Allhallow's Eve: (Richard Laymon Horror Classic) (12 page)

She looked up at him, concern in her clear eyes. ‘Whose house?’

‘The Horners. Do you know them?’

‘Lynn Horner? I met her at PTA.’ She read the expression on Sam’s face. ‘Oh no.’

‘I left before they went in for the bodies.’

‘Did all of them …?’

‘Apparently.’

‘Oh geez.’

‘I saw Eric at the fire.’

She stiffened. ‘Eric? What was he doing there?’

‘Watching. There were quite a few spectators.’

‘He was supposed to be home.’

‘I guess he heard the fire trucks, and got curious. Fires have a way of drawing people. He said you weren’t home.’

‘You talked to him?’

‘For a couple of minutes. He didn’t seem too happy about it. I offered him a lift home, but he ran off.’

Cynthia sighed and shut her eyes. ‘Damn it, I shouldn’t have left him. May I use your phone?’

‘Sure.’

She looked up at him. With a half-smile, she drew her fingertips along his cheek. ‘I just wanted to be with you,’ she said. Then she turned away.

Sam watched her cross the room. She bent over the phone, and dialed. For a moment, Sam looked at the pale slopes of her exposed buttocks. The view started to arouse him, so he looked away. He wandered into the kitchen, and took a beer from the refrigerator. Snapping open the top, he returned to the living room.

Cynthia hung up. ‘He didn’t answer. I guess I’d better go back.’ She smiled hopefully. ‘Want to come?’

‘If you want me to.’

‘I want you to.’

Sam drank half his beer on the way back to the refrigerator. He put the can away, and returned to the living room. Cynthia wasn’t there. She came in from his bedroom, a moment later, wearing shoes, tan corduroy pants, and a white bra. As she walked, she put on her blouse. Sam opened the door for her. ‘I’m awfully sorry about this,’ she said.

‘Don’t be.’ He clutched the back of her neck. She smiled with disappointment, and stepped out the door.

They took separate cars to her house, several blocks away. Inside, Sam waited while Cynthia wandered through the house calling out for Eric.

She came back, shaking her head. ‘He’s not here, Sam.’

‘Has he done this sort of thing before?’

‘Sneaked out at night? No. Not that I know of. Damn it, I trusted him. We had a deal that we’d tell each other, whenever we went out. You know, so the other
wouldn’t worry and we’d know where to get in touch. He isn’t supposed to go out, at all, when I’m gone at night.’

‘I guess the temptation was too great, this time.’

‘Yeah. Well, he was upset tonight. Maybe he did this to get even. Eric likes to get even. Of course, I guess he didn’t know I’d find out.’ She sighed. ‘How about a drink? Let’s have a drink, and give him a few minutes, and if he isn’t here by the time we finish, We’ll go out looking.’

‘Fine with me.’

‘A beer or a gimlet?’

‘How about straight vodka with a slice of lime?’

‘Aye-aye.’

They went together into the kitchen. Cynthia took glasses down from the cupboard, and Sam removed a quart of Gilby’s from her cabinet.

‘What upset Eric?’ he asked.

‘Well, we started off talking about you. Then it got around to his father. Eric seems to think I cheated him out of a dad by not marrying Scotty Harlan.’

‘Does he know about Scotty?’ Sam asked, surprised.

‘You think I’d tell him that he’s the product of a rape? He’s got enough problems without having
that
laid on him. I just told him that we hardly knew each other, and got carried away one afternoon and that Scotty left town before he was born. Pretty much what I’d told him before. But he got all upset and kept saying I should’ve married the creep.’

‘If he feels that way, maybe you should tell him the truth.’

‘I can’t.’

They finished making the drinks, and went into the living room. They sat on a couch.

‘I think it’d help,’ Sam said, ‘if he got to know me.’

‘You’re probably right.’

‘Why don’t we plan something for Saturday? There’s a football game at city college.’

‘He isn’t much for football.’

‘What does he like?’

‘Well, movies.’

‘Okay. We’ll go to the movies, then. He can pick what we see. We’ll stop by the Pizza Palace, first, for supper.’

‘All right.’ She frowned into her drink, and took a sip. ‘I just don’t want him hurt again.’

‘He won’t be,’ Sam told her. Suddenly, his heart began to race. ‘Neither will you.’

She stared at him.

Sam’s mouth went dry. He took a drink. His hand trembled as he lowered his glass to the table. He faced Cynthia. She kept staring. He saw fear and hope in her eyes as if she knew what was in his mind.

‘How would you like to marry me?’ Sam asked.

She raised a hand to her mouth. The fingertips pressed against her tight lips. ‘Are you serious?’ she asked through her fingers.

‘I know this isn’t a great time to ask. I’d planned to take you out for a fancy dinner …’

‘You really want to marry me?’

‘I’ve always wanted to, ever since we met.’

Her eyes sparkled with tears. ‘It isn’t … just because of Eric?’

‘It’s because of you.’

‘Jeezus.’ Her long fingers wiped the tears from her cheeks.

‘What do you say?’

She couldn’t say anything. Nodding, she threw herself against Sam and hugged him. After a while, she drew back. Smiling, she hugged him again. ‘Cynthia Wyatt,’ she said.

‘Sounds good.’

‘Sounds wonderful. Oh, Sam.’

‘Huh?’

‘I wish we could be like this forever.’

‘We’d get stiff necks.’

Laughing, she kissed him. The front door opened, and she pulled quickly away as Eric walked in. She frowned at the boy. ‘Where have you been, young man?’

‘Didn’t
he
tell you?’

