Tyler clamped her legs shut. She couldn’t stop it, but the beast licked her neck and pushed forward again as if it liked the feel of her hugging thighs. Twisting, she darted a hand down between her body and the stairs. She gagged as she clutched the slimy flesh. Gripping it with all her strength, she snapped her hand sideways. It didn’t break, or even bend. It moved forward and back, using her hand, while the panting beast lapped her neck.
She tugged. Her hand flew off the slick penis and struck one of the risers.
The beast clutched her thighs, pulled, lifted. Tyler’s knees left the stairs. Clinging to the plank at her shoulders, she bucked and thrashed. ‘No!’ she shrieked.
Her right hand let go of the stair.
She slapped it down between, her legs.
The beast thrust. Pounded the back of her hand with such force that her forehead bumped the edge of the higher step.
The penis didn’t go away. It rubbed over her knuckles, moved down to her fingers, tried to nudge between them. Tyler shoved her hand lower.
The beast made a low, gurgling growl, its breath hot against her neck.
Then it bit.
Tyler whimpered as teeth sank into the back of her hand, tore the skin away, nibbled the raw wound, bit deeper. Her hand was on fire, but she kept it tight against her body.
Her mind was numb.
It can’t have teeth. Not there!
But it did.
They burrowed into her hand and ripped like the teeth of a mad rat trying to eat its way through.
My God.
Oh my God.
The growls of the beast sounded almost like laughter as it chewed her hand.
It’s enjoying this.
If it wanted, it could knock my hand out of the way. It doesn’t have to do this.
Tyler heard blood pattering one of the steps.
She wished her hand would go numb. It seemed to grow more tender, instead. The teeth felt like white-hot needles as they nipped and tore. Her whole arm burned and trembled.
The teeth went away.
The growls of the beast no longer sounded amused. Suddenly, it roared. Claws stabbed her thighs as it jerked her backwards. It rammed. Tyler’s hand exploded with pain. She shrieked as two of her fingers snapped.
A thunderous blast pounded her ears.
The claws jumped, raked her thighs, released her.
She fell sprawling onto the stairs.
Another explosion. She pushed herself up. Stared at her right hand. The back of it was bloody pulp. The two broken fingers had already begun to swell. Weeping, she turned herself over and saw Captain Frank standing above the beast.
It lay on its back, writhing. It had a hole through one side of its head, another through its chest. Tyler’s eyes moved down to its huge penis. Sheathed with blood. Her blood. Shreds of skin clung to the blunt end. The teeth parted, snapped shut.
Captain Frank fired into its head until his gun was empty. He gave Tyler a crooked, slightly drunken smile. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ he asked. He winked at her. He fiddled with his Luger. Its magazine dropped to the carpet. From the pocket of his baggy Bermuda shorts he took a full magazine. He slid it up the handle, and pulled at a mechanism on top of the pistol. ‘Didn’t I tell you I’d lay it low?’ he asked, and started shooting again.
Tyler watched the dead beast jerk as bullets punched through it. Then she shut her eyes.
As the firing went on, she felt the stairway tremble under her.
‘Ahoy there!’ Captain Frank yelled.
The shooting stopped.
Tyler opened her eyes. Abe’s face, upside down, was close above her. ‘My God,’ he said.
He stepped down the stairs and sat beside Tyler. She turned, and raised her arms to him.
30
Tyler held him fiercely. He stroked the back of her head. ‘It’s okay, it’s all over,’ he whispered. ‘Are you hurt badly?’
‘Just . . . my hand.’
Abe looked at it, pain in his eyes. ‘Jesus,’ he muttered. He started to take off his shirt.
‘I blasted it to smithereens,’ said Captain Frank. He sounded gleeful.
‘Is Jack all right?’ Tyler asked, as Abe began to wrap the shirt around her torn, broken hand.
‘Jack’s fine. We took care of business. Where’s Nora?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. Outside, I guess.’
‘That Hardy fella plugged Janice,’ Captain Frank said. ‘We left them back at the other house, and Nora ran off to get help.’
