Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection)

by McCray, Carolyn

  “Together, we would be our own force of nature.”

  His ice pick hit her in the side. Evie fired again, and this time hit him in the leg. He was fresh out of weapons. He looked up to find Evie aiming at him. She pulled the trigger, but was out of bullets.

  Darion rushed her, tackling her around the waist. They both hit the ground, knocking the wind out of them. She tried to grab Jake’s ax, but Darion knocked the weapon away, shoving it a few feet away. Evie tried to struggle, but Darion used leverage to keep her down. He smelled her hair. It was like a heady elixir of blood and confidence.

  “What do you say? Darion asked. “Join me.”

  “Why should I?” Evie challenged, not giving in one bit.

  “How about a twenty-five million dollar inheritance that could fund the hunt of a lifetime?” Darion offered.

  Evie snorted at his offer. “You don’t think that I could find a multi-billionaire to marry me, then tie him up in the study while I spent his money on torture and mayhem?”

  She was right. Evie truly had turned out to be worthy of the dungeon. He was so proud of her. Of course, she could have found some guy to fund her pastime. Darion pushed off the ground and rose up. He offered Evie a hand.

  * * *

  She took it. “I’ll need a little more incentive than cash in hand.”

  Darion noticed, though, that Evie didn’t release his hand. “So it’s still going to be quid pro quo.”

  She ran a finger down his chest. “No quid…”

  His finger kept on going. “And definitely no pro…”

  Evie’s finger went past his belt. “But quo? Quo is negotiable.”

  Darion smiled. “You know, I may learn to love Latin yet.”

  He moved in to kiss her, but Evie’s little magical metal fragment was at his crotch. “You still haven’t gotten me out of here yet.”

  Darion backed up a step and indicated to the open door.

  Evie smiled. “You do realize that we’re now each other’s perfect prey?”

  Ah, to find his ultimate partner. After all these years, it was so gratifying. Sirens in the distance said they should get a move on.

  Darion put his arm over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  As they walked past, the cop whispered harshly, “Ungrateful bitch…”

  Oh, how little the detective knew.

  EPILOGUE

  Jake could hear sirens. They rang in his head.

  “Come on,” a voice said, shaking Jake’s shoulder. With difficulty, Jake opened his eyes to find Brad standing by his bed. “You are an evil genius.”

  Jake’s chest hurt enough to let him know that he was alive and, thank goodness, heaven wasn’t a hospital room.

  “Dude, come on, it was just seven hours’ worth of surgery,” Brad said. Jake grunted in response.

  “Five bodies,” Brad said. “Count ‘em. Five.” Brad sounded like he was pretty damned impressed. “Serial killers all… well, except for the guy they are still trying to reassemble. We’re not sure so sure about him.”

  “Six,” Jake croaked out.

  “What?” Brad asked, giving Jake a glass of water.

  “Six bodies,” Jake said.

  “Come on,” Brad said, hitting Jake in the arm. “Don’t overreach here. It was five.”

  “They just haven’t found the body yet. It was in the weapons room.”

  “Dude,” Brad said. “They have bagged and tagged everything. There’re only five bodies.”

  Jake was about to argue when a knock came at the door. Candace stood at the entrance.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Please,” Jake said, trying to sit up, but not quite making it. “Come in.”

  Candace’s heels clicked as she crossed the room. She held out a small “glad you are alive” present. Flinching, since his hand had two IVs in it, he opened the wrapping paper to find a Game Boy Madden NFL. He handed it back.

  “Sorry, but I think I’m off video games for life.”

  A frown flickered, but then she covered it with a smile. “Well, I’ll let you boys get back to cop stuff.”

  He reached out, despite the pain, and caught her hand. “No, Brad was just leaving.”

  “But what about—” Jake glared at Brad, who stopped mid-sentence. “Yeah, right. Later,” Brad said, then shook Candace’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Jake waited for Brad to leave the room. As he was exiting, Brad gave a double thumbs-up and mouthed, “evil genius.”

  Once his friend was gone, an awkward silence descended. The only sound was the beeping of his monitors.

