The Third Horror (2 page)

Kody toppled backward as the steel spikes shot through the door. Before she could stop herself, she had let out a high-pitched cry.

The spikes had come so close.

I could have been killed! she realized.

She stared in horror at the sharp, pointed spikes sticking straight out from the door.

"What's happening here?" Bo Montgomery's voice broke through her terrified thoughts. "Kody—did you scream?"

She turned to face him, still trembling all over. "Bo! The door—" she managed to choke out, pointing.

Bo pulled off his blue sunglasses and stared at the rows of spikes in the door. His face reddened and

twisted into an angry scowl. "Hey, McCarthy—!" he shouted. "McCarthy—get over here!"

He turned back to Kody. "I warned the special effects guys," he muttered. "Guess I'm going to have to chew McCarthy out."

Trying to force her breathing to return to normal, Kody studied Bo. He was a thin, intense, good-looking guy about thirty-five or forty, with a high square forehead and long, straight salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a ponytail. He always had a day-old stubble of whiskers on his chin and cheeks.

He dressed the same every day—a gray sweatshirt, usually with a food stain or two on the chest, baggy, wrinkled chinos, and brown loafers without socks. He seldom removed his blue glasses, even at night.

He carried a clipboard with a stack of papers and charts and pages of the script, which he consulted constantly.

Kody had taken an instant liking to Bo. He had so much energy. He never stopped moving, and he never stopped talking. He did everything at a rapid pace. It was hard to keep up with him.

"McCarthy—let's move it, guy!" Bo called.

Sam McCarthy shouted something to two men at one of the trailers. Then he came lumbering across the front lawn toward Bo and Kody.

Kody had just met him that morning.

McCarthy removed the unlit cigar from his mouth as he stepped up to Bo. The end of the cigar, Kody saw, was wet and chewed-up. He wore gray work pants and a tight-fitting Grateful Dead T-shirt that didn't

quite cover his bulging belly. McCarthy had beefy arms like those of a football player. His delicate hands didn't seem to belong to such arms.

"What's up, chief?" McCarthy asked Bo, breathless from hurrying up the lawn. He wiped sweat off his red forehead with the back of one hand. "You find a rat in your back pocket?"

Bo scowled. "No jokes, Sam." He pointed to the front door. "I warned you guys, we've got to know the plan here."

"Huh? What's the problem?" he asked.

"I need a list of what's in place and what isn't," Bo replied. "I know you've got green goo upstairs and blood ready too, right? But I'm not clear on what else is ready. And we nearly had a serious accident here, Sam."

Bo pointed to the front door. "Kody accidentally sprung the spikes. She could've been skewered like a roast on a spit."

McCarthy's eyes bulged, his round face turning even redder. "Hey, chief—we aren't doing spikes," he said, scratching his scalp through his short white hair.

"Where's the checklist?" Bo demanded.

"Ernie's got it," McCarthy replied. "He just went back to rigging the kitchen. But I know the list. Bo. And I know what we brought. No spikes. No way."

Kody shuddered. The house is up to its old tricks, she thought, edging closer to Bo.

"I want to see the list," Bo insisted stubbornly. "I should have a copy anyway." He turned to Kody. "You okay?"

Kody nodded. "I'm still a little shaky. But Vm okay—I guess."

McCarthy shoved the unlit cigar back into his mouth. He stared again at the steel spikes, frowning and muttering to himself.

Then his expression changed. "Hey, chief, got a second? I want to show you what Ernie and I rigged up in the kitchen. You're doing the garbage disposal scene first, right?"

Bo shuffled through the pages on the clipboard. "Yeah. First thing after break."

Kody swallowed hard.

Am I really going to relive that horrifying scene? she asked herself.

The memory rolled over her like an ocean wave. That night two years ago. She was in the house with Cally and Anthony, a boy Cally was going out with. The boy Rob was playing in the movie.

Anthony was helping out with the dishes after dinner. They heard his screams from the kitchen. They ran in to find him with his hand deep in the sink drain. The garbage disposal roaring.

Roaring . . .

Anthony's hand mangled and bloody.

Anthony screaming. Screaming over the roar of the disposal.

Later, when Anthony came out of the hospital, he wouldn't speak to Cally or Kody. And he never came near the house again.

And now here I am, Kody thought, back in the house. Ready to see the ghastly scene again.

