Friday Night in Beast House

  Anything could be down here. Crouching at the foot of the stairs. Hiding behind them, ready to reach between the planks and grab his ankle.

  We’ll be fine, he told himself. Nobody’s been killed in here in almost twenty years.

  Says who?

  At last, the shimmery yellow glow found the cellar’s floor.

  Nothing was grouched there, ready to spring.

  Mark stepped onto the hard-packed dirt. Alison’s hand remained on his shoulder as he walked straight toward the beast hole. When he came to the cordon, he stopped. Alison took her hand off his shoulder and stood beside him.

  ‘How far in did you go?’ she whispered.

  ‘Pretty far. I don’t know.’

  ‘Want to shoe me where you found the glasses?’

  ‘You mean go in?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Come on.’ She unhooked the cordon from its stanchion, let it fall to the dirt, then walked almost to the edge of the hole.

  Mark followed her. ‘We don’t really want to go down there, do we?’

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘You can wait up here if you want.’

  ‘Oh, and let you go in alone?’

  ‘No big deal.’

  ‘It is a big deal. For one thing, it’s awfully tight. I almost got stuck.’

  ‘So stay here.’

  ‘This is crazy.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘It’s just a stupid pair of glasses.’

  ‘Claudia’s glasses.’

  ‘Even if they are…’

  ‘Maybe she’s down there, Mark. Maybe it’s not just her glasses. I have to find out.’

  ‘No, you don’t. Anyway, she disappeared months ago. If she is down there, it’ll just be her…you know, her body.’

  ‘Whatever. Hold this.’ she handed her candle to Mark, then began to unfasten the buttons of her denim jacket.

  ‘You don’t want to go down there.’

  ‘Mark. Listen. Here’s the thing. She knew.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Claudia. She knew. She was always hanging on me. She was with me when a guy asked me out. Jim Lancaster. She heard me tell him the condition.’

  The one condition.

  I want you to get me into Beast house. That’s where we’ll have our date.

  ‘Jim said I must be out of my mind,’ she explained. ‘No way would he try a stunt like that. So I told him he could forget about going out with me. After he went away, I said to Claudia, ‘Cute guy, but yella.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  Alison shrugged. ‘I don’t know’.

  She turned away from the hole, took off her denim jacket, hung it over the top of the nearest stanchion and came back. The long-sleeved blouse she wore was white.

  ‘Probably just laughed and said, ‘You’re awful.’ Something like that. But this was only a week or so before she disappeared.’ Looking into Mark’s eyes, Alison slowly shook her head.

  'Never even crossed my mind. She didn’t run away to San Francisco. She came here. Just like you. To Hide and stay till after closing time so she could let me in.

  ‘She didn’t tell you anything?’

  ‘She probably meant to sneak out later and surprise me. But I guess she never made it out.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘Even if you’re right,’ Mark said, ‘that’s no reason to go down there.’

  ‘It’s my fault’

  ‘It is not. You didn’t force her to do anything.’

  ‘She did it for me. Now I’ve got to do this for her.’ Alison bent over and peered down the hole.

  ‘They might not even be Claudia’s glasses.’

  ‘They’re hers.’ She turned her head toward Mark. ‘Are you coming with me?’

  ‘If you go, I go.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re gonna get filthy, you know. That white blouse.’

  She glanced down at it, then looked at Mark.

  Will she take it off?

  ‘I didn’t figure on crawling through dirt,’ she said and looked toward her jacket.

  ‘You can wear mine, Mark said. ‘It’s already a mess. He gave both candles to her, then unbuckled his belly pack, let it fall, and took off his windbreaker. She handed one of the candles back. He gave her the windbreaker.

  ‘Thanks.’ She poked the dark end of the candle into her mouth and kept it there, her head tilted back while she put on Mark’s windbreaker and fastened it. When the zipper was up, she took the candle out of her mouth.

  ‘Ready?’ she asked.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Look, you stay here. I’ll just go on down by myself.’

