The Third Horror (7 page)

Kody jumped as warm green goo splashed up over her white sneakers.

"I—I don't believe this!" she cried. The thick green liquid was spouting up from all four ducts.

Something started up the machine, she realized. We've got to turn it off before it messes up the whole scene.

"Ow! It's hot!" Rob exclaimed as the green goo splashed the leg of his jeans.

Dodging around a spouting duct, her sneakers sliding over the chunky green liquid, Kody reached the machine first. She grabbed the lever and tried to tug it back up.

"Hey—!" she cried out when it wouldn't budge.

The machine chugged away.

Turning back, she saw the green goo spreading over the attic floor. It made a sickening plopping sound as it poured out from the four ducts.

Kody tried the lever again. No success.

Rob bent to help out. Kody stepped back to let him try his luck. He strained with both hands. "It—won't —move!" he cried. "I can't turn it oflP!"

"I thought Ernie said the stuff didn't smell!" Kody exclaimed, her face twisted in disgust. The foul odor brought back a flood of awful memories.

"Ooooh." The sour aroma invaded Rob's nose too.

"It smells like really sour milk," he groaned.

Kody took a deep breath and held it, trying to stop the nausea that gripped her stomach.

Rob gave the lever one more hard pull with both hands, putting all his strength into it. "Aaaaagh!" He let out a cry of frustration and stepped back.

"Ow! The stuff is hot! It's burning hot!" Kody declared. She raised her knees high as she backed away. The green liquid bubbled and gurgled up over her sneakers.

"We've got to get Ernie and Bo!" Rob cried. "The lever is totally stuck."

Kody started to the attic door. "Ow! The machine —it must be broken! Why is the goo so hot?"

Her sneakers stuck. She struggled to raise them. She felt a stab of fear in her chest. "It—it's holding me down, Rob!"

"Me too!" he called, close behind her. He leaned his

weight forward, trying to move. "Ohhh, the putrid smell!"

Kody heard him cry out. She spun around in time to see him fall forward, his hands shooting out to break the fall.

"Ow!" He landed with a hard splat. Then raised his head, his eyes wide with fear. "I—I can't get up, Kody! It's holding me—holding me down!"

"Huh?" Kody let out a surprised cry. She turned back to him, her sneakers sliding in the hot green liquid.

The goo made a slapping sound as it washed over her ankles and spread onto the legs of her jeans.

She stretched out both hands, reached down for him.

"Hold on," Kody urged. "I've got you!"

She grabbed his hands. They were sticky with goo. Thick clots of it rolled down his bare arms, onto the front of his yellow T-shirt.

"Help me," Rob pleaded. "I really feel sick, Kody. I think I'm going to hurl."

She helped to pull him up. He grabbed her shoulder and hoisted himself to his feet. "Stop! You're smearing it all over me!" she cried.

The chunky green liquid rolled over the floor like ocean waves, rolled up under their jeans, halfway up their legs.

"Where is everyone?" Kody demanded. "Can't anyone hear the pump going? Can't anyone hear that the stupid machine started up?"

Rob didn't reply. He was concentrating on raising one foot, then the other, making his way slowly, with enormous effort, toward the attic door.

The sour aroma swept over Kody. She tried to breathe through her mouth. The gurgling, lapping green liquid rose higher, nearly to her knees. It burned her legs, clung to her jeans, splashed against her as she struggled to move.

Rob made it to the door first. Kody saw that his forehead dripped with sweat. His face was bright red. He was breathing hard from his efforts.

"Pull the door open!" Kody urged. "Quick, Rob. It's up to my knees!" She watched him grab the knob. His sticky hand slipped off it.

He wiped his hand on a dry patch on the side of his jeans and grabbed the doorknob again. He turned it and pulled.

Kody saw his face grow redder. "Hey—!" He let out a startled cry.

"Hurry, Rob!" she urged. "It's really burning me now! My legs are on fire!"

"Mine too!" he choked out. He tugged at the door.

She saw his feet slip on the thick, slimy surface.

He caught his balance by throwing his shoulder against the door. Then he pulled again, pulled until his face was nearly purple.

"Rob—what's wrong?" Kody called shrilly, struggling to reach him.

He turned back to her, his eyes wide with horror. "The door—" he cried. "It's locked!"

"It can't be!" Kody cried.

The hot green liquid rolled against her legs, wave after sickening wave. She kept shifting her weight, lifting her legs high, struggling not to become stuck.

Rob tried the door again, pulling with all his strength. He screamed for help. There was no reply.

She saw his hands slip off the doorknob again, saw him stumble backward. The sticky green goo swept up against Rob's waist.

He turned to her, his features tight with fear. "Didn't Ernie say there was only enough goo to come up to our knees?"

