"Well, now I have to restart the computer. The way it works, the phone'll be locked up, too, until I get back into the terminal program." Kirk seemed annoyed with her ignorance. Then she realized that he was bothered about something else. "Why do you have to call Lance?" he said, betraying the source of his irritation.
"Because he's not in Klusky's class. Which means he may be immune to what's going on." She didn't like what she was going to say, but she knew it was the truth. "If something happens to us," she explained, "someone else has got to know what's going on."
Kirk saw that she was serious, and nodded.
"Why don't you get the lists together. I'm going over to Mrs. Wodell's and fill Lance in." Colleen shook her head. "He's gonna think I'm even crazier than before, but if you're on my side, and we have this proof, maybe…"
"Go see what you can do. I'll take care of things here."
"Thanks. I'll either call from there or come back later." Colleen gave Kirk a big hug. He didn't dwell on it too long, and got back to tapping names into the keyboard. She heard him snicker as she reached the door to his room. "What?" she asked, unable to resist.
"Vicki Stratton. Report on Marie Antoinette." He pointed a finger high in the air majestically. "Let them eat cake!"
Colleen smiled, then frowned. "Great. Print it."
Kirk gave her a thumbs-up as she left.
* * *
In her car, Colleen was secretly worried about Kirk. He was having too much fun with this. She suspected that he considered it a big game. And that could be dangerous.
At least one mystery was solved. Denny couldn't have been the killer. He could barely read, let alone use the computers or be able to plot a crime as bizarre as this. But that only gave rise to yet another mystery. How did Denny fit into this at all? She would have thought him just a victim of circumstance, but he had admitted to knowing something about the murders. And he was shot attempting to kill Mrs. Wodell.
Colleen could sense an answer dangling in front of her face again. But apparently she had still not mastered her powers well enough yet to grasp it.
* * *
Vicki Stratton stood in Mrs. Wodell's kitchen, rinsing teacups. Normally she abhorred such work, but it was all for a good cause. She was having an immensely enjoyable time with Lance. And more important, Lance seemed to be enjoying her company. If only Colleen would call or, better yet, show up unannounced. The shock of seeing her precious Lance with her archenemy would no doubt cause a deep rift between the two. But Vicki was patient. If not tonight, there was always the next night. Or the next.
A loud thump resounded from the bedroom. Lance must have dropped that big book he's reading the old bat, Vicki thought.
As she placed the last teacup in the dish drainer, Vicki heard quiet footsteps behind her. Lance, no doubt. Just for kicks, she pretended not to hear him. She wondered if he was going to kiss her. It wasn't essential to her plan, of course. But it would be a bonus. Knowing he was right behind her, she turned around quickly, smiling.
Vicki Stratton was still smiling as the blades of a large pair of gardening shears bit into her neck.
* * *
Not long after Colleen had left him, Kirk got bored with printing out listings of classmates. Besides, he thought, that would only really help after the fact. What they really needed was to find out who was doing this. So he decided to enter the suspects' names into the computer: Mr. Klusky and the library employees. He even checked on his cousin Lance. It wasn't long before he uncovered a killer. Tearing the listing from his printer, he ran for his car. He had to stop Colleen before something terrible happened. If he hurried, he might catch her.
* * *
Colleen knew something was wrong the moment she pulled into Mrs. Wodell's driveway. The house was entirely dark. Lance's car was missing. She would have pulled away, but noticed the front door was ajar. Against her better judgment, she left her car and pushed the front door all the way open. With little light from the street, the doorway became a gaping black maw. Reaching inside, she found a light switch. As she pushed it up, the little alcove just inside the house was immediately illuminated.
And directly in front of her, resting atop a vase that had once held dried flowers, the severed head of Vicki Stratton stared at her with dead eyes.
Chapter 21
Colleen doubled over in terror, a choked scream escaping her throat. Then, her thoughts racing faster than her comprehension, she staggered back to her car. Screeching out of the driveway, Colleen sped down the street. As she drove, it seemed Vicki's head floated just beyond the windshield. There was no way to block it. She finally gained enough control of herself to scream at the top of her lungs.
Still, her thoughts made no sense. What had happened to Vicki? And where were Lance and Mrs. Wodell? Colleen had gone no farther into the house, but somehow knew it had been empty. At least, devoid of anyone living. Lance's car was gone. Had he gone somewhere? Or…
A terrifying thought occurred to her. And her greatest fear was not that Lance was dead, but that he was alive. And had been the murderer all along.
The police, Colleen forced herself to think. I have to get to the police.
Finally seizing upon a course of action, she got her bearings and started driving toward the station. As she approached the Jaguar diner, headlights approached from the opposite direction. They swerved from side to side. At first she thought the driver was drunk. Then she recognized the car.
* * *
Kirk didn't care if he was speeding. They needed the police right now. And if it meant him leading them on a chase all the way to Mrs. Wodell's house, so be it. He'd make them understand once they got there. As he neared the business district, he was doing almost fifty miles an hour. The top to his convertible was down and the wind was strong. Luckily, the printouts were in the glove compartment.
A popping noise from the steering column interrupted his thoughts. Suddenly the car became hard to control. The steering became sluggish. The wheels turned left on their own. He jerked the wheel hard to the right, but overcompensated. He was heading for the curb. His foot let up on the gas instinctively, but it was too late. The car was traveling much too fast, and he had no control.
* * *
Colleen watched helplessly as Kirk's car careened past. It hopped the curb and hit a fire hydrant on the fly. The car rolled several times, finally smashing violently into a telephone pole. There was no explosion. Just the sound of water gushing from the broken hydrant.
"Kirk!" Colleen screamed, and leaped out of her car. She was oblivious to the other cars screeching to a halt as she ran across the street. At Kirk's car, she stopped short. Her friend's face was bloody and bruised. His head seemed set at an unnatural angle to his body. Kirk was dead.
Dropping to her knees, Colleen started to sob. This was how James Dean had died, she thought bitterly. In a car accident. I knew what was going on and I wasn't able to stop it in time.
"I'm sorry, Kirk," she told him. His eyes stared off into space. If this were a movie, Colleen supposed she should reach over and close his eyelids. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Somehow, it would be an admission that she had failed. And she would not admit defeat. Not yet. Because she knew this wasn't over.
Right after, she noticed the papers spilling out of the glove compartment. The door had been broken open by the accident. Recognizing them as library database printouts, she ran to the other side of the car to examine them.
Sirens blared in the distance, coming nearer. The murmur of a crowd rose around her as others approached the site of the accident. But Colleen didn't hear any of it. She was busy scanning the reading lists. One set made her stop cold. It was two pages, and almost every book was devoted to violent crimes, serial killers, and similar morbid subjects. Except for one of the more recent books, a complete collection of Grimm's fairy tales. And the name above it: Clarise Wodell.
Tossing the papers back into the car, Colleen pushed her way through the gathering crowd and
got back into her car.
It had been Mrs. Wodell all along. That had been the answer just out of reach. Now she had it. But Mrs. Wodell had Lance. And Colleen thought she knew where. A fire engine, ambulance, and police car arrived as Colleen started her engine. One bystander pointed in Colleen's direction. She had been witnessed as being first on the scene. The authorities would want to talk to her.
There's no time for that now, Colleen thought as she put the car in gear and drove off.
* * *
As soon as she saw Lance's car in the library parking lot, Colleen suffered another crisis of faith. Her instincts had served her well, but again, she didn't know what she expected to accomplish. Even with surprise on her side, was she any match for a savage killer? It seemed absurd, but obviously Mrs. Wodell was not just a helpless old woman. Colleen remembered her tarot card reading. Madame Xaviera had said the upside-down queen on the card represented an evil man — or woman.
Finding herself walking toward the library's front doors, Colleen realized why she had come. This wasn't about beating Mrs. Wodell, at all. She had failed everyone else, but she would not fail Lance. And she realized that she really did love him. Regardless of what happened to her, she had to try and save him. Kirk's words came back to her. She would do anything for Lance. Even something stupid.
As she expected, the library door was unlocked. Bracing herself, she entered. The library was dimly lit, except for a bright spot just beyond the checkout counter. Calling out Lance's name tentatively, she walked toward the light. Soon she was standing at the top of the basement stairs. Down there, someone had turned on all the lights.
Obviously it was a trap.
Obviously Colleen had to go down there.
Taking the steps slowly, Colleen called out once more. As before, she got no reply. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she looked out into the basement that stretched before her. It was the first time the basement had ever seemed brighter and less foreboding than the rest of the library. She walked toward the back of the basement, keeping close to the wall in case someone was lurking in the recesses of the book stacks. But no one leaped out at her. Just before the open space at the center of the basement, she heard a groan. Lance's voice. Forgetting the danger, she ran forward and discovered him lying on the study table. His hand rubbed a bruise on his temple.
"Lance!" she cried, and threw herself over him. Frightened, he recoiled and tried to push her away. Colleen stepped back so he could see that it was her. "It's all right. It's just me. What happened?"
Slowly he sat up on the table. The motion made his head ache more and he brought his hand up again. He spoke haltingly. "I don't know… I was reading to Mrs. Wodell… I dropped the book. Someone hit me… I think." He finally started to notice his surroundings. "How did I get here?"
"I think Mrs. Wodell brought you. In your car."
"Impossible," he said, trying to shake off his feeling of disorientation. "She can't even speak, let alone walk or drive a car."
"It doesn't matter," Colleen told him, not wanting to argue. "But we should get out of here." He agreed and she helped him to his feet. He stood unsteadily for a moment. While he regained his balance, Colleen asked, "Was Vicki at the house tonight?"
At first he didn't seem to remember. "Yeah, she showed up out of the clear blue sky, all made up. Weird. What…"
"She's dead," Colleen told him, and wouldn't say more. Lance didn't ask.
Lance was still weak, so he threw his arm around her and she helped him toward the staircase. As they neared it, they smelled smoke. From the bottom of the stairs, they saw that the main room of the library had become too bright. And with an orange, flickering light. Leaving Lance in the basement, Colleen ran up the steps. Before she reached the top, she saw: The library had become an inferno. And between the old wooden shelves and the paper from the books, the fire was spreading quickly. She leaped up the last two steps to see if they had an escape path, when a figure suddenly appeared at the top of the steps.
"Peekaboo!" croaked Mrs. Wodell.
Colleen shrank instantly away. She could tell this was not Mrs. Wodell any more than the scarred man from her dreams was Denny. It was her body, but being used by some other force.
The thing masquerading as Mrs. Wodell shot out a gnarled hand in an attempt to seize Colleen. Though she missed, Colleen lost her balance and fell backward. She tumbled down the steps, landing at Lance's feet. He immediately was at her side.
"Colleen? Are you all right?"
Her arm hurt, but she didn't have time to give Lance the answer. Mrs. Wodell had begun to descend the steps.
"Your turn, my dear," the thing laughed. It didn't even sound like Mrs. Wodell. "Time to die the martyr's death you picked for yourself." Flame seemed to dog the demon librarian's every step. It trailed after her like a hellish bridal train.
Hoisting Colleen to her feet, Lance dragged her away, toward the back of the library. Mrs. Wodell started laughing, a terrifying sound that made Colleen feel utter despair. As they were about to lose themselves among the stacks of books, Colleen felt compelled to turn back. Mrs. Wodell was at the bottom of the steps. Lance tried to drag Colleen away, but she wouldn't budge. She was transfixed.
When Mrs. Wodell got to the old card file, she lifted the entire cabinet. It burst into flames at her touch. As she smashed it to the floor, ancient file cards billowed out, each carrying a torch of flame. Soon the entire basement would be ablaze.
"Come on!" Lance shouted. Between Mrs. Wodell's maniacal laughter and the growing roar of flames, it was becoming hard to hear anything else. He started to push Colleen behind a bookshelf when they heard a great crack. Then a slow succession of explosive noises. The bookcase above them began to shake. Books began to fall from their shelves. Then the entire bookcase began to topple, raining books on their heads. This was a heavy mahogany bookshelf. If they stayed among the stacks, they'd be crushed.
Diving back into the main aisle, Lance and Colleen saw that Mrs. Wodell had pushed over the first bookcase, starting a domino effect. And in the meantime, she came even closer.
"It's the end of your story, Colleen," the thing taunted. "And you can't help yourself any more than you were able to help the others!"
"I got it," Lance said as they passed the study table area. "Come on." Pulling her by her uninjured arm, he dragged her to the very back of the basement, underneath one of the small windows leading outside. He pointed down the aisle. A ladder, used to get books on upper shelves, leaned against a bookcase. "Grab that," he ordered. She did as she was told.
"You're not going to make it," chanted Mrs. Wodell. "Not going to make it. You can't escape your destiny, Colleen. You know that. You've dreamed that!" It started laughing again.
"Why doesn't she just kill us?" Colleen wondered desperately. The sound of the thing's laughter made her feel utterly helpless.
"I'm in no hurry, dear," the thing chortled. "The fire will do my work for me."
"Don't listen to her," Lance shouted. "Now, get up that ladder." He pointed up toward the window near the ceiling.
"No, you go first," Colleen told him suddenly.
"What are you talking about? Get up there! I'll hold her off."
"No. You have to go first." She tried to push him. He wouldn't budge. "Listen, you're stronger than me. And besides, my arm is hurt. If I go first and something happens, I won't be able to pull you up. But you can save both of us!"
Lance hesitated another minute. "Get right behind me," he said, and started up the ladder. But Colleen could only make it to the first step before she had to stop while he wrestled with the window. It was stuck.
"Now, that's a good martyr," the Mrs. Wodell thing said. "Sacrifice. Face your destiny. Your death will be a memorable one."
Lance finally got the window opened and squirmed out. Colleen had no choice but to turn her back on the creature as she scrambled up the ladder. She was halfway through the window when Mrs. Wodell grabbed her by the foot.
"She's
got me!" Colleen cried. Lance grabbed her underneath her shoulders as Colleen kicked out. But Mrs. Wodell only tightened her grip.
"Come now," the creature hissed. "Time to die."
Colleen felt as though she would be torn apart. Mrs. Wodell reached for her other foot, but Colleen drew it back. Then, taking aim, she kicked the woman squarely in the face. Her foot connected solidly. There was a crunching sound and Mrs. Wodell let go. Falling backward, she managed to take the ladder with her, and Colleen was left dangling in the air. Lance tried to pull her quickly through the window, but his strength was failing. He waited a fraction of a second. And by that time, Mrs. Wodell had wrapped her arms around Colleen's waist and was pulling her back down again.
"Your precious Lance is getting weak, Colleen." It spoke to Colleen like an intimate. "I may be able to pull him down with you. Then I'll have you both."
Colleen knew the thing was right. Lance was holding tight, but his strength was no match for the evil Mrs. Wodell. The flames and smoke were all around now. If they got pulled back in, they wouldn't last long, with or without Mrs. Wodell to dispatch them.
"Let go of me," she shouted to Lance. "Get away from here."
"No way," he shouted back. "I'm not giving up. And you can't give up either. Fight, Colleen. You know how to do that now, remember?"
Colleen wanted to argue. She wanted to point out the difference between defending oneself against a bully and fighting a demon like Mrs. Wodell. But she couldn't speak. The pain of nearly being torn apart was too great. Soon the roaring of the flames began to fade. So did