Only this time it isn*t real, she told herself.

This time, it's all pretend.

"Let's check it out," Bo said, lowering his clipboard. "Where's Rob? It's his scene." He spotted Rob in the driveway, talking to Angie, the script assistant. "Hey, Rob—time to work. Meet you in the kitchen," Bo shouted.

He tui;ned back to Kody. "Where's Persia? She's in the scene too."

Kody shrugged. "I haven't seen her since—"

"Persia won't come out of her trailer," Rob reported, jogging across the grass.

"She—what?" Bo demanded.

"Persia says she won't come out until she gets her own fruit basket," Rob told the director. He winked at Kody. "The fruit on the table has all been pawed over and it's unsanitary."

Bo let out a moan and tossed his clipboard into the air. As he caught it, a strange smile crossed his face. "Know what I should do? I should tell Persia's parents how their little girl is behaving."

"That won't help," Rob replied.

"Why not?" Bo demanded.

"Persia's parents work for her," Rob told him. "Her mom is her secretary. Her dad is her manager."

Bo's smile faded. "All right. Come on, guys. Let Persia sit in her trailer. We'll check the kitchen out without her."

Bo pushed open the front door. Kody followed him into the house, a hundred horrifying memories shoving into her mind at once.

The pounding of hammers and the shrill whine of a power saw cut through Kody's thoughts. The crew had spread out over the living room, setting up lights, painting, wallpapering, moving furniture into place— the finishing touches.

From the front entryway, Kody trained her eyes on the living room window. If Persia is still in her trailer, who did I see in the window? Kody asked herself.

She didn't have time to think about it. Rob pulled her back into the kitchen.

Kody took a deep breath and held it. She expected to be overwhelmed by the kitchen, by the memories it would bring back.

But the room had been completely rebuilt—new cabinets, new appliances, new floor, new everything. Kody was relieved that she didn't receive the emotional jolt she expected.

After stepping over a bundle of electrical cables, they made their way to the sink. McCarthy's tiny blue eyes lit up as he motioned to the drain. "I think this will work out really well," he said. He grabbed Rob's arm. "Here. Stick your hand in."

"Huh?" Rob pulled back.

"It won't bite you," McCarthy insisted, grinning around the stub of his wet cigar. "Put your hand in the drain. All the way in. Then pull it out."

Rob hesitated. Bo motioned impatiently with the clipboard. "Give him a demo, Sam. Run through it for him."

McCarthy shrugged. "It's simple. You just stick

your hand all the way in the drain. Then you start to scream your head off."

"You mean over the sound of the garbage disposal?" Rob asked, peering warily into the drain.

Bo shook his head. "No garbage disposal sound," he told Rob. "We'll put the grinding sound in later at the studio."

"Yeah. Now, when you stick your hand in," McCarthy continued, "you'll slip it into a special rubber glove. The glove is positioned in the drain. You slip your hand all the way in. Then you pull it out. The glove has blood all over it and the fingers are all chewed up. It looks great."

"Gross," Rob muttered.

Kody lingered behind them, trying to force away the horrifying memories. This is a movie, she repeated to herself This is a movie.

"We'll need the water running, right?" Bo asked, rubbing his chin.

"Yeah. Here," McCarthy replied. He reached out and turned the knob. Cold water streamed from the sink faucet into the drain.

"The glove is positioned so it won't fill with water," he explained to Rob. "Go ahead. Give it a try." He motioned to the drain.

"We'd better try it two or three times," Bo suggested. "I want to make sure the rubber glove stays in place."

Rob stepped up to the sink and stuck out his hand, peering down into the drain.

Kody stepped closer to get a better view.

Water splashed into the sink.

Rob lowered his hand to the drain. Again he hesitated. Then he raised his hand and shook his head, frowning.

He turned to Bo. "Fm sorry. I just have the weirdest feeling."

"We need to rehearse this," Bo insisted calmly. "Go ahead. Just take the plunge, man."

"You need to get the feel of the rubber glove," McCarthy added. "Go ahead. There's nothing down there that can hurt you."

Rob glanced at Kody, his cheeks pink. She could see that he was embarrassed to be making such a big deal about this.

She moved up beside him.

He leaned over the sink. Then he lowered his hand toward the drain.

Lx)wer. Lower.

"Here goes," he said softly.

Kody stared into the sink.