  “I’m surprised,” Jake said to break the ice. “Thrilled, but surprised you came after… you know.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, seeing you being wheeled out from a major crime scene put some perspective on a bad first date.” Candace tilted her head. “So was ‘she’ one of the killers?”

  “No, no, no,” Jake said, shaking his head. “‘She’s was one of the killers.”

  “Oh my,” Candace said.

  Jake chuckled despite the pain. “Yeah,” he said. “And she’s the one who shot me. Twice.”

  “I see,” Candace said as she sat down next to his bed. “And that makes you more or less interested in her?’

  Jake paused for a moment. “One shot,” Jake said. “And I’d go for couple’s counseling. Two, that’s a deal breaker.”

  Candace laughed, shaking her head. Jake extended his hand, and Candace took it.

  “But you got her off the streets, right?” Candace asked.

  “Well,” Jake said. “Not exactly.”

  * * *

  Evie fell back onto the heart-shaped bed. Rose petals were strewn on satin sheets. A champagne bottle sat amongst ice. The perfect romantic interlude. Of course, the couple that was supposed to be enjoying the honeymoon suite were now dead in the bathroom, their blood draining in the tub.

  Make that thirteen, total count.

  Darion leaned over her, close enough that his body heat radiated at her. He bent his head to kiss her, but she still had her metal strip.

  “At some point,” Darion said, pushing her hand out of the way.

  She let him kiss her. A long, deep kiss she felt all the way to her groin. Finally, she’d met a man who was her match in every way. The kiss ended, even though she wished it wouldn’t.

  “But you know,” Evie said to him. “You didn’t kill Back. I did.”

  A smile spread across Darion’s face. “Well, I’m feeling awfully grateful, then.”

  He then kissed down Evie’s neck, her sternum, pulling up her shirt, kissing her belly.

  Evie let him keep going south as she rolled her head to the side. The mirror reflected the dead couple in the bathtub.

  God, this couldn’t get more romantic.

  WIDOWMAKER: A thriller for horror buffs

  PROLOGUE

  What a dump, Jake thought as his eyes followed the snapping sound of a weathered banner that read: “SMACKDANCE FILM FESTIVAL: Sundance’s ugly little sister.” Graffitied across the bottom were the words, “But damn, the bitch gives great head.”

  Nice.

  Jake stomped his feet to get the blood flowing to his toes. He flipped up the collar on his black trench coat, jamming his hands into the pockets. A light snow dusted his shoulders. He shivered, looking around him. Dozens waited in a line that wrapped around the corner of the squat building. Smackdance prided itself on “underground” films, but did they really have to show it in a freaking basement?

  But not even below-zero temperatures could keep these crazed horror fans away. As the snowflakes became fatter and wetter, Jake wished he hadn’t listened to Drew, who insisted that they “represent” Kevin Smith style. No, Jake wished he’d worn his nice, thick, and warm ski jacket instead of this thin trench coat. Drew owed him his left nut for dragging him out tonight. And not a hot chick in sight. No movie “experience” was worth freezing his ass over.

  Shoving his hand deepe
r in his pocket, he found a crumpled yellow flyer. The damn thing that started all of this. He pulled the flyer out and waved it in Drew’s face.

  “It’s all hype, I tell ya. Garbage,” Jake stated.

  “But it’s got great buzz. Look at the line,” Drew replied, gesturing to the crowd of people in front of him and the now-growing line that trailed past the liquor store and Laundromat. Yeah, this wasn’t exactly the Sundance side of town.

  Jake rubbed his already-numb hands together. “A freakin’ two-hour wait for this schlock movie? And to watch it in an unheated basement? This is so damn lame! I say we forget the buzz and go get buzzed.”

  “Lame? This could be the film that changes our lives!” his friend stated enthusiastically. No, no, no. It could change the entire world’s view of horror!”

  Others in the crowd nodded in agreement. Like he needed them to encourage Drew. The wall of the building next to them shook. With that much bass, the movie must be reaching the “darkest hour.” The streetlight next to them flickered, and then blew out. Jake wondered if the producers had paid for that effect as well to get the crowd in the mood.

  Ooh, now it’s all dark and scary. Right.