Kody nodded. "It won't go much higher," she said,

trying to sound hopeful. "It'll turn off any second now."

But so far, everything Ernie had said had been wrong.

"They should be back from their break," Rob said, pounding with both fists on the attic door. "Where are they?"

He screamed again. Still no reply.

Kody was fighting hard. Trying to forget. But still remembering.

Remembering the horrors her family had faced in this frightening house. Remembering the night the disgusting green goo had poured down the bathroom walls.

Ernie's machine isn't pumping this green goo, she realized.

This is the evil of the house.

Cally—are you here?" Kody called suddenly. Cally?"

Rob's mouth dropped open. He leaned forward, pushed his legs up, trying to cross the swirling, seething sea of green to her. "Kody—are you okay?"

"Cally is here," Kody replied, her eyes darting around the room. "I can sense it."

"But, Kody—" Rob was pushed back by a high wave.

"Cally will help us, Rob," Kody assured him. "She's here. I know she is. And she will help us get out of here."

"Kody—please," Rob begged, struggling harder to

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pull himself through the swirling hot liquid. "Take a deep breath. Fll get us out of here."

"You think I'm crazy—don't you," Kody accused him sadly. Turning away from him, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Cally! Cally?"

"If it gets any higher, we can 5vv7>?7 out!" Rob called.

"It's too thick to swim in,'* Kody replied grimly. She called to her sister again.

No reply.

The only sound in the room now was the gurgle and splash of the green liquid as it rose higher and higher.

"It—it's so gross!" Kody complained. "I can't move, Rob. I feel as if it's pulling me down into it."

"Stay on your feet," Rob ordered. "It can't get much higher—can it?"

They raised their arms to keep them out of the roiling goo, which had climbed waist-high. Thick chunks washed against their bodies, swirling in the steaming broth. The aroma grew stronger, choking them, sickening them, forcing them to breathe hard through their mouths.

"Cally? Cally—can you hear me?" Kody cried frantically. "Are you here? Can you help us?"

No reply.

"Your sister is dead, Kody," Rob said softly. "She can't help us now."

She's here, Kody told herself.

She's here. I know she is.

Why isn't she helping us?

Sweat poured down Kody's face. Her wet hair

matted against her forehead. "I feel as if I'm melting," she moaned, "melting right into it."

Rob didn't answer. He was wiping green chunks off the front of his T-shirt.

"Rob—it's getting higher," she said weakly. "Pretty soon, we won't be able to move."

Kody searched desperately around the room. "Hey —the window!" she cried. "Rob—that window leads out to the roof."

"All right!" Rob cried excitedly, his enthusiasm quickly fading. "What makes you think we can get over to it, Kody?"

"We have to!" Kody declared.

Leaning forward, pressing into the thick swirls of green, she started toward the window.

"It feels as if it's pushing me back," Rob called from behind her. "As if it's deliberately trying to keep me from the window."

"Keep going," Kody urged breathlessly. "Keep pushing."

"I—I don't think I can make it," he cried weakly. "I—I'm going to drown in this stuff."

"No!" She turned her head. "We're moving, Rob. We're almost there. Keep going. Don't give up."

"The smell—" he moaned. "I—feel—really . . ." His voice trailed off.

"Only a few more feet," Kody murmured. "A few more feet." She thrust her body forward, her arms outstretched.

The thick liquid swept against her, pushing her back, wave after hot wave.

But she kept her legs moving, kept pushing, pushing, pushing—

Until her outstretched palms pressed against the glass of the windowpane.

"Yes!" she cried triumphantly. "We're going to get out now, Rob! Hurry! We're going to get out!"

Her hands slid over the glass. She placed them on the window frame and pushed.

The window didn't budge.

She pushed harder.

Her feet slid out from under her. The hot green liquid splashed against her chest.

Regaining her balance, Kody checked the lock on top of the lower sash. Not locked.

She pushed up against the frame.

The window didn't budge. "It's stuck too," she managed to choke out.

She banged both fists furiously against the glass. "Let us out! Let us out!" she cried in shrill terror.

The hot, churning liquid had climbed over her waist.

With a desperate burst of strength, she turned to the left. Reached out. Grabbed a light tower, a slender metal frame that held two large lights.

Nearly losing her balance again, nearly slipping headfirst into the goo, she managed to raise the light tower into the air.

Holding it shakily over her head with both hands, she slammed it hard against the window glass.

The windowpane cracked. A spiderweb of cracks

spread over the glass. And then the glass dropped out onto the roof.

"Yes!" Kody cried happily, knocking the jagged shards out too.

