Once Upon a Halloween (23 page)

    She rolled in the opposite direction, tumbled off Shannon's slippery hot back and buttocks, and lay face down on the grass. The wind felt wonderful against her own wet skin.

    Turning her head, she looked at Shannon.

    Shannon, still flat on the grass, smiled. "Nice to have you off my back, kid."

    "Nice to be off."

    "You weigh a ton."

    "Oh, yeah?"

    "Yeah."

    She slid her arm across the grass, found Shannon's hand and squeezed it. "I didn't think we'd make it out of this one."

    "Ah, I always knew we'd be fine."

    "Do you call this fine?" Laura asked.

    "Could be worse."

    "Oh, yeah. A lot worse."

    "Just goes to show," Shannon said, "we can get along
without
our guardian spooks."

    "Guardian spooks?" Betsy asked.

    Laura grimaced, and saw Shannon do the same. Apparently, they'd both forgotten that the girl was standing nearby.

    "What's a guardian spook?" Betsy asked.

    Shannon shrugged her shoulders, then groaned as if it hurt.

    "Sort of like a guardian angel," Laura explained. "But with attitude."

    "Do
you
have guardian spooks?"

    "Nah," Shannon said. "We were just kidding around about that."

    "Bret's our guardian," Laura said. Thrusting at the ground with hands and knees, she pushed herself up. But when she tried to stand, a fiery streak of pain reminded her of the knife cut on the bottom of her right foot. She jerked that foot off the ground. Standing on her left leg, she hopped to keep her balance and saw a group of kids standing around Bret and a robed woman beside the van. Bret, whose head wasn't quite as high as the woman's chest, was aiming the pistol at her face.

    When he noticed Laura, he used his free hand to wave.

    Most of the kids turned their heads to look at her.

    
Giving them a spectacle.

    She stopped bouncing, put an arm across her breasts, pressed her other hand between her legs, and would've fallen over except that Betsy hurried over and held her up.

    "Thanks," she said. Then she raised her voice. "Shannon, would you please get up here and help me? I've got a slashed foot."

    "Oh. Sorry."

    Shannon struggled to her feet and hobbled over. Betsy got out of the way. Shannon put an arm around Laura's low back and planted a hand against her hip. Laura leaned against her.

    Facing the kids and making no attempt to hide her own nudity, Shannon said, "So, kids, trick or treat." To Bret, she said, "You did a great job, buddy."

    "Thanks." Keeping the pistol aimed at his prisoner, he glanced toward Laura and Shannon and said, "But there's people missing, Mandy and my dad. And Rhonda. I don't know where they are. And I think Hunter needs an ambulance."

    "Any of you kids have a cell phone?" Shannon asked.

    "I had one," said a boy in a Freddy Krueger costume, "but they took it away from me."

    "Me, too," said a girl who seemed to be dressed as a ballerina.

    "What did they do with 'em?" Shannon asked.

    "I think they're in the van," Krueger said.

    "Somebody go look, okay?" Shannon said.

    "Not okay."

    Off to the right, a fair distance from the kids but closer to where Laura and Shannon were standing, a girl in a sweater and pleated skirt suddenly stumbled out from behind the Kneeling Girl statue. Arms windmilling, hair flying, she tried to stay up but lost her balance and flew headlong.

    "Rhonda!" Bret yelled.

    She slammed against the ground and skidded toward the concrete bench.

    Then a smaller girl was shoved around the side of the statue by a woman walking behind her.

    A woman with a hairless head.

    Fain?

    
The bitch who whipped me with her belt.

    The girl looked no older than twelve or thirteen. She wore a torn sweater, a scarf around her neck and a poodle skirt. Her left arm was pressed close against her side. Something seemed to be wrong with it.

    Fain, behind her, was clutching the girl's pony tail with one hand. Her other hand held a hatchet over the girl's head, ready to strike.

    "Mandy?" Bret said.

    Fain said, "Kid, put down the gun."

    Though Bret was looking over his shoulder at Fain and Mandy, he kept the pistol pointed at his prisoner. "You put down the hatchet," he said.

    "I'll put it in this girl's head."

    "You'd better not."

    "I will."

    "You better not." He suddenly sounded close to tears.

    "Fain," Shannon said.

    The woman turned her head.

    Shannon let go of Laura, stepped away from her, and began walking slowly toward Fain. "You're pretty tough when it comes to picking on little kids or people who are tied up. How would you like to deal with
me?
"

    "One more step, and I'll split this kid's head open."

    Shannon halted.

    Laura nearly fell over, so she spread her arms and began to hop on her left foot.

    "Kid," Fain called. "Hand that pistol over to your prisoner."

    "You'll kill Mandy anyhow," he said.

    "No, I won't. I promise."

    "Put your hatchet down, and then I'll give over the pistol."

    "Afraid it doesn't work that way, kid. You go first."

    "No,
you
go first."

    "Give her the pistol before I count to three, or I'll chop this girl's head open. One."

    "Leave the girl alone," Shannon warned.

    "Two."

    "You touch her, I'll kill you."

    
BLAM!

    Laura jerked her head sideways in time to see Bret's prisoner take a step backward and fall.

    Then he swung around and aimed at Fain and but didn't fire. He let out a whine of surprise.

    Laura saw that the slide was back, the pistol out of ammo.

    "Oh, kid," Fain said.

    
"No!"
Bret yelled.

    Shannon sprang forward, but Laura knew she would never be in time.

    Fain started to swing the hatchet down.

    
POK!

    Fain's head flew back as if she'd been kicked in the forehead and for just an instant Laura thought Bret must've nailed her with his slingshot. But she glimpsed a darkness splash up from behind her head and vanish into the night. And down she went, still clutching the hatchet in one hand, the girl's pony tail in the other, and the girl fell on top of her.

