Christmas Eve on Haunted Hill (6 page)

          Letting out a breath,
Luke made up his mind.

         
The hell with it
,
he thought. 
Let’s give it a shot
.

          He carried the cases of
beer to the counter.

          And then he went back
down the automotive aisle and grabbed two gas cans.

Simone stopped at the second floor
landing and aimed the beam of light down a hallway.  The weak illumination made
it difficult to tell for sure, but she sensed the hallway was a longish one. 
There was something about that darkness beyond the edge of the lighted area
that suggested significant depth.  As she stood there and contemplated the
darkness, she began to perceive other qualities within it, sinister things. 
She told herself it was just regular darkness, a mundane absence of light,
nothing more.  The sense that it pulsed with a malign supernatural intelligence
was just her fear sparking paranoid delusions.

          Terry joined her on the
landing and said, “See anything?”

          Simone jumped at the
sound of his voice.  “Jesus!  You scared me.”

          “Sorry.”

          Simone sighed.  “It’s
okay.”

          It really wasn’t.  Her
heart was still slamming in her chest from the fright he’d given her.  But she
knew he hadn’t startled her on purpose and so chose not to rebuke him again. 
Besides, she was too creeped out by this house and the mystery of her missing
friends to risk upsetting him.  If she’d said anything too mean, he might have
elected to head back out to the SUV and leave her up here alone.  And now that
she was up here, she wasn’t sure she could face down that deep darkness without
someone with her.

          A silent moment elapsed
as they stood there and stared down the dark hallway.

          Terry cleared his
throat.  “So…are we just gonna stand here all night?”

          Simone didn’t answer
right away.  Her fear was not abating in the least as the seconds rolled by and
turned into minutes.  To the contrary, it was intensifying.  She felt sweat in
her armpits despite the cold suffusing the old house.  The trepidation she felt
at venturing farther down the hallway was such that she briefly considered
passing the phone back to Terry and asking him to lead the way.  She liked the
idea of having a buffer between herself and any potential threat lurking up
here on the second floor.  It was a selfish, mercenary impulse and she felt bad
about it, a little, but not so deep down inside she knew she wasn’t above
allowing someone else to step into harm’s way in her place.

          In the end, though, her
fear of relinquishing control over their only light source was even greater
than her fear of being attacked by monsters or ghosts or whatever.  Besides,
she still suspected the truth of the situation was that Spence and the others
were pulling some kind of lame prank.  Right now they were probably hiding away
in one of these rooms and keeping quiet, waiting for just the right moment to
jump out at them and scream
boo!

         
And if that happens
,
Simone promised herself,
I’ll kick Spence in the balls so hard they’ll
fucking explode
.

          “Stay close,” she said,
glancing at Terry.

          He smiled.  “No problem.”

          It was all Simone could
do not to roll her eyes at that smile.  Of course he didn’t have a problem with
that.  Being close to her was his favorite thing in the world.  She again felt
a little tingle of pleasure at knowing what kind of power she held over him. 
He could be her little puppet, if she wanted.  She could make him dance and act
the fool.  It would be funny.

          But, no, she wasn’t that
shallow.  Wasn’t that mean.

          Not quite.

          She held the light as far
in front of her as she could manage and started down the hallway again.  The
creak of the floorboards beneath their feet was louder than it had been
downstairs.  She aimed the light down and studied the floor a moment.  A lot of
the wood was badly warped.  Gaps had appeared between some of the boards,
inch-wide fissures that deepened her concerns regarding the structural
integrity of the house.  A few of the boards sank a little too precipitously
beneath the tread of her feet.

          About a dozen feet down
the hallway, her next step forward resulted in a splintering sound loud enough
to dissuade her from proceeding any farther.  Maybe Spence and the others
really were lurking in one of the rooms up here, but the conditions were too
dangerous to continue playing along with their game.  The smart thing to do
would be to head back downstairs and resume calling out for them.  If there was
no response after a reasonable amount of time, she would bite the bullet and
call 911.  It might mean getting into some serious trouble with her parents and
the police, but so be it.  Trouble of that sort would be temporary.  A serious
injury caused by falling through a rotten and perhaps termite-infested floor? 
Not so much.