‘Hardy shot her?’
‘Took her for the beast.’
‘Did he get her bad?’
‘I guess she lived through that, but we heard some shots back there. This creature must’ve popped in on them before it come for us. Gave me a nasty wallop, but I’m okay. Come to my senses in time to blast it up.’
Abe finished wrapping Tyler’s hand. ‘Let’s get out of this place. Get you to a hospital.’ Gently, he pulled the tattered front of the sweater across her breasts.
She groaned as she sat up straight.
Captain Frank picked up the remains of her skirt. He looked away as he handed the garment to Abe.
Abe helped her stand. He wrapped the skirt around her. Captain Frank provided his belt to hold it up, then searched for her sandals. He found one half hidden under the first stair, the other near the head of the beast. Abe held her steady while she stepped into them.
The old man picked up the revolver he had let Tyler borrow, shoved it into a front pocket of his Bermudas, and slid his Luger into the other pocket. ‘Guess we’re all set,’ he said.
He started up the stairs. Abe put an arm around Tyler’s back, and together they climbed out of the cellar.
They entered the kitchen of the Kutch house. They walked down a narrow, blue-lighted corridor. A group of people was standing in the foyer. Jack had his gun aimed at a fat woman with a bandaged face who looked a lot like Maggie Kutch. A thin, pale woman in a nightgown stood with her back to the door. She held a baby to her chest.
Jack frowned. ‘Holy shit,’ he said. ‘What are you doing here? Tyler? What happened?’
‘They ran into another beast,’ Abe said.
‘Holy shit.’
‘I laid it low,’ said Captain Frank. ‘Blew it to kingdom come, matey.’
‘Where’s Nora?’
‘She’s okay,’ Tyler said. ‘I think.’
‘Where’s that girl?’ Abe asked. ‘The one who tried to shoot us?’
‘She’s my daughter, Sandy,’ said the woman with the baby.
‘We looked for her.’ Jack shrugged. ‘Don’t know where she went.’
‘Okay. Well, let’s get out of here.’
‘The door’s still locked,’ Jack said.
‘Let’s shoot the lock.’
‘I know where the key is,’ said the woman with the baby. ‘I’ll get it. It’ll only take a second.’
‘Okay,’ Abe said.
She held out the baby to Jack. ‘Would you hold him? I’ll be right back.’
‘Sure.’
‘He’s Jud. Judgement Rucker Hayes.’ Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke the name.
Jack took the baby and smiled down at it.
The woman started up the stairs.
‘The key’s up there?’ Abe asked. He sounded worried.
‘No sweat,’ Jack said. ‘Maggie’s out cold. She’ll be lucky if she makes it.’
‘Okay. But don’t go close to her.’
The woman hurried up the stairs. At the top, she turned left and disappeared down the corridor.
‘We’ll be out of here in a minute,’ Abe said, and patted Tyler’s back.
The baby in Jack’s arms made gurgling sounds.
‘He’s a cute little fellow, isn’t he?’ Jack said. Smiling, the baby reached up and clenched his cheek. ‘You’re a toughie,’ he said, and tickled Jud’s belly.
The mother appeared at the head of the stairs.
‘Get the key?’ Abe asked.
She nodded. She started down.
The front of her nightgown was dark and matted to her breasts. Her face was spattered and dripping.
‘My God,’ Abe muttered. He rushed up the stairs. Her arm stretched down to him. From her fingers dangled a thin chain.
‘The key,’ she said.
‘What happened? Are you hurt?’
‘No. I’m just fine. Just fine. She . . . Maggie . . . she murdered Jud. Jud. My . . . the father of my child.’
Abe stepped onto the stair beside her. He put an arm around her back.
‘I used the knife.’
He led her down.
‘Maggie used a knife on Jud, and I used a knife on her.’
‘It’s all right,’ Abe said.
‘It felt right.’
‘Maggie came to and attacked you when you went to get the key.’
‘No. No, she . . .’
‘That’s the story.’
‘Oh.’
Abe unlocked the front door and opened it slowly. ‘We’re coming out,’ he called to the policewoman on the lawn. ‘It’s all over.’
