Once Upon a Halloween (10 page)

    "How about this?" She unwrapped the sheet, swept it up over her head and let it drift down. "It's Halloween. I'm a fucking ghost."

    The sheet draped her body, front and back, almost down to her knees.

    "Pretty good," Hunter admitted. Not only was Eleanor no longer naked, but the sheet concealed her identity and resembled a traditional Halloween costume. "It just needs eyeholes..."

    "And a belt to keep it on," Eleanor said. "Give me a pen or something and I'll mark the eyes."

    Not turning his back on her, Hunter went to Shannon's desk. He propped his sword against it, then opened one of the top drawer, pens, markers, scissors, a stapler, paper clips, computer ink. He took out the scissors and a blue Sharpie marker. Uncapping the marker, he approached Eleanor.

    "Put your fingertips where your eyes are. And don't try anything."

    "I won't
try
anything. You saved my life, Hunter."

    "Like
that'll
hold you back."

    "It does." She touched both her forefingers against the front of the sheet. Hunter could see slight indentations where her eyes were; lower, the jut of her nose; lower still, the way the sheet draped the smooth tops of her breasts and how her nipples pushed it out. "I'm not gonna do anything against you," she said. "Not anymore."

    "I hope not," Hunter said and reached out with the Sharpie. He traced around her left fingertip, drawing a half-circle on the sheet in front of her eye.

    "Besides," she said, "you're taking me outa this place and back where I wanta go."

    He traced around her right fingertip. Backing away, he said, "Okay, take off the sheet and I'll cut the holes."

    She pulled it off. "I'll do it." Nodding at the scissors, she held out her hand.

    "I'm supposed to give you scissors?"

    "You've got my Bowie knife, pal. You've got my saber, if you wanta go grab it. What'd I gonna do to you with a little pair of scissors?"

    "Okay." He backed his way to the desk, tossed the Sharpie onto it, then gave the scissors an underhand toss to Eleanor. Just as she caught them, he picked up the sword.

    Standing where he was, he watched her snip eyeholes in the sheet. After the eyeholes were done, she cut out a hole the size of a silver dollar.

    "Here." She tossed the scissors to him. He caught them.

    While he turned sideways and returned the scissors and Sharpie to the desk drawer, Eleanor put the sheet over her head. She pulled at it, adjusted it, and soon Hunter saw her eyes and mouth through the holes.

    "Now I need a belt," she said.

    "No belt," Hunter said.

    "It's windy outside. The sheet'll blow off."

    "I'm not giving you a belt."

    "I'm not gonna
garrote
you."

    "Yeah, well, no belt."

    "A necklace? Gimme a necklace. That'll help hold it on."

    He stepped over to Shannon's dresser. On lop was a jewelry box in the shape of a small steamer trunk. He set his sword down across the top of the dresser, then opened the box. Various small compartments held rings, earrings, pendants and thin chains. In the large bottom area, he found a jumble of bracelets and necklaces. He pulled out a handful, untangled them, and selected a heavy necklace that looked as if it were made of stainless steel links. "Try this." He tossed it to Eleanor.

    Her right arm flew out from under the sheet and snagged tin necklace out of the air. With both hands, she slipped it over her head Its weight held the sheet down around her neck.

    "We're just borrowing it," Hunter said. "Shannon gets it back when we're done."

    A secret voice in his mind whispered,
If she's still alive. If we are.

    "How about some safety pins?" Eleanor asked. "I can pin the sides of the sheet."

    He looked around, opened a few drawers. "I don't see any."

    In one of the dresser drawers, however, he found brightly colored scarves and sashes. He pulled out a long green sash made of glossy fabric - satin or silk, he supposed.

    "That'll do perfect," Eleanor said.

    "It's not for you." Hunter tied the sash around his own waist and let the loose ends hang by the side of his left leg. Turning to the dresser mirror, he could see his own reflection and Eleanor's behind him.

    "What're you doing?" Eleanor asked.