          She was about to inform
Terry of her decision when she saw something at the edge of the field of light
ahead of her.  What she saw was so unexpected—so seemingly incongruous—her
brain required an additional moment or two to properly process it.

         
Those are toes
,
she thought, her brain finally kicking back into gear. 
A girl’s painted
toes
.

          As far as she knew, the
only other girl in the house was Karen Hogan, but Karen was wearing her Uggs,
thick, sheepskin-lined winter boots.  The inside of the house felt like a meat
freezer.  Bare feet on this floor would be intolerable.  Unless she had somehow
taken complete leave of her senses over the last twenty-some minutes, Karen
would
not
have removed those boots, she was sure of it.

          Pretty sure, anyway.

          And yet those were
unquestionably a young woman’s bare feet just up ahead of her in the hallway. 
The toenails were painted a bright shade of red.  It was the same shade Karen
used on her fingernails.  Simone could make sense of it on no level, except
that maybe it was another part of an elaborate prank.

          “Karen, is that you?”

          Terry stepped up close
behind her.  “What’s happening?”

          Ignoring him, Simone
moved another couple steps down the hallway.  Each tread of her feet resulted
in another of those loud splintering sounds, but she was too captivated by this
new layer of mystery to care.  The woman standing in the hallway ahead of her
did not move as she advanced.  As the field of light pushed back more of the
darkness, she was able to discern more details.  The unmoving woman wasn’t just
barefoot, she was entirely nude.  Her head was hanging forward, long dark hair
partly obscuring her face.

          Simone stopped in her
tracks.  "Karen?  Are you okay?”

          It had to be Karen. 
Crazy as it seemed, this person looked too much like her to be anyone else.

          Terry sharply inhaled. 
“Is that…blood?”

          Simone was initially
confused by this comment, but she took a few steps forward and gasped as the
light more clearly delineated the splashes of red on Karen’s legs and torso. 
She heard the floor creak behind her as Terry took a few instinctive backward
steps.

          Her mind again went back
to the idea of a prank.  On the surface, it seemed ridiculous, but was it
really?  Her first thought was that there hadn’t been time enough for Spence
and the others to stage something this elaborate, but maybe she was thinking
about it the wrong way.  Perhaps it wasn’t a spontaneous thing at all and had
been planned out well in advance.  A part of her wanted to believe this was the
case.  She would be pissed about it, but at least a prank was something rooted
in the real world.  It was an infinitely preferable scenario to dealing with
some sort of genuine supernatural phenomenon.

          She took yet another step
forward, squinting and peering more intently at the splashes of red on Karen’s
body.  The substance, whatever it actually was, was still wet.  A thin line of
crimson was slowly trailing down a smooth inner thigh.

          There was another loud
creak behind her, but something about it was different than what she had heard
previously.  It went on longer and was followed by a heavy thump.  Before
Simone could turn about to investigate, Karen lifted her head and spoke in a
voice that was low and grating, utterly unlike her regular speaking voice.

          “
He’s here
.”

          Simone whirled about and
aimed the light at the other end of the hallway.

          Terry was several feet
away now and still backtracking.  Behind him a door was swinging open.  Its
long-unoiled hinges were the source of the higher-pitched squeaking sound.  As
Simone watched with her mouth hanging open in astounded horror, a man in a
Santa suit emerged from a room.  The suit looked like it had been salvaged from
a Dumpster.  Its formerly white fringe was filthy and there were numerous rips
in the fabric.  What she could see of the portion of the man’s face visible
beneath the limp-looking red hat made her breath quicken.  She was building
toward a scream, but couldn’t quite manage it, not yet.

