Abduction Read online

  Quentin extended a hand to grab Mandy’s shoulder. An instant before he touched her, she whirled.

  Luke felt strength flow back into his muscles. He gripped the stone under him.

  But as he tensed to heave himself out of the water, a powerful force grabbed his foot and yanked him backwards into the pool.

  The last thing he saw was the look of terror on Mandy’s face.

  Then the icy water closed over his head.

  Chapter Six

  Mandy felt a prickle between her shoulder blades, like an ice cube melting down her spine.

  “There’s Quentin,” said Sue Ellen, perking up, straightening her shoulders. “There’s something about him lately, have you noticed?”

  Mandy had been feeling sluggish and out of it all morning. It was a struggle just to talk. Now the dark blot that had lurked in her brain since she woke up began to spread, like spilled ink.

  “Mostly it’s his skin, I guess,” said Sue Ellen, tossing her head so her short brown curls bounced. “I told my little sister she should ask Quentin what kind of zit cream he’s using. It’s done wonders. He’s almost good-looking now.”

  Mandy shuddered at the very thought of Quentin. Her throat closed up. She couldn’t speak.

  But Sue Ellen didn’t notice. She was smiling flirtatiously over Mandy’s shoulder.

  “Ooh, he’s coming this way.” Sue Ellen cocked a hip and let her short terry cover-up fall open, showing off her Day-Glo yellow bikini. “I swear, he’s making me feel tingly. But it’s you he’s looking at.”

  Darkness flooded Mandy’s brain. She wanted to run like a scared little girl. But that was ridiculous.

  Quentin was nobody. Nothing. An insignificant creep. She struggled to find her voice.

  “How can you talk like that, Sue Ellen? He’s revolting,” Mandy said vehemently, her voice hoarse. “What about your puppy? Have you forgotten about that?”

  Last year there had been a rash of small animal disappearances. Sue Ellen’s new puppy, Smokey, had been one of the missing animals. She had put up posters all over town, but no one had seen the little dog.

  Then one day Quentin had ridden his bicycle to school. Dangling like trophies from the handlebars were two furry tails. One looked like a squirrel tail. The other looked exactly like Smokey’s tail.

  Sue Ellen had been hysterical, but of course no one could prove anything. It was just a little brown tail, and Quentin said he had bought it at a yard sale, cheap.

  Mandy would never forget the gloating pleasure Quentin had taken in Sue Ellen’s distress. As if he fed hungrily on her grief.

  A few days later, when her bouts of sobbing had diminished, the tail had shown up in a little coil in her school locker. Quentin had sworn that someone stole it off his bike.

  But Mandy had seen how Sue Ellen’s tears energized him.

  Now Sue Ellen shook her head regretfully. “Quentin would never do a thing like that. It was just that he was so yucky-looking. We blamed him for everything. It was really mean of us, Mandy. You should try to be more tolerant.”

  Sue Ellen lifted her hand in a flirty little wave.

  Mandy felt sick. And then suddenly there was a sharp pain in her back, near her right shoulder.

  She felt a bolt of fear go through her like a jolt of electricity. It rooted her to the spot.

  In her mind she saw a fist raised. In the fist was a long sharp needle, glinting in the sun. It was poised to plunge into her back.

  Then a face filled her mind, a laughing, grinning horror of a face. Right out of last night’s nightmare.

  “Quentin!” Mandy shrieked, whirling suddenly, heart pounding.

  There was no vicious-looking needle. But the face was there, in the flesh.

  Quentin grinned at her, savoring her fear. His eyes bored into hers. The same eyes she’d seen in her nightmare.

  Mandy couldn’t look away. She knew he could see everything she was feeling. She also knew that such a power was impossible, ridiculous.

  Her skin crawled with loathing.

  “Lookin’ good, Mandy,” Quentin said, running his slimy tongue slowly over his bottom lip. “Amazing what a night without sleep can do for a girl.”

  Another jolt of anxiety electrified Mandy. How did Quentin know?

  Strange pictures flashed in her head. Quentin’s face looming close to hers. Behind him, large, glittering insect eyes. Watching. Observing.

