Halloween Party (12 page)

Terry thought about the walk through the cemetery to get to the cars and wondered how David could face it. But he knew David was right—he had to go. In any case, Terry had to stay there to find Niki.

“Don't worry,” said David. “You'll be safe here as long as you all stay together. Don't leave the living room and lock the front door. I'll be back with help in just a few minutes.”

He pulled on his varsity jacket and slipped out the front door. For a moment the only sound in the room was Angela's muffled sniffling. Then Ricky got up and locked the front door.

Everyone had crowded closer together in front of the fire, and even Justine seemed lost and frightened in the flickering light.

“It'll only be a few minutes,” said Trisha soothingly to Angela. “As long as we all stick—Terry, where are you going?”

“I still don't know where Niki is,” he said, trying to sound calmer than he felt. “I was looking for her when I found Les.”

“This isn't just a trick?” said Alex suspiciously.

“What do you think?” Terry snapped. “Do you see Niki anywhere? She's been missing for over an hour!”

“I'm sorry, man,” said Alex, suddenly frightened. “I'll help you look for her.”

For a moment Terry wanted to tell Alex to mind his
own business. But he read an expression of real concern on his former friend's face and realized for the first time how much Alex really cared for Niki. Besides, he told himself, the most important thing wasn't who found her, but to find her as quickly as possible.

And too much time had passed already.

With a growing sense of urgency, Terry realized that it might already be too late.

A
s he walked toward the woods surrounding the cemetery, David realized he had never been so scared in his life. He had volunteered to go for help because he couldn't stand the thought of just waiting in the mansion with Les's body there. But he couldn't get Les out of his mind.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Les's staring, sightless face.

Every time the wind shook the trees he saw the skeleton costume.

The rain was slanting down harder than ever, and he was soaked completely through. His body had started to shiver from the cold, and from fear.

It was taking him a lot longer to get to the cemetery than he remembered. The ground was deeply rutted and now so slippery with mud that he had to watch every step. The wind had shifted and was blowing directly in his face, as if to force him back to the Cameron mansion.

The only good thing was that there'd been no sign of Bobby and Marty. Maybe the weather had gotten too bad for them.

The wall surrounding the Fear Street cemetery loomed just ahead. He pushed open the gate and
began to pick his way along the path between the grave markers, trying not to think about where he was.

With every boom of thunder, lightning lit up the graveyard like a snapshot, the old gravestones standing out in eerie relief.

It was only a few more yards to the end of the graveyard and where the cars were parked. In a flash of lightning he finally saw them in the distance and felt a flood of relief for the first time in hours.

In just a few more steps he'd be out of there and on his way to help. At last he reached the gate, swung it open, and began to run toward the handful of cars parked at the end of Fear Street.

He reached into his pocket and took out his keys as he approached his red Corolla.

And stopped, holding them in his hand.

The Corolla was sitting at an odd angle. Every one of its tires had been slashed. Every tire on every car belonging to the guests had been slashed.

B
obby and Marty, David thought.

He'd come all the way through the cemetery and now he wouldn't get any farther. What could he do now? Somehow, he had to get help. But it was a very long walk back to town.

A flash of lightning illuminated the houses along this end of Fear Street, and David realized he could simply go to one of them and ask to use the phone. Never mind that half the houses were abandoned and the other ones were supposed to be haunted, or that it was so late.

This was an emergency.

He stood looking at the nearest houses a moment, then set out for the closest one—and was stopped by the roar of a motorcycle.

Bobby and Marty, both on Bobby's motorcycle, came roaring out from behind the cemetery and stopped directly in his path.

“Going somewhere, David?” Bobby said.

“The party's in the other direction,” added Marty. “We thought maybe you'd help us get back in.”

“Especially when you see what'll happen if you don't,” said Bobby.

Both boys' words were slurred, and David realized they'd been drinking heavily—probably since they had crashed the party earlier.

“Come on, David,” said Marty nastily. “What do you say?”

Suddenly David had had enough. After everything that had happened, he wasn't going to let himself be pushed around by a couple of bullies. A nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Marty and Bobby might be murderers, but he dismissed it. They were too cowardly to do anything really terrible, he thought. Besides, he was too angry to think straight.

“Get out of my way!” David said angrily, and took another step toward the house across the street.

Bobby revved his engine. “Hey, cool your jets, man,” he said.

“David seems to have forgotten his manners,” Marty said. He had pulled the heavy chain out of his jacket, and, holding it menacingly, stepped off the bike.

“I don't have time for this!” David said, furious. “Something terrible has happened!”

“Something even more terrible is
about
to happen,” said Marty, taking a step toward him. “To you.”

For the first time since Marty and Bobby had showed up, David began to be afraid of them. He realized they had been drinking too much to know what they were doing.

“All right, all right,” David said, backing up. “Take it easy.”