  ‘No. Huh-uh. I’ll go with you.’

  Just let me know how far in…’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe twenty feet. Twenty-five?’

  ‘Good. Wait here. It’ll be a lot quicker that way, too. I’ll just scurry in, have a look around. If I don’t find anything, I’ll come right out and we’ll have plenty of time to do some exploring and stuff.’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Anyway, you’ve already spent enough time down there. It’s my turn.’

  ‘I don’t know…’

  She sank to her knees. Looking over her shoulder, she said, ‘You wait here, Mark. I’ll be right back.’

  ‘No, I’ll…’

  It came up fast, shiny white, almost human but hairless and snouted.

  Alison was still looking at Mark and didn’t see it.

  But her face changed when she saw the look on his face.

  Before he could shout a warning, before he had a chance to move, the thing grabbed the front of the windbreaker midway up Alison’s chest and jerked her forward off her knees. She cried out. The candle fell from her hand. Head first, she plunged into the hole as if sucked down it. In an instant, she was gone to her waist.

  Mark dropped his candle and threw himself at her kicking legs.

  The flame lasted long enough to him to see that she was gone nearly to the knees. Then his body slammed the dirt floor. His head was between her knees and he clutched both her legs and hugged them to his shoulders as blackness clamped down on the cellar.

  Gotcha!

  Down in the hole, she was squealing, ‘No! Let me go! Leave me alone! Oh, my God! Mark! Don’t let it get…’ Then she yelled, ‘Yawww!’

  Though Mark still clutched her jeans to his shoulders, he felt sliding movements inside them. He tightened his grip. The jeans stayed, but Alison kept going. Under the denim, her legs tapered. He felt her ankles. Then her sneakers were in his face and then they came off and fell away and he lay there hanging over the edge of the hole with Alison’s empty jeans in his hands.

  ‘Alison!’ he yelled into the blackness.

  ‘Mark! Hellllp!’

  He pulled her jeans up, flung them aside, then squirmed forward over the edge and skidded down through the opening on his belly.

  He bumped into her sneakers, shoved them out of the way, and scurried toward the sounds of Alison sobbing and yelping with pain and blurting, ‘Let me go! Please! It hurts! Don’t.’

  Mark wanted to call out and tell her it would be all right. Even if it was a lie, it might give her hope.

  But he kept silent. Why let the beast know he was coming?

  Maybe I can take it by surprise.

  And do what?

  He didn’t know. But staying quiet made sense. It might give him some advantage.

  Though he scrambled through the tunnel as fast as he could, the sounds from Alison seemed to be diminishing. She continued to cry and yell, but the sounds acme from farther away.

  How could they be faster than me? he thought. It’s dragging her.

  Though his eyes saw only utter blackness, his mind saw Alison skidding along through the narrow tube of dirt, on her back now, kicking her bare legs. The beast no longer dragged her by the front of the windbreaker; now, she was being pulled by
her arms. Stretched as she was, the windbreaker didn’t even reach down to her waist. From her belly down, she was bare except for her panties.

  It must really hurt, he thought. It must burn. Like a rug burn, but worse, her skin getting scuffed off.

  That’ll be the least of her problems. When the beast gets done dragging her…

  That’s when I can catch up.

  Yeah, right. And get myself killed. It’ll take care of me in about two seconds.

  But maybe those couple of seconds would give Alison a chance to get away.

  It’ll be worth it if I can save her.

  Worth dying for?

  Yeah. Fucking-A right, if I can save her.

  Anyway, he told himself, you never know. It might not come to that. Anything can happen.

  One of his hands slid over something slippery in the dirt. Her panties? The way she was being dragged, she’d been sure to lose them. Mark snatched up the skimpy garment, stuff it inside his shirt and kept on scrambling forward.

  The sounds from Alison seemed farther away than ever.

  He tried to pick up speed.

  What if they lose me?

  According to the books and movies, there might be a network of tunnels behind Beast House, going all the way past its fence and into the hills.

  What if it really is some sort of maze?

  The thing drags her off into side tunnels and loses me, I might have a chance of living through the night.

  So far, the tunnel seemed mostly straight but with minor bends and slopes, sometimes. It other tunnels had intersected with it, Mark hadn’t noticed.

  Though the sounds were far away, they still seemed to come from in front of him.

  That’s a good sign, he thought.

  Sure it is. Good for who?

  And a voice whispered in his mind, I don’t have to keep going. I can stop right now. Turn around and go back to the cellar and get the hell out. Let the cops take care of it.

  Better yet, don’t tell anyone. Nobody has to know about any of this.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ he muttered.

  And kept on through the darkness, out of breath, heart thundering, every muscle aching, his clothes clinging with sweat, his hair plastered to his scalp, sweat running down his face.

  I can’t keep this up forever, he thought.

  So quit. That’s what you want to do.

  I don’t want to quit, just slow down.

  He stopped.

  Just for a second.

  Lying on his belly, head up, elbows planted in the dirt, he wheeze for air and blinked sweat out of his eyes and gazed into the blackness.

  He couldn’t hear Alison anymore.

  It doesn’t mean I lost her, he told himself. Maybe she stopped crying and yelling. Maybe she passed out.

  In his mind, he saw her stretched out limp on her back, being dragged by her wrists, the windbreaker even higher than before so that she is bare from the midriff down. Her panties gone. Mark can see between her thighs. Her legs bounce as she is dragged over the rough dirt of the tunnel floor.

  ‘ALISON! he shouted.

  No answer came.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mark wished he hadn’t yelled. His shout had probably carried through the whole length of the tunnel.

  I can’t hear them, he thought, so maybe they didn’t hear me.

  What if they’re just being quiet?

  And it heard me.

  In his mind, he saw the beast slither over Alison’s limp body and come scurrying back through the tunnel.

  Get the hell out!

  He shoved himself up to his hands and knees, but the back of his head struck the dirt ceiling. He dropped flat.

  Even if he could turn himself around, he knew he had no chance of out-racing the beast.

  It’ll be on me any second!

  He listened. Silence except for his own heartbeat and gasping.

  He would never see it coming. Not down here. Even something dead white would be invisible in such darkness. But he would hear its doglike snuffs and growls.

  So far, he heard only himself.

  What if it’s still dragging Alison and they ’re getting farther and farther away?

  Mark started squirming forward again.

  Might as well, he thought. If it’s coming, it’ll get me anyway.

  He picked up speed.

  Get it over with.

  In his mind, he saw himself and the beast scurrying straight toward each other through the tight tunnel like a couple of locomotives.

  It’s a locomotive, he thought. I’m a dog on the tracks.

  He remembered the dog on the roof of the gift shop. Disembowelled and headless.

  Is that how I’ll end up? Or Alison?

  As the tunnel began sloping upward, he wondered what was taking the beast so long.

  Should’ve gotten here by now.

  Maybe it isn’t coming.

  He struggled up the incline. All his muscles ached and trembled. His clothes felt soaked. Sweat poured down his face, stung his eyes.

  And he saw gray.

  Not actual light, but a hint of darkness that wasn’t total black.

  He made his way toward it, shoving with his elbows and knees and the toes of his shoes at the hard dirt floor of the tunnel and forcing himself forward, higher, closer to the gray.

  Then he noticed a breath of air that smelled like fog and sea, that cooled the sweat on his face.

  A way out?

  That’s why he’d stopped hearing Alison. That’s why the beast hadn’t come to get him…it hadn’t heard his shout.

  They aren’t in the tunnel anymore!

  And now the gray tunnel in front of Mark seemed to slant straight up. He tried to climb it, skidded backward, then go to his feet. Standing, he reached up and found rough, cool surfaces of rock.