          The man in the Santa suit
was a ghoul, a walking corpse with black eyes and rotted zombie flesh. 
Clutched in his red-gloved hands was a large, heavy-bladed axe.  Terry was just
beginning to turn around when the Santa-ghoul raised the axe above his
shoulders and began to swing it.

          Now Simone was able to
scream.  The sound was loud and piercing, but not quite loud enough to obscure Karen’s
girlish giggling.  Light from the phone glinted on the blade of the axe as it
sliced through the air.  Terry stood immobile in the middle of the hallway,
either too overwhelmed by blind terror to get out of the way or simply
incapable of comprehending what he was seeing.

          The blade of the axe bit
into the side of his neck and chopped all the way through it with shocking
ease.  His head went flying as blood pumped from the stump of his neck.  Simone
screamed again as the severed head hit the floor and came tumbling toward her.

          Terry’s headless body
stood erect a moment longer before it wobbled and toppled over.  The
Santa-ghoul looked at Simone and grinned.  Then the creature stepped over the
corpse and started in her direction, once again hefting the heavy axe above its
shoulders.

          Screaming yet again,
Simone backed up and grabbed Karen by a wrist, dragging her down to the far end
of the hallway.  Karen allowed herself to be pulled along, still giggling in
that demented way all the while.  At the end of the hallway was an open door.

          There was nowhere else to
go.

          Simone shoved Karen
through the opening and followed her into the pitch-black room.  The phone had
slipped from her fingers during the flight down the hallway.  She regretted its
loss, but there was no chance of retrieving it.  She closed the door and turned
the lock, hoping it would hold until she could get it properly barricaded.  Her
heart pounding, she began casting about in the dark, searching for furniture
she could drag over to block the door.

          But before she could find
anything, she tripped over something on the floor.  Unable to keep her balance,
she pitched forward, falling until the side of her head smacked against the
corner of something hard and unyielding.

          As consciousness dimmed,
she heard Karen giggle again.

          And then she again spoke
in that low, grating voice.  “
Now you’re here with us.  Forever
.”

The Wrangler sat parked at the
bottom of the long, narrow drive that led up to the house at the top of
Crandall Hill.  Even with the jeep’s high beams on and the wipers swooping back
and forth at their fastest setting, visibility was poor.  Enough snow had
fallen over the last hour that even with the vehicle’s four-wheel-drive, the
journey up the winding drive was sure to have its treacherous moments.  On
their own, these considerations were more than sufficient to render the
prospect a hopelessly daunting one.  Add in the fact that the blood alcohol
level of the man behind the wheel of the Wrangler was almost certainly well
above the legally allowable limit for operating a motor vehicle and what you
had was a recipe for almost certain disaster.

          Greg Lancaster drummed
his thumbs on the rim of the steering wheel and squinted out at the sheeting
snow.  “Hand me another of those beers, would ya?”

          An open carton of
Budweiser cans sat on the floor between Luke’s feet.  He dug one out and passed
it over to Greg.  “Look, now that we’re here, I’ve got a deeper appreciation
for just how dumbass this idea is.  Let’s just call this off and head back to
your place while the roads are still passable.”

          There was a fizzy hiss as
Greg popped the tab on the fresh can of Bud.  “Nothing dumbass about it. 
Unfavorable weather conditions aside, that is.”  He gulped deeply from the can,
burped softly, and wiped his mouth with the back of a hand.  “Place should have
been razed to the ground years ago.  You inherited everything in your father’s
estate, right?  How come you never had it knocked down?”

          Luke took a contemplative
sip of beer before answering.  “I reckon mostly because I didn’t want to even
think about the place.  Out of sight, out of mind, basically.  My daddy owned
the house free and clear for years before he…well, before he did what he did. 
Once a year I get a notice to pay the property taxes.  I mail in the check and
never think about it again.”

          “So it does still belong
to you?  Despite the law taking it on themselves to board it up?”

          “It does.”

