Free Ancient Images by Ramsey Campbell Page A

sight of home, and screwed up her eyes. She didn't recall leaving the top of the window of the main room open so wide.
        The strip of darkness might be a shadow. High up in the house next to hers, a dog was barking as if it might continue until it lost its voice. She let herself into her building and ran upstairs. The time switch popped out of its socket as she scraped her key into her lock, and the night leaped through the skylight at her. She stuck her hand into the dark and groped for the switch in her hall. Her fingernails scratched the plastic, the button snapped down. 57
        She'd thought the apprehension she had felt as the time switch left her in the dark would vanish once she switched on her own light, but the silence of the rooms seemed ominously unfamiliar. She eased the door shut, holding the knob of the latch between finger and thumb, and dug out of her handbag the whistle that was supposed to deafen any attacker. She pointed it ahead of her, finger twitching on the button, as she tiptoed along the hall.
        She pushed open the bathroom door and tugged the light cord just in time to see a movement so small it seemed stealthy. It was a drop of water losing its grip on the bathroom tap. She crept into her bedroom, where the reflection of the shaded lamp sprang into the gap between the curtains. She tiptoed down the hall to the door of the main room and flung it open, punched the light switch, leveled the tube at the room.
        A smell made her hesitate on the threshold, a faint stench reminiscent of stale food. Papers and the contents of her wastepaper basket were strewn around the couch: the cats had been having a fine time, apparently. The window in the gable end was open wider than she had left it. She tiptoed quickly to the kitchen doorway. Either the smell had lodged in her nostrils or it was stronger in the kitchen. The fluorescent tube jerked alight. The only food to be seen was in the two bowls on the floor-but where were the cats?
        "Bogart," she called, "Bac-was and drew a breath that made her teeth ache. Graham's notebook, which she had left on the couch, lay on the carpet beneath the open window, or at least the cover did. The remains of the pages, shredded and chewed, were scattered over the floor.
        Her fists clenched, almost setting off the whistle until she threw it on the couch. "You little buggers," she whispered, "where are you hiding? Come out or I-was She glared at the window, and saw that the top of the sash was marked by claws that had scraped off paint. She shoved the lower sash up and leaned out, her shadow lurching across the lit treetops as she tried to see past them into the gloom. She was still straining her eyes when the doorbell rang.
        She dashed along the hall and slapped the button of the intercom. "Yes? What?"
        "I'm not disturbing you, am I? I saw your light go on."
        She vaguely recognized the man's voice. "Who is this?"
        "I live across the road. We've said good morning. I drive the Rover."
        "Oh yes, all right," she said, furiously impatient, mostly with herself. "Well?"
        "You're the lady with the cats."
        Something in his tone made her catch her breath. "Yes?"
        "Do you mind coming down? I'd rather not-you know."
        She suspected that she did. She went downstairs apprehensively and opened the front door. He was tall and in his forties, and already pregnant with beer. He was rubbing his hands back over his hair so hard it tugged his forehead smooth. "Sorry," he said at once. "I was on the main road, not doing more than the limit, honestly. They ran out in front of me. I'd have had a bus up my rear if I'd braked. I found the address on the collars and I didn't know if you'd want to- There you are, anyway."
        She thought he was staring at his toes, embarrassed by the threat of her reaction, until she saw that he was eyeing what he'd laid neatly on the doorstep: two plastic