‘Hi, Eric.’
The boy flinched. He looked at Sam, and took a step backwards, treading on a woman’s foot.
‘Ouch!’ she cried.
Eric lurched away from her.
‘Hell of a fire,’ Sam told him.
Eric frowned, looking confused.
‘Want a closer look?’
‘The policeman told us to stay back.’
Sam gestured for Eric to come forward.
‘You sure it’s okay?’
‘Sure.’
Eric stepped onto the lawn.
Turning away, Sam walked toward the hook-and-ladder. He stopped at its front. A moment later, Eric appeared beside him.
‘The view’s better from here.’
‘Yeah,’ Eric said, gaping at the blaze.
‘I guess the people got killed.’
Eric wrinkled his nose. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Gross.’
‘You didn’t know them, did you?’
‘I’ve seen ’em around. Joe, mostly. He was a jerk.’
‘Not anymore.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Is your mother here?’
He shook his head, glanced at Sam, and quickly looked back to the fire.
‘How’d you get here?’
‘Walked.’
‘Does your mother know?’
‘She’s not home. What’re they gonna do with the bodies?’
‘They’ll bring ’em out, once the fire’s cold. That won’t be for a long time, though. How about a ride home?’
‘No, that’s okay.’
‘Come on, Eric.’
He scowled up at Sam. ‘I don’t feel like it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘Are you mad because of last night?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Well, I can understand that. I’m sorry it happened, too. It was a hell of a way to meet. But can’t we forget about that, and start over?’
‘Why should we?’
‘I’d like to be friends.’
‘I don’t need a friend like you.’
‘Like me?’
‘All you care about is messing around with Mom.’
‘Eric, your mother and I …’
‘Now you want to kiss up to me and get me on your side so you don’t have to sneak around anymore behind my back. Well, screw you!’
‘Eric!’ Frowning, Sam reached for the boy’s shoulder.
Eric knocked his hand aside, whirled around, and ran for the road. Sam decided to let him go. He wouldn’t accomplish much by intimidating the kid. Better to work on him gradually, winning his trust a bit at a time.
He turned away. For a while, he watched the fire. Flames still reached out the windows. They burned inside the structure and clawed at the sky through the blazing skeleton of rafters.
Sam turned around, and scanned the crowd for Eric.
The boy was gone.
15
Eric ran past the last house on the road, and ducked behind a telephone pole. From there, he looked back at the distant group of people watching the fire. Nobody seemed to be coming, so he raced to the side of the house. Keeping close to the wall, he walked through the grass to the back yard. Light from a kitchen window lit the lawn below it.
The old woman, he thought, might be looking out. Could she see him if he crossed the dark part of the yard by the graveyard fence? Maybe. He might be safer, though, staying close to the wall and sneaking under the window.
Eyes on the back door, he rushed past the steps and crouched against the siding. Though the window was high enough to walk past, he dropped to the ground. The grass was cool and slippery on his hands. The dew quickly soaked through the knees of his jeans. As he crawled beneath the window, he held his breath.
She was at the window, glaring down – he knew she was. Any second, she would fling open the window and reach down for him, grab him by the neck, drag him into the house …
That’s dumb, he told himself. She couldn’t reach down this far, even if she tried.
As soon as he was past the window, he scurried to his feet and ran. He didn’t stop until he reached the corner of the house. Looking back, he saw only the lighted window and the deserted yard. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
Stupid to be so scared of an old lady, he thought. He could always outrun her.
Easing away from the wall, he studied the area ahead. A flowerbed marked the edge of the old woman’s property. He would have to jump that, then race across a wide space to the garage of the Sherwood house.
He looked around the corner, toward Oakhurst Road. Seeing no one, he stepped into the open. Headlights appeared. With a gasp, he leaped back and pressed himself to the back wall. He waited, then looked again. The car was gone. Nobody was in sight. He sprinted across the grass. Dead leaves crashed as his foot hit the flowerbed. He cringed at the noise, but kept running.
Still nobody by the road.
Still nobody behind him.
He dashed behind the garage. Safe there, he walked slowly through the weeds, catching his breath. He peered around the corner. The side of the house blocked his view of the road.
He’d made it!
With a sigh of relief, he walked from the garage to the back porch of the house. He silently climbed its steps. The screen door groaned as he pulled it open. No longer afraid of being heard, he grinned at the sound.
What a great place for a Halloween party!
The porch floor creaked under his sneakers. He twisted the doorknob, and pushed the door open. He stepped inside.
Nothing moved in the dark kitchen. He walked slowly through it, and pushed open the door to the dining room.
The room smelled strongly of paint.
He entered, and shut the door. His eyes searched darkness so intense that he blinked to be sure his eyes weren’t shut.
‘Hello?’ he whispered.
He waited, listening. The silence was so complete that he heard quiet ringing inside his head – a high-pitched hum as if his brain were a television with its volume off.
‘Hello?’ he whispered again. ‘It’s me, Eric.’
When no response came, he walked through the darkness with his arms outstretched, seeking a wall. With each step, he half expected to bark his shin or stumble. What if the floor suddenly ended, and he lowered his foot into nothingness!
Don’t be a dope, he told himself.