  He found handholds and started to climb. Soon, he was surrounded by large blocks of stone. Surrounded and covered. Looking up, he couldn’t see the sky. But he did see a patch of pale, misty light from an area eight or ten feet above his head.

  He climbed toward it, moving as fast as he dared up the craggy wall.

  Hard to believe that the beast had made such an ascent dragging—or carrying—Alison. But it had somehow dragged her with great speed through the entire length of the tunnel. If it was capable of that, he supposed it could do this.

  Boosting himself over a rough edge, he found the opening in front of him. Not much. The size of a small window. But big enough.

  He clambered toward it.

  Beyond it, the night looked pale and fuzzy. Moonlit fog?

  He crouched just inside the opening and peered out. Through the fog, he could see an upward slope of ground and he knew where he was; at the back of a rock outcropping just beyond the Beast House fence, a short distance up the hillside. He’d seen it many times. Never from the inside, though. Until now.

  Outside, trees and rocks looked soft and blurry.

  Nothing moved.

  Where are they?

  He stood up and saw the beast behind a thicket off to the left. Just its head and back, nearly invisible in the fog. It was hunched over as if busy with someone out of sight on the ground.

  Mark crouched. Head down, he searched the area near his feet and found a good chunk of rock. It filled his hand. It felt heavy and had rough edges. Keeping it, he stayed low and hurried in the direction of the beast.

  He didn’t try to look at it again. If he could see it, it could see him. But he knew where it was. And he listened.

  His shoes made hardly any noise at all as he hurried over the rocks and the long damp grass. The night seemed oddly still. All the usual sounds were muffled by the fog. Somewhere, an owl hooted. From far away came the low, lonely tones of a fog horn. He thought he could hear the distant surf, but wasn’t sure.

  Turning his head to the left, he looked downward and saw the back fence of Beast house with its rows of iron spikes. Beyond the fence, there was only fog. Beast House was there, burie
d somewhere in the grayness. As he tried to glimpse it, he heard a snuffling sound.

  Then a whimper.

  He hurried on.

  The sound became more distinct. Moans and growls, panting sounds, whimpers and sharp outcries.

  Some came from Alison.

  She’s alive!

  But, oh, God, what’s the damn thing doing to her?

  Though Mark knew he must be very close to them, they remained out of sigh. The beast had chosen a very well-concealed place for his session with Alison. It seemed completely surrounded by thickets and boulders.

  Mark climbed a waist-high rock and looked down at them.

  The monster, white as a snowman in the moonlit fog, was down on its knees, hunkered over Alison’s back, thrusting into her. Her clothes were gone, scattered nearby. She still wore her white socks, but nothing else.

  She was on her knees, drooping forward. She looked as if she would fall on her face, except for the creatures hands that seemed to be clutching her breasts. Each time it rammed into Alison, her entire body shook and she made a noise like a dog getting kicked.

  Mark leaped off the boulder.

  The beast turned its head. Its eyes found him, but they didn’t go wide with surprise. They stayed half shut. The beast seemed blasé about this human running toward it with an upraised rock.

  But it very quickly stoop up, still embedded in Alison, hoisting her off her knees and swivelling, letting go of her breasts and clutching her hip as she swung so that her head and torso swept downward and crashed against Mark, knocking him off his feet.

  He slammed against the ground, rocks pounding his buttocks and back, one bashing his head. He heard the thonk! Felt a blast inside his skull. Saw bright red. Smelled something tinny like blood. Barely conscious, he gazed up at Alison.

  She loomed above him. The beast’s long, clawed fingers were clutching the sides of her ribcage, holding her like a life-sized, beautiful doll, working her forward and back.

  Her chest and belly were striped with scratches, with gouges. Wetness fell off her and pattered onto mark.

  Her arms hung down as if reaching for him. But they weren’t reaching, they were limp and swinging. Her head wobbled. Her hair, hanging down her brow and cheeks, swayed with the motions of her body. Her small breasts, nipples pointing down at Mark, jiggled and shook as the beast jerked her forward and back.