  She had a ghostlike memory of strange instruments prodding her flesh. She smelled a heavy, fetid odor.

  The images flickered and vanished so quickly Mandy couldn’t focus on any of them. Her heart was racing. She clenched her fists to try and stop her trembling.

  Quentin stepped closer to her. His eyes slid over her hungrily.

  She felt his gaze shred her oversize T-shirt. Rip through the thin one-piece bathing suit she was wearing underneath.

  The naked feeling was so real she was startled to look down and see her clothing intact.

  Quentin laughed, a low, growly sound, thick with mucus. His gaze lingered on her body, loving her distress.

  He moved even closer. “You’re mine now, Mandy girl,” he whispered in her ear. “Mine in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”

  Mandy could hardly breathe.

  She knew, with every fiber of her being, that if she didn’t get away from Quentin now, his words would come true.

  She stumbled backwards.

  Her legs were shaky. Her body felt awkward.

  Mirth dancing in his cold eyes, Quentin reached out a hand to steady her.

  Mandy snatched her arm away in panic. She could not, would not, let him touch her.

  “Stay away from me,” she croaked hoarsely. The sound of her own voice trickled strength back into her body. She straightened. “Just keep away from me, you creep.”

  She heard Sue Ellen gasp in surprise. Mandy snatched up her day pack.

  As she turned her back on Quentin, Mandy was startled to see seven or eight skinhead kids ranged in a loose, half-menacing circle around her, like an uncertain pack of wolves.

  Quentin had so dominated her attention, she hadn’t even been aware of their presence.

  His cool, mocking voice hit her between the shoulder blades. “That’s so cute, Mandy. So sweet.”

  He paused, and his oily laugh rang out low and slow. “And so very, very lame.”

  One of the skinhead entourage moved in front of her, blocking her path. He had a lightning bolt tattooed on the side of his face, and the cheap silver ring in his nose flashed in the sun.

  But Mandy was beyond being intimidated by some wanna-be outlaw who was at least a grade behind her in school. Anger flared in her eyes. She strode past the skinhead, shouldering him aside with her pack.

  Quentin’s laughter followed her like a deadly gas. It rang in her ears and swirled around her head, fogging her vision.

  She felt the mocking noise cling to her like mist, sapping her strength.

  Her steps slowed. It was a struggle to place one foot in front of the other.

  Quentin was winning. Somehow he was exerting control over her.

  Mandy’s legs shook. She knew if she fell now, Quentin would be all over her. A small cry escaped her as she pictured Quentin’s moist limbs covering her, embracing her. The image was so real.

  As if it had already happened.

  Mandy shuddered so hard she stumbled onto one knee. Instantly, she felt Quentin’s noxious breath on her neck.

  Soft, evil laughter filled her ears like viscous oil.

  Mandy’s vision dimmed as horror overtook her.

  Chapter Seven

  Luke gulped reflexively as the frigid water closed over his head. He sputtered and struggled for the surface. But something big had him by the ankle.

  It tugged him deeper.

  Icy liquid flowed down his throat. His heart slammed against his ribs. His lungs burned for air. Up above he could see the bright shimmering surface.

  He was drowning.


  Luke kicked, hard. His foot sank into something clammy and soft. The hold on his ankle let go.

  He clawed the water and kicked for the surface, but it was so far away. Luke felt himself sinking. He’d swallowed too much water.

  Suddenly something big slammed into Luke from behind.

  Panic burst in his brain. He opened his mouth to scream. Almost instantly he realized what he had done, but it was too late. Water rushed down his throat, choking him.

  Luke began to black out. The water felt warmer. He was hardly aware of the creature pulling at him.

  Then an image filled his mind. Quentin again, with that horrible gloating grin. Luke, pinned and helpless before him. But this time Luke saw more figures behind Quentin.

  The figures he saw were humanoid but not human. Their faces were deathly pale. They had narrow chins and wide bulging foreheads.

  But strangest of all were their huge, glittering eyes. They were round and multifaceted, like insect eyes. There was no white at all. Just that glittery iridescent blackness.

