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A PARTY TO DIE FOR!
It's Halloween in Springwood and the place to be is the old Appleby mansion where the lord of the manor is none other than Jack Spyder, himself.
Born John Appleby, Jack Spyder changed his name when he was eight, right after he was discovered in a national talent search and landed a role on a hit television sitcom. But like many child stars, Jack rose to fame too fast, and when he lost his parents suddenly in a terrible accident, he returned home to the mansion that they owned in Springwood.
Then teen idol Jack throws a Halloween bash — the party to end all parties. Not only has the local boy-made-good returned home, but it has also been rumored that the accident which Jack himself had been in had ruined his clean-cut good looks. Will he be as hideous as the gossip papers have suggested? Will the party be beyond Springwood's wildest expectations? Everyone is literally dying to find out.
* * *
David Bergantino
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
Epilogue
* * *
David Bergantino
Freddy Krueger's Tales of Terror #6: Deadly Disguise
For Brent and Andy
OCR Mysuli: [email protected]
Prologue
Do I hear someone tapping? As if someone gently rapping, rapping at my boiler-room door? Why it's all my boys and ghouls, all dressed in Halloween costumes. Ah, Halloween… my favorite time of year and overall, a great day to be dead.
Let's see what you've all come as this year. I see a witch… hideous. There's a vampire… horrific. A zombie… terrifying. And what are you supposed to be? What's that? Snuggles the fabric-softener bear?
Now I'm really scared!
If you think about it, Halloween isn't really all that much different from every other day of the year. We don our masks, hide our real selves, and pretend to be someone else. Everyone does it. Makes you stop and think, doesn't it? Makes you wonder about those around you.
Who's to say your best friend isn't really your enemy in disguise, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Maybe your best friend was your best friend. Once. Only now, your friend's become a predator.
And maybe, just maybe, you're the prey.
So the truth is, Halloween — with its ghouls, ghosts, and goblins — is the only time when people reveal themselves to be the monsters they truly are.
What do you reveal about yourself I wonder?
The following tale of terror has plenty of revelations — few of them very pleasant. I drop it in your bag as my Halloween treat to you. It may scare you to death, but at least it won't cause tooth decay!
Heh heh heh…
Chapter 1
Rachel Chan was surrounded.
To her left stood a werewolf and a ghost. To her right, a male and female vampire toasted each other with goblets filled with dark, red liquid. Nearby, a putrescent zombie stared hungrily at a voodoo priestess wearing a necklace of shrunken heads.
"What are they supposed to be?" Rachel asked Clyde Barrow, the notorious gangster. He and his femme fatale Bonnie Parker turned toward a gang of bipedal, greenish blobs weaving their way through the ghoulish assembly.
After a quick study, Clyde said, "Actually, I think they're supposed to be phlegm."
"Eww!" said both Rachel and Bonnie, who was really Laura Walcutt in a Halloween costume. «Clyde» was Laura's boyfriend, Doug Stately.
At that moment, the zombie asked the voodoo priestess if she wanted to take a walk in the woods. He clearly was fishing for more than just a walk. But he didn't even get a nibble as the priestess gave him a look that said, "Get a life!" and walked briskly away.
"What are you supposed to be?" asked Doug.
Rachel turned in place, modeling her sleek, black bodysuit. On it were attached various candies; popcorn spilled from a container affixed just below her right shoulder. Across her stomach, a soda cup appeared to be spilling its contents. Rachel's head was adorned with a large-sized popcorn container, its rim cut to points. Jujyfruits were glued to it like precious jewels on a crown. With a greatly affected air of royalty, Rachel touched the head of each of her friends with a scepter made of braided red licorice vines topped with a star.
"I am the Queen of Movie-Theater Floors and you are my loyal subjects." Each gangster took their knighting with great solemnity — followed by giggling. Then, with a flick of a switch at the cuff of Rachel's sleeve, a double row of tiny Christmas lights lit up, running down her left side from shoulder to ankle. "Safety lights," Rachel told them with a wink. "In the unlikely event of an emergency." This produced a gale of laughter from her friends.
"Where did you come up with that one?" Doug chuckled after taking a sip of his punch — which looked remarkably like blood.
"I don't know exactly," Rachel admitted. "I was trying to think of something original, and non-horrific, and at some point my mind produced this."
"I know what you mean by trying to think of something not gross or scary," Laura agreed. Then she looked around her at the monsters on every side. "I mean, I know tonight's supposed to be the Night of the Dead and everything…" Laura's voice trailed off mysteriously. Rachel knew that her friend's mind was traveling off somewhere else… somewhere entirely unpleasant.
Doug saw it, too, and quickly put an arm around Laura's shoulders. He looked deep into her eyes, as if to connect with her thoughts, and drew her back.
"Sorry," Laura said, embarrassed. "Spaced out." Then she took a good look at Rachel's costume. "You know, a movie-theater floor is pretty scary," she declared.
Rachel laughed. "Bonnie and Clyde aren't exactly Raggedy Ann and Andy."
"I know," sighed Laura. "I wanted to go as a pair, but…"
"But," Doug interrupted playfully, "I refused to do anything cutesy." Laura batted him on the shoulder. "At least I didn't insist on us being Bonnie and Clyde after they got shot up," he teased.
"Well, I think you guys look cute," Rachel told them. In response, Doug proudly hugged Laura close to his side. They both smiled. Dressing like gangsters couldn't hide the fact that they really were Raggedy Ann and Andy.
"Isn't this place beautiful?" Laura asked, spinning to take in the majestic surroundings.
"Shelby would absolutely love it!" Rachel exclaimed. The words spilled from her mouth so quickly, they created a vacuum which instantly sucked her foot into her mouth. Laura exchanged a pained glance with Doug.
"Oh, you know Shelby," Laura said, nervously trying to laugh off her obvious discomfort. "Not exactly a party animal."
Rachel exhaled slowly, angry with herself. In her excitement, she had forgotten that even an indirect reminder of "The Summer of Blood," as it was called, was taboo. Rachel been in Japan visiting relatives this past summer and by the time she'd returned, it was a subject no longer spoken of by those involved. All Rachel knew about it was what she had read in the newspapers. Three of her classmates — none of them close friends of hers — had died at the hands of a new arrival to Springwood. Apparently, Laura and her sister Shelby had been at the center of the horrible events, but both flatly refused to talk about what had happened. Since then, Shelby had retreated into her books and collections, rarely socializing.
"I'm sorry," Rachel offered weakly. Laura simply gave her an "It's-all-right-even-though-it-really-isn't" shrug. She looked so sad. Rachel didn't know what more she could say, and so, she said nothing. Ultimately, Doug suggested that the three of them go get punch refills.
/> At the table, a dark, wispy girl named Maria, dressed in a black-and-white caterer's uniform, glumly ladled punch into cups for them.
"You guys are lucky," she told them, her voice barely audible above din of the dance music. "You get to party. I get to watch."
"You don't have to do this all night, do you?" Rachel asked as she took a cup from Maria. The change of subject was more than welcome.
"No," Maria whined hopelessly, handing cups to Laura and Doug. "But we don't get off until midnight, and I want to party now!"
Doug snickered at Maria's penchant for melodrama. It was the reason why watching her in drama class productions was so painfully amusing. "Why are you working, then?"
"I thought it would get me behind the scenes!" She gestured broadly and emphatically, trying hard to evoke deep sympathy, "It's only gotten me behind this stupid table." To conclude her performance, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked wounded.
"You're such a nut!" Doug joked. Maria only glared back at him.
Just then, a bone-thin guy with the nervous manner of a hummingbird butted into the conversation. "Hey y'all! What's the commotion?" He was slick and cheerful. And no one liked him.
"Just getting some punch," Doug said coldly, turning back to Laura.
Again, conversation went comatose while they all waited for RePete — so nicknamed because his given name was Pete Peters — to leave. Like Maria, he was part of the catering brigade. But at the moment, like most moments in RePete's life, he was strenuously avoiding work.
"The punch tastes like Jell-O without the wiggle, if you know what I mean," RePete quipped. Nobody knew what he meant. Nor did they care. Despite the lack of response, RePete forged ahead as if the others were his best buddies. "Isn't this place amazing?" he asked, seemingly awestruck, scanning the vast room around them. This produced a stiff nod of assent from Rachel. RePete mistook this for encouragement. "I'll tell ya. It makes Scarlett O'Hara's house in Gone with the Wind look like a grass shack on Gilligan's Island!" The line produced a giggle from Maria, and a smile broke out on Rachel's face. Doug just raised a tired eyebrow. "Am I lying? I am not lying!" RePete declared.
"Cute," Doug said without much enthusiasm. He then turned to Rachel. "We're gonna go dance. If you want, come join us." They told Maria they'd see her later, then, giving RePete the faintest nod of acknowledgement, Doug and Laura left to dance.
Rachel watched them with a sigh. What a lucky couple, she thought. Her eyes scanned the rest of the ballroom. The DJ booth was against the wall directly opposite the catering table. Between them was an ocean of costumed bodies. At the back of the ballroom, two elegant staircases led upward in a gently curving V. Rachel sighed again. RePete might be irritating, but his description of their sumptuous environment was completely on target.
"Bet you're thinking of Jack," Maria intruded suddenly.
Rachel shrugged. "Not really."
RePete leaned closer toward her. "You'd fail a lie detector test. How could you not be thinking of him? You're standing in his house." Maria joined the huddle. "Think it's true?" RePete asked breathlessly. "Think he's really turned into…" he paused dramatically"…a monster?"
"I hope not," Maria said, her eyes filled with a warped excitement. "That would be so sad." She turned to Rachel. "You know him better than anybody. Is it true?"
"I haven't talked to him in a few years," Rachel said. "I honestly have no idea."
Suddenly, the music stopped. The hall filled with a booming voice. It was electronically altered, giving it an eerie, unearthly sound.
"Ladies and gentlemen," came the announcement. "Please gather at the base of the stairs." The voice was eerie, frightening.
A puzzled murmur rose from the crowd. All heads turned and faced the staircase.
"Go ahead," RePete urged Rachel. "We can't leave our station."
"It's probably nothing," Rachel said softly. Then she began to gently push her way through the crowd. The lights in the ballroom dimmed as two spotlights focused on the landing of the right staircase.
"Welcome, my guests," intoned the voice. "I welcome you to the house I grew up in. I welcome you to my home."
A thrill shot through Rachel. Then it was Jack!
A figure, dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, appeared suddenly in the glare of the spotlights. His arms spread wide in a grand gesture, the cape billowing dramatically around him. The figure began to descend.
So arresting was the Phantom, and so great the anticipation of seeing Jack Spyder, the room fell silent. Rachel felt queasy. She'd thought she'd be thrilled to see him again. Now she wasn't so sure.
Stopping halfway down the stairs, the figure gestured toward the audience once more.
"It's rude of me to speak from behind this disguise so…"
The Phantom's voice trailed off as one hand reached up and grasped the mask that obscured his face. He paused. Rachel's heart leapt to her throat.
Suddenly, with one smooth gesture, the person claiming to be Jack Spyder tore the mask from his face.
Beneath it glistened bright blue eyes — twin sapphires gleaming through a mass of bright, pink scar tissue.
* * *
The creature on the stairs gazed out over the astonished crowd. The rumors had been true. No one knew how to react.
A nervous whispering rose up from the crowd. Some were questioning their own safety.
The irregular slash in the scar tissue where a mouth should be curled into a smile. To some, it looked like a snarl.
