Read Things Beyond Midnight for Free Online

slipper. Alan had gone, but Judy didn’t know where; she hadn’t seen him.
    “What color is it?” asked Laurie.
    “Red. Bright red. With spangles.”
    “Where’s the other one?”
    “In my bedroom. I just wore one, and it slipped off.”
    “What are you doing in this apartment?”
    Judy stared at her. “That’s obvious. I’m looking for my slipper.”
    “No, I mean—why did you come here to look for it? For what reason?”
    “Is this U-210?”
    “No, that’s one floor below.”
    “Well, honey, I thought this was U-210 when I came in. Door was open—and all these roach pits look just alike.”
    “I’ve never seen a roach anywhere in this complex,” said Laurie. “I’m sure you—”
    “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is my slipper’s gone.”
    “It can’t be gone. Not if you were wearing it when you arrived.”
    “Then you find it, hotshot!” said Judy. She flopped loosely into the green reclining chair by the window. “You got a helluva view from here.”
    “Yes, it’s nice. Especially at night.”
    “You can see all the lights shining on the water,” said Judy. “Can’t see doodly-poop from my window. You must pay plenty for this view. How much you pay?”
    “Four-forty per month, including utilities,” Laurie said.
    Judy jumped to her stockinged feet. “That’s twenty less than I’m paying! I’m being ripped off!”
    “Well, you should complain to the manager. Maybe he’ll give you a reduction.”
    “Nuts,” sighed Judy. “I just want my slipper.”
    Laurie found it in the kitchen under the table. Judy could not, for the life of her, figure out how it got into the kitchen.
    “I didn’t even go in there. I hate sinks and dishes!”
    “I’m glad I was able to find it for you.”
    “Yeah—you’re Little Miss Findit, okay. Little Miss Hunt-and-Findit.”
    “You sound resentful.”
    “That’s because I hate people who go around finding things other people lose.”
    “You can leave now,” Laurie said flatly. She’d had enough of Judy.
    “Can you lay some reds on me?”
    “I have no idea what you mean.” (And she really didn’t! )
    “Aw, forget it. You wouldn’t know a red if one up and bit you. Honey, you’re something for the books!”
    And Judy limped out wearing her spangled slipper.
    Laurie shut the door and locked it. Then she took a shower and went to bed.
    And slept until Saturday.
    I know, I know... what happened to Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, right? Well, it’s like that with crazy people; they sleep for days at a stretch. The brain’s all fogged. Doesn’t function. Normally, the brain is like an alarm clock—it wakes you when you sleep too long. But Laurie’s clock was haywire; all the cogs and springs were missing.
    So she woke up on Saturday.
    In a panic.
    She knew all about Saturday’s shadow, and each Friday night, she carefully drew the drapes across the window, making sure it couldn’t get in. She never left the place, dawn to dark, on a Saturday. Ate all her meals from the fridge, watched movies on TV, and read the papers. If the phone rang, she never answered it. Not that anyone but Ernest ever called her. And he knew enough not to call her on Saturday. (Shadows can slip into a room through an open telephone line.)
    But now, here it was Saturday, and the windows were wide open, with the drapes pulled back like skin on a wound with the shadow in the middle.
    Of the apartment.
    In the middle of her apartment.
    Not moving. Just lying there, dark and venomous and deadly. It had entered while she slept.
    Laurie stared at it in horror. Nobody had to tell her it was Saturday’s shadow; she recognized it instantly.
    The catch was (Ha!) it was between her and the door. If she could reach the door before it touched her, tore at her, she could get into the hallway and stay there, huddled against the wall, until it left.
    There were no windows in the hall. It couldn’t follow her there.
    Problem: how to reach the door? The shadow wasn’t