  As tinny screams echoed from the movie, a geeky kid with a “Team Edward” T-shirt got down on his mittened hands and tried to see in the basement window, but it was blacked out. Probably so that no one could see how incredibly bad the special effects were before they paid their money.

  Jake read the flyer aloud. “Terror in the Trees, a docu-horror film.” He glanced up at Drew. “First of all, what the hell does that mean? Docu-horror?”

  Crushing the flyer into a ball, he chucked it at Drew. It hit him square in the nose before fluttering to the ground.

  “Jesus, Jake! It just means that it’s a freakin’ scary documentary,” Drew said as he bent over and rescued the flyer from the snow-encrusted sidewalk. His friend straightened the paper almost reverentially. “And, this could be worth a lot someday.”

  “Right,” Jake sneered. “And scary? This plot’s been done a hundred times before. I mean, how many coeds can you watch get sliced and diced? That’s not horror.”

  “Excuse me? Are you trying to tell me that Sorority Slaughter was highbrow?” Drew asked, his eyebrow arched as though he were Spock or something.

  “All right, I concede on that one small point ...” Jake held his hands up in surrender. “But come on. Ashley Blake ran around half naked for most of the movie.” Oh yeah, Ashley definitely made that movie worth watching a few dozen times.

  “And the first time you saw Alien vs. Predator?” Drew asked.

  “Scott’s original Alien was better,” Jake quickly retorted, getting in his classic horror props as he dodged a weak attempt by Drew to punch him in the arm. “Okay ... okay ... I give AvP props for the gore factor.”

  Gore was right. It had been the first R-rated film Jake’d ever seen. Not because he was even close to seventeen, but because he stole a bottle of whiskey from his dad and used it to pay a senior to take him to the movie. It was Alien vs. Predator, for God’s sake! Jake couldn’t wait two years for it to come out on DVD.

  “I remember waiting in line, ya know, trying to act all cool, and a chick came running out into the lobby,” Jake reminisced. “She puked all over the floor. Popcorn and Milk Duds. I can still smell it. At that moment, I knew I was in good hands.”

  Drew bounced on the balls of his toes, excitement radiating from him. “Exactly! Visceral horror.” This time, his attempted punch to Jake’s arm was successful. “Fear that has a physical effect. That’s what I’m looking for here.”

  Jake rubbed his arm, staring at Drew in disbelief. Both at the punch that landed and his friend’s naïveté. “In a movie titled Terror in the Trees?”

  Drew couldn’t honestly believe this crap, could he? Clearly, the gazillion trailers he watched on YouTube had fried his brain. It was all a gimmick to get lame-os like Drew to spend their cash, watching a film over and over again until their eyes bled.

  Jake was about to say so when a window shattered at Drew’s feet. Before his friend could jump out of the way, a hand latched onto his ankle. Manicured nails dug into Drew’s flesh. Bright red drops splattered against the snowy ground. Drew screamed like a little girl as he flailed and kicked, trying to shake the hand off.

  Others in the crowd grabbed Drew and finally wrenched him from the attacking hand.

  “Help us!” screamed a voice from the basement, as the music cranked to full throttle.

  “Holy crap, did you see that? Did you see that?” Drew panted, staring at the bloody fingerprints on his ripped jeans. “Did. You. See. That?”

  Jake tried. He really tried not to laugh, but with the look on Drew’s pasty-ass face as he probed the red welts on his ankle, Jake just couldn’t help himself. Bursting out laughing, Jake bent over, clutching his stomach. His body was shaking so hard that he feared he’d go into a convulsion.

  “Damn it, Jake! That was real,” Drew yelled, as he crouched down on all fours alongside the Twilight wannabe, trying to see inside the basement.

  In between bursts of laughter, Jake panted, “You are so freakin’ lame! That was the cheapest publicity stunt in the book, and you fell for it!”

  Jake swiped the tears from his eyes. Remembering the look on Drew’s face made him burst out laughing all over again. What a dumbass! It was a classic “Boo, I’ve got you!” trick. Drew probably had the tread marks on his tighty whities to show for it.

  “No way, man! She grabbed me! Look, that’s blood on my pants!” Amped, Drew pointed to the red coating his jeans.