Tossing the light tower behind her, she raised both hands to the windowsill. It took all of her remaining strength to lift herself out of the thick liquid.

Pulling until her knees rose to the sill, she half fell, half dived onto the flat shingle roof.

"Rob!" she called. "Hurry, Rob! We're out! We're okay!"

When he didn't reply, Kody felt dread tighten in the pit of her stomach. "Rob?" she called, her chest aching as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Rob?"

Sliding over the shingles, she crawled back to the window. Pressing both hands on the sill, she peered into the attic room.

"Nooooooo!" A horrified wail burst from deep inside her. "Rob—nooooooooo!"

As the howls escaped her throat, Kody peered in at Rob. He floated lifelessly on the surface of the tossing liquid, his face buried in the goo, his arms sprawled straight out.

He was inches from the window. Inches from escape.

He probably tried to swim, Kody realized, and the disgusting liquid held him under.

"Rob? Rob?" She called to him without realizing it, unable to hear her voice over the pounding of her heart, over the pain of her thoughts.

And then, without thinking about it, in a blur of action Kody climbed onto the windowsill, lowered herself to her knees, took a deep breath—and leaned over the thick, swirling broth.

Stretched out both hands. Stretched them farther, leaning in as far as she could. Reached. Reached.

Grabbed Rob by the hair. And tugged his face out of the goo.

Are you still breathing? she wondered.

Please, Rob. Please be breathing. Please!

She had no choice. She had to lower herself back into the hot goo. Wrapping her hands under Rob's armpits, she swung him onto his back. The green slime clung to his face, to his clothes, to his hair.

Grabbing the windowsill with her left hand, she pulled Rob over the surface of the goo with her right.

I can't lift him out. But maybe I can slide him, she thought.

Please, Rob. Please be breathing.

She had to let go of him to hoist herself out of the deep liquid and back onto the windowsill. Then she turned back, bent to grab him with both hands. Tugged. Tugged until it felt as if her chest were about to burst.

She toppled backward as his body came sliding out onto the flat roof. She landed hard on her side, but ignored the pain and quickly scrambled back to him.

Please breathe. Please.

He lay sprawled on his back, his eyes shut, his body still.

Please. Please!

Kody pounded hard on his chest.

Please breathe. Please breathe.

She gasped in one deep breath after another. But her chest continued to ache.

Leaning over Rob, she frantically wiped green clots from around his mouth. Then she lowered her mouth to his and began giving him mouth-to-mouth.

"Ohhh." She let out a low moan as she tasted the sour green goo. It felt gritty against her lips. It tasted like rancid buttermilk.

But she lowered her mouth once again to his.

And breathed, pushing her breath into him, trying to ignore the sour taste.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Rob groaned.

Yes!

Breathe. Breathe.

He groaned again and blinked his eyes.

Kody raised her head, wiping a green clot from her chin.

Yes. Rob was breathing on his own now. Breathing noisily. But breathing.

Shutting her eyes, Kody said a silent prayer of thanks.

Then she turned away from Rob and started to vomit.

The next afternoon Bo furiously paced back and forth in the living room, talking in a high, excited voice. Kody shrank back on the couch against the wall. Why does he keep glaring at me like that? she wondered. As if what happened was my fault?

'T don't see how we can continue. This is a farce, Bo," Persia was saying from the other couch. One of

her assistants brought her a Diet Coke in a tall glass.

"This movie will be made. We have to continue," Bo replied heatedly. "And fast."

He continued to pace, swinging the clipboard in one hand as he walked. "If I know Rob's father, he'll have the place swarming with lawyers in no time. He'll sue us for every penny the production has. He'll charge negligence—and he'll win."

"How is Rob?" Kody asked from the back of the room. She'd been calling the hospital all morning. But they wouldn't give her any information.

"The word from the hospital is that he's doing pretty well," Bo replied grimly. "He's in shock, they say. But he's going to be okay."

"We're all in shock," someone murmured.

"I can still smell that stuff," someone else said.

A few people turned to stare at Kody.

Do they expect me to still be covered in it or something? she wondered unhappily. Why is everyone gawking at me?

"Anyone see Ernie?" one of the prop crew asked.

The room fell silent. "Ernie is no longer with us," Bo replied finally. "I—uh—had no choice. I had to fire him." He swallowed hard. "Ernie and I were together a long time. But he—he nearly ruined the whole production with that stupid machine of his."

The room rumbled with whispers and surprised murmurs.

It wasn't Ernie's fault, Kody realized, crossing her

arms over her chest and sinking back into the armchair.

It wasn't Ernie's machine that spewed up that green goo.

It was the house.

And as that frightening thought lingered in Kody's mind, she glanced up and saw a wisp of light at the window.