  One loomed closer over Quentin’s shoulder. Luke could see there was no feeling at all in the eyes, just a cold, calculating intelligence.

  A movement caught his attention. The thing’s arm was coming into his constricted view. It was holding an instrument. A silver-tipped point was aimed right at Luke’s eye.

  There was something weird about the arm. But Luke was too terrified to see what it was. He struggled against his bonds.

  And then suddenly the image vanished. Luke was back in the real world. He was coughing and heaving water. His lungs ached and his throat burned. Someone was holding him up.

  “Wow, man, what happened?” It was Matt.

  He pulled Luke to the ladder, stroking through the water with one arm while he held Luke up with the other. “I thought you were going to drown. You scared me good, man.”

  Luke felt sluggish. He was having trouble piecing together what had happened. All he knew for sure was he had experienced another of those blackout episodes.

  His grandmother used to call them turns. “It’s nothing,” she’d say. “Just a bad turn.” In the end, the “turns” had killed her.

  Luke grabbed hold of the ladder and pushed Matt away irritably. “You grabbed my foot and pulled me in, didn’t you, you jerk?”

  “Hey, it was a joke,” Matt protested, color returning to his white face now that Luke was talking again. “You’ve done it to me enough times.”

  Suddenly Luke remembered Mandy. He gasped and scrambled up the ladder.

  But Mandy was gone. Luke couldn’t see her anywhere.

  Had she gotten away?

  “Luke, what are you doing? What’s going on?” Matt yelled after him.

  “It’s okay,” Luke called back to his friend. “I’ve got to go.”

  He scanned the beach again. No Mandy.

  But he spotted the skinheads. They were lounging around a picnic table in the grassy area.

  Luke headed toward them. The skinheads turned to stare at him. As they shifted, Luke saw Quentin. He was sitting on the edge of the table, his skinny legs dangling.

  He had some kind of shiny object in his hands.

  When he got close, Luke could see Mandy wasn’t with them. He let out his breath in relief and felt his chest loosen, surprised to realize how tense he’d been.

  And how relieved he was now that he wouldn’t have to speak to Quentin.

  Luke started to turn back. Then the sun glinted off the thing in Quentin’s hands. It looked strange, but somehow familiar. Was it a knife?

  His heart began a dull thudding beat. Luke stopped.

  Like a sleepwalker, Luke began moving unwillingly toward Quentin once more. He felt as if he were being drawn on a tether. His eyes were glued to the glinting thing in Quentin’s hands.

  The sun flashed again as Quentin tossed the silvery object from hand to hand. It was too long and thin to be a knife.

  Fear pooled in Luke’s chest. His breathing grew constricted. But his feet kept moving. He didn’t stop until he could see the cold amusement in Quentin’s eyes, magnified behind the thick lenses.

  “What—” Luke tried to speak, but his throat had gone dry. All that came out was a croak. He swallowed as the skinhead crowd laughed, a little too loud and a little too long.

  Something about their laughter tugged at the back of his mind. Luke ignored it, his eyes glued to the silvery object.

  Quentin was tossing the thing between his hands so fast that it was only a blur. Try as he might, Luke couldn’t focus on it.

  “What is that?” he asked, forcing out the words.

  Quentin only smiled, stretching his lips into a thin, sneering line. The thing jumped even more quickly between his hands. Could human hands move that fast?

  “What’s it to you, anyway?” jeered one of the skinheads.

  The familiar voice snagged Luke’s attention. His head jerked up and he was looking into his brother’s face. That’s what had bothered him about the laughter. Some of it was Jeff’s.

  His chest felt hollow with dismay. What was Jeff mixed up in? Luke had to try and get him out of here. “What are you doing with this guy?”

  Jeff rolled his eyes. “Oh, puleeeze. Don’t give me that big brother routine.”

  “Jeff, look, whatever Quentin is up to, you don’t want to be part of it.” Luke knew it was useless. He could feel his words rippling through the other kids, stirring them to laughter. He was only making things worse.

  Then Jeff stepped closer, out of the shadows, and Luke got another shock. What he had thought was a smear of dirt was a tattoo. A jagged lightning bolt stretched from brow to chin.