He’d been in here before. There was no furniture to trip over, no hole in the floor.
Feeling the black air, he continued walking slowly until his foot struck an object. He stumbled forward, stepping on something with his other foot, losing his balance completely and falling through the darkness. The floor came from nowhere, battering his hands and elbows and knees.
‘What are you doing here?’ The voice was a low whisper, scratchy and hardly audible. It came from the blackness ahead of Eric.
‘I wanted to see you,’ Eric said.
‘I told you to stay away.’
‘But the fire. The house next door. I was afraid you might want to call off the party.’
‘It won’t be called off. Did you make the invitations?’
Eric nodded.
‘Did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You sent them to all your enemies, everyone who has ever punched you, or laughed at you, or spit in your face?’
‘Well …’
‘Answer me.’
‘I mailed them to all the kids. What about grown-ups, though? There’s a guy at school, Mr Doons. He’s really mean to me. He made me do push-ups in piss. And Miss Major. I kind of got back at her, already, but she slapped me right in front of the whole class.’
‘Slapped you? Why?’
‘She said I was looking down the front of her dress.’ Eric heard soft, hissing laughter. ‘It was her fault, though. She kept bending over, and her dress was sort of loose, and she wasn’t even wearing a bra.’
‘Got a good look, did you?’
‘Yeah, but she slapped me.’
‘Go ahead and invite her.’
‘What about Mr Doons?’
‘Him too. Anybody you want, invite ’em. The more, the merrier.’
Eric grinned into the darkness. ‘We’ll really scare the hell out of them, won’t we?’
‘They’ll never give you grief again.’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘Won’t be long, now.’
‘Can you show me how you fixed the place up?’
‘Not now.’
‘Please?’
‘Never beg, kid.’
Eric nodded, blushing. ‘I won’t again. I promise. Is it real scary, though?’
‘Real scary.’
‘Whatever I tripped on, was that part of the decorations?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Boy, this is gonna be the best Halloween party ever. Maybe we can do it every year. You know, make it an annual thing.’
‘Sure.’
‘You won’t go away again, will you?’
‘I’m here to stay.’
‘Great! Hey, maybe you and Mom can get back together again. Wouldn’t that be neat? You could get married, and …’
‘She doesn’t want me.’
‘I bet she’d like you fine, once she got to know you.’
‘No.’
‘You could at least try, Dad. Ask her for a date, or something.’
‘You better get out of here. Make sure nobody sees you leave.’
16
When Sam drove home, he saw Cynthia’s car parked in front of his duplex. He pulled into the driveway, and hurried to his door. As he searched through his keys, the door swung open.
Cynthia smiled out at him. ‘May I help?’ she asked. She was wearing one of his big, flannel shirts. Her legs were bare.
Sam entered. He shut the door, and took her into his arms. ‘That helps,’ he said. ‘A lot.’ He pressed his mouth to her full, open lips. His hands moved down her back, stroked her buttocks through the soft flannel, slipped under the hanging shirt-tail and caressed her bare skin. He moved them upward, feeling the warm smoothness of her back. ‘I thought we weren’t going to see each other, tonight.’
‘I thought so, too,’ she said, pressing herself tightly against him.
‘What happened?’
‘I heard about Dexter on the news. I thought you might … want some company.’
‘Did you wait long?’
‘I came over about nine.’ She kissed the side of his neck. ‘You smell like smoke.’
‘I was at a fire.’
‘A fire?’ she asked, her lips tickling his neck.
He didn’t want to tell her about the fire, just now. He didn’t want to think about it, or about Eric or Dexter, about the Sleepy Hollow Inn where he nearly let himself abandon Cynthia for a smiling blonde with a badge on her breast. He wanted to forget it all, forget everything except the way she felt in his arms.
But he couldn’t.
‘A house burnt down, over on Oakhurst Road.’
She looked up at him, concern in her clear eyes. ‘Whose house?’
‘The Horners. Do you know them?’
‘Lynn Horner? I met her at PTA.’ She read the expression on Sam’s face. ‘Oh no.’
‘I left before they went in for the bodies.’
‘Did all of them …?’
‘Apparently.’
‘Oh geez.’
‘I saw Eric at the fire.’
She stiffened. ‘Eric? What was he doing there?’
‘Watching. There were quite a few spectators.’
‘He was supposed to be home.’
‘I guess he heard the fire trucks, and got curious. Fires have a way of drawing people. He said you weren’t home.’
‘You talked to him?’
‘For a couple of minutes. He didn’t seem too happy about it. I offered him a lift home, but he ran off.’
Cynthia sighed and shut her eyes. ‘Damn it, I shouldn’t have left him. May I use your phone?’
‘Sure.’
She looked up at him. With a half-smile, she drew her fingertips along his cheek. ‘I just wanted to be with you,’ she said. Then she turned away.
Sam watched her cross the room. She bent over the phone, and dialed. For a moment, Sam looked at the pale slopes of her exposed buttocks. The view started to arouse him, so he looked away. He wandered into the kitchen, and took a beer from the refrigerator. Snapping open the top, he returned to the living room.