“Hey, what's the matter, man?” said Marty. “Don't feel so brave anymore?”

“Look,” said David, searching desperately for a way to escape, “I don't have any problem with you guys. So why don't you just go away and leave me alone?”

“No can do,” said Bobby, just behind Marty.

Both bikers were so intent on violence that David realized his only hope was to get away from them. He spun around and, slipping on the wet ground, dashed back into the graveyard.

Bobby and Marty were right behind him. They moved surprisingly quickly, considering how drunk they were.

David ran down a long path, a blur of tombstones flying by on either side of him. He was heading toward the wall and then the Fear Street woods.

“Ow!” He caught his foot on a root and went down in the mud.

He was just pulling himself to his feet when Bobby and Marty caught up to him.

“Hey, dude—wait up,” said Bobby drunkenly.

“You shouldn't run away. It could be dangerous.” Marty cocked his arm and took a swing at David's head. David easily ducked, but he slipped again and felt a sickening crack as his head hit the corner of a gravestone.

He saw a bright flash of light, and then everything went dim, as if someone had pulled a curtain down over his head.

Through the curtain, he could faintly hear Bobby's and Marty's voices. They seemed like figures in a faraway place.

“What'd you do?” said Bobby's voice, sounding frightened.

“Nothing!” said Marty. “He slipped and hit his head.”

“He looks hurt bad,” said Bobby. “What if he dies?”

“Then we don't want to be anywhere around here,” said Marty. “Come on, let's move him out of sight.”

David knew they were talking about him, but somehow the words didn't make any sense. He was very sleepy. He felt himself being dragged along the ground.

The light became dimmer and dimmer and then faded out completely.

T
erry didn't really like the idea of Alex helping him find Niki, but he realized it made sense. Too much time had passed already.

Please, he thought. Please let her be okay.

“I've already checked on the second floor,” he told Alex. “Why don't you check it again in case I've missed something.”

“Wait,” said Justine. “I'll go. I know the house better than anyone.”

“I'll go with you,” said Alex.

“No, Alex,” she said sweetly. “You wait in the living room with the others—in case anything happens.” Alex was about to protest again, but Justine leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Please—let me do this. I feel so terrible about everything that's happened. At least let me try to help Terry.”

Grumbling, Alex went back to join the others by the fireplace.

“Thanks, Justine,” Terry said. “Please be careful.”

“I promise,” she said. “Why don't you check down here while I go upstairs?”

Terry nodded. The only place he hadn't looked was the basement. He didn't really think Niki would have gone down there alone, but couldn't think of anywhere else to look.

As he started down the dark, narrow steps, he could hear the others talking in hushed, frightened tones back in the living room. Please, he kept thinking over and over. Please, please, please.

This was the first time he'd gone down to the basement. Each step creaked like something alive, and he wondered if the stairs were strong enough to hold him.

The flashlight showed thick ropes of cobwebs and splintered, dusty beams. It was obvious that Justine and her uncle hadn't done any renovations on this part of the house.

The basement itself was jammed full of old boxes and splintered boards. He jumped as something skittered across the floor behind him. It's just a mouse, he told himself. At least I hope it's a mouse.

Niki can't be down here, he thought. He wanted to call out her name, but knew she couldn't hear him even if she was there.

He heard another noise, a kind of thumping, from the far end of the low, dark space. In the circle of light he saw a large storage closet set against the wall. Gingerly, he approached it and yanked the door open.

Inside was what he first thought was a bundle of rags.

And then the bundle moved.

It was Niki.

She stared up at him with a dazed expression. “Terry?”

“Funny Face!” Terry dropped to his knees and put his arms around her. He held her tightly, overwhelmed with relief that she was alive. Finally he let her go and shone the flashlight so she could see his face.

“Are you all right?” he said.

“Where are we?” asked Niki, looking around in confusion.

“In the basement of Justine's house,” said Terry. “In a closet.”

“The
basement?”
said Niki. “How on earth did I get—”

“I don't know,” said Terry. “What happened to you?”

“I'm not sure,” she said. “I think someone knocked me out.”

“Knocked you out!” Terry felt his heart begin to race. He searched Niki's face and saw that she had a large purple bruise on her forehead. “Tell me what you remember, Funny Face.”

Niki pulled herself to her feet and brushed the dust off her red gown. She squinted, remembering. “Right after we had that—that silly argument,” she said, “I went back up to Justine's room. It was really dark and spooky, but I kept thinking there had to be something I'd missed, something that would explain the strange way Justine's been acting.

“I went back in the secret closet,” Niki went on, “and this time I noticed a shoe box on the floor. None of the other shoes were in boxes, so I opened it. It was
full of mementos—old pictures, some pressed flowers, and—and this.” She reached in her pocket and handed Terry a brittle news clipping from the Shadyside paper.

Terry took the clipping and shone the flashlight on it. In growing confusion and disbelief he began to read: