(1995) The Oath Read Free Page A

breastbone an inch or so wide and a little longer than the width of his hand. What in the world was this? he wondered.
    From somewhere deep in his memory, an answer surfaced, and the heart just beneath that mark began to pound faster. Vic grabbed the edge of the sink to steady himself. His head began to swim as reason and logic fought against fear and denial. This mark, this blemish, couldn’t be what he thought it might be. He didn’t believe all that stuff he’d heard since he was a kid. No, he’d just pulled a muscle or something; broken a couple of blood vessels swinging a hammer or lifting a radial arm saw. He’d been working hard lately.
    A loud knock at the front door made him jump. There was a moment of silence, followed by desperate pounding. Dottie, his wife, was in the shower, and he knew she couldn’t hear the knocking. Vic cursed the bad timing. Who in the world—?
    He had to cover himself. He couldn’t let anyone see— Oh come on, he told himself, just put your shirt on. It’s no big deal.
    He put on his shirt, which was hanging on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. For good measure, he grabbed his robe, too.
    The pounding continued, and as Vic crossed his living room toward the front door, tying his robe as he went, he could hear a voice. “Hello! Hello, please, somebody!”
    Uh-oh. It sounded like Maggie Bly.
    He swung the door open. Maggie almost knocked him over as she pushed her way inside and held him, practically climbed him in terror.
    “Vic, let me in, let me in!”
    Vic was startled, then angry. “Maggie, what’re you doing? What is this?”
    She held on to him, her eyes fixed on the front door as if something had chased her inside. Her words tumbled out like those of a frightened child. “Vic, you gotta let me stay here, I won’t be any trouble, let me stay here please, I can’t go out there!”
    “Maggie, now calm down!” he hissed, forcibly breaking her hold on him. “And pipe down, will you? I’ve got Dottie and the kids here. You wanna get them all upset?”
    Maggie tried to quiet down, but her voice was still high-pitched with terror. “Please, just don’t make me go out there . . .”
    Vic looked toward the hallway leading to the bathroom. He could still hear the shower running. He was getting nervous. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
    Maggie rubbed the area over her heart as if trying to ease a pain. “Harold kicked me out.”
    Vic saw what she did as he heard what she said, and he was frightened. She leaned toward him. He backed away. “Easy, Maggie, easy. Harold kicked you out? What for?”
    She stood there, just crying, not looking at him.
    Vic insisted, “Why’d he kick you out?”
    “I’ve never had this happen to me before . . .” she said, sidestepping the question.
    Vic got the picture, and his face tightened with fear. He stepped to the door and swung it all the way open. “Out.”
    Her death sentence. “Vic—”
    “Out! Now!”
    She clasped her hands in front of her imploringly. “Vic, don’t you know what’s out there?”
    He lowered his voice to a whisper, hoping she would take the cue. “It’s gonna stay out there. You’re not bringing it in here.”
    “I didn’t mean it—”
    Vic’s speech accelerated as he grew more agitated. “Maggie, whatever you’re doing, it’s got nothing to do with me, and it’s got nothing to do with Dottie or my kids. Now get out of here!”
    She hesitated, trembling, unable or unwilling to move. Vic knew he had to get her out of his house—and quickly. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the arm, then dragged her toward the door. She let out a cry.
    “Shut up!” he hissed, and then he threw her out. He closed the door and bolted it.
    The shower had stopped. A few moments later, Dottie, a lovely woman wearing a towel on her head and a robe, walked into the living room. “Who was that?” she asked her husband with some concern.
    Vic had been standing in the middle of the room, looking at the