The Midnight Tour (70 page)

“Is Darke your real name?” Owen asked.

“Of course not,” she said.

Soon, the black shape of Beast House began to emerge through the fog. Somehow, it made Owen think of a ghost ship bearing down on them.

“Look at that,” he said. “It’s like something out of William Hope Hodgson.”

The hand in his back pocket squeezed his rump. “You been talking to Vein?”

“Huh?”

“I just love Hodgson.”

“You’re kidding,” Owen said. “Most people have never even heard of him.”

“You meet the coolest people on a Beast House tour.” She squeezed his butt again. “Who else do you like?”

‟Herbert.”

‟Herbert who?” Darke asked.

‟James.”

‟Herbert James? Any relation to Henry?”

“I
hate
Henry,” Owen said.

‟I
love
Herbert,” said Darke. ‟And you’re right about Henry. He’s a bore. And he don’t know shit about rats.”

They climbed the porch stairs. In the midst of the other tourists, they turned around and waited,. A few more people, down on the walkway, were materializing out of the fog.

Then Lynn appeared. ‟Is everybody ready for the Midnight Tour?” she called.

A few scattered voices replied, ‘Ready.’ and ‟All set,” and ‟Any time.”

“It’s
terribly
cold out here,” complained the woman in the tennis outfit. Since the last time Owen had noticed her, she’d put her sweater on.

‟Colder than a witch’s tit,” said Arnold.

“Colder than a zombie’s dick,” said Dennis.

‟Colder than...”

Raising a hand, Lynn said, “Guys, guys, guys.”

‟Morons.” The quiet mutter came from Monica. She sounded as if she were standing directly behind Owen.

‟There are ladies present,” Clive proclaimed.

“It’s an
unexpurgated
tour, dude,” Dennis said.

“Right on,” said Arnold.

Stopping at the foot of the porch stairs, Lynn said, “I’m sure everyone would appreciate...”

A dark, running shape raced out of the fog behind her.

‟Look out!” someone shouted.

She whirled around.

‟It’s me, it’s me!”

Owen recognized the voice
and
the tall, shapely figure.

Dana.

He felt as if an old friend had shown up. Strangely, however, he didn’t find himself excited or even very interested in her arrival.

The lack of interest made him feel as if he’d somehow let her down,

That’s crazy, he told himself. She never cared about me.

We’re strangers.

But I wanted her so badly!

He tried to picture how she’d looked last night, naked by the jacuzzi. But the image that entered his mind and made him start to stiffen was Darke in the men’s restroom earlier tonight when she first pulled open her shirt.

“You made it,” Lynn said.

‟Hi, everyone!” Dana called out.

‟Dana!” Dennis yelled, waving furiously.

“The main babe!” yelled Arnold.

‟Lynn’s the main babe,” Dana told him. “I’m just here to help out. I hope I didn’t delay things.”

“We were just about to start,” Lynn told her. “Tell you what. I’ll lead the way. Why don’t you do me a favor and take up the rear? Keep an eye out for stragglers.” Facing the group, Lynn said, “We should all stay close together after we enter the house. That way, everyone’ll be able to see and hear what’s going on. Also, we’ll be less likely to lose any of you. Every now and then, stragglers get picked off.”

Owen heard a few quiet laughs.

“I
assume
she’s kidding,” Eleanor muttered.

‟Anybody has any questions, wait till we’re inside. It is a little nippy out here.”

With that, Lynn rushed up the porch stairs. Several people moved quickly to let her by. Owen heard keys jangle.

He and Darke turned around to face the door.

Darke pulled her hand out of his pocket. Taking hold of his hand, she looked up at him. “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.”

“Me, too,” he said.

“I can’t believe I’m finally here.”

Neither can I, Owen-thought.

She’s here, all right,
Here
with me. And it’s not a dream
.

Better not be
.

Holding Darke’s small, warm hand, he stepped over the threshold.

Lynn must’ve turned on a light as she entered; a chandelier cast a murky glow through the foyer.

She made her way forward to the main stairway, climbed to the third stair, then turned around. “Welcome to Beast House,” she said.

Dana shut the door.