    He picked out a paisley scarf and started tying it around his head "You're a ghost, might be smart if I'm in costume, too. Anybody sees us, they'll think we're dressed up for Halloween."

    In Shannon's jewelry box, he found a pair of large hoop earring. He picked one up and frowned at it. As a kid, he had sometimes worn his mother's earrings. On Halloween. The two or three years he'd made the rounds dressed like a pirate. He remembered how they haul to be screwed onto his earlobe so tightly that they hurt. This one, however, didn't seem to have a screw.

    It's for pierced ears, he realized.

    "What're you gonna be, a pirate?"

    "Aye-aye," he said.

    "Pretty good. Gives you an excuse to be running around with a sword."

    "Exactly." Hunter put the earring back into its compartment, shut the jewelry box and turned around to face Eleanor. "How do I look?"

    "Lose the shirt."

    It was already wide open, untucked, smeared with blood and clinging to him with sweat.

    "Go on and take it off," Eleanor said. "You wanta look like a pirate, don't you?"

    "I don't want to freeze."

    "Not much chance of that. It's
balmy
outside, case you didn't notice."

    He pulled his shirt off and let it fall to the floor. "Now all you need's a hook, a pegleg, an eyepatch and a fuckin' parrot."

    Hunter actually smiled. "This'll do."

    "So can we get outa here now?"

    "I guess so." He turned around and lifted his sword off the dresser. "You go first," he said.

    As she started toward the bedroom door, Hunter backed away and studied his reflection in the mirror.

    Not bad, he thought. A nice, simple pirate costume - made even better by the small red gash on his chest and the blood smeared around his chest and belly.

    
Everyone'll think the wound's a fake.

    Not that we're likely even to see anyone, he thought, following Eleanor into the hall.

    She turned and walked toward the head of the stairway. Hunter took his time, watching how the sheet flowed around her.

    Better when she
didn't
have it on, he thought. He'd been able to take good, long looks at every inch of her body. Now he could see none of it - only her bare calves and feet below the bottom о I the sheet.

    He couldn't even see those after she started down the stairs in front of him.

    He'd been feasting his eyes on her, and now he felt starved Get over it, he told himself. Connie probably got caught by those freaks in the graveyard. God only knows what they're doing to her. To Shannon and Laura, too. And I'm feeling crummy because Eleanor is finally wearing something? Forget it! I shouldn't ever be...

    The doorbell rang.

    Hunter flinched.

    "I'll get it," Eleanor said and rushed down the final few stains, the sheet swirling behind her.

    "Don't!" Hunter gasped.

    In the foyer, she stopped and leaned forward. Her right arm came out from beneath the sheet and she swung the front door open.

    

    

    Lying motionless, Laura felt the slight rise and fall of Shannon's back against her own back. Then Shannon's buttocks flexed and she moved one of her legs a fraction of an inch. "Shan?" Laura whispered.

    Shannon didn't answer.

    Laura shook herself slightly.

    Shannon groaned. Then muttered, "Don't."

    "Sorry."

    "Hurts."

    "Me, too," Laura said.

    "Some Halloween."

    "Trick or treat."

    "Where...?"

    "The graveyard."

    "I mean... them. They around?" Facedown in the graveyard grass, head turned toward her left shoulder, Shannon probably couldn't see much.

    Face up on top of her, Laura could see most of what was around: moonlit tombstones, the Kneeling Girl statue, the stone bench bushes. Above her, tree branches swayed in the wind.

    "I think they 're gone," she said

    "Thank God."

    "I don't see anybody."

    "Me neither," Shannon said.

    "Very funny."

    "Where'd they go?"

    "I don't know."

    "Loved us and left us."

    Underneath her, Shannon started weeping. Her shoulders and back made quick, small jerking motions. She was the big one, the tough one, and she was crying like a hurt child.

    Tears came to Laura's eyes. "It's all right," she said. "Hey. It's fine. You'll be fine. We'll both be fine."

    Shannon kept crying. Laura, riding her back, jiggled up and down.