Water from the faucet splashed onto Rob's hand. The bright overhead lights reflected in the aluminum sink made the water shimmer and gleam.

Rob hesitated once again. He stood up. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered, shaking his head. His auburn hair fell over his forehead. "I'm just having trouble—"

"Step back, son," McCarthy said gently. He put a hand on Rob's shoulder and guided him back. Kody followed. "You know what your problem is? You've read the script! You know what happens!"

Everyone laughed. Tense laughter.

"I try to get my actors not to read ahead. But they just won't learn," Bo joked.

"Is that why you won't give us the last ten pages of the script?" Kody asked.

Bo grinned at her. "No one knows the ending except me," he told her. "I want everyone to be surprised."

McCarthy stepped up to the sink and turned to Rob. "Now, watch. I'll run through it once. Then you try—okay?"

"Thanks," Rob replied, blushing. "I'm sorry I'm acting like such a jerk."

"We'll all act like jerks before this picture is over," Bo assured him. "Everyone except me, of course."

More tense laughter.

Kody and Rob stepped up to watch.

McCarthy leaned over the sink. "Do it in one quick motion, like this," he told Rob.

McCarthy plunged his hand into the drain.

Kody let out a startled cry as she felt someone push her hard from behind and she bumped the sink front.

Her cry was instantly drowned out by the grinding of the garbage disposal as it churned to life.

The grinding became a roar.

McCarthy's mouth dropped open. The cigar stub fell into the swirling water in the sink.

The swirling red water.

An almost inhuman screech burst from deep inside McCarthy.

As he pulled back, falling away from the sink, his arm shot up in the air.

The rubber glove dropped to the floor with a wet smack.

McCarthy gripped his wrist, holding the hand high above him, staring up at it, howling, howling like a wild animal.

Kody swallowed hard and stared at the hand.

Blood spurted up into the air, flowed down McCarthy's arm.

Red as raw hamburger, McCarthy's fingers fell loosely on his cut and mangled palm.

No! Kody thought. No—this isn't happening! This isn't happening again!

Then McCarthy's howling drowned out all other thoughts.

"I'll make this short," Bo said, tilting his chair back and crossing his legs. He rubbed his stubble of a beard with one hand. His eyes, usually lively and intense, appeared red rimmed, tired. He replaced his blue glasses. "It's been a long day—for everyone," he said softly.

He had called them into the trailer he used as an office. Sitting between Rob and Persia, Kody glanced out the trailer window at the setting sun, red behind the dark silhouettes of trees.

Rob leaned forward in his folding chair. He hadn't changed. His shirt had dark splashes of blood on the front.

Persia yawned loudly. She twirled her blond wig in

her hands. Her own crimped black hair hung down to her shoulders.

"When Bud and I did our research for the script," Bo continued, "we ran across a lot of strange stories about this street. Fear Street. Of course, we didn't really believe any of them. . . ."

"They're true," Kody murmured. "I—lived one of them."

Rob squeezed her hand. She saw Persia roll her eyes obnoxiously.

"Well, I'm not sure if I'm ready to believe them yet or not," Bo said, frowning. "But after what happened to McCarthy a few hours ago, I think we all have to be super careful."

"Is he going to be okay?" Rob asked.

Bo shrugged. "I got word from Shadyside General. He's resting comfortably. But they can't fix his hand. He's going to lose all the fingers." He removed his glasses again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Rob let out a gasp. Kody swallowed hard. "How awful," Persia murmured.

Glancing up, Kody realized that Bo's eyes were locked on her.

"Did you stumble, or what?" Bo asked.

"Huh?" Kody didn't understand.

"In the kitchen," he said softly. "You fell forward and bumped the garbage disposal on. I saw you."

"No—!" Kody started to protest. "It wasn't me. I mean ..." Her voice trailed off. "I don't know what happened. . . ."

"I know how freaked you must be," Bo said. "To be

back here, in the house and all. But we're behind you, Kody. We're pulling for you. We all know you're going to be terrific." He flashed Persia a meaningful look.

Persia continued twirling the wig and pretended she wasn't interested.

*'I hope you can keep it together," Bo told Kody. "I mean, you're terribly important to this production."

He's blaming me for McCarthy's accident, Kody realized. He doesn't want to come right out and say it. He doesn't want to say, "You pushed the button that started up the disposal and ruined McCarthy's life." So he's giving me a pep talk instead.