          A line formed in the middle
of Greg’s brow.  “Huh.  In that case, I suppose the sensible thing to do would
be to call off this foolishness and hire a demolition company after the
holidays.”

          Luke nodded.  “I could do
that, sure.”

          A silent beat elapsed.

          Greg took a sip of beer. 
“Gasoline’s a lot cheaper, though.”

          “Yep.  There’s that.”

          “And it wouldn’t feel bad
to watch the fucking place burn.”

          “Nope.”

          Greg chugged down the
rest of the beer Luke had just passed him.  He crushed the can and tossed it in
the back.  “Fuck it, man.  Let’s do this.”

          He worked the Wrangler’s
gearshift, applied light pressure to the gas pedal, and snow beneath the
vehicle crunched audibly as it began to roll forward.

          Luke pulled on his
seatbelt.  “This is a really bad idea.”

          There was the slightest
tinge of ruefulness in Greg’s soft laughter.  “Already a well-established fact,
pardner.  We’re doin’ it anyway.”

          “Because we’re crazy. 
And drunk.”

          Greg laughed again.  “A
glorious combination, if you ask me.  Many of the most momentous events in
history were the result of foolhardy deeds perpetrated by drunken, crazy
lunatics.”

          Luke tossed his latest
empty in the back.  He looked askance at his friend as he dug another can out
of the carton.  “Is that so?”

          Greg nodded.  “Documented
fact.  Case in point, the Boston Tea Party.  Those revolutionaries were loaded
out of their fucking minds when they tossed all that tea in the harbor.  Just
one example among many.  You can look it up.”

          Luke gulped beer.  “So
what you’re saying is that by doing this we’re actually honoring the memory of
fallen heroes?”

          “I’m not sure how many of
those boys later died in battle, but, sure, something like that.  Why not?”

          Luke shrugged.  “Works
for me.”

          The winding private drive
to the top of Crandall Hill was about a quarter mile long.  Luke had vivid
memories of whipping his Camaro around its sharp curves in the old days.  His
father used to chastise him for this, saying it was a good way to get himself—or
someone else—hurt or even killed.  This expression of concern for his safety
was no anomaly.  Until that terrible night, he had seemed no different from any
other loving father.  As far as anyone had known, Silas Herzinger cherished his
family and was especially proud of the grandchildren Luke’s older siblings had
given him.  But that outward goodness had been a hideous lie, a mask hiding the
monster lurking inside.  He had only ever pretended to love Luke and the rest
of the family.  He was just a madman going through the motions of a normal life
until he could finally take it no longer.

          At least, this was Luke’s
assumption.  His father died without saying a word about why he’d done what
he’d done.  But, really, what other explanation could there be?  He certainly
didn’t believe the old man had been possessed by a demon, as some of the more
unbalanced religious loonies he encountered in the aftermath of the massacre
insisted.  Luke didn’t believe in ghosts, either, despite what he’d been told
tonight about the local legends that had sprung up over the years.  No, he
believed in rock-solid reality.  He believed in that house.  It was still
there, a monument to horror.  It was made of wood and plaster and other
flammable things.  He could do something about that.

          He could burn it to the
fucking ground.

          But first they had to
make it up to the top of so-called Haunted Hill without sliding off the drive
and tumbling down the side of the hill.  There were a few slightly unnerving
moments when the Wrangler’s tires lost traction on the snow-covered drive for a
few seconds, but Greg handled each of these incidents with aplomb.  Even with
the high level of alcohol circulating in his system, he was an obviously
skilled driver.  And living in this climate, he of course had many years of experience
driving in adverse conditions.  He drove in low gear the whole way and it took
quite a while, but eventually the dark outline of the old house became visible
through barren tree branches as they rounded the last bend.

          Luke frowned as they came
clear of the trees and neared the house.  “What the hell?”

          A snow-covered vehicle
was parked alongside the porch.  It looked like an SUV.  The front door to the
house was standing open.

