The House by the Cemetery

by John Everson

  Emery put one hand behind Mike’s snoring head and propped him forward. He was heavy, and she didn’t get his head far up from the pillow. But it was enough. With her free hand, she held the glass to his lips. His head remained angled backward, his mouth parallel to the ceiling. Emery pressed the glass down on his lower lip until she could see the dark space between his teeth.

  And then she poured.

  Mike’s throat gulped automatically and he choked. Flecks of blood escaped the sides of his lips, but the majority of the blood from Katie’s ‘unborn’ body remained in his throat.

  “Perfect,” Katie said, and Emery let his head rest back on the bed. A trickle of blood slid from the corner of his lips to disappear down his neck. The ghost of the witch climbed onto the bed and lay down on top of the carpenter’s body.

  She kissed his sleeping mouth briefly, and then said something. Her voice was silent, but her lips moved and she stared into Mike’s sleeping face.

  A moment later, her body began to sink, as if he were quicksand and she was trapped in his pull.

  Just seconds later, she had fully disappeared into his form.

  Mike’s head shook, as if fighting off a bad dream. His arms moved too, grabbing at the steel points that served as the mattress of the bed.

  Then he opened his eyes, and sat up to slide his legs over the side of the bed. He raised one arm and looked at it. Then he flexed the other hand in front of his face.

  Mike’s lips split into a wide smile.

  He stood up, walked past Emery, and climbed up the stairs.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “You’ve got the switchblade, right?” J.T. asked.

  Nikki nodded. “How many times are you going to ask that?”

  “I’m just anxious,” J.T. said. “Did you put the blood packs in or do we need to find a bathroom?”

  Nikki shook her head. “If I slap you in the head a few times, do you think it would break some of your brain free?”

  J.T. grinned. “This is going to be so awesome. We’ll just see about who is scaring who here tonight.”

  J.T. and Nikki had gone through the house the weekend before, and when they’d reached the Argento room, a man in a black mask and gloves had leapt out at Nikki so fast and threatened her with the knife so close that she’d literally peed her pants. J.T. had jumped, himself, but when they left the room, he was not amused. When Nikki whispered to him that she needed to change her pants, he shook his head in anger.

  “That’s too much,” he’d said. “They’re going too far. I’m going to get our money back when we get out of here.”

  But the ticket taker had refused a refund, suggesting that if they got the piss scared out of them, the house had done exactly what it promised.

  That had not set well with J.T., and he’d stewed on it for a couple days before coming up with his solution.

  Scare the crap right back out of the people in the haunted house. How? By surprising them with something they wouldn’t expect.

  “We’ll start with that bastard in the black mask,” J.T. said.

  “If we ever get inside,” Nikki said.

  “Almost there,” he said. Then he pointed. “Look, they’re taking that whole group in at once.”

  A dozen people in front of them all marched up the steps and disappeared inside, and then one of the wranglers walked down the line asking for the number of people in each party. A group of three and another group of five were ahead of them. J.T. held up his first two fingers and the wrangler nodded and checked on two more parties before returning to the front of the line. They only waited a couple more minutes and then they were being ushered up the steps and into the house.

  “What if he doesn’t buy it?” Nikki asked.

  “He’ll buy it if you do what we practiced,” J.T. promised.

  They passed through the Texas Chainsaw Massacre dining room and ducked around the hulking Leatherface that darted toward them with a chainsaw held high.

  They didn’t slow down in the kitchen to let the bloody girl on the floor try to lure them in for a jump scare. Instead, they moved quickly down the hall to the first bedroom, where the masked killer had been last week. As they stepped into the room, they heard the tense music cycling in the background, and the lights flared.

  It was a gimmick; the room was wired with motion sensors to trigger things whenever someone walked into the room. J.T. knew that the killer lay in wait just behind the old couch. Instead of moving further into the room to trigger the cue for the killer, he stayed near the door, and took the chain that he’d attached to a leather collar around Nikki’s neck.

  He noticed that another haunter stood still in the shadows in the back of the room. Nice. He’d get to freak out two of them.

  “I’m not coming in any farther until I see you,” J.T. called out. “I know you’re waiting behind the couch. Stand up.”

  A black-gloved hand slipped fingers over the top of the couch back and then the black shine of a leather hood appeared. The figure stood, holding a long silver blade in its free hand. It began a silent walk toward them.

  “Hold it right there,” J.T. commanded.

  The figure hesitated. J.T. laughed inside; he was sure the guy was not used to anyone ordering him around while in costume. Probably didn’t know quite what to think right now. Which was exactly what he wanted at this moment. This scare was his to give.

  J.T. suddenly yanked Nikki’s chain and pulled her in close to him. He put one arm across her throat and pulled the switchblade out. Then he tripped the release and the blade shot out. He held it in front of her face.

  “I want to see your face beneath that mask,” J.T. said. “Take it off.”

  The figure did not comply. Instead, it began to move toward J.T. and Nikki.

  “I’m serious,” J.T. warned. “I want your mask. I’ve always wanted your mask. Give it to me. And your gloves too.”

  The figure hesitated, but then held its own knife out and took another step toward J.T.

