‘Get him!’
Eddie Ryker reached out, as Nate rushed by, and grabbed his shoulder. Nate whirled and slammed a fist into Ryker’s nose. Jerking free, he lunged at the Frankenstein monster – Mr Carlson – who’d come in with Miss Bennett only a minute ago. Carlson landed a punch on his chin, but it didn’t stop him. He threw himself against the man, grappled with him, drove a knee up into his groin. Carlson cried out and fell. Nate scurried over him. Reached the refreshment table. Elmer backed away, and Nate lifted the punch bowl.
‘No!’ Miss Bennett yelled.
He lurched toward Carlson, stumbled, and emptied the punch onto him. The red flood washed over his head and back, splashed off him and spattered those nearby.
Miss Bennett wrenched the empty bowl away from Nate. ‘You idiot!’ she snapped. ‘You stupid goddamned idiot!’
‘My carpet!’ shrieked Mrs Barnes.
‘Get him!’ cried Aleshia. ‘Everybody get him!’
Three of the guys from the football team – Mark Bailey the soldier, John the vampire, and an Indian – hit him at the same time. He went down in a pile of bodies.
‘Go help,’ Beth said, nudging Eric.
‘They don’t want me.’
‘Go on. They’ll think you’re chicken.’
‘Well …’ He left Beth. By the time he reached the group, six boys were on Nate. Aleshia stood over them, giving directions. Her face was red and she was breathing hard.
‘His leg,’ she gasped. ‘Get his other leg.’
Eric crouched and grabbed Nate’s left ankle – the only visible part of his body.
‘Okay, pick him up. Pick him up.’
‘Let’s call the cops,’ said John.
‘No. I’ve got a better idea. Get him outside.’
John and a cowboy climbed off Nate. The others lifted him.
‘My carpet,’ muttered Mrs Barnes.
‘He’ll pay for it,’ said Elmer.
Eric walked backwards, still holding Nate’s ankle. The foot was bare. Nate was panting, sobbing. His eyepatch hung around his neck. Blood trickled from his nostrils. The right side of his face was red and swollen. His chest bled from a dozen fingernail scratches.
‘What’re we gonna do with him?’ Ryker asked.
‘Get him outside,’ Aleshia said again.
‘I think the police should be notified,’ Miss Bennett said as she walked behind the group.
‘We’ll take care of him.’
‘He’s been hurt enough.’
‘We won’t hurt him,’ said Aleshia.
Somebody held open the screen door. They carried Nate outside, and down the porch steps.
‘Okay,’ Aleshia said. ‘Strip him.’
‘Yeah!’ said the cowboy.
‘All right!’ said the Indian.
‘Serve the bastard right,’ said Ryker.
‘Kids!’ snapped Miss Bennett. ‘I don’t think this is the right way to …’
A wild cry of rage stopped her voice.
Eric dropped Nate’s foot as he saw a pirate leap from behind a nearby bush.
‘Bill!’ Miss Bennett shouted.
The pirate glanced at her, but didn’t stop. He dived onto the backs of three boys, throwing them forward across Nate’s body, smashing them into those on the other side. A couple stumbled backwards and stayed on their feet, but the rest fell in a tangled mass.
‘Boys!’ Miss Bennett yelled. ‘Boys, stop it!’
‘Get him!’ Aleshia shouted, jumping up and down.
Ryker and Bailey, the ones still standing, went for Bill. They grabbed his arms and shoulders, trying to drag him off the others.
Nate, no longer held by anyone, rolled over. He got to his hands and knees. He started to crawl.
‘Boys!’
‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Beth. She leaped onto Nate’s back, driving him to the ground. She straddled him. She shoved his shoulders, trying to keep him down, but he rolled onto his back and snarled up at her.
‘You,’ he muttered. His hands flailed. Beth tried to catch them, but they clutched her breasts, squeezed and twisted. She shrieked.
Her cry of pain tore at Eric. He rushed forward and kicked. The toe of his sneaker caught Nate on the cheek. Nate cried out and grabbed his face.
He pulled Beth to her feet. She was crying softly. ‘Are you okay?’
She shook her head, and stepped into Eric’s arms. He held her. She felt soft and warm.