Cynthia hung up. ‘He didn’t answer. I guess I’d better go back.’ She smiled hopefully. ‘Want to come?’
‘If you want me to.’
‘I want you to.’
Sam drank half his beer on the way back to the refrigerator. He put the can away, and returned to the living room. Cynthia wasn’t there. She came in from his bedroom, a moment later, wearing shoes, tan corduroy pants, and a white bra. As she walked, she put on her blouse. Sam opened the door for her. ‘I’m awfully sorry about this,’ she said.
‘Don’t be.’ He clutched the back of her neck. She smiled with disappointment, and stepped out the door.
They took separate cars to her house, several blocks away. Inside, Sam waited while Cynthia wandered through the house calling out for Eric.
She came back, shaking her head. ‘He’s not here, Sam.’
‘Has he done this sort of thing before?’
‘Sneaked out at night? No. Not that I know of. Damn it, I trusted him. We had a deal that we’d tell each other, whenever we went out. You know, so the other wouldn’t worry and we’d know where to get in touch. He isn’t supposed to go out, at all, when I’m gone at night.’
‘I guess the temptation was too great, this time.’
‘Yeah. Well, he was upset tonight. Maybe he did this to get even. Eric likes to get even. Of course, I guess he didn’t know I’d find out.’ She sighed. ‘How about a drink? Let’s have a drink, and give him a few minutes, and if he isn’t here by the time we finish, We’ll go out looking.’
‘Fine with me.’
‘A beer or a gimlet?’
‘How about straight vodka with a slice of lime?’
‘Aye-aye.’
They went together into the kitchen. Cynthia took glasses down from the cupboard, and Sam removed a quart of Gilby’s from her cabinet.
‘What upset Eric?’ he asked.
‘Well, we started off talking about you. Then it got around to his father. Eric seems to think I cheated him out of a dad by not marrying Scotty Harlan.’
‘Does he know about Scotty?’ Sam asked, surprised.
‘You think I’d tell him that he’s the product of a rape? He’s got enough problems without having that laid on him. I just told him that we hardly knew each other, and got carried away one afternoon and that Scotty left town before he was born. Pretty much what I’d told him before. But he got all upset and kept saying I should’ve married the creep.’
‘If he feels that way, maybe you should tell him the truth.’
‘I can’t.’
They finished making the drinks, and went into the living room. They sat on a couch.
‘I think it’d help,’ Sam said, ‘if he got to know me.’
‘You’re probably right.’
‘Why don’t we plan something for Saturday? There’s a football game at city college.’
‘He isn’t much for football.’
‘What does he like?’
‘Well, movies.’
‘Okay. We’ll go to the movies, then. He can pick what we see. We’ll stop by the Pizza Palace, first, for supper.’
‘All right.’ She frowned into her drink, and took a sip. ‘I just don’t want him hurt again.’
‘He won’t be,’ Sam told her. Suddenly, his heart began to race. ‘Neither will you.’
She stared at him.
Sam’s mouth went dry. He took a drink. His hand trembled as he lowered his glass to the table. He faced Cynthia. She kept stari
ng. He saw fear and hope in her eyes as if she knew what was in his mind.
‘How would you like to marry me?’ Sam asked.
She raised a hand to her mouth. The fingertips pressed against her tight lips. ‘Are you serious?’ she asked through her fingers.
‘I know this isn’t a great time to ask. I’d planned to take you out for a fancy dinner …’
‘You really want to marry me?’
‘I’ve always wanted to, ever since we met.’
Her eyes sparkled with tears. ‘It isn’t … just because of Eric?’
‘It’s because of you.’
‘Jeezus.’ Her long fingers wiped the tears from her cheeks.
‘What do you say?’
She couldn’t say anything. Nodding, she threw herself against Sam and hugged him. After a while, she drew back. Smiling, she hugged him again. ‘Cynthia Wyatt,’ she said.
‘Sounds good.’
‘Sounds wonderful. Oh, Sam.’
‘Huh?’
‘I wish we could be like this forever.’
‘We’d get stiff necks.’
Laughing, she kissed him. The front door opened, and she pulled quickly away as Eric walked in. She frowned at the boy. ‘Where have you been, young man?’
‘Didn’t he tell you?’
‘You’re not supposed to leave this house, when I’m gone.’
He shrugged. ‘I wanted to see the fire.’
‘That doesn’t matter. A rule’s a rule.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘Go on up to your room.’
He glared at Sam, and went up the stairs.
‘I’d better have a talk with him,’ she said.
‘Maybe I should leave.’
‘No. I won’t be long. Why don’t you fix yourself another drink? I’ll be down in a few minutes.’
Eric was buttoning his pajamas when his mother knocked and opened the door. ‘What do you want?’ he said.
‘I want to know what you think you’re doing.’
‘Going to bed.’
‘Knock off the smart answers, all right?’
‘I just wanted to see the fire.’
‘How did you know there was a fire?’
‘The trucks went by.’
‘They wouldn’t pass here, going to Oakhurst Road. They’d be going the other way.’
Eric scowled. ‘I was taking a walk, and they went by.’
‘So you were already outside?’
Allhallow's Eve: (Richard Laymon Horror Classic) Page 8
