His hand didn’t work.
She can’t!
Chapter Twenty-six
In the cold darkness of the crawlspace beneath the last cabin, Joni lay on her side. She hugged her knees close to her chest. She kept her teeth clenched tight to keep them from chattering.
The man would never find her here.
Never.
A long time ago, when she first got away, he hadn’t even looked under the cabin. Maybe he would come back, though.
She didn’t dare to move.
The dirt rocks dug into her skin, but she didn’t move. Sometimes, itchy bugs crawled on her. She made believe they were caterpillars and lady bugs, and let them crawl.
The cold was worse than anything. It made her shake. If she shook too much, maybe the man would hear her, and catch her again.
A long time went by.
Then she heard something move nearby. An animal.
She held her breath.
Then she heard a quiet, ‘Meeeow.’
The cat came up against her legs in the darkness, furry and warm and purring like a motor.
‘Kitty,’ she whispered.
She stroked its head and back.
The cat let her hold it. She held it lightly against her chest. Its purr was so loud she worried the man would hear it and find her.
Soon she was no longer shaking.
A sound from above startled the cat. It leapt away and disappeared.
Joni listened closely.
Footsteps on the cabin floor.
She heard the door swing open. She saw bare feet on the stairs at the front of the cabin.
‘Girl?’ she called.
The legs stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Girl?’
The legs turned. The girl crouched and looked through the darkness of the crawlspace. ‘You under there?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘You gonna stay there all night?’
‘Is he gone?’
‘Yeah, I think so. It’s been hours. Took me that long to get untied.’
Getting to her hands and knees, Joni began to crawl through the darkness towards her waiting friend.
Epilogue
‘When will they take the chains off?’
‘When they figure we won’t run away,’ Donna said.
‘I wouldn’t run away.’
Donna, squinting through dark, could see only a white blur where her daughter sat among the pillows. ‘I would. I’d run away in a second.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re prisoners.’
‘Don’t you like it?’ Sandy asked.
‘No.’
‘Don’t you like Rosy?’
‘No.’
‘I do. Except she’s ugly like Axel.’
‘They’re twins, she ought to be.’
‘She’s a retard.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Who do you like better, Seth or Jason?’
‘Neither.’
‘I like Seth better,’ Sandy said.
‘Oh.’
‘Aren’t you gonna ask me why?’
‘No.’
‘Come on, Mom. Just ’cause you’re mad they killed Jud. Besides, they didn’t even kill him, Maggie did. And he deserved it, too.’
‘Sandy!’
‘Look how many of them he murdered. Six! God, he deserved it. He deserved a lot worse.’
‘Damn it, shut up!’ And then she was ashamed for using such language on her daughter.
‘At least he didn’t get Seth and Jason,’ Sandy said.
‘Too bad he didn’t.’
‘You’re just saying that. You’re just saying that to spoil things. You like them I know you do. I’m not deaf, you know.’
‘Well, I don’t like being chained up in the dark. I don’t like that at all. And the food stinks.’
‘Maggie might let you start cooking, if you ask her. Wick told me I can drive with him to Santa Rosa, one of these days, and pick up groceries. Once they trust us more, we can do all kinds of stuff.’
‘I’d sure like to see the sun again.’
‘Me too. Mom?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you still think you’re pregnant?’
‘I think so.’
‘Who’s baby do you think it is? Jason, I bet.’
‘I don’t know.
‘I’d like to have Seth’s baby.’
‘Shhh. I think they’re coming.’
THE BEAST HOUSE
Richard Laymon
Contents
Title Page
About the Book
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Bestselling author Gorman Hardy is looking for ideas for his next novel. Tyler is bored and together with her friend Nora, they are looking for some excitement. Maybe Malcasa Point can provide both? Or maybe it will kill them all . . .
March 31,1979
Mr Gorman Hardy, author
Baylor and Jones Publishing Co
1226 Ave. of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
Dear Mr Hardy,
I am writing to you because I have just read your book, Horror at Black River Falls, which I know was a best seller and must have made you a fortune. As the book is supposed to be a true story, I am wondering whether or not you might want to write a story I know of. It is also a true story. It is even more horrible than what you wrote in your other book. Let me tell you, it makes my hair stand up just thinking about it, and I don’t scare so easy.
It is about a haunted house in the town where I live, except the house isn’t literally haunted if you mean ghosts. It is haunted by some kind of a thing that’s slaughtered maybe fifteen or more people over the past hundred years. I mean slaughtered. It makes mincemeat out of them.
I think it would make a terrific book for you to write.
If this sounds interesting to you, please let me know right away as I’ll find someone else otherwise. I happen to think this is right up your alley. You can call it Horror at Malcasa Point, which is where I live and where the house is that the monster lives in, which is known as Beast House. Maybe you have heard of it.