Bill lay on the ground, battered, keeping his eyes shut. If they realized he was conscious, they might start in again. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard voices.
Aleshia. ‘Okay, get their clothes off.’
Miss Bennett. ‘I’m calling the police.’
‘No, let’s go ahead and let them, Karen.’ Who was that? Carlson, probably. The Wretch. ‘It’s harmless.’
‘It’s not harmless, its disgusting and degrading.’
‘And appropriate. Christ, look what Houlder did to me. Not to mention the carpet.’
‘Let’s not spoil the fun,’ said a quiet, whispery voice.
‘Do what you want with them.’ The unfamiliar voice of a woman. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you can boil them in oil.’
‘Let’s take a vote,’ Aleshia said. ‘All in favor of stripping the bastards?’
Bill heard a chorus of ayes and yeahs.
‘Opposed?’
‘You’re all crazy,’ Miss Bennett said.
‘The ayes have it.’
Hands began to tug Bill’s T-shirt.
‘I’m calling the police.’
‘Not from my house. The party’s over. If you’re so eager to help these ruffians, go home and call.’
‘Mrs Barnes, I don’t think …’
‘Maybe we should leave,’ Carlson said.
‘Yes. Maybe we should.’
His shirt was off. He felt the cold, wet grass under his back.
‘Geez, look at this knife.’
‘Take it,’ Aleshia said. ‘Take everything.’
He felt hands on his rope belt, on the button of his jeans. The zipper slid down. He raised his head, opened his eyes, and the soldier crouching near his head smashed him in the face with a helmet liner.
His jeans were jerked down his legs.
‘What about his shorts?’
‘Take ’em. Take everything.’
Someone pulled his underpants off.
‘All right!’ Aleshia cried.
He heard giggles from several girls.
‘Tiny little crittur,’ said a boy.
‘Nothing to brag about, is it?’
‘Probably couldn’t get it up if he had to.’
‘You ever see one of these, Mary Lou?’
‘Up yours.’
‘Hey, get a load of this one.’
‘I always knew Houlder was an eunuch.’
Laughter and giggles.
‘Okay,’ said Aleshia. ‘Let’s go back in and boogie.’
‘Right!’
‘No way. The party’s over.’
‘Mom!’
‘You heard me.’
‘But we only started!’
‘It’s over.’
‘There’s a party at the Sherwood house,’ said a new voice. Who was that? Oh yeah. Prince. That little fart, Eric Prince. ‘Why don’t we all go over there?’
‘Yeah!’
‘Right! I got an invitation.’
‘Who’s giving the party?’
‘Who knows?’
‘Who cares!’
‘Let’s go!’
‘All right!’
‘What’ll we do with these guys?’
‘Leave ’em.’
‘Yeah. But let’s take their clothes. If they want ’em back, they’ll have to come to the party.’
‘Yeah, dressed as skinny-dippers.’
‘Streakers.’
‘A prick and an asshole.’
Bill heard laughter, and finally silence. Then a familiar voice said, ‘We been screwed,
dingus.’
‘Yeah,’ he muttered.
‘We gonna let ’em away with it?’
34
‘Looks like we’re the first here,’ Doons said. He slowed, made a U-turn, and parked in front of the Sherwood house.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Marjorie said.
‘You see any other cars? How many? Nine? Ten?’
‘Lay off her, Phil.’
‘When I need your advice, I’ll ask for it.’
‘Tough guy,’ Thelma said.
‘Damn right.’
‘Let’s not argue,’ said Marjorie. ‘This is Halloween. We’re supposed to have fun.’
Thelma snorted. ‘I just hope there’re some decent men at this thing.’
‘Oh, I’m sure there will. It’ll be fun. I’ve always wanted to see inside the old place, haven’t you?’
‘Hardly.’
Doons climbed out of the car, and opened its rear door. Thelma scooted out first, reaching up a hand for assistance. He gave her a pull.
‘What a dear,’ she said.
‘I know it.’ He helped Marjorie out. ‘Will that be all ladies?’
‘Oh Phillip.’
‘He’s pissed ’cause he had to sit alone.’
‘I should’ve come dressed as a chauffeur.’