"So you think you know me, do you?" the electronic voice demanded. No one dared answer. "How many of you have — or had — posters of me on your walls?" Heads turned, no longer able to stare at the grotesque figure on the stairs. At their discomfort, he laughed, a dead, electronic sound. "How many of you would like a poster of me now? Free. Signed, even." His only answer was the shuffling of feet. The Phantom began laughing again, a deep, taunting sound. Then the change came, so slowly, it was almost imperceptible. The voice began to warm. The guests looked up in surprise at the figure, who was laughing now. The sound was human. Normal. The laughter soon became as infectious as it had been frightening just moments before. Rachel heard nervous snickering all around her. She wanted to laugh too, but she feared she didn't get the joke.
"Oh you guys," said the Phantom in a clear voice Rachel instantly recognized as Jack's. The creature somehow didn't look so fearsome anymore.
"Gotcha!" yelled the Phantom cheerfully. Then he reached up to his face near his temple and pulled. The scar tissue — a realistic rubber mask — peeled away quickly. The unscathed face of Jack Spyder beamed out at them. "Happy Halloween!" he cried as he descended the steps.
The music resumed and the happy chaos of the party began again. Their host wasn't a monster after all. Rachel heard a few people mutter that Jack was a jerk.
For her part, Rachel was too exhausted to be thrilled or angry at Jack. Her emotions in the space of ten seconds had run the gamut. If anything, she was left with the lingering fear that if he still looked like Jack Spyder, he might still act like the stranger he had become.
Jack stood at the base of the stairs. He was speaking to a partygoer dressed as a split-Elvis, his right side the young, good-looking Elvis, on the left side his body the older Elvis of Vegas. Jack and Elvis seemed to be talking very seriously about something, then suddenly Elvis turned and pointed directly at Rachel.
Embarrassed, Rachel looked around, thinking Elvis might be pointing behind her or beside her. But when she turned back, Jack was looking right at her. And smiling. After a final, brief word to Elvis, Jack began to wade through the crowd toward her. Dancing werewolves and superheroes patted him on the back and shouted greetings as he passed. He gave brief replies, not allowing himself to be drawn into conversation.
Moments later, he was standing before Rachel, silent, staring. Rachel found herself doing the same thing, trying to match his appearance with her memory. And before she knew it, Jack had swept her up into an embrace. H
er fears surfaced and she struggled out of his arms. Jack looked stunned then backed off quickly, embarrassed.
Chapter 2
Jack Spyder, born John Appleby, had been a performer from the word go. A ham, most would say, with a vivid imagination. He was always clowning and mugging for cameras. By the time he was seven, he had done several local television commercials and appeared in magazines and department-store catalogs. Not long after that he was discovered by a Hollywood producer casting a new prime-time television series.
It had been a lark, really. The Applebys were no stage parents and they didn't exactly need their son's entertainment income. The Applebys, in fact, had originally owned most of the land on which Springwood had been built. Hence, their palatial estate. But they were down-home people despite it all, and when their only child John was offered a role in the new sitcom, they allowed him to accept for one reason: show business sounded like a lot of fun. So gung ho were they, that the family moved, retaining their local holdings, straight out to Los Angeles a month later.
The show was called Nutt House, and John was cast as Johnny Nutt, middle son in the Nutt family. The producer was convinced that Johnny was going to be big. But, he complained, John Appleby was no name for a destiny-chaser. After much debate, the cute young Midwestern boy was transformed into Jack Spyder, teen idol in training.
It wasn't long before Jack Spyder had melted the hearts of all the prepubescent girls in the country — and won their parents over as well. Nutt House vaulted to the top of the ratings charts almost overnight. And while the actor portraying the Nutt clan patriarch (a fading, former Box Office Draw) was the nominal star of the series, it was Jack Spyder who captured the imaginations of his audience.
During his first few years away, John called and visited frequently. When the show was on hiatus — show business lingo for "summer vacation" — John came back to Springwood to see his friends.
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