Community by Graham Masterton Page A

it, to make sure that none of the people were standing directly outside, but the glass was too bumpy and distorted for him to be able to see anything clearly.
    Anyhow, even if somebody
were
standing right outside, and they went for him, he was sure that despite the fact that he was still convalescing, he was more than a match for some oddball in pajamas.
    He opened the door. The wind that blew in was bitter, and made the glass chandelier in the hallway start jingling. He stepped outside, but he couldn’t completely close the door behind him because he didn’t have a key, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck outside here in the freezing cold, surrounded by all of these people in their nightwear.
    He turned around. The street was deserted. There was nobody in sight – not even a last straggler running around the corner.
    Frowning, he made his way past Isobel’s Jeep down to the sidewalk. He looked left, and then he looked right. Somehow, over a hundred people in their nightclothes had completely disappeared.
    He walked out into the middle of the street. It had snowed only lightly since Sue had left, so he could still see her tire tracks and the footprints they had made when they had climbed out of her SUV to talk to Isobel. But there were no other footprints anywhere. The snow across the rest of the street was smooth and untouched, apart from the cross-stitches of a few bird tracks.
    I must have dreamed those people. Either that, or I was hallucinating. Catherine warned that the meds she had prescribed for me might give me some strange ideas. She didn’t tell me that I would imagine crowds of people standing outside my bedroom in the middle of the night, though.
    He walked back up to the house. As he reached the porch, Isobel appeared in the doorway, clutching a silky pink bathrobe up to her neck.
    â€˜Greg! Where have you been? You left the door wide open and it’s
freezing
!’
    â€˜I’m sorry, Isobel. I thought I saw somebody outside.’
    â€˜Well, hurry up and come back in! You’ll catch your death of cold.’
    Michael came back into the house and Isobel closed the door behind him and bolted it. ‘You probably saw a deer,’ she said. ‘They sometimes come down here, during the winter.’
    â€˜Yes, maybe,’ said Michael.
Even though I didn’t see any deer tracks, either.
    â€˜Come on, it’s your first night in a strange house. And you’re not one hundred per cent yet, are you? How would you like some hot milk? Would that help?’
    She had released her hold on her bathrobe and it had opened a little at the front to reveal that underneath she was wearing a thin white satin nightdress. It was low cut, edged with lace, so that Michael could see her very deep cleavage. Although her hair was tousled and she was wearing no make-up, there was no doubt that she was a very attractive woman – physically, anyhow.
    â€˜I’ll be OK,’ Michael told her. ‘Like you say – it’s my first night here, and I’ve been having some pretty strange dreams lately.’
    â€˜Listen …’ she began. She came closer and laid her hand on his sleeve. ‘If anything like this happens again – you know, if you think you see something in the middle of the night or you have a bad dream – don’t hesitate to wake me up, will you? I’m not your landlady. I’m your housemate. I’m your friend.’
    â€˜Thanks, I appreciate it.’
    â€˜No more than I do, Greg. It’s been very lonely here since Emilio passed.’
    â€˜Emilio? Is he the guy in the photograph in the living room?’
    Isobel nodded. ‘He was such a gentleman. And such a good companion. When he passed, I thought there might be a chance … but no, it doesn’t work that way.’
    â€˜Excuse me? You thought there might be a chance of what?’
    â€˜Oh my goodness, look at the time!’ Isobel exclaimed.