‘You look fine, darling.’
‘I feel like an ass.’ He jammed his hands into the pockets of his bib overalls. Marjorie had rushed out to buy them after he phoned about the party. She’d bought similar overalls for herself and Thelma.
Thank God, Doons thought, she couldn’t find anyplace selling straw hats.
Three fuckin’ hayseeds.
‘You have to dress up,’ Marjorie had insisted. ‘It’s a costume party.’
‘The place looks deserted,’ Thelma said, interrupting his thoughts.
‘That’s what I said.’
They started across the front yard, walking through its high weeds.
‘You know what?’ Thelma asked. Her voice was quiet and missing its usual sarcasm. ‘I saw Dexter go in this place the other night.’
Marjorie gaped. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. The night he was killed, in fact.’
‘Oh my goodness!’
Doons snorted. ‘How’d you happen to see that? Or shouldn’t I ask?’
Thelma ignored him. ‘I saw him go in the back door. And he didn’t come out.’
Doons stopped near the veranda. He turned to Thelma. ‘What are you, trying to scare us?’
‘I just wanted to mention it.’
‘You don’t think …’ Marjorie started.
‘I don’t know,’ said Thelma. ‘I told that cop about it, and he seemed awfully interested. He was so interested, in fact, that he didn’t bother to pull me in.’
Doons blew air through his gritted teeth. ‘Jesus Christ, Thelma, what’re we doing here?’
‘Going to a party.’
In a calm voice, Marjorie added, ‘You’re the one who suggested it, Phil.’
‘Well Jeezus, nobody told me this is where Boyanski got his ticket cancelled.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Thelma said. ‘It probably didn’t happen here, anyway. Let’s go in and have a good time.’
‘Sure.’ Doons didn’t move.
With a smirk, Thelma hooked her thumbs into her overall pockets and climbed the front steps.
‘This is crazy,’ Doons said.
‘Don’t be a spoilsport,’ Marjorie said. She took Doons’s hand. Together, they followed Thelma up the steps to the front door.
‘You planning to make me open it?’ Thelma asked.
He reached for the knob. As his fingers curved around it, the door flew open. He jumped with alarm. Thelma gasped. Marjorie yelped and clutched his arm.
Inside stood a woman dressed in a long white gown. She held a lighted candle. Her face was in shadows. ‘Phil?’ she asked.
He managed not to sigh with relief as he recognized the voice. ‘Barbara?’
‘Boy, am I glad to see you. This place was giving me the willies.’
‘Barbara, you’ve met my wife Marjorie. This is her sister, Thelma. Thelma, this is Barbara Major, one of the teachers from school.’
‘Hello,’ Thelma said.
‘Nice to meet you. Come on in.’
‘Anybody else here yet?’ Doons asked as he stepped inside.
‘See for yourself.’
The women entered and he shut the door. The foyer was dark except for Barbara’s candle. They walked slowly over the hardwood floor, and passed through the entryway to the living room.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Doons muttered.
The candlelit room was deserted except for three gorillas hanging by their arms from wrought-iron window grates.
‘Are they real?’ Marjorie whispered.
‘They’re costumes,’ said Barbara.
‘Anyone in them?’ Thelma asked,
Barbara shrugged. ‘I haven’t gone close enough to find out. They don’t move, though. I think they’re just stuffed. They sure give me the willies, though. I was about to leave when you guys came along.’
‘Let’s have a look,’ Doons said.
‘You look,’ said Thelma. ‘I’m getting a drink.’ She started across the room toward a table at the far end.
‘Not a bad idea.’ Doons followed her, flanked by Marjorie and Barbara. He realized that he was walking strangely, rolling from heel to toe in an effort to quiet his footfalls. His stomach muscles felt tight. He kept his eyes on the gorillas.
They hung several yards apart along the left-hand wall, each in front of a different window. Their wrists seemed to be bound to the upper crossbars, suspending them well above the floor. Doons could stand on a chair, he decided, and pull off the headgear to see who – if anyone – was inside. But there were no chairs in the room. Only the table.
Thelma was already there. Doons flinched at the sudden noise she made dumping a handful of ice cubes into a plastic glass. ‘Gilby’s Vodka,’ she announced. ‘Whoever’s throwing this bash has decent taste.’