Here is where I come in. Last Summer, I got my hands on this really ancient diary that was written in 1903 by Lilly Thorn. I work at my parents’ motel, and found the diary under mysterious circumstances in one of the rooms I was cleaning. Nobody knows I have it. (Except now you know. You must promise to keep this a secret, as I would be in deep sh trouble if words of it got to certain people. I mean seriously. We are talking here about my life.)
Anyhow, this diary I found is hot stuff. Lilly Thorn, the woman that wrote it, was the very first person ever to live in Beast House, and she goes into all kinds of details about where the monster came from, and what it’s like, and everything. I mean everything. If you can believe this, she even had sexual intercourse with it. I don’t mean once, but constantly like she was obsessed. It’s steamy stuff, as you can see from the xerox of the page I’ll attach. The diary also goes into the first murders and let me tell you, this sure is not the way they tell it on the tour!
So if you are interested in another best seller, I think you should let
me know and maybe we can split the take.
Sincerely,
Janice Crogan
The Welcome Inn
Malcasa Point, CA 95405
PS This thing here makes your ghost in Black River Falls look like a sissy.
He moved behind me. His claws pierced my back, forcing me to my knees. I felt the slippery warmth of his flesh press down on me, and I knew with certainty what he was about. The thought of it appalled me to the heart and yet I was somehow thrilled by the touch of him, and strangely eager.
He mounted me from behind, a manner as unusual for humans as it is customary among many lower animals. At the first touch of his organ, fear wrenched my vitals, not for the safety of my flesh but for my everlasting soul. And yet I allowed him to continue. I know, now, that no power of mine could have prevented him from having his will with me. I made no attempt to resist, however. On the contrary, I welcomed his entry. I hungered for it as if I somehow presaged its magnificence.
Oh Lord, how he plundered me! How his claws tore my flesh! How his teeth bore into me! How his prodigious organ battered my tender womb. How brutal he was in his savagery, how gentle in his heart.
I knew, as we lay spent on the earthen cellar floor,
GORMAN HARDY
PO Box 253
Cambridge, Mass. 03138
June 3, 1979
Miss Janice Crogan
The Welcome Inn
Malcasa Point, CA 95405
Dear Janice,
I must begin by offering an apology for the lengthy delay in answering. Unfortunately, my publisher was rather slow in forwarding your letter of March 31.
Since the publication of Horror at Black River Falls, I have been bombarded by fan letters, not a few of which offered ideas guaranteed to inspire another blockbuster. Most such suggestions, of course, were utter tripe. Yours, however, did arouse my curiosity.
Unfortunately, my preliminary research has turned up very little about ‘Beast House’. I was able to determine, through various traveler’s guides of California, only that such a place does exist in the town of Malcasa Point, that several murders allegedly took place there, and that guided tours of the house are available. While this information is rather paltry, it does substantiate several of the claims made in your letter.
I found myself most intrigued by the photocopy you enclosed of the diary page. If the diary proves to be authentic and if it contains sufficient material along the lines you suggest, it might very well provide a launching pad for a study of ‘Beast House’.
Naturally, I must read the diary in its entirety before making any commitment. Enclosed find my check in the amount of twenty dollars to cover copying and mailing expenses.
Very truly
Gorman Hardy
June 11, 1979
Gorman Hardy
PO Box 253
Cambridge, Mass. 03138
Dear Mr Hardy,
Enclosed is your check for twenty dollars. I am really glad you are interested and I am sure you’re not trying to pull something, but no way am I going to send you the whole diary because where does that leave me? Maybe I am paranoid, but I need to have an agreement about my split before you can see any more diary. I think fifty-fifty would be fair, as its all my idea and you can’t do anything without the diary.
Sincerely,
Janice Crogan
GORMAN HARDY
PO Box 253
Cambridge, Mass. 03138
June 16, 1979
Miss Janice Crogan
The Welcome Inn
Malcasa Point, CA 95405
Dear Janice,
Naturally, I am disappointed by your response concerning the diary. I do, however, understand your reluctance to place trust in a total stranger. As a professional writer for nearly twenty years, I have frequently been ‘stabbed in the back’, not only by strangers but by those I deemed friends. One can never be too cautious.
While I do not feel that the situation, at this time, warrants an agreement of any kind, I want to assure you that I remain interested in pursuing the project.
During the last weekend in August, I will be addressing a convention of the National Library Association in San Francisco. If you are agreeable to the arrangement, I will visit Malcasa Point following the convention, prepared to discuss terms with you, read the diary, and embark on such research as will be necessary to get the project under way.
Very truly,
Gorman Hardy
1
‘What you need,’ Nora said, ‘is a good fucking.’
‘I see.’
‘Look around you, take your pick. You’re the best-looking gal here.’
