Blood of My Blood by Barry Lyga Page A

ofsoundproofing and the door. Nothing more. In a blind panic, she started pounding on the walls, desperate. Her blows were muffled, the pain muted, the resounding thumps solid.
    Until.
    Until she slammed a fist against the far wall. It felt different there, somehow. She tried it again.
    Definitely
different.
    “What are you doing?” Jan whispered.
    Without a second thought, Connie began clawing at the soundproofing. Her bloody fingers found a seam, and she dug in, raking her nails down until she had enough purchase to get a grip and pull.
    An industrial staple popped out of the wall, and a corner of the soundproofing came up. She saw the edge of a window, lower down than she was used to, at waist height.
    “Dear Old Dad is home, ladies!” Billy’s voice boomed from the other room. He sounded happy, and that terrified Connie. “Just let me wash up and make a call, and I’ll be right in!” It was the jovial Billy the town of Lobo’s Nod had lived with for years, the popular Billy, everyone’s friend. If you didn’t know what Billy Dent was, that voice would be the signal for good times.
    But Connie did know. And the voice, while terrifying, also somehow grounded her. Connie stopped clawing at the soundproofing for a moment and turned back to Jan, who had drawn her knees up to her chest on the bed.
    “What about you?” Connie whispered. “I can’t leave without you.”
    “He’ll kill
both
of us, if you don’t get out.”
    “I can’t leave—”
    Footsteps. Close.
    “I’m the adult, Connie. The parent. I’m doing for you what I should have done for Jasper—protecting you. Now
go
.”
    Connie reapplied herself to the soundproofing, snagging a corner. She peeled away a great swatch of it. Sure enough, there was a window there. She fumbled with the lock; it wouldn’t move.
    He welded the lock shut. He. Welded. The. Lock
.
    Panic rode her like a horse. She tore down the remainder of the soundproofing. At the same time, she heard—through the door—the police bar drop.
    “Hurry!” Jan nearly shouted.
    Connie grabbed up the chair, and just as the door opened, she slammed the chair against the window with all her might. The window shivered and cracked. The chair was sturdy and withstood the blow.
    She cast a panicked glance over her shoulder and saw that Billy had frozen for a moment in the doorway. Was that a delighted smile she detected playing at his lips? Yeah, she thought it was.
    Delight this
, she thought, and crashed the chair into the window again. This time, the glass broke into dozens of pieces, forming a jagged opening.
    “You little witch!” Billy marveled, and some part of Connie found it amusing that Billy Dent didn’t drop the B word on her.
    And then Billy roared like a bull moose in full mating throes and launched himself across the room at her, armswide. Connie shrieked in abject terror and swung the chair around, putting every last ounce of her body weight into it. The chair smashed into Billy, who threw his arms to one side to shield himself. It sounded like someone dropping an armload of firewood, mingled with Billy’s shout of surprised pain.
    Connie’s arms were numb with exertion, but she somehow found the strength to swing the chair again. This time, though, her swing was weak, and Billy caught the chair, wrestling it from her grasp. He hurled it across the room. His seething face came into uncomfortably close view, his nose bleeding, a scratch high up on his cheek where the chair had managed to get through.
    He grabbed her and jerked her close.
    “You can’t—” he began.
    And Connie didn’t know where it came from, but she hooked her knee straight up, catching him squarely in the crotch, just like they taught in self-defense class.
Eyes and groin. Go for the balls, whichever one you can
.
    Billy howled but didn’t lose his grip. His fingers did slacken a bit, however, just enough for Connie to twist out of his grasp.
    “Run!” Jan screamed, her voice high and on the