  Luke was speechless.

  Jeff opened his mouth to speak. Quentin held up a hand. Luke’s brother snapped his jaws shut again, obeying an unspoken command. Luke’s attention snapped back to Quentin.

  The silvery thing was gone from sight. Quentin was plainly displeased—Jeff’s interruption had disrupted the focus of whatever dumb mind game he was playing.

  “You still don’t get it, Luke,” Quentin said. “It’s you who don’t want to be part of ‘it.’ And for you, it’s too late. Way too late.”

  Quentin’s calm, contemptuous tone sliced through Luke. He felt a sharp pain in his chest. His blood froze in his veins.

  He had to get out of there. Now.

  But he couldn’t move.

  Quentin hopped off the table and started toward him. The sun bounced off his glasses, hiding his eyes.

  But Luke didn’t need to see their expression. Quentin’s lips twitched in a cruel smile.

  Luke knew the pain would be real this time.

  Chapter Eight

  Mandy didn’t stop running until her lungs burned and her legs gave out. She was startled to realize she was in front of the library, some three miles from the park.

  She sank down on the low concrete wall out front, chest heaving, heart slamming.

  What an idiot she must have looked, racing through town as if the devil himself were after her.

  Well, that’s the way she had felt.

  But it made no sense. What had frightened her so badly? Laughter from a gang of jeering boys? The revolting threats and insinuations of a sociopathic geek?

  Quentin was lower on the evolutionary scale than the average worm. Why had she felt so frightened? And worse, so powerless?

  Mandy sank her head in her hands, fighting off tears. She felt as if there was a dark place inside herself that she couldn’t reach. It was eating at her, taking chunks from her sanity.

  Sitting there, the scene in the quarry park replayed in her mind like a nightmare belonging to someone else.

  She remembered sinking to her knees, the terror of Quentin’s laughter, how powerless she had felt to escape.

  It had taken a tremendous effort of will to raise her head and fix her gaze on the park entrance. She had pushed herself to her feet. Walling off her mind, she focused completely on getting out of the park as if her life depend
ed on it.

  Mandy had felt if she could only reach the road, she’d be safe. But safe from what?

  And then when she finally reached the street, she had stopped only long enough to pull her shorts on over her damp bathing suit. Immediately she had begun to run like she’d never run before.

  As if speed could outdistance the images in her own head.

  First last night’s weird blackout and then today’s even weirder encounter. She shuddered again, remembering how exposed and vulnerable she had felt when Quentin ran his eyes over her body.

  She had felt as if he’d known about last night. As if he’d been there, somehow, inside her mind.

  But that was nuts. Quentin was the same nasty little vermin he’d always been, nothing more. He had always creeped her out, for as long as she could remember.

  Some of it was his looks, she had to admit. Quentin looked like a rat.

  He had pointy little features with sharp beady eyes and sharp little teeth sticking out over his bottom lip. He was short and skinny and twitchy. His ratty hair was greasy and lank. He was a geek with a face like a cratered moon of pus-filled volcanoes.

  Maybe Sue Ellen was right, and his skin was improving. Mandy hadn’t noticed. But nothing would improve his personality because Quentin liked himself the way he was.

  That was what made her skin crawl. It wasn’t just his creepy looks. There was a sneaky, nasty, secretive aura about him, and lately it was worse, more menacing.

  Quentin took pleasure in other people’s humiliation and pain. He had no friends, not real friends, but you couldn’t feel sorry for him. He wanted it that way. Mandy had always had the feeling Quentin didn’t regard other people as quite real. For him, human beings were objects of amusement.

  With a jolt of unease, Mandy realized she’d never seen him with the skinhead gang before today. And yet suddenly he was their leader. But how? What did it mean?

  Mandy shook her head in frustration. Why was she wasting so much time thinking about Quentin? Yes, he had upset her, even frightened her. But he was just a symptom.

  There was something seriously wrong with her, and she had to find out what it was. Maybe it was just some weird combination of nightmares, sleepwalking, and lack of sleep.