A slight nod from beneath the blanket.
She put her hand on his head, angled it slightly, as close to the center of the doors as she could, said, “Go,” then they were both moving – she, as casually as possible; he, crouched, blind, and shuffling.
The doors seemed a mile away now, and the snow crunching underfoot sounded like it was amplified through enormous speakers aimed right at her face. Her head swiveled back and forth, eyes peeled for any sign of movement. Nothing, not even the young guy walking his dog.
Faye reached the doors, opened them both as wide as she could, moved out of the way, whispered down to Henry, “Doorway.” In response, he made himself smaller yet.
She moved ahead of him once he was through, got to the second set of doors, used her key on them, said again, “Doorway,” and held them as wide as possible.
Both sets of doors cleared, she looked again toward Steve, who was more nervous than ever, but still stood his ground.
If Faye had been thinking clearly, she would have been even more distraught than she already was. She had forgotten about the lobby security camera.
I’ll deal with that later. Can’t worry about it now.
“We good?” Faye said to Steve. “Nothing, no one?”
“Not a soul, not a sound,” Steve said, walked in time with Faye as they headed down the short hallway toward the stairwell.
Holy Jesus, we’re almost there, Faye thought, her heart hammering, palms sweating madly.
Milo drifted in behind them, followed them into the stairwell. Henry’s dead shadow.
Faye eased the door shut behind them. They were in the stairwell now. Four flights and one more hallway to safety.
Safety. Christ, don’t even think the word.
“Grab a coupla corners of the blanket and lift them, Steve. Make sure he doesn’t trip up the stairs.”
“Got it.”
Up they went. One floor, two, nearly three.
Then the door to the stairwell opened on the ground floor. Faye, Steve, and Henry all froze. Heard someone talking in pet voice.
That fucking young guy and his dog. Shit! Faye thought.
The dog barked once, twice, then they heard it and its owner climbing the stairs. They reached the first floor, were heading for the second… which is when the second-floor stairwell door crashed open with a loud bang, and a woman and her dog burst out onto the landing.
“Hey, Marcy, just came back from our late-nighter,” the young guy said. “Weather’s a bit shit, but not too horrific. Shouldn’t be that sludgy.”
“Sweet,” the woman said, one of those annoying every-word-is-a-question lilts to her nasally voice. “Don’t wanna make it a long one, anyway. Just ’round the block.” She bent toward her yippy little dog, said, “Isn’t that right, my little boo-boo? Yes, it is!”
And she was off, tromping down the stairs in what sounded like heels.
“’Night, Marcy,” the guy called after her, but she didn’t reply. “Stupid bitch,” Faye heard him mutter as he entered the second-floor door. It slammed shut behind him.
The ground-floor door slammed seconds afterward.
Silence. Hearts beating hard, fast. Nearly leaping out of chests.
“Go,” Faye said, motioning Steve ahead of her impatiently. “Go, go, go.”
Steve bounded up the last flight of stairs, opened the door to the fourth floor, poked his head out, saw no one, held it for Faye and Henry. “Clear,” he said.
Less than twenty feet to her apartment now. The hallway stretched ahead of them like in a nightmare. Fifteen, ten, five –
– key frantically in lock, twisting, turning, head on a swivel, scanning the hallway –
– then… inside.
Faye closed the door as quietly as she could behind her. She lifted the blanket off Henry. He blinked against the sudden light, glanced around the apartment. Stretched himself as tall as he could under the eight-foot-ceiling, which still left him hunched, but it was better than being crouched and shuffling blindly under a blanket. He smiled a little, looked at Steve, nodded, said, “Thanks” in his hewn-from-rock voice.
Steve just looked away, then looked back, tried to hold Henry’s gaze, found he couldn’t. He managed a general nod, which was good enough for Henry.
Once they’d had a chance to catch their breath, Faye said, “I’m gonna go make us some coffee, settle our nerves. Henry, don’t sit on any of my furniture. I don’t need any kindling right now, OK?”
For a moment, Henry didn’t understand, but then he got it, nodded.
“Go sit on the floor for now, till I can figure out something more comfortable for you.”
Faye walked to the kitchen. Steve stood just inside the front door, staring at Henry. They locked eyes for a little too long just then, and Henry saw something in Steve’s eyes he recognized very well: fear. But not just fear. Fear coupled with stupidity.