          Greg grunted.  “Kids,
probably.  Guess some of them finally got the nerve to try breaking in again.”

          Luke shook his head, his
features drawn back in a look of extreme disbelief.  “On a night like this? 
How fucking stupid are they?”

          Greg pulled up close to
the SUV and parked the Wrangler.  “Do I really have to point out the deep irony
inherent in that question?”

          Luke winced.  “Well,
okay, this isn’t the brightest thing we’ve ever done, granted, but at least
we’ve got a legitimate reason for being here.”

          “Arson?”

          “Yes.”

          Greg chuckled.  “Beer me,
please.  I think the law might have some argument with your definition of the
word ‘legitimate’.  What do you want to do here?”

          Luke passed him another
beer.  A shiver rippled through him as he stared at the open door to his
childhood home.  He hadn’t passed through it again since the night he ran
screaming out of the house.  There was a sense of the surreal at being back
here again after all this time   Aside from the boarded-up windows, the
exterior of the house looked much the same as it had when he’d lived here.  Or
at least it did at night in the swirling snow.  Perhaps the bright light of day
would more clearly reveal it for the derelict structure it really was.

          Greg popped his beer open
and chugged some of it down.  “Luke?  Ya hear me?  What do you want to do?”

          Luke let out a shuddery
breath.  “Flush them out, I guess.  Then do what we came here to do.”

          Greg’s brow creased again
as he scratched his whiskery chin and thought about it.  “I don’t know.  Later
on when they hear about the place burning down, they might blab about seeing us
up here, then maybe the law will get wind of it and want to have a word with
them.”

          Luke shook his head. 
“And get in trouble for trespassing?  No, I think they’ll keep it to
themselves.  And even if they don’t and it comes back on us, fuck it, I’ll take
the hit on this thing.  I’ll swear I was up here with someone else.”

          Greg tilted his head back
and chugged down the rest of the beer, belching loudly when he crushed the can
moments later.  “Fuck it, then.  Let’s do this.”

          He crushed the empty and
tossed it in the back.

          Then he got out of the
jeep.

          Luke finished his beer
and got out, too.

          Snow crunched beneath
their booted feet as they approached the SUV.  Only the top of the vehicle was
snow-covered.  Now that they were close, Luke could see its paintjob was a
shade of bright red.  Greg brushed snow off the hood, removed a glove, and
placed a hand on the metal.

          “Still a bit warm.  They
can’t have been here long.”

          They stared at the open
front door for a moment.

          Greg glanced at Luke.  “Want
to go on inside or do we try shouting at them first?”

          Luke considered.  “Shout,
I think.”

          Greg nodded.  “Hold on a
sec first.  Need to offload some of what I’ve been drinkin’.”

          He positioned himself in
front of the SUV’s front left tire, pulled down his zipper, took out his junk,
and let out a loud groan of relief as a thick stream of urine began pattering
against the hubcap.  Luke couldn’t help grinning.  Trespassing little bastards
deserved to have their ride pissed on.  Realizing his bladder was also pretty
swollen, he made a contribution of his own against another tire.  Both men were
laughing by the time they zipped up and staggered away from the vehicle.

          Luke knew they were being
pretty juvenile.  Such behavior shouldn’t feel so gratifying for a man his
age.  But it did.  Moreover, he realized he was actually having a pretty great
time.  He was struck by the very large disconnect between how he felt now and
where he’d been mentally only a short while ago.  And he again had to wonder
about the unexpected twist in the path fate had steered him down tonight.  Was
it really just random chance or was there something larger and more
inexplicable happening here?

          He still didn’t know,
probably never would.  And, anyway, it was a question best saved for later,
when he was sober again.

          Greg stopped in his
tracks a few feet shy of the porch steps and cupped his hands around his
mouth.  “Hello, you trespassing little snots!  The grownups are here!  Time to
get your asses out of there before we come in and kick the shit out of them.”

          Luke laughed.

          Then he cupped his hands
around his mouth and started yelling, too.