”

“Sure, if we can swing it. That’s why I called, honey.”

“Why?”

“I have to go there directly from the office. I won’t be able to meet you at the bus.”

A long silence clutched the line.

“Oh,” she said at last.

“Honey, you’re not going to get silly on me again, are you? Really, Ella, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You don’t think I’d leave you alone if there was, do you?”

“No,” she said.

“And this can be a big thing, hon, honestly. If I can work this switch, I’ll really be—”

“I know, I know,” she said quickly.

“And you don’t mind?”

“No. Of course not, Bob. You — you go ahead and do what you have to do.” She was thinking of the empty streets, the dark lots, the huge trees. “I... I’ll manage.”

“You’re sure now, hon? Just say the word and I’ll—”

“No, Bob, I’ll be all right.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“I won’t be home too late,” he said, “but don’t hold supper for me.”

“All right.”

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, darling.”

“Good-by, honey.”

“’By.”

She heard a click on the line, but she held the receiver to her ear long after his voice had gone.

When she got off the bus that night, she saw the young man standing on the corner.

A stab of panic fluttered into her throat, and she started to turn, wanting to step onto the bus again. But the doors slammed shut behind her, and she moved away rapidly as the gears ground and the bus rumbled off down the street. She looked nervously toward the big apartment house across the street, saw him dodge into the shadows of the oak again. She wet her lips and started walking, praying she would meet someone.

The streets were deserted.

Her own heels clacked on the pavement, and behind her she could hear the steady scrape of the follower’s shoes. Her hands began to tremble, and she clenched them together to keep them steady. She swallowed the aching terror in her throat, and continued to walk, hearing the footsteps quicken behind her.

She was entering a stretch of ground flanked by large, solid trees. Their branches were bare, but they were heavy and they arched over the sidewalk, blotting out whatever moonlight there was. She quickened her pace, listening to the sound of her heels and the thunder of her own heart in her ears.

Tears sprang into her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. She bit her lower lip until she tasted the salty flow of blood in her mouth. The footsteps were still behind her.

She stopped suddenly, and the follower stopped.

There was only the darkness, and the silence, and the terror deep within her.

She began walking again, straining her ears until she heard the sullen shuffle behind her. Had he come closer? Didn’t his footsteps sound closer?

She stopped again, whirled abruptly, and shouted, “Don’t come near me!”

She heard the echo of her own voice on the deserted street. She sobbed wildly, staring into the darkness.

“Go away! Go away, or I’ll scream!”

There was no answer. She felt him waiting there in the darkness, silently watching.

“Go away!” she shrieked. And then the scream bubbled onto her lips, high and piercing. She listened to it, shocked until she realized it was coming from her own throat. She heard the footsteps start again, heard them break into a fast run. She dropped to the pavement, her shoulders heaving, a wash of relief flooding her body. She heard more footsteps, running, and she almost screamed aloud again until she heard a voice she recognized.

“Mrs. Brant? Is that you, Mrs. Brant?”

She tried to speak, but her voice was smothered with sobs. She nodded her head dumbly, waited until Mr. Jaeger drew up alongside her.

“Mrs. Brant, are you all right?”

She nodded again, her face buried in her hands. She felt extremely childish, sitting in the middle of the pavement, sobbing like this before the old man.

“Come on, now, I’ll take you home.” His voice was kind, but puzzled. He helped her to her feet, and she looked down the long, dark street once more before they turned toward her house.

It was empty.

Mr. Jaeger and his wife sat with her until Bob came home. When he walked into the living room and saw them there, he rushed to Ella immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened?”

His hands were cold from the outdoors when he took her in his arms. “Ella, darling, darling, what’s happened?”

“I found her sitting in the middle of the sidewalk,” Mr. Jaeger put in. “Just sitting there and crying. Down by the empty lots. You know.”

“Did you see anyone?” Bob asked quickly.

“Why, no. Just her. I heard her scream, and so I came running. I didn’t see anyone.” Mr. Jaeger shook his head. “Just her sitting there.”

Bob sighed deeply and held her close. “Thank you very much, Mr. Jaeger,” he said. “I really appreciate this.”

“Glad to be of help,” Mr. Jaeger said. “Come on, Martha, we’d best be getting to bed.”

They said good night, and Bob closed the door firmly behind them. He passed a hand over his hair then, took off his coat, and asked wearily, “All right, honey, what happened?”

“The... the young man. He followed me again. I... Bob, please, Bob.”

“What young man? What young man are you talking about?”

“The one near the bus. You know, Bob. The teen-ager. The one who—”

He went to her and took her in his arms. “Darling,” he said gently, “there is no teen-ager near the bus.”

She pulled out of his arms and looked up at him. “But... but there is! He followed me. Bob, he did. He was behind me. I heard him. Bob, for God’s sake...”

“Listen to me, darling,” he said, “please listen to me. This... this follower of yours. He... he’s just an... an exaggeration. The darkness, and the shadows, they all combine to make you think someone is there when—”

She began sobbing suddenly. “Bob, please believe me. If you don’t believe me, I don’t know what I’ll do. There was someone. He followed me, Bob. I screamed, and he ran away.”

“Then why didn’t Mr. Jaeger see him, honey?”

“He ran away before Mr. Jaeger came.” She stared at him searchingly. “Bob, you don’t think I’m imagining all this!”

Their eyes met for an instant, and she saw tenderness on his face, but it was mixed with disbelief.

“Bob, there was a young man!”

He took her in his arms again and gently stroked her hair. “When I was a kid, honey, I was afraid to go down into the basement of our house. One day, my mother left me alone. I went up and down those cellar steps twenty-three times until I proved to myself there was nothing there to fear.”

“Bob...”

“Ella, I want you to do me a favor.”

“What? What is it, Bob?”

“Tell me you’ll try walking home alone for a few days. Just to—”

“No!” she flared. “How could I? Bob, I... I...”

“Just for a few days. I want you to see for yourself that there’s no one following you. After that, if you still insist... well, we’ll see then. Promise me that, will you, darling?”

“Bob,” she murmured, “please don’t make me. Please, Bob. Please.”

“I’ll tell the neighbors to leave you strictly alone, honey. They’ll let you work this out yourself. That’s the best way. They won’t come running if you scream, so you’ll know you’re on your own. What do you say, Ella, will you try it?”

She shook her head, as if trying to clear it. “Bob, you don’t understand. You just don’t understand.” She kept shaking her head, holding back the tears of frustration.

“Will you try it?”

She took a deep breath.

“Will you?” he repeated.

She looked up into his face and saw the grim resolution there. She knew that he would never understand, and the knowledge crushed her defiance and left her suddenly lonely.

“All right,” she said wearily. “All right, Bob.”

The follower was there again at the bus stop the next night.

She heard his footsteps as she began walking down the lonely, deserted stretch of pavement. When she entered the tree-flanked area, he was close behind her.

She quickened her steps, and she heard him walking faster too, closer.

For an instant, she wondered if he wasn’t a part of her imagination after all, wondered if Bob hadn’t been right, wondered if newspaper stories hadn’t simply—

And then the hand clamped down over her mouth, stifling any scream, any sound she might have made. The hand was rough and large, and the pressure on her mouth hurt. She felt herself being dragged into the bushes, her skirt catching and tearing on the twisted brambles. His hand sought the open throat of her blouse, fumbled there with awkward, inexpert, youthful eagerness.

She tried to scream then.

Her lips parted, but he hit her with his fist, and the scream became a muted, futile sob as he pulled her to the ground.