  A tortured scream came from the front of the line. Jake spun toward the entrance of the building as a man stumbled through the door, blood dripping from his eyes. He lurched, frantically clawing at his face. Jake knew better, but it looked like actual bone glistening beneath the shredded skin. Veins throbbed before being torn open, gushing blood down the man’s shirt.

  Bile burned Jake’s throat. Now he regretted adding the extra hot sauce to his fast-food taco.

  “Holy shit,” the Edward-phile exclaimed, his eyes wide and mouth agape—like a kid in a candy store. “They’re pullin’ out all the stops.”

  Jake cleared his throat. “Jesus, it’s so fake.”

  He tried to play it off like he didn’t just pee his pants. As chunks of cheek landed on the pure, white snow, Jake had to avert his gaze even as he asserted, “Don’t they know we’re horror connoisseurs? That blood’s way too red! It’s gotta be watered-down ketchup.”

  But just thinking about the moist flesh and the glistening red made his stomach twist. He was gonna have to find a condiment other than ketchup to put on his burgers. And maybe even hold off on the medium-well burgers for a while.

  The crowd surged forward, nearly knocking Drew to the ground as Jake grabbed hold of the lamppost to keep from doing a face plant. The sound of sirens wailed in the distance.

  “What happened?” someone behind him asked. The answers ranged from “slipped on ice” to “Ebola virus.”

  “Ebola in Park City? Guys, it’s just good special effects,” Jake shouted to anyone who would listen. Were these people really that stupid to believe this was real? Sure, it was gross, but real?

  A kinda cute girl careened out of the building as red and blue lights announced the ambulance’s arrival. Seeming oblivious to everything and anything, the short-skirt ran directly in its path. The crowd screamed in unison. Brakes squealed as the ambulance swerved, missing the chick by mere inches.

  Drew’s bony elbow caught Jake in the ribs not once, but twice. “Oh my God, dude! I told you the movie made people do some freaky shit!” Drew pushed a college-aged preppy out of the way to get a better view.

  “Dude, this is just excellent marketing. Making losers like you think the movie can kill them.”

  As the EMTs restrained the man from further ruining his face, Drew shook his head so hard that the dusting of snowflakes on his hair became airborne again.


  “No, freaking way, Jake. This is real.”

  “They are trying to sell a crappy horror film,” Jake explained. “They are just trying to scare the shit out of a bunch of hard-core bloggers to get some advanced hype. I mean, it’s a freakin’ genius marketing move, but a marketing move nonetheless.”

  “Oh man!” Drew shook his head. “Who drops this kind of money on an ultra-low budget movie? It doesn’t add up.”

  As more sirens descended on their little snow globe full of drama, Jake pressed his friend. “It does when it’s the Baxter brothers, Drew. They’re loaded. They crap out hundred-dollar bills to tip the valet. They’re going to spend what it takes to break this bitch out Blair-style.”

  The chaos around them only escalated. Police and paramedics pushed through the throng of onlookers. Blinding lights flooded the area, announcing that the local news channel had gone live as their fresh-from-junior-college reporter stepped up to the camera. The camera caught every moment of movie patrons sporadically stumbling out of the theater, blood seeping from random parts of their bodies.

  The crackle of a police radio broke through the maddening noise. A police officer barked orders into the unit strapped to his shoulder. “We need more help! Call paramedics in from Saint Andrews! Get the SWAT team down here!”

  The officer’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the reply coming through the radio.

  “Unit is half an hour out.”

  He clicked the button on the mic, the urgency in his voice clear. “We don’t have half an hour! We’ve got four down ... maybe more. We need help now!”

  People scattered as a gurney hit the sidewalk. Its wheels rattled against the sidewalk as EMTs slammed it through the front door of the building, nearly wiping out a chick. Immediately, the door burst back open as four EMTs carried a man out on a stretcher.

  It was like a freaking revolving door of carnage. The guy’s clothes were shredded and soaked in red as he started flipping out, having a full-blown seizure. His body arched, straining hard enough to break the restraints. A paramedic sprawled over him, trying to pin him down.