    Tears slid down from the corners of Laura's eyes and rolled into her ears. They tickled. She wanted to scratch the itch, but couldn't. Not with her arms bound tight to Shannon's arms. "At least they didn't kill us," she said.

    Shannon went on crying.

    "They
are
gone," Laura said. She felt a little as if she were talking to herself. Raising her head off Shannon's head, she looked to the right and left and felt the teardrops sliding around inside her ears. "I can't see 'em anywhere. I can't see anyone. Looks like they left us here and went away." She eased her head down again and stared at the windblown branches high above her face. Leaves were flying sideways. "They probably aren't done with us. Might be. I sorta doubt it, though. I think they'll come back and... I don't know. The kid said he saw like a dozen of them. Some kind of cult. They'll probably wanta come back and sacrifice us or something fun like that."

    Shannon sniffed. "Thanks... for cheering me up."

    "You're welcome."

    "We 'd better... get our asses outa here."

    "The sooner the better," Laura said.

    Neither of them moved.

    After a while, Shannon said, "You can't get off me, can you?"

    "Not unless the ropes go away."

    Ropes passing under Laura's armpits bound her shoulders to Shannon's shoulders. Laura's left upper arm was tied to Shannon' right upper arm. Their elbows and wrists were also tied together, and ropes bound their other arms together in the same way. Another length of rope, wound twice around their waists, lashed them back to back, rump to rump. Lower, they were roped together at the thighs, knees and ankles.

    "I don't think they mean for us to leave," Laura said.

    "What-say we do it anyway."

    "How?"

    Underneath her, Shannon squirmed and flexed her muscles, stirred her arms and legs, rocked gently from side to side, apparently testing the limits of her motions, the tightness of the bonds. From the sounds she made, the efforts hurt her and tired her.

    When she finished, Laura felt the firmness go out of Shannon body. She seemed to go limp, but her chest expanded and contracted quickly as she panted for air, raising and lowering Laura.

    After a while, her breathing slowed down and she said, "Too tight. They've... got us good."

    "There has to be a way out," Laura said.

    "You tell me and we'll both know."

    "How do they get out of this stuff in those mysteries you're always reading?"

    "Sometimes," Shannon said, "they don't."

    "Sure they do."

    
"This
kind of shit... happens to minor characters. The ones who get found dead."

    "Oh, great."

    "And then the main guy, he gets all pissed off 'cause maybe he knew one of them... met her in a bar or something... and she was a swell kid."

    Laura let out a laugh, and felt Shannon laugh once underneath her.

    "At least we'll make lovely corpses," Shannon said.

    "Speak for yourself," Laura said. "They pounded me pretty good."

    "Yeah. Me, too."

    "Did they?"

    "Yeah."

    "I was so out of it," Laura muttered. "I hardly knew what was going on after a while."

    "Just as well."

    "We're probably neither of us so lovely right now."

    "If I can't be a lovely corpse," Shannon said, "I'm not gonna be one at all."

    "Attagirl."

    Shannon chuckled, then groaned. Then she said, "I read a book once, they left this guy tied to an armchair. He
was
the main guy. What he did, he hopped around and threw himself backwards down some stairs and smashed the chair to smithereens. No trouble getting loose after that. I read that chair-breaking thing in a
couple
of books, now that I think about it. Must be a good idea."

    "So... I'm the chair?"

    "It's a thought," Shannon said.

    "No stairs."

    "Must be a lot of marble and granite around here."

    "Terrific. I've got an idea - let's have a plan that doesn't involved smashing one of us to smithereens."

    "Okay. Good. Have you got a knife on you?"

    "Let me check my pockets."

    Laura expected at least a small, mocking laugh, but didn't get one.

    "I'll see if I can reach any knots," Shannon said. "Stay loose."

    Laura's arms, spread out wide, were drawn in toward her body on top of Shannon's moving arms. When her hands met the sides of her legs, she felt thick ropes underneath her fingers - the ropes binding her thighs to Shannon's, probably.