    
"EVERYBODY DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
came a tinny, amplified voice.

    Bret dropped his pistol.

    They came running from a long way off, dodging gravemarkers and trees, hustling through the Halloween night, men and women in dark, baggy trousers, flak jackets and helmets, carrying assault rifles.

    After they'd swarmed in, Laura noticed the lettering on the backs of their jackets.

    BEAUMONT P.D. SWAT.

    

    

    Jeff stood in front of the dead-end barricade and looked up the street. He saw nobody.

    They weren't supposed to go away, he thought.

    
Maybe around the corner.

    The way his head ached, the corner looked awfully far away. So he cupped his hands to the sides of his mouth and shouted, "KIDS!"

    Listening, he heard only the wind.

    "MANDY? BRET? RHONDA?"

    He watched and listened. Along the road, nothing moved except the tree branches and the patterns of light and shadow they cast on the pavement. And leaves falling sideways, tumbling, some scooting along just above the road as if in a hurry to be somewhere else.

    He heard only the sounds of what the wind did. Whistles, howls, whispers of leaves brushing against this or that, bumps and clatters, the tingle and clink of wind chimes somewhere.

    But he heard no voices.

    Nobody called out, "Dad!" or "Over here!"

    
Damn it, they weren't
supposed to go wandering off!

    Where
are
they?

    
Oh, God, what if something happened to them?

    He began walking up the middle of the road, leaning into the warm wind, moving slowly to avoid jostling his head.

    
Never should've left them. What was I thinking?

    
"MANDY! BRET! RHONDA!"

    They've gotta be okay, he told himself.

    
Oh, yeah?

    There has to be a simple explanation as to why they aren't here. Maybe they found Rhonda's brother and the others and took them home.

    
They were supposed to wait!

    Maybe they decided to search door-to-door.

    Grimacing, he turned his head slowly to the right and saw the end of a driveway.

    That's where Rhonda said she stopped to tie her shoe.

    Up the driveway was the house where those two gals lived, the ones Bret had gotten involved with about ghosts or something. Bret had
really
wanted to see them tonight.

    
I
bet that's where the kids went!

    Jeff began walking up the driveway.

    They
have
to be there, he thought.

    
If they aren't...

    They are. It makes perfect sense. Especially when I didn't come back. They weren't supposed to leave the area, so they went to a house instead... the house of these two gals Bret seems to like so much.

    I'll probably find them waiting on the front porch.

    The driveway curved past bushes and trees and the house came into view. The porch was dark except for the glow from a couple of lighted windows. Nobody seemed to be waiting there.

    They must be inside, Jeff told himself.

    
They'd better be.

    
Please, let them be inside.

    As he followed a walkway toward the porch stairs, the front doors came into sight. The screen door was shut, but the main door seemed to be wide open and he could see into the lighted foyer.

    That's a good sign, he thought.

    Maybe.

    On his way up the porch stairs, he saw jack-o'-lanterns on both sides of the open door. A cheerful face was carved into one. The other had a gleefully vicious face with sharp teeth. But the face holes didn't glow and shimmer as they should. They looked black. The candles had probably burnt out.

    He saw nobody in the house's foyer.

    As he crossed the porch, however, he glanced both ways. Saw someone on the floor. Flinched and yelled,
"Yiii!"

    The shape on the porch floor didn't move.

    He stepped toward it and slowly crouched.

    A man was sprawled on his back, wearing dark pants and a shirt. The shirt was wide open.

    Jeff reached down, touched the man's cheek, and jerked his hand away fast.

    
Dead!

    Maybe not, he told himself.

    From far away came
a pop!

    It passed through Jeff's mind that some older kids, done trick or treating, must've set off a firecracker.

    
Pop pop!

    Wish I were with 'em, Jeff thought.

    Though reluctant to touch the body again, he reached down to check the neck pulse. Instead of a pulse, his fingertips found a thin cord pulled so tightly that it felt embedded in the skin.

    As he look his hand away, something snagged his forefinger. A loop? He felt it.

    The seemed to be tied with a bow knot at the front of the dead man's neck.

    
A shoe lace?

    Jeff found his gaze pulled to the man's feet.

    While most of the body lay in darkness, the light from a window slanted down on the man's high-top walking shoes. One was neatly tied. The other had no lace. Its flaps were loose, its tongue bulging.

    Jeff let out a quiet moan and stood up. He whirled around, rushed to the screen door, threw it open and ran into the house.

    Blood in the foyer. Another body, a man, this one naked.

    So much blood.

    Jeff went to the left, lurched through the living room entryway and stopped.

    Another body was sprawled on the floor, naked and bloody. A woman. Black hair.

    Not Mandy, thank God. Not Rhonda, either.

    
"MANDY!"
Jeff shouted.
"BRET! IT'S DAD! ARE YOU HERE?"

    No answer.

    He ran from the living room, leaped over the man's body and raced up the stairs.

    

    

    She whirled around, rushed to the screen door, threw it open and ran into the house.

    Blood in the foyer. Another body, a man, naked.

    Halfway up the stairs sat another man, gazing down at her, his eyes grim.

    "Oh, my God, Jeff." She leaped over the body and raced up the stairs.

    Jeff rose to his feet. He looked haggard.

    She stopped one stair below him and wrapped her arms around

    him and hugged him hard.

    "I lost 'em, Sue. I lost 'em."

    "They're not lost, honey. Bret just called. He told me I'd better come looking for you, knew you'd be worried. He said if I couldn't find you on the street you might be in here."

    "Are they all right?"

    "Mandy has a broken arm. She's being taken to the hospital."