  “This is not a joke,” J.T. warned. He held the blade of his knife above Nikki’s left breast. “I’ll kill her right here in front of you if you don’t take off your hood and give it to me right now. This is not a joke.”

  The guy froze. He clearly didn’t know which way to turn. He was pretending to be a psycho and scaring people, but here was a real possible psycho in the room with him. J.T. guessed the guy probably was shitting a brick right now wondering exactly what was going on here.

  “That’s it,” J.T. said. “I gave you the chance, and you decided your mask was more important than this poor girl’s life. Her blood is on your hands.”

  He lifted his knife away from Nikki’s chest and the guy began to move toward him quickly.

  “No, wait!” the guy yelled.

  But J.T. just smiled and brought the switchblade down hard. He felt the haft smash into the thin plastic bag of blood just beneath Nikki’s shirt, as the trick blade retracted.

  Her shirt suddenly blossomed blood, as the hooded man reached out toward them.

  Nikki screamed on cue.

  “Back up, man,” J.T. yelled.

  He pulled the knife back, thumbing the mechanism to release the blade again so that to an onlooker it appeared as if he pulled a deadly blade back out of Nikki’s chest. He held it up again as if he were going to stab her once more. Nikki screamed and thrashed in his grasp, just as they’d practiced.

  “No, no,” the black-masked man cried. “Don’t! I’ll give you the mask.”

  The man dropped his blade on the floor and reached around to the back of his head and unzipped the leather so that he could slip it over his head. “Don’t hurt her anymore.”

  The guy yanked the hood over his head to reveal a near-bald, black scalp and threw the mask on the floor in front of J.T.

  “Let her go,” the man said, as h
e began peeling off his gloves.

  J.T. found it funny somehow that it was a black guy underneath the black leather mask. The whites of the man’s eyes seemed to glow in the weird lighting of the room, and J.T. shook his head.

  “Too late,” he said, and slammed his knife down again, smashing another bag of fake blood which instantly soaked through Nikki’s shirt.

  She screamed and threw her head back as J.T. pulled his knife-hand back up and showed the unhooded man his knife.

  “I wanted to do that with your hood,” J.T. said. He let go of Nikki and she crumbled, falling to the floor. The chain clanked to the wood next to her. “But maybe I’ll just have to wear it while I kill you!”

  The man backed away from him, and put both hands in the air in front of his chest.

  “No man, c’mon, I just work here. My name’s Lenny. I’m not a real killer or anything. I’m just here to make it a good time for everyone, you know what I mean? This isn’t even the normal room I work. I’m usually in the Nightmare on Elm Street room. Do you like Freddy Krueger?”

  J.T. bent down and picked up the hood. He grinned as he felt the leather between his fingers. This was playing out exactly the way he’d hoped. The guy was eating it up.

  “Get down on your knees,” J.T. demanded.

  The guy dropped to his knees instantly, and J.T. stifled a snort. This was too easy.

  “Now put both of your hands on your chest.”

  The guy complied, and J.T. smiled. “I’m going to see how it feels to be you,” he said, and pulled the other man’s ‘killer’ hood quickly over his head. He adjusted it with one hand as he held the knife out toward the kneeling man to keep him still.

  Nikki lay still on the floor, presumably dead.

  “I wanted you to have a taste of your own medicine,” J.T. said as he stepped closer to the man with his knife raised high in the air. The feeling of the hood over his face was energizing. He felt as if he really could knife the guy and walk away untouched.

  “Please just let me go,” Lenny cried. He took his hands off his chest and J.T. shook his head. “Oh, no,” he taunted. “I don’t think so.”

  J.T. raised his knife high in the air, and Lenny cowered, shaking his head and leaning backward.

  And then suddenly Lenny’s mouth gaped open.

  His eyes bugged wide.

  J.T. didn’t know what he was doing at first, and then the man’s frightened eyes looked down. J.T. followed the man’s gaze.

  A triangular barb of metal protruded from between Lenny’s fingers. A splash of gore painted his knuckles.

  “Oh, that just fucking figures,” Lenny wheezed. “I told June the black guy always gets it.”

  J.T. looked up, confused at what had happened. The figure from the far end of the room moved toward them. She had some kind of arrow launcher in her arms.

  He realized then that he’d been made.

  What he had been doing to the ‘hooded killer’, she was doing to him. Only…she was using real weapons. Blood streamed across the kneeling man’s knuckles and there was no way that it was fake. Lenny gasped one last time before toppling over to hit the ground.

  J.T. looked up and met the eyes of the woman who held the weapon. Her face was blank, as if she didn’t have a thought in her head other than to put a spear through his heart. “Get up, Nikki,” he said through gritted teeth. Then he turned to leave the room.

  Something clattered to the floor behind him and J.T. couldn’t help but look back. It was a fatal distraction. The woman in the cowl had dropped her arrow launcher and now held a long silver knife in the air, not dissimilar to the fake one that J.T. had used to ‘stab’ Nikki. And she was almost on top of him.

  “Wait,” he begged, but the glint of metal was already in the air and moving. When it hit him in the chest, for a moment he barely felt a thing. It was as if the woman had tapped him.

