Halloween Is For Lovers (13 page)

“What?”

“Semaphoristics, we’re debating trivial… semaphores.”

“What does this have to do with signal flags?”

Steve ignored her question, “I mean, why is a haunted house fun? Because of the secrets inside ..." He pushed her up a few stairs and turned to leave. "I've got to rehearse my dinner speech."

She shook her head as she slowly climbed the stairs and mumbled under her breath, "Haunted house?"

He quickly turned back to her. "Lil, just so we're clear. Never go into my secret room in the basement."

She stood on the stairs, numb.

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "I am so psyched to get married." He turned and bopped down the hall but quickly came skidding back to the foot of the stairs. "Another thing, Lil, you know that pole barn way out on the back forty? The one with no windows and the razor wire fence around it? Sort of looks like it has a retractable roof?"

"Retractable roof, like it opens?" Her face pinched in confusion.

"Don't try and go in there, either." He clapped his hands together and let out a little cheer. "Hooray! So many surprise secrets! Best marriage ever!" He bopped and jived back down the hall.

Gilda swept down the stairs and scooped Lily up. "Where have you been? We have to get ready for dinner."

Lily shook her head slowly, still in a haze of confusion. "I thought ... I thought I was ready." She stared down the hall at Steve as he walked away. "Now ... I'm not so sure."

Dead Guy at the Door

The wall protecting Frederick was impressive: nine feet of laid-up fieldstone topped with wrought iron spikes. Every twenty feet along the top, a lantern with a hand-blown mantle caged in tarnished brass gave off a warm glow. A person had to climb up onto the wall to notice that each of the hundred or more lanterns had a bronze badge with a running fox affixed to the base with an embossed
F
, for Frederick, above it.

Hugh got close enough to see every whisker of the fox on the lantern as Morton hoisted him up onto the wall with a grunt. "Can you make it?"

It was a testament to their lack of breaking-and-entering skills that they decided to breach the wall in a spot where it was most illuminated. Hugh wasn't thinking about getting caught, he was thinking the wall would be easier to climb if he could see what he was doing.

He grabbed hold of the iron spikes and tried to lift himself up, but it was no use. His biceps had atrophied in the Kingdom. At least that's what he told himself. He had never been much of an athlete. The last time he had done a pull-up was in seventh grade.

He held on and looked over the wall at the house. A single room in Frederick's east wing glowed with a golden light. For Hugh there was no doubt Lily was inside. He doubled his effort. "Can you push me any higher?"

Morton growled and lifted him as high as he could and Hugh swung a leg up onto the ledge. He wedged the toe of his wedding shoe between two iron spikes and strained to drag the rest of his body up over the wall. He could feel her on the other side. If he could just get over this wall, his dream would come true. Just one jagged spiked barrier left between love and life and ...

"Ahhh!" Hugh let go and fell on top of Morton.

"It's no use, it's too high."

Morton was lying in the dirt, moaning, "Awww."

"Are you okay?"

"No." Morton got to his knees and brushed the leaves out of his hair. "I'm sober and it hurts."

"What hurts? Did you break something?"

"No, that little tumble was nothing. Sober hurts. It's been a while." He rubbed his face with his hands.

"There's got to be another way to get in there. We should try the gate." Hugh looked down the wall, where a catering truck was waiting for Frederick's gate to open. "We'll hide in the bushes and after a car goes through we'll run in behind it before the gate closes."

Morton got to his feet. "It's worth a shot."

In Frederick's east-wing master suite, Lily sat at the dressing table, staring at herself in the mirror. Gilda stood behind her and gently brushed her hair. "Let's try and go through this again. The best man does what for a living?"

Lily sighed. "I'm not sure, some kind of venture capital medical law thing. But he has a fiancée."

"So? Until the marriage license is signed he's fair game. Maybe he'll have second thoughts, get cold feet. Then I'll swoop in like a buzzard with a pair of wool socks. All sorts of craziness can happen between now and the wedding day. I don't have to tell you that."

Gilda's sharp words sliced between Lily's ribs and she deflated. The little bit of fake happiness she was able to generate on her wedding eve spilled out.

"Oh, Lil, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. But gosh, that whole thing with that last guy—"

"His name was Hugh."

"What if you got stuck with him? I mean, talk about lucky."

Gilda's knife twisted and Lily slumped against the dressing table.

"Now come on, Lil, you have to admit that Steve is a once-in-a-lifetime whopper of a catch." Gilda looked off in the distance with dreamy eyes and pictured Steve. "He's like a powerful trophy buck and when you go to gut him his insides are full of cash." Sometimes Gilda let her guard down and little hints about her lower-middle-class upbringing in a family of sportsmen slipped out. "I mean, talk about a silver lining to that whole dumped-at-the-altar fiasco. No offense, but Steve is about a billion times better than, what was his name again?"

"But I loved him." Lily started to tear up.

"I know, I know, honey. Don't start crying on me, you'll ruin your makeup. I'm just saying, things couldn't have turned out better for you. And it's sad that he dumped you in front of everyone and then died, but hey, life goes on. Life is for the living. You deserve to be happy."

"I'm not happy." Lily's head collapsed on the dressing table and she started to sob. "I think I'm making a big mistake."

Gilda rubbed her shoulders and took on the persona of a junior high football coach. "Come on now, Lil, don't cry. Chin up, there, kiddo. I mean, look at the doc you’re marrying, look at this house, look at all those luxury cars, look at that boat he has, I mean, scratch boat, that is one hell of a classy yacht. Most people don't have houses decorated as tastefully as that yacht. This is it, this is your big break. Every girl’s dream, you know, your chance to be kept in a means that are noticeably better than that of any of your friends or sorority sisters. Isn't that enough to make you happy?"

Lily looked up at the mirror, her eyes swollen and red. Down deep she knew the answer to Gilda's question, but that answer didn't count anymore.

Frederick's main gate was on the south wall of the estate. Thick iron spears arched across the opening and were gathered in the center by an elaborate coat of arms that Steve had designed himself. The shield had a calligraphic
F
at its center. Two foxes dashing outward in the top left quadrant signified direction and purpose. In the top right was the sun, master of the planets and giver of life. In the lower left quadrant was a swan, signifying motherly sacrifice for future generations. Finally, in the lower right was a water-ski boat, signifying mastery of speed and foot over the viscosity of water. Around its circumference was a phrase in Latin that read, loosely translated: As anointed by his fellow man the champion goes forth and prospers, sunning himself in his own eternal glory.

With a clank and a ratchet the gate came to life, splitting down the center as it opened outward. A white Cadillac Escalade with gold accents drove through and Frederick began closing his gates, gathering the luxury car to his elegant bosom.

Hugh leapt out of hiding but misjudged how quickly the gates would close. As he sprinted across the wet pavers he hesitated with a slip and a skid, a hesitation bred out of a nagging sense that his desperate attempt to see Lily was somehow wrong. He shook himself. No. This was his only chance for life and love. He charged forward.

It seemed like the gates sensed his attack and reacted by closing more quickly. Hesitation be damned, Hugh dove headfirst into the closing gap. His head made it to the other side but his shoulders and the rest of his body didn't. The powerful gate closed on Hugh's neck. He screamed. With a grinding of gears and a whine of motors, Frederick's gates snapped Hugh’s spine.

Morton looked on in horror. Frozen too long to help, he ran to Hugh's lifeless body and tried to pull it free. The gates doubled down with a crunch and a hiss, holding tighter their prey.

"Hugh? Buddy? Can you hear me?" Morton frantically banged his fist on the coat of arms, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Open the gates! Open the gates! Call 911!" He grabbed the iron spears and pulled with a roar, trying to separate them, but it was no use. They had snapped Hugh’s neck and choked out what little animation he had left in him.

A black Land Rover with an off-white leather interior pulled up to the gate. With a belch, the gate burped open and released Hugh's limp carcass.

Morton dragged him to the side and pleaded with the driver for help. "Call an ambulance!"

The occupants responded by rolling up their windows and lurching the car in a quick arc around Hugh's corpse and through the gate. A well-dressed, middle-aged lady in the passenger's seat hid behind a large wedding present.

Morton knelt over Hugh, checking his pulse, shaking his head. "Oh, no." He felt for a heartbeat and startled when he laid his hand on Hugh's chest. "He's already cold, dead cold." He reached up and gently wiped Hugh's eyes close. "Why, God? Why?"

Hugh's eyes snapped back open. Morton shook his head and pushed them closed again. Like spring-loaded window blinds, Hugh's lids rolled open with a slap.

Morton shook his head, almost crying, and he wrestled himself out of his sport coat, draping it reverently over Hugh's head. Looking from side to side, he grimaced and muttered, "Now I really need a drink."

A tiny muffled cough came from beneath the navy blue burial shroud. Another cough and a wheeze. Morton turned to look as Hugh sat up and pulled the coat off his head.

"What the—" the blood drained from Morton's face and he trembled in horror.

Hugh slurped and wheezed through his tilted head. "Did I make it?" He tried to steady his head but the gate had broken his neck. He no longer had control of his cranium, and it flopped from side to side. Finally he swung it to the right and back, the muscles pulling his mouth agape. "I thought I was going to make it," he moaned from his maw. "Wow, that gate closed fast. Seems like that could be a safety issue."

He swung his head to the side and noticed Morton trembling in fear. "What's a matter?"

"I ... I saw you die," Morton stuttered. "I saw the gate close on your neck and choke you to death."

"Seriously? How long was I out?"

"You were dead, no pulse, your body was cold, stone cold."

"Yeah, about that, there's something I should probably tell you."

A siren howled in the distance and Hugh swung his head toward the crescendo of its approach. "But first we should get out of here."

Hugh got to his feet and stiff-legged it into the woods. His spastic jog made his head flop from side to side. If ever there was a better example of a stereotypical zombie lurching through the Halloween night, Morton hadn't seen it. He thought and tried to make sense of things. This was the strangest of nights.

With the sirens approaching, Morton was torn between waiting for the cops and fleeing into the woods where the ghost monster was lurking. He did a quick analysis of his options. Following a zombie into the dark woods on Halloween night could lead to a frightening death. But cops meant questions, possible trespassing charges and a hot night of sweaty sobriety in a cold jail cell. His choice was clear. He followed Hugh into the woods.

In Frederick's east wing a lone silhouette stood motionless in a window. Lily looked out at the night sky and then down at her engagement ring, a three-carat pink diamond in a platinum Tiffany setting. If only the ring could make the marriage, she thought. In the palm of her other hand was a much smaller engagement ring, point eight two carats set in fourteen-karat white gold. The kind of ring a guy could barely afford after spending a summer insulating attics. She squeezed the ring tight in the palm of her hand and stared at the Halloween moon. In a sad whisper under her breath, she pleaded, "Let me go."

Hugh found a culvert under Frederick's north wall. The opening was two feet in diameter and half full of a swampy mix of algae, muck and black water. He crawled down next to it and flopped his head over to look inside. "It's too dark to see, but don't you think if it had a grate they'd put it on this side?"

Morton, who was keeping his distance, hunched his shoulders. "I don't know what to think, about anything, really. To tell you the truth, I'm starting to think that none of this is real. Maybe I'm dead under that bridge back there. Maybe you're a devil tricking me into following you down that pipe, probably right to hell."

Hugh sat on the culvert and held his head with one hand in as natural a position as he could. "You're not dead ... but I am. It's a crazy story, messed up and crazy, so I didn't tell it to you."