Tyler didn’t look. Instead, she took a sip of her Baileys.
‘I’m serious,’ Nora said.
‘You’re plastered.’
‘Plastered but lucid, hon. You need a good fucking. You’ve been pissin’ and moanin’ ever since we got to San Francisco. Shit, if you didn’t want to come to the convention, you should’ve stayed home.’
‘I didn’t know it’d be this bad,’ Tyler said.
‘What’d you expect, Ringling Brothers? These things are always a drag. What do you want from a bunch of librarians?’
‘It’s not that.’
‘What is it?’
‘The city.’
‘What’s wrong with the city? It’s gorgeous.’
‘I know.’
‘You pissed ’cause the cable cars aren’t running?’
‘Sure,’ Tyler said. She tried to smile, but couldn’t.
‘Come on, what’s wrong? Cough it up.’
‘I just feel rotten, that’s all.’
‘Rotten how?’
‘Rotten lonely.’ Tyler lowered her gaze from Nora’s shadowy face. She stared at the candle in front of her. Its flame streaked and blurred as tears came to her eyes. She backhanded the tears away, and took a drink of her Irish cream. ‘It’s this damn city,’ she said. ‘Being here again. I thought I’d be okay, but . . . everywhere I go, everywhere I look, they’re all places I’ve been with him.’
‘A guy.’
Tyler nodded. ‘He even brought me up here once to see the revolving bar. We had margaritas. Then we walked down to North Beach and went to the City Lights and that second-hand bookstore across the alley I showed you yesterday.’
‘When was all this?’
‘About five years ago. I was a senior at San Francisco State. Dan – that was his name – Dan Jenson. He lived in Mill Valley, over in Marin. I met him on the Dipsey Trail.’
Nora made a face. ‘The Dipsey Trail?’
‘It goes from Mill Valley, up into the hills around Mount Tam, and finally ends up at Stinson Beach. Anyway, that’s where we met. I was hiking it with my roommate, and he was running it to get in shape for the annual race . . .’
‘And it was love at first sight?’
‘He knocked me on my can,’ Tyler said. The memory of it forced a smile. ‘I gave him hell for running me down. Not exactly love at first sight. That came later – five, six minutes later.’
‘Was it onesided?’
‘I think he loved me, too.’
‘So what went . . . oh no.’ Nora suddenly looked stricken with pity. ‘He died?’
‘Hardly. I was accepted for graduate school at UCLA and he had a job in Mill Valley. I wouldn’t give up grad school, he wouldn’t give up his job. Simple as that.’
‘Jesus, I don’t believe it. You just threw each other away like that?’
‘We both wanted our careers. I told him he could be a cop anywhere, but . . . he was very stubborn. So was I.’
‘That was the end of it?’
‘I wrote him a letter. He never . . . The way he looked at it, the whole mess was my fault. I was supposed to drop everything and marry him.’
‘Oh Christ, he actually proposed to you?’
‘He actually did.’
‘Brother.’
‘And you know what else?’
‘What
?’
‘I’m twenty-six, I’ve got a job half the people at this convention would kill to get, and I’m thinking I made the biggest mistake of my life when I left Dan.’
‘This just occurred to you?’
‘It occurred to me a long time ago. I just figured, you know, I’d meet someone else.’
‘And you haven’t.’
‘Nobody I love.’
‘What’re you gonna do about it?’
‘What can I do? I made my choice five years ago. I just have to live with it.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Yeah. There’s always the Golden Gate. Conveniently located.’
‘Don’t even joke about that,’ Nora said.
‘I really feel . . . oh shit,’ she muttered as she started weeping again. ‘I really feel . . . sometimes . . . like I threw my life away.’
‘Hey, hey.’ Nora reached across the table and took her hand. ‘It’s not the end of the world. What I was gonna suggest – you feel so strongly about this, why not give him another shot? We’re how far from Mill Valley? Not very far, are we?’
Tyler shrugged and sniffed. ‘I don’t know, half an hour.’
‘So drive over tomorrow and look him up.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why the hell not?’
‘It’s been five years! He’s probably already married . . . He might not even live there anymore.’
‘If that job was so important he let you slip out of his fingers, he’ll be there.’
‘I can’t, Nora.’
‘Why not take a shot? What’ve you got to lose? For all you know . . .’
‘No.’ The thought of it made her sick with dread.
‘If you need some moral support, I’ll come with you.’
Tyler said, ‘We have to drive back tomorrow.’
‘What for? We’ve got two more glorious weeks of summer vacation before the rat race starts. What’s so important you have to get home? ’Fraid your houseplants’ll croak? Let’s drive over to Marin, first thing in the morning, and try to find this Dan of yours. If it doesn’t work out, what’ve we lost? An hour or so? We can still make it to LA by dark.’