‘You’re not supposed to leave this house, when I’m gone.’

He shrugged. ‘I wanted to see the fire.’

‘That doesn’t matter. A rule’s a rule.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘Go on up to your room.’

He glared at Sam, and went up the stairs.

‘I’d better have a talk with him,’ she said.

‘Maybe I should leave.’

‘No. I won’t be long. Why don’t you fix yourself another drink? I’ll be down in a few minutes.’

Eric was buttoning his pajamas when his mother knocked and opened the door. ‘What do you want?’ he said.

‘I want to know what you think you’re doing.’

‘Going to bed.’

‘Knock off the smart answers, all right?’

‘I just wanted to see the fire.’

‘How did you know there
was
a fire?’

‘The trucks went by.’

‘They wouldn’t pass here, going to Oakhurst Road. They’d be going the other way.’

Eric scowled. ‘I was taking a walk, and they went by.’

‘So you were already outside?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why did you leave the house?’

‘I felt like it.’

‘Where were you going?’

‘Nowhere. I just felt like getting out.’

‘You must’ve been going somewhere.’

‘I wasn’t. I just felt cooped up. It isn’t fair. You can go out whenever you want, and I have to stay home.’

‘I never just leave without telling you. Didn’t occur to you that I might worry?’

‘I didn’t think you’d find out.’

‘Well, I did.’

‘Only ’cause I ran into that damned cop.’

‘Eric!’ she snapped.

‘Well, it’s true. If he hadn’t told, you never would’ve found out.’

‘You think that would make it all right?’

‘What you don’t know, won’t hurt you.’

She gazed at him, looking stunned. ‘You don’t really believe that.’

‘Sure.’

‘You think it’s okay to do something wrong, as long as you don’t get caught?’

Eric nodded.

‘You can’t … Where on earth did you
pick
that up?’

He grinned. ‘From you.’

‘I never …’

‘The way you sneak around, sleeping with guys. It’s okay, as long as little Eric doesn’t find out. What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. Isn’t that so?’

‘No!’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘I have every right to see any man I want. For Godsake, I didn’t go on a date for ten years after you were born, and you have the gall to criticize my morals! Goddamn it, Eric …’

‘You should’ve married Dad.’

‘Your father was despicable and he probably still is, if somebody hasn’t killed him by now.’

‘Go to hell.’

She slapped him.

Eric smiled.

She whirled away and left the room, slamming his door so hard its noise hurt his ears and nearly brought tears to his eyes.

Sam heard the sharp crash of the door, and grimaced.

What am I getting into? he thought.

He took a sip of icy vodka, wondering if he’d made a mistake. What if the kid doesn’t straighten out?

Better have a long engagement. Very long. Make sure Eric isn’t going to sour everything. If it looks bad, maybe everyone will be better off just forgetting it.

He expected Cynthia to come downstairs right away. He grew restless as the minutes passed. Maybe he
should’ve gone home, after all. Too late for that. He couldn’t leave without saying good-bye, and if Cynthia was so upset that she didn’t want to face him …

At the sound of quiet footsteps on the stairway, Sam got to his feet.

Cynthia came down the stairs, one hand gliding along the banister. She wore a white nightgown that Sam had never seen before.

‘You all right?’ he asked.

‘This is our night, Sam. I won’t let Eric ruin it.’

The gown floated against her body, transparent as gauze, as she slowly walked toward Sam.

Eric lay in bed, wide awake. He heard his mother and Sam walk up the hallway, whisper words too quiet to understand. He shut his eyes as his door opened.

Soft footsteps crossed his room.

The side of his mattress sank. He smelled his mother’s perfume, and her hand stroked his cheek.

‘Honey?’

He moaned as if waking up. As the fingers caressed his forehead, he opened his eyes. ‘Huh?’ he said.

‘I’m sorry we quarreled.’

‘Me too.’

‘I was just so worried when you weren’t at home.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I love you so much.’ She bent down, and kissed him. ‘We’ll try to do better, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘Goodnight, honey.’

‘Night.’

He watched her walk toward the open door. The light from the hallway passed through her nightgown, and made her look naked. He stared at her breasts as she turned to pull the door shut.

She’s dressed like that for Sam, he thought.

The dirty bastard.

He’s probably waiting in her room, right now, taking off his clothes.

If Dad only knew …
He’s
the one who should be going to bed with her, not this damned cop.

Eric climbed from bed. He found his sneakers, and went to his door. He listened for a moment. Hearing nothing, he opened his door and looked out. The hallway was dark. It looked deserted.

He stepped out, and silently closed his door. He tiptoed along the hall to the head of the stairway. The house below him was dark. A few of the stairs creaked as he descended, but nobody came to check.

He hurried into the kitchen, and turned on the light. A paring knife lay on the counter beside a carved lime.

It might break, he decided.

So he slid a butcher knife out of its rack. Holding it behind his back, he rushed to the front door. There, he put on his sneakers.

He ran across the yard, gritting his teeth against the chilly wind that blew through his pajamas. As he ran, he glanced up at the windows of his mother’s room. They were dark. Crouching by the front of Sam’s car, he stabbed the side of the tire. The point didn’t penetrate enough. He worked the knife with both hands, pushing hard against it. Suddenly, it rammed deep. Rubber-smelling air hissed into his face.

As the corner of the car sank, he crawled to the rear. He sat on the wet grass, feet against the tire. Leaning forward, be held the knife to the whitewall. He stomped his heel against its butt. The knife punched in.

Eric tugged the knife free, and stepped into the street.
He sat down on the cold pavement, held the knife in place, and kicked. It went easily into the third tire.