“Now,
I know
you’ve all seen
The Horror
. I’m going to
assume
that you’ve already taken the self-guided audio tour, and that some of you have read one or both of Janice Crogan’s books. If you
haven’t,
you’ve put the cart before the horse. The Midnight Tour is like an
advanced
class. We’re really not here to rehash the basic stuff. But it’s not exactly
a class
, either. We’re here to have a good time, and we hope to give you an experience that you’ll always remember and look back on with pleasure.

‟During the next two hours, we’ll be exploring the entire house. You’ll see places that aren’t shown during the regular tours. And you’ll hear things that aren’t said on the tapes. I want to give you a few warnings along those lines. In the course of the tour, we’ll be visiting both the attic and the cellar. There are a couple of fairly steep stairways involved. If any of you have problems with climbing stairs, you might want to bow out before we get started. The same with anyone who is easily offended. This tour isn’t meant for prudes. I’ll be telling you things that any normal person would find shocking and revolting. That’s the point of the tour—to give the uncensored truth. You probably knew that before you shelled out your hundred bucks, but in case you weren’t paying attention, I’m warning you now. It get’s nasty. I don’t hold back. So you’d better bow out if you’re afraid of what I might say.

“If you do quit the tour now, we’ll refund a hundred percent of your admission price.”

“A
hundred
percent?” asked the man with the mustache and camel sweater. He sounded surprised.

“I know,” Lynn said. “You’ve already had the picnic and seen the movie. But we don’t want anyone on the tour who
shouldn’t
be here. It can ruin it for everyone.”

“That’s certainly generous,” said the man’s wife—the one with the great eyes.

‟It might
sound
generous. The thing is, nobody has ever taken us up on it. By the time we get this far, nobody can
stand
to back out.”

Tourists chuckled and nodded.

“One final warming. Some people find the tour to be
extremely
stressful. Since you’re here, I figure you enjoy being a little frightened. You should prepare yourselves to be
very
frightened. Anybody pregnant?”

Owen saw several of the females shake their heads.

Beside him, Darke’s head shook.

He heard a snigger, probably from Monica.

“We’re no doubt
all
pregnant with expectation,” said Bixby.

“Oh, duuuude,” Dennis said. It came out like a moan of despair.

‟Bail out, Boxboy,” Arnold suggested.

“Bugger off,” Bixby responded.

“Huh huh.”

‟
Booger
off.”

Lynn raised her hand. ‟Okay,” she said. “I take it that nobody is pregnant—with child. That’s good. We had a gal one time who got so excited on the tour that she went into early labor. We’ve also had a couple of heart attacks. If you have any history of high blood pressure or heart disease, you’d be better off not taking the tour. Anybody with trouble along those lines?”

She waited. Heads shook. No arms were raised and nobody spoke up.

“Are you sure? I don’t want anybody pitching over on us.”

“Looks like we’re all fine ’n dandy,” said the stocky guy who was married to the woman in the tennis costume.

“Okay. One last thing before we start. If any of you do experience physical or emotional trouble during the course of the tour, please speak up. I’m sure Dana will be happy to escort you outside.”

‟What sort of refund then?” asked the man in the camel sweater.

“After the tour has actually started,” Lynn said, “there will be no refunds at all.”

“When
does
it start?” asked Clive.

“I’ll count to five. While I’m counting, you can all decide if you really want to go through with this. One.” She paused for a second, then said, ‟Two.” A few moments later, ‟Three.”

As she said, “Four,” quick thumps erupted in the darkness behind her.

People gasped.

Owen’s heart jumped.

Darke jerked stiff and squeezed his hand.

Then some screamed and others shouted,
“Look out!”
and
‟Behind you!”
and a solitary female voice shouted out,
“Duck!”
as a shiny white hairless creature rushed down through the darkness at the top of the stairs.

The beast!

Lynn looked over her shoulder, saw it and shrieked.

Dana plowed through the group, shoving people out of her way.

Someone—Owen didn’t see who—flung open the front door to escape.

The beast pounded its way down the stairs, dead white and shiny, all muscle and teeth and claws—and penis. Erect, it tilted up like a broom handle.

Two stairs above Lynn, the creature lurched to a halt and lifted its head off.

Clyde, hair mussed from the full-head mask, smiled down at his audience. “Welcome to Beast House!” he called out.

