The motorcycle appears out of nowhere, thundering down the quiet residential street. By the time it roars back up the block and disappears from view, a little boy is injured and an elderly woman is dead.
Salem University outsider Echo Glenn is paying her own way through college by working part time at the school infirmary. She thinks she knows the identity of the Mad Biker in black leather who’s been terrorizing the town—she just needs confirmation. And while she’s at it, maybe she’ll sneak a ride on his Harley. But the joyride turns into a journey of terror when the bike plows into a group of students outside a college hangout.
Now Echo is an accomplice to murder—and the target of an avenging killer who’s going to make sure she doesn’t live to tell the tale.
This ebook features an illustrated biography of Diane Hoh including rare photos and never-before-seen documents from the author’s personal collection.
The motorcycle appears out of nowhere, thundering down the quiet residential street. By the time it roars back up the block and disappears from view, a little boy is injured and an elderly woman is dead.
Salem University outsider Echo Glenn is paying her own way through college by working part time at the school infirmary. She thinks she knows the identity of the Mad Biker in black leather who’s been terrorizing the town—she just needs confirmation. And while she’s at it, maybe she’ll sneak a ride on his Harley. But the joyride turns into a journey of terror when the bike plows into a group of students outside a college hangout.
Now Echo is an accomplice to murder—and the target of an avenging killer who’s going to make sure she doesn’t live to tell the tale.
This ebook features an illustrated biography of Diane Hoh including rare photos and never-before-seen documents from the author’s personal collection.
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Overview
The motorcycle appears out of nowhere, thundering down the quiet residential street. By the time it roars back up the block and disappears from view, a little boy is injured and an elderly woman is dead.
Salem University outsider Echo Glenn is paying her own way through college by working part time at the school infirmary. She thinks she knows the identity of the Mad Biker in black leather who’s been terrorizing the town—she just needs confirmation. And while she’s at it, maybe she’ll sneak a ride on his Harley. But the joyride turns into a journey of terror when the bike plows into a group of students outside a college hangout.
Now Echo is an accomplice to murder—and the target of an avenging killer who’s going to make sure she doesn’t live to tell the tale.
This ebook features an illustrated biography of Diane Hoh including rare photos and never-before-seen documents from the author’s personal collection.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781480421752 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Open Road Media |
| Publication date: | 08/13/2013 |
| Series: | Nightmare Hall , #24 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 244 |
| File size: | 7 MB |
| Age Range: | 12 - 18 Years |
About the Author
After contributing novels to two popular series, Cheerleaders and the Girls of Canby Hall, Hoh found great success writing thrillers, beginning with Funhouse (1990), a Point Horror novel that became a national bestseller. Following its success, Hoh created the Nightmare Hall series, whose twenty-nine installments chronicle a university plagued by dark secrets, and the seven-volume Med Center series, about the challenges and mysteries in a Massachusetts hospital. In 1998, Hoh had a runaway hit with Titanic: The Long Night and Remembering the Titanic, a pair of novels about two couples’ escape from the doomed ocean liner. She now lives and writes in Austin.
Diane Hoh (b. 1937) is a bestselling author of young adult fiction. Born in Warren, Pennsylvania, Hoh began her first novel, Loving That O’Connor Boy (1985), after seeing an ad in a publishing trade magazine requesting submissions for a line of young adult fiction. After contributing novels to two popular series, Cheerleaders and the Girls of Canby Hall, Hoh found great success writing thrillers, beginning with Funhouse (1990), a Point Horror novel that became a national bestseller. Following its success, Hoh created the Nightmare Hall series, whose twenty-nine installments chronicle a university plagued by dark secrets, and the seven-volume Med Center series, about the challenges and mysteries in a Massachusetts hospital. In 1998, Hoh had a runaway hit with Titanic: The Long Night and Remembering the Titanic, a pair of novels about two couples’ escape from the doomed ocean liner. She now lives and writes in Austin.
Read an Excerpt
The Biker
Nightmare Hall
By Diane Hoh
OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA
Copyright © 1995 Diane HohAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4804-2175-2
CHAPTER 1
"Well, I don't care what anyone says, I think it's scary," Delores Jean Cutter said. Immersed to her neck in the bubbling whirlpool in Salem University's infirmary, she shook her head. Dark, short, hair curled damply around her pink cheeks. "I mean, that little boy could have been killed. And that old woman was. All because of some idiot on a motorcycle! Echo, could you please hand me another towel? This one's soggy."