"I'm going to do my best," Kody vowed in a low voice. "I really want to do well. Bo. I know you went out on a limb for me."

"All for the publicity," Persia muttered, her eyes on Rob.

Bo leaned forward in his chair, narrowing his eyes at Persia. "What did you say?"

Persia continued to fiddle with the blond wig. "I said you hired Kody for the publicity. You know. So all the magazines will write about how the actual sister is playing a part in her own family's horror movie."

Bo's mouth dropped open. His cheeks colored behind the stubble. "I hired Kody because she's a talented actress," he told Persia. He said it softly, patiently, as if explaining something to a child.

"I really hate this wig. It's so tacky," Persia complained.

She was deliberately changing the subject, Kody realized. Persia had gotten her nasty dig in about why Kody was hired. That's all she cared about.

"Talk to Wardrobe," Bo told her.

Persia held the wig up in front of her. "I guess it's supposed to be tacky." She turned to Kody. "It's supposed to look like you —right?"

Kody opened her mouth to utter an angry reply.

But Rob broke the tension by laughing. He put a hand on Persia's shoulder. "Hey, Persia—don't be so friendly. You'll ruin your image."

Persia made a disgusted face and wriggled her shoulder out of Rob's grasp. "Rob, you were great in your dog food commercial," she said nastily. "Really. That was your best work!"

"Come on, guys—!" Bo pleaded. "We start shooting tomorrow. We've got to work together—right? And by the way, we won't be doing the kitchen scene. It's going to take a while to clean up in there. We're going to do some close-up stufif instead. You know. Reaction shots. In the backyard. Just to get warmed up."

Rob let out a sigh of relief.

The light in the trailer suddenly faded. It took Kody a few seconds to realize that something had blocked the sunlight from the window. She turned to see a face staring in at her.

"Ohh." Kody let out a low cry as she recognized the man.

He was so pale. His round black eyes peered in at her.

What was his name? Where did she know him from?

"Who is that?" she cried.

"Oh. Yeah. I've got to go talk to him," Bo said, getting up from the chair. He had to stoop. "His name is Lurie, I think. He's a local real estate guy. He's leasing us the house. See you later, guys. Get lots of sleep, okay? I want beautiful faces tomorrow."

He pushed past them and lowered himself out of the trailer.

Lurie. Lurie.

He looks so familiar, Kody thought, a knot of dread tightening in her stomach.

Was he the man who sold Daddy the house two years ago?

She struggled to remember as she followed Rob and Persia out onto the street.

At the bottom of the driveway the catering crew was packing up. Electrical workers on the front lawn were closing up their cases, putting away equipment, preparing to leave.

"There's the car to take us to the hotel," Rob said, pointing. "You coming?"

"I have my own car," Persia told him. "Besides, I've rented a house. I'm not staying in a hotel."

"I'm coming," Kody said.

But Persia blocked her path. "Listen, Kody, I—I—

want to apologize for my jokes," she said, her dark eyes studying Kody. "I have a rotten sense of humor. Everyone tells me that." She shrugged.

"That's okay," Kody replied, trying not to show how surprised she was by this unexpected apology.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you one thing, Kody," Persia continued, speaking in a low, confidential voice. "If you're too freaked out by all this—I mean, if you're too scared and upset, I think everyone will understand if you drop out of the picture." A cruel smile formed on her full lips.

"You mean quit?" Kody cried angrily.

Persia nodded, her smile growing wider.

"No way!" Kody insisted shrilly. "No way, Persia! I'm going to act in this movie whether you like it or not!"

"Don't raise your voice to me," Persia snapped haughtily. "I was just trying to save you from embarrassing yourself."

"Well, I don't need your help!" Kody sputtered, balling her hands into tight fists.

"You need all the help you can get!" Persia uttered.

Kody wasn't really sure what came next or how the fight started. It all happened so fast.

Did she shove Persia?

Did Persia shove her?

Were they really grappling with each other, wrestling, trying to knock each other down?

It all seemed to be outside them, part of a movie, a really violent action movie. Except that it hurt when

Persia pulled Kody's hair. And Kody's heart was pounding so hard, she had to struggle to breathe.

And then Persia's fist struck hard. So hard.

"Persia—stop!"

Was that Kody shrieking like that?

"Stop! You're hurting me!"