‘Eric Prince,’ Barbara said.
‘His mother must’ve bought the booze,’ Doons said.
‘Where is everyone?’ Marjorie asked.
As Doons pulled three glasses from the stack, Barbara said, ‘Eric told me he’d invited a whole bunch of people.’
‘And we’re the only ones dumb enough to come.’ Doons quietly filled the glasses with ice from a plastic bag.
‘It’s early yet,’ said Thelma.
Marjorie frowned. ‘You’d think the host, at least, would be here.’
‘You’re right.’ Doons turned around, eyeing each of the gorillas. ‘He’s probably in one of those monkey suits. Hey Eric!’ he called out. No answer came. None of the gorillas moved. ‘Bet he is.’
‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ Barbara whispered. ‘He’s a spooky little kid.’
‘What’ll you have?’
‘Bourbon and Seven.’
He poured Barbara’s drink. ‘How about you, honey?’
‘Scotch and soda.’
He made it for her, and poured scotch for himself. He sipped it, and immediately felt more relaxed. Comforting, he thought, to have a familiar drink in your hand. ‘Well, shall we have a look at our three silent friends?’
‘Help yourself,’ said Thelma. ‘I’m staying here at the comfort station.’
A dozen lighted candles stood on the floor along the wall. Doons crouched over one near the center gorilla. It clung to the floor with dripped wax. He pulled it free, and stood. Holding it high, he studied the gorilla’s face. He was too low to see into the sunken eyeholes.
‘Hello?’ he asked.
No answer.
‘Anybody home? Eric?’ He pressed the thick, black fur of its leg. ‘Feels like someone’s in there.’ He jabbed his fingers against it. ‘Yoo-hooo. Hello in there. Speak now or forever hold your peace.’
Marjorie took a step backward. ‘Maybe we should leave it alone.’
/> ‘Bullshit.’ Doons reached up to the gorilla’s groin and goosed it.
‘Phil!’
Barbara laughed.
The gorilla didn’t move.
Doons shrugged and took a sip of scotch. ‘Hell with it,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s have a look at …’
A blast of rock music hit his ears. He swung around and saw Thelma on her knees beneath the table. The volume lowered. She got up and looked around. ‘Radio,’ she explained. She stepped aside and Doons saw a radio the size of a briefcase under the table. ‘Now all we need are a couple of men. How about the monkeys?’ Holding her drink high, she pursed her lips and danced toward the nearest gorilla.
Doons shook his head. ‘You’ve always had a fondness for big apes.’
She made a loud, sucking kiss in his direction and continued to dance toward the gorilla at the last window. Doons watched. She looked ridiculous – vaguely repellent – shaking her shoulders and ass.
‘What a sight,’ he muttered.
Barbara smiled at him, as if sharing his opinion. For the first time tonight, he looked closely at her. She wore a red corsage above one breast. Her straps were red velvet, the rest of her dress white.
‘Cinderella?’ Doons asked.
‘This is my old prom dress. Thought I’d come disguised as a kid.’
‘You look beautiful,’ Marjorie said.
‘Nice,’ Doons agreed. If enough people would show up, he planned to get her alone in one of the upstairs rooms. They’d do it on the floor or up against a wall. He’d ruck up her dress. She wouldn’t have underwear on – she never did. It’d make the damned party worth the bother.
‘Get on down,’ Thelma said, tugging the leg of the far gorilla. ‘Come on, hon. Get on down and boogie.’
It dropped from the window bars. Its feet thudded the floor. It stood in front of Thelma, crouching, arms out. A short length of rope hung from each wrist.
‘Well well!’ she said. She downed the rest of her vodka, tossed the glass over her shoulder, and stepped into the arms of the gorilla.
It lifted Thelma off her feet.
‘My kind of guy!’ she announced.
It carried her down the center of the room. She hung on, one arm hooked around the back of its neck, and waved as she passed Doons.
‘Phil!’ Marjorie whispered.
He looked at her and shrugged.
‘Find out who it is.’
He didn’t want to. But he couldn’t let himself look like a coward in front of Barbara. ‘Hey you,’ he called.