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she heard the first almost childlike scratches at the surface. |
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It was now or never. She managed to shove the bulky hope chest to one side, picked up the colorful biscuit tin her grandmother had given her and crawled on top of the dresser. She opened the tin and pulled out a large pair of sewing scissors, determinedly curling her fingers through the looped handles. |
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The thingthe hand, the sick joke, Frazier's farewell giftcontinued to claw at the door, and then it stopped. |
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Minutes, perhaps an eternity, passed. |
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Suddenly the door was exploding, wood splintering, sending her reeling as the chest toppled, plunging her to the floor. As shock waves of pain bolted up her tortured leg, she screamed out, giving vent once more to the terrifying hysteria that had engulfed her. |
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The hand was inching its way into the room toward her. |
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Cappy began a stabbing motion, a frenzied, vicious, final effort to ward off her assailant. Twice she hit it with glancing blows, near misses that gouged out small chunks of rotting flesh. |
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Each time the thing recoiled. |
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Each time it renewed its attack. |
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She lunged again, plunging the fire- |
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