  And then the pain began. The heat spread down his ribs and his shirt suddenly felt heavy and wet.

  “Why?” he asked. This wasn’t fake. He’d hoped the guy with an arrow through his chest was somehow false, despite everything, but this…this was his own death.

  J.T. sank to his knees, holding the wound in his heart. He knew that he wasn’t getting out of this alive. Behind him, he heard Nikki finally moving. Finally realizing that something had gone wrong.

  “J.T.,” she finally said. “What’s the matter?”

  He opened his mouth to tell her, but when he did, he choked instead, and something hot and thick suddenly slipped over his lips.

  “Go,” he whispered, and fell backward then, landing on the floor next to her feet.

  Nikki screamed.

  J.T. felt something weird spreading across his chest. Not a cold feeling, but not hot either. It was the same and different, everything and nothing, and he knew that it meant only one thing.

  The end.

  “Run,” he croaked with his last gasp of energy.

  She bent over him for a second, her face a mask of horror and concern and fear.

  “Please,” he begged.

  She got up then, finally realizing that she was in danger. But it was too late.

  J.T. saw the pale fat girl move toward Nikki, with the knife that was still red with his blood held over her head. She didn’t say a word, but simply brought it down fast and hard.

  Nikki’s eyes went wide and she squealed for a second. It wasn’t a yell or a shriek…just a thin sound of tortured surprise.

  And then she fell to the ground next to J.T.

  He tried to say her name, but nothing happened. No words would come out. And his arms wouldn’t move.

  J.T.’s last vision was of the killer wiping Nikki’s blood off her blade with her fingers and walking away.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “How are things with Jeanie?” June asked.

  Bong had crept out of his hiding spot for a few seconds between customers. Though he knew they didn’t have much time. The groups were moving through the house fast tonight.

  “She’s still pissed off,” he said. “I can’t blame her, but I can’t really prove to her that nothing was really happening either. At least she drove in with me tonight.”

  “That’s something,” she agreed. “I’m sorry if I got you in trouble.”

  Bong shook his head. “I got me in trouble, and I’m not completely sorry.”

  June raised her eyebrow.

  “The best thing about doing this whole haunted house thing was meeting you. I’m not sorry about that.”

  June smiled. “I’m not sorry about that either. But I really like Jeanie. I didn’t want to do anything to hurt her. She hasn’t talked to me at all the last three nights.”

  Bong nodded. “She’s stubborn. But she’ll come around.”

  “Are you guys going to come to the after party tonight?” she asked.

  “Are you going to throw your arms around me and kiss me there?” he asked.

  June snorted. “Would you be happy if I did?”

  “Not the right question,” Bong said.

  “Okay,” she said. “Do you want me to?”

  Bong shifted, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Also, not the right question.”

  Something creaked on the wood planks outside, and Bong stepped back. “I think we have company.”

  A guy with a short blond goatee and a black shirt that had a ski mask design on it stepped into the room. He pulled a woman wearing a Nightmare Before Christmas sweatshirt into the room after him. Bong ducked back out of sight before they saw him. He hoped.

  June played it perfectly. She faded back at first, and then, when the guy saw her, she lunged forward again, staggering and clutching at the gash in her neck. The Nightmare girl pulled back but her boyfriend laughed.

  “Come on,” he said. “She’s just dead, she’s no
t scary.”

  That was, more or less, Bong’s cue.

  He started out of the hidden passage on the floor, moving with an awkward crab crawl toward them. When the guy registered that something was coming at him on the floor, he looked down and then leapt a yard away from her.

  “Shit,” he complained.

  His girlfriend jumped with him. But she didn’t scream. She pointed at Bong and said, “It’s just like that movie The Ring.”

  “Yeah, or Tomie,” he agreed. “Nice one,” he said, pointing at Bong. “You got me there.”

  Then he pulled his girlfriend around June and back out of the room to take the stairwell down. He didn’t acknowledge June at all.

  When they disappeared, Bong stood up and grinned. “Well, I guess I got them.”

  June pouted a little. “Yeah. Well…they didn’t think I looked creepy at all.”

  Bong smiled. “Sure they did. They were just too afraid to say anything. I thought you were great.”

  June stepped closer to him and shook her head. “The gash isn’t what’s making them freak in this room,” she said. “You’re doing the work.”

  “Without your gash, I couldn’t scare them,” Bong said.

  “That’s so romantic of you,” she said.

  “You think that’s romantic?”

  “I take what I can get.”

  Bong suddenly felt nervous. He hadn’t wanted to start something with June. And he’d been telling Jeanie that there wasn’t anything, that the kiss a couple nights ago had been an accident. Just a crazy moment.

  But now….

  “What exactly do you want to take?” he asked.

  “What exactly will you give?” she answered, moving closer. “I’d take a kiss again.”

  Bong felt his heart pounding suddenly. June had been totally cool the past couple nights, no flirtation. And he’d been both disappointed and thankful. Now…he was nervous. He didn’t want to lose Jeanie. And he didn’t want to say no to June. Classic love triangle disaster in the making.