The light shimmered into a pale white mist. And inside the mist, Kody recognized her sister.

"Cally!"

As she called out the name, the light faded. The image vanished.

Kody blinked.

"Kody—are you okay?" Bo demanded, hands pressed against the waist of his baggy chinos.

"Uh—yeah. I guess," Kody replied uncertainly. Her eyes on the window. She expected to see Cally appear once more. She wanted to see Cally appear.

"We're lighting the dining room for tomorrow morning," Bo told them. "We'll shoot the attic scene later." He checked through some pages on the clipboard. Then he gazed at the middle-aged actor sitting beside Persia on the couch. "This will be your first scene, Burt," he said.

Kody turned her attention to Burt Martindale, the actor chosen to play her father. He had just been cast and arrived on the set late. Kody had said hello to him. Nothing more.

He seemed friendly. He had twinkling blue eyes under his thinning blond hair and a warm smile. It

bothered Kody that Burt didn't look at all like her real father. But, she told herself, this was the movies.

"I hope I have an easier time of it than you!" Burt called across the room to Kody.

''I hope so/' Kody replied, sighing.

"Do you know how to swim?" Persia asked Burt dryly.

"Not funny, Persia," Bo said sternly. "No jokes. I mean it." He glanced nervously around the room. "Marge and Noah—where are you?"

Marge Andersen raised her hand above her head and waved at Bo. She was a frail-looking actress with short blond hair and a fretful expression, chosen to play Kody's mother.

Marge was very shy and quiet, Kody had discovered during their rehearsals in Los Angeles. She sat near the window beside Noah Klein, the ten-year-old who played Kody's brother James.

"I want to block out the dinner scene with the actors." Bo announced. "The rest of you have your assignments. We're going to shoot this first thing tomorrow. And," he added, saying each word slowly and distinctly, "there will be no slipups or problems. Understood?"

Murmured agreements and comments filled the air as everyone stood up and moved quickly from the living room.

Kody didn't feel at all like reading through the dining room scene. She was eager to find Cally.

Cally had appeared to her by the window. Cally

must want to talk to me, Kody told herself. If only I could go find her.

But Kody knew she had no choice. She had to rehearse the frightening scene.

Pulling herself up, she started to follow Bo and the others into the dining room. But Persia stepped in front of her, blocking Kody's path.

"Kody, does your hair look a little green from that awful gunk, or is it just the lighting in here?" Persia asked, a cruel smile on her full, dark lips.

"Persia, I'm really in no mood—" Kody started to say.

"Yes, you look really tired," Persia commented. "I just wanted to get your approval of an idea I told to Bo."

"An idea?" Kody asked warily.

"Well, just a seating idea," Persia replied. "I know we were supposed to be across from each other at the table when Burt stabs himself. But I thought it would be more tense if we sat side by side, and if maybe you and I had some sort of argument about the carving knife."

"Huh?" Kody's face twisted in confusion.

"You know. To show how competitive we two sisters are," Persia continued. "Bo loved the idea. Really."

"Well, okay—" Kody started to agree.

"I put myself on your left because that's my better side," Persia told her. "Is that okay, Kody? I wasn't sure which is your better side!"

What a cruel dig, Kody thought bitterly. Persia really is the meanest person I ever met.

Without replying, she stepped past Persia and made her way into the dining room. The room was cluttered with equipment. Workers on the lighting and sound crew scrambled over every inch, preparing for the next morning's shoot.

Two young women, the prop master and her assistant, were busily setting the table. Kody eased around a boom mike, then started toward Bo and the others at the head of the table.

But the object lying in the center of the white linen tablecloth made her stop—and stare.

A large black-handled carving knife. The fat blade gleamed under the harsh overhead lights.

Kody's vision blurred. And in the shimmery glow of the knife blade, she saw her real family. Cally and James and her mother and father, sitting around a similar table in this same dining room, two years ago.

Such a happy scene.

Their first dinner in this, their new house.

Mr. Frasier stood to carve the roast beef. Cally got up from her chair and headed for the kitchen. As Cally passed behind him, the knife flew up as if pushed by an unseen hand.

The family watched in shock as the knife plunged deep into Mr. Frasier's side.

The happy dinner ended in cries and panic.

The horror had begun.

"Fm going to put you at the head of the table, Burt," Kody heard Bo saying in the back of her mind.

"And, Marge, let's try to get you within reach of him here on the side."

"What about me? I thought I sat closest to the father," Kody heard Noah say.

Bo's reply faded into the background as Kody found herself staring at the gleaming carving knife.

This knife is just a prop.

No one is really going to get stabbed this time, Kody told herself.

So why do I have such a bad feeling, such a cold, cold feeling about this knife?