Dana abruptly stopped at the foot of the stairs.

Many of those who remained in the foyer began to laugh with relief, clap loudly and mutter.

‟Bravo!” Bixby called out.

Darke looked up at Owen, smiled and shook her head.

“Pretty cool,” Owen said to her.

“I almost wet my pants,” Darke said.

“A tough guy like you?”

She grinned.

Several people began to snap photos of Clyde and Lynn on the stairs.

Off to the side, Vein looked around, raised a single black eyebrow at Owen and Darke, then bent down and slid the knife into her boot. Nobody seemed to be watching her. She stepped closer to Owen and Darke. ‟I knew it was a fake-out,” she said.

They both laughed.

Lynn was now standing with Clyde on the same stair. Holding the hideous white head under one arm like a football helmet, Clyde nodded, grinned and waved.

Lynn held up both arms. “Would somebody like to go outside and try to bring back our runaways?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, Phil.”

Owen had seen Phil around. A normal-looking guy with a
nice-
looking wife. Though Owen hadn’t spoken to either of them, he’d noticed Phil’s unusual hair. Black with a patch of white near the front, it had reminded him of Cotton Hawes, one of Ed McBain’s 87th Precinct cops.

‟I’ll go with you,” Phil’s wife said. She was husky and had a pleasant face. Wearing a flannel shirt, jeans and boots, she looked as if she belonged in the woods somewhere. She followed Phil out the door.

“While they’re gone,” Lynn said, ‟the rest of you can take a couple of minutes to relax.” She grinned. ‟Glad to see that you’re all still standing.”

“That was a dirty trick,” said the camel sweater man, chuckling and shaking his head. “I
loved
it.”

‟I almost pooped,” announced Arnold.

“You’re crude, dude.”

‟Huh-huh.”

‟Get a load of the
scblong
on that guy.”

‟
That
’
s
crude.”

Phil and his wife came back in, followed by the woman in the tennis whites and her husband. With a big smile, the man waved at the group. “Just stepped out for a breath of fresh air, everyone.” He gave a thumbs-up to Clyde. “Nice job, fellow. Sure put one over on me.”

“Are you both all right?” Lynn asked.

“Oh, fine,” the man said.

His wife said nothing, but glowered toward Lynn and Clyde.

‟All in good fun,” Lynn said. Then she took a deep breath and said, “Last call for bailing out of the tour and getting a full refund. Any takers?”

A sour look on her face, the tennis woman muttered, ‟Biff?”

‟
I
’
m
staying,” he told her. “If you want to leave, be my guest. You can wait for me in the car.”

‟What’ll it be, Eleanor?” Lynn asked.

The woman almost snarled. “I’ll stay.”

“Very good,” Lynn said. “The tour starts now.”

Chapter Fifty-six

THE STRANGENESS OF BEASTS

Heart still racing from the scare of what she’d thought was a real attack on Tuck, Dana rubbed her sweaty hands on the sides of her shorts. The pistol had been halfway out of her pocket by the time Clyde had stopped and pulled off his mask.

My God
,
what if I
’
d shot him?

Tuck should’ve warned me, she thought.

Probably didn’t want to ruin the surprise
.

‟This is Clyde,” Tuck announced, slapping him on the back.

“Hi, everyone,” he said.

“He’s a regular member of our staff, and our favorite beast. Some of the ladies like to say it’s type casting.”

Clyde chuckled, then raised the ugly, snouted mask and pulled it down over his head.

‟Behold a beast,” Lynn said. ‟this is what they actually look like. Not quite like the ones they show in the movies, is he? The movie beasts are almost
pretty
compared to the real thing. And of course, they never let you see this.”

Tuck gave the jutting shaft a flick with the back of her hand. The gentle blow made it sway from side to side. A few people chuckled. Some made sounds of dismay. An impish smile appeared on Tuck’s face.

‟Don’t worry,” she said, “it’s not real. Like the rest of the suit, it’s made of synthetics. But every detail of the suit is accurate. According to people who
know
, its appearance and texture is almost exactly like the actual beasts. Down to the slightest details. Note the sharp claws on its hands and feet. Note its teeth—in botb mouths. ”