"That's because you've been waving it around, too close to the whirlpool bubbles, while you were talking, Deejay," Echo said. But she got up from the stool where she'd been sitting with an open book in her lap, took a thick, white towel from the tall, wide supply closet and slung it carelessly around Deejay's shoulders. Her part-time job at the infirmary required her to see that the people who used the whirlpool had what they needed. Sometimes she felt like an attendant at a country club, but the job brought in needed funds. Beggars couldn't be choosers. "The article in the campus paper said the biker didn't do anything wrong except forget to turn his light on. He didn't hit that woman or the little boy."
Deejay Cutter slapped at the whirling water with the flat of her hand and said emphatically, "But it wouldn't have happened if the motorcycle had had its light on, Echo!" The other two girls in the whirlpool all nodded agreement. "And why are you defending the guy, anyway?"
Echo had no idea why she was taking the side of the biker. She didn't even know who he was. No one did.
"Well, at least the attack happened in town," Ruthanne Widdoes said, standing up and stepping stiffly out of the tub. Ruthanne had arthritis, a painful disease unusual in someone so young, and spent more time than anyone else in the whirlpool. She was very tall and thin and had told Echo that her pediatrician had said she'd "grown too fast." "He made it sound like it was my fault," she had complained to Echo one day as she stepped gingerly into the tub. "Like I did it on purpose." Now, Ruthanne added, "It's not like there's a wild biker loose right here on campus."
Echo didn't say anything, but she was remembering the sound she'd heard the night before when she was studying. The unmistakable roar of a motorcycle's engine arriving on campus. But that didn't mean anything. There were a few bikes on campus. They were cheaper to run and easier to maneuver in traffic than a car.
"Well, I just hope he stays in town," Deejay said. "I don't like motorcycles. Too noisy." Deejay's problem was tennis elbow. Still athletically inclined, she had switched to swimming, saying it was a form of "hydrotherapy," like the whirlpool, only not as warm and bubbly.
Marilyn Sexton nodded agreement. Tall and blonde and as shy and quiet as Deejay was talkative, Marilyn had what Echo thought of as "sad eyes." The victim of a tragic house fire when she was a teenager, her legs and arms not only pained her from time to time, they were badly scarred. Marilyn never wore shorts or tops without long sleeves. Echo was certain that only Marilyn's roommate and her whirlpool room companions had ever seen Marilyn's cruel scars.
The three girls were very different. Deejay was popular and outgoing, Marilyn shy and quiet, Ruthanne a little brusque but very capable and efficient. In spite of her pain, Ruthanne accomplished a lot on campus, heading fund raisers, chairing committees, and making the dean's list. The three seemed to have little in common. Echo was sure they would never have become friends if not for their shared need for the whirlpool's soothing waters.
Echo tolerated the trio, but she didn't consider them close friends. She had no close friends. Her choice.
"Are you going to the picnic tomorrow afternoon, Echo?" Marilyn asked as she climbed out of the tub.
"No." Picnic? An entire Saturday afternoon spent in the hot sun, with ants nibbling at her ankles and people throwing water balloons at each other? No, thanks.
"You're so antisocial, Echo," Ruthanne accused as she toweled off her long, skinny legs. "You really don't like people, do you?"
"That's not true!" Echo protested halfheartedly. But she knew it was almost true. She wasn't even sure she liked these three, although she had talked to them more this year than to anyone else on campus. But that was solely because of her job at the infirmary. She spent almost no time with them away from the whirlpool room. It's not that they were that bad; Deejay was fun, Marilyn was nice enough, and Ruthanne, when she wasn't complaining about pain, could carry on a very intelligent conversation.
But they had all been handed their educations on a silver platter. None of the three worked part-time to help out with expenses. They actually got "allowances" in the mail from their parents, money they were free to spend as they liked. And they all had parents who had shown up on Parents' Day.
No one had ever taken the time or energy to spoil Echo Glenn, that was what it came down to. She was jealous. So how could she possibly like them?
Besides, they were all so wrapped up in themselves. If any one of the three had ever taken the time to ask her how she was, how she was feeling and what she was thinking, the thick, curly hair on her head, the same color as the burnt sienna crayon in a Crayola box, would have turned white with shock.
"I guess I'm not surprised that you defended that biker," Ruthanne continued as she dressed. "You're sort of the type." She wasn't accusing, she was just stating what she saw as fact. "Always trying to stir things up. I wouldn't be at all surprised to see you sporting a black leather jacket and boots any day now."
"Stuff it, Ruthanne," Echo said bluntly. She knew exactly what Ruthanne was referring to. That business about trying to get more girls' restrooms installed at the stadium. At every game, there were long lines of waiting females. Echo had missed some really spectacular plays standing in line. So she'd gone public with her complaint. So what? It hadn't done any good, but she'd felt better because at least she'd done something: circulating a petition, denouncing the administration's lack of response to that petition from the steps of the library. I wasn't trying to be different, she thought defensively, I was just trying to accomplish something useful, that's all. Everyone's so apathetic. No one wants to rock the boat. As long as Ruthanne has a date for Friday and Saturday nights, and probably Sunday, too, she couldn't care less if she has to stand on line until her teeth fall out.
"We need those restrooms," she said as she carried the wet towels to the hamper.
"Oh, and I suppose we really needed that brouhaha you started over poor lighting in the main parking lot, too," Marilyn said as she earnestly wrestled with her ponytail, to make the ends curl under exactly right.
"It's dark in that lot," Echo said mildly. She never wasted energy getting angry at these three. She didn't care enough about them for that. "If a mad biker came at you in that lot, you wouldn't see him until he was right on top of you."
The ponytail having done her bidding, Marilyn smiled sweetly. "Oh, Echo, there's no mad biker on campus. And there wasn't even one in town when you started that fuss about the parking lot. You just wanted to stir up trouble, that's all. Admit it!"
"If you guys are done," Echo bit off one word at a time, "you can leave. I can't sit here all day talking. I've got work to do." Unlike some of us, she thought.
"So you're not coming to the picnic?" Ruthanne asked when she had dressed in a pink sweatsuit and slicked her long, blonde hair away from her face. Echo noticed with satisfaction that she wasn't limping as noticeably. The whirlpool always helped.
"No, I am not going to any picnic."
"But you're coming to the mall with me later, right?" Deejay asked. "You promised."
Echo had only promised because Deejay had said Marilyn and Ruthanne both had dates and Deejay hated going to the mall alone. Deejay never did anything alone. Seldom had to. If Echo went by herself, she'd be in and out in five minutes. Going with Deejay could mean hours. But she'd promised. "I guess. I need shampoo, and it's too expensive at the bookstore. Meet you out front at seven, when I finish here. But I'm not hanging out in that mall all night, Deejay! I have better things to do."
Deejay laughed. "Oh, Echo, everyone's right about you. You are antisocial. You're hopeless."
After she left, Echo folded towels and thought about that. Antisocial? Maybe. The thing was, Echo Glenn had no desire to be close to anyone. You could get hurt that way. And she didn't want to be hurt anymore.
She had had a family, once, just like everybody else. A mom, a dad, a dog Spot. Well, actually, the dog's name was Picardy, but he was every bit as cute as the little dog in those stupid first-grade books about families. Then her parents had divorced. That happened when she was twelve, and needed a strong, solid family more than ever. Her father remarried almost immediately, moved to California, and began a new family. She hadn't seen him in years, although he sent a small check every Christmas and another check two weeks after her birthday because he always forgot the date.
Her mother had remarried a year later. A military man who moved around a lot. She left Echo with her own elderly parents. "A child needs to stay in one place," she had reasoned.
Well, no, not really. What a child needs is a family.
Echo hadn't seen her mother since she was fourteen, and now had no desire to. She also had two "new" children. She wasn't even sure she would recognize her.
Her grandparents had been good to her. But they were old now, and wrapped up in each other's ailments. Before he retired, her grandfather had been a lawyer, but not a very good one. Never made much money, which left Echo responsible for her own higher education.
She had no plans to return to her grandparents' house for summer vacations or holidays. They probably wouldn't even notice that she wasn't there.
All she wanted to do now was get an excellent education, no matter what it took, and become a lawyer and consumer advocate. Then she could always, always take care of herself and would never need anyone else to do it for her.
The trouble with counting on someone else taking care of you, it seemed to her, was that they might not always be there for you. And then what would you do?
Cry a lot.
That would never, never happen to her again.
Deejay was okay. But Echo would never consider making Deejay her best friend. She hadn't had one since she was twelve. Twelve-and-a-half, actually. That was when her mother took her out of school, away from the friends and neighborhood she'd known all of her life and shipped her to her grandparents in Jamestown, New York, so that Stella Glenn's precious military man wouldn't leave her behind. It hadn't seemed to matter to anyone that Echo was leaving her own best friend, Geneva Teresa Scalise, someone she'd known since second grade, behind.
They had written for a while, called each other on Christmas the first year. Then, nothing. Nothing at all, teaching Echo that absence did not necessarily make the heart grow fonder, after all. Geneva, Echo had heard last year, married her high school boyfriend the day after graduation. He'd enlisted in the service, and they had moved to Germany.
Full circle, Echo thought bitterly as she picked up her shoulder bag, closed the door to the whirlpool room and locked it, dropping the key on the nurse's desk.
Deejay was sitting on the curb outside the infirmary, talking to a tall, good-looking boy in jeans and a cutoff T-shirt. He looked vaguely familiar, but turned and loped away before Echo reached the pair.
"Who was that?" she asked, thinking that she'd seen the guy before.
Deejay stood up, dusting off the seat of her jeans. "Liam McCullough. You know him, don't you? He's really nice."
"I've run into him on campus," Echo said dryly as they headed for the shuttle bus stop, and didn't elaborate further. She meant it literally. She had run into McCullough, on one of the first really warm days in May. She'd been riding her bike, too fast as always, along the river path behind campus and, lost in the beauty of the day and the rushing of the sun-streaked river, hadn't seen anyone coming.
He'd let out a husky "Oof!" when she hit him broadside as he emerged onto the path from the woods. And then he'd stumbled backward and landed on his back on the grass. Hadn't been hurt, except for a bruised ego. But he'd certainly been mad, his eyes flashing as he stood up, brushed himself off and shouted at her, "Why don't you watch where you're going?"
Honestly, you'd have thought she'd done it on purpose! And why hadn't he been watching where he was going?
Unfortunately, a campus traffic policeman had just happened to be coming from the opposite direction, and had witnessed the accident. Just her luck. She got a ticket, had to pay a fifteen-dollar fine. Not good news when you only have a part-time job at the infirmary, which pays next to nothing.
She hadn't even told the victim good-bye when, ticket in hand, she pedaled away from the scene. And she hadn't seen him since.
Maybe he was nice. But he sure could yell.
It was early on Friday evening. Echo knew the mall would be crowded until later when everyone abandoned shopping for the more interesting pursuits of parties and dances and movies and dancing at some nightclub in town. If that was how they wanted to spend their time, that was fine with her. As long as no one insisted that she waste her time that way, too.
Deejay had tried. "Echo, you're supposed to be having fun at college. I never see you having any fun!"
"I'm supposed to be getting an education," Echo had snapped, "and that's what I'm doing!"
She stayed very busy, studying, reading, working at the infirmary. Often, she felt bored and restless. She didn't call it loneliness, because that would have meant she needed people, and that thought revolted her. She wasn't lonely or needy. She was not.
But sometimes, she couldn't sleep at night and got up after her roommate, Trixie, was asleep, no doubt dreaming of boys with big muscles and tiny brains because that was who Trixie was, and went walking alone along the river. She sometimes wondered, on those solitary outings, how both of her parents had been able and willing to shut their own daughter out of their lives so easily, but she pushed the thought away quickly, before it could take hold like a nasty bee sinking its stinger into her skin.
Anyway, it didn't matter. Not anymore. She was doing fine, thank you very much, and didn't need anyone. She could take care of herself. She had been doing just that for a long time now, and would continue to.
Echo couldn't imagine any situation that she might not be able to handle by herself. So far, there hadn't been one. So far, she'd been lucky.
She bought shampoo, accompanied by Deejay's laughing complaints about how Echo took forever to sort through all of the bottles until she found the cheapest brand.
They looked at the new summer clothing and after a brief argument with herself, Echo returned to the rack a really pretty, white slip dress that would be perfect for summer.
"You should get it," Deejay urged. "It's on sale, Echo. You're tall and thin enough to wear a dress like that. It'd look great."
"I don't have any place to wear it." She'd be working full-time this summer at the library in town and probably could spring for the dress. She was getting awfully tired of being sensible all the time. But she really didn't have any place to wear something so pretty.
Back on the rack it went.
But she couldn't help casting one last, yearning glance over her shoulder as they left the store.
Because Deejay had a party to attend, which Echo had no intention of attending, they parted at the food court after a quick sandwich.
Reluctant to return to an empty dorm room on a Friday night, Echo spent an hour or so browsing in the bookstore until she felt tired enough to go back to campus.
The mall was emptying out fast.
A crowd had gathered under the canopy outside. Some were waiting for the local bus, some for the shuttle, some just spending a few extra minutes talking about evening plans before actually fulfilling them.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Biker by Diane Hoh. Copyright © 1995 Diane Hoh. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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