The woman holstered her weapon.
Tyler followed Abe onto the porch, and took a deep breath of the night air. The ocean smelled good. The moon was high.
31
Sandy, huddled in the darkness of the storage area beneath the staircase, waited.
Hugging her knees to her breasts, she had listened to the gunshots and wanted to help. But she had already tried helping: the two men with the guns were too smart, too quick. And so she stayed hidden.
There were more gunshots.
Feet racing down the stairs, pounding down them so hard that dry flecks sprinkled her shoulder.
Then more footsteps making the planks squeak and groan over her head.
Then the voice of her mother calling out to her: Sandy, where are you? Please. Are you here? I still love you, honey. Everything will be all right, now.
She didn’t move. She hardly dared to breath. Someone walked very close to the staircase panel but didn’t open it – probably didn’t realize it could be opened.
Soon afterwards, she heard other voices. She couldn’t make out the words. Someone went upstairs. Someone else went part way up.
Then everyone was gone.
Still Sandy waited. She wondered what had happened: who had been shot and who survived? The thoughts made her feel sick.
Wick was probably dead. He was a creep, anyway. And Maggie and Agnes wouldn’t be any great loss, either. But Seth and Jason and little Rune – if they’d been killed . . . She sniffled quietly in the darkness as tears trickled down her cheeks.
Later, more people came into the house. Sandy stretched out on her back, listening and waiting. The people stayed and stayed. She thought they might never go away. She was very tired, but her mind swirled, unsettling thoughts keeping her tense and awake.
What if they found her? No, they won’t.
What had happened to Seth and Jason and Rune?
What would become of her? She was only fourteen. Wick was probably dead. Maggie had shot that cop and murdered Jud last year with Mom as a witness, so even if she had been taken alive she would never come back.
Agnes might come back. If they couldn’t pin anything on her. If they didn’t send her to the loony bin. Agnes was slow in the head, but not crazy so they might let her go. She would inherit the house – and Beast House.
Yes.
If Agnes came back, it wouldn’t be so bad. Sandy could run things herself. She could start up the tours again.
And Agnes knew about babies. She’d helped in Mom’s delivery.
She’ll help me.
Sandy slid her hands over her belly. The turmoil in her mind subsided.
The voices outside her hiding place went on. Footsteps moved up and down the stairs.
She wondered, for a while, what name she should give the child? Seth? Jason? She didn’t know which was the father. Besides, those were old-fashioned names. Nerdy. Maybe Rich or Clint or . . .
Then she fell asleep.
Epilogue
Tyler twisted her finger free of the baby’s tight grip, and knocked on the cottage door.
‘Who is it?’
‘Me,’ she said.
‘Just a sec, hon. I ain’t decent.’
‘When has that ever stopped you?’
A moment later, Nora opened the door. She wore a yellow bikini that looked brand new and covered very little.
‘You aren’t losing any time,’ Tyler said.
‘I spotted Jack down at the dock. He didn’t see me. I’m gonna surprise him. Hand over the kid.’
Laughing, Tyler held out the baby. He flung out his arms and legs as if afraid of being dropped, and grabbed a strap of Nora’s bikini. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him close. ‘I think I’d like to keep you, Scotty.’
‘Get your own. I’m sure Jack would accommodate you.’
‘I’m sure he would.’ She sat on a side of the king-sized bed. ‘So, how’s life in the boondocks?’
‘Couldn’t be better. How’s life in the urban sprawl?’
‘It’s getting to me. I spent the whole year thinking about this place. I guess it sort of grew on me. So did Jack.’
‘He must’ve. You haven’t unpacked yet.’
‘I don’t plan to stay.’
‘But . . .’
‘I’m gonna cajole Jack into letting me stay with him. Smart, huh? You can rent out this room to a paying customer. I saw the no vacancy sign out front.’
‘He’s got an A-frame just down the . . .’
‘I know, I know. I haven’t been exactly out of touch with him.’ She flopped backwards across the bed and hoisted Scotty high. He gasped and started to cry. She lowered him quickly. ‘Oh shit, now I did it.’ Sitting up, she handed him back to Tyler.
He wrapped an arm around her neck and held on tight. ‘Did big bad Nora scare you?’
‘That’s it, turn the kid against me. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be here. If I hadn’t flipped the bird at that jerk on the highway . . .’
‘That’s right. Say thank you, Scotty.’
Scotty sobbed.
‘Which reminds me,’ Nora said. ‘Guess where I spent last night? The Welcome Inn. They were full up, just like you guys, but Janice let me stay in her parents’ room.’
‘How is she doing?’
‘You mean you don’t know?’
‘Well, I’ve seen her on television a few times and I know the book has been on the bestseller list for the past six weeks.’
‘She got – good Christ – over a million for the paperback rights. The film’s all set to go into production in about two weeks. They’ll be shooting on location.’
‘But how’s she doing?’
The brightness left Nora’s face. ‘She woke me up last night, screaming. A nightmare. We stayed up till morning, talking. She has these nightmares but they used to be every night and now they’re not so frequent. She said it helped, writing the book – got a lot of it out of her system. It also helped because she got involved with this guy, Steve Saunders. Hardy’s agent sent him out to help her with the thing. He ghosted it for her, and then did the screenplay. I guess the two are thick as thieves, but he’s back in LA till the shooting starts. I talked her into phoning him at about seven this morning, and that cheered her up. I guess she’s doing okay.’ Nora’s smile returned. ‘Hey, we went over to the Last Chance after dinner last night. Good old Captain Frank was in rare form. He’s one hell of a local celebrity.’
‘Bet he loves it.’
‘The man’s in his glory. You should’ve heard him. “Aye, I laid the beast low, mateys.” Everybody in the place buying him drinks. He said to give you his regards, and I’m supposed to tell you that you’re welcome to keep his belt.’
‘I’ve been meaning to send it back.’
‘You can save your postage.’ She pushed herself off the bed. ‘Well, kiddo, I’d love to stay here
and chat all afternoon, but I have this pressing engagement. You know how it is.’
‘I know.’
Nora stepped past her and opened the door.
‘Wait,’ Tyler said. ‘Did you take the tour?’
‘You’ve got to be kidding. For one thing, the line was about half a mile long. And they’ve raised the ticket price to twelve fifty. Must be making a mint.’
‘Who?’
Nora shrugged. ‘Kutch’s daughter owns the place. I don’t know who’s guiding the tours. I caught a look at her. Some kid, can’t be older than fourteen or fifteen.’
‘The place should’ve been closed down.’
‘Shit, it should’ve been burnt to the ground. But at least it hasn’t got Dan anymore. I checked with somebody coming out, and he’s not part of the Ziegler exhibit. I guess they haven’t bothered to have him replaced.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘Hey, I almost forgot your book.’ She stepped over to her open suitcase. From under the gown on top, she pulled out a book with the familiar dust jacket: The Horror at Malcasa Point by Janice Crogan. The cover showed a crude, childish sketch of a beast, pencil scratches obliterating its anatomy from hips to knees. ‘Have you already got a copy?’
Tyler nodded.
‘Well, I bet yours isn’t autographed. Let me make sure this isn’t Jack’s.’ She opened the book. ‘Yep, this is the one.’
Tyler sat on the bed, rested Scotty on her lap, and accepted the book.
‘See you later,’ Nora said.
‘The cocktail lounge at six,’ Tyler reminded her.
‘Right. We’ll be there.’
Then Nora left.
Tyler turned to the title page. In blue ink just below the author’s name was scrawled: To my good friend, Tyler and to Abe who saved my life – my thanks and best wishes. The things that go bump in the night are dead. Long live us. Love, Janice Crogan, August 3, 1980.
THE MIDNIGHT TOUR
Richard Laymon
Contents
Title Page
About the Book
Dedication
Chapter One: Sandy’s Story – August, 1980
Chapter Two: The Beast House Bus – June, 1997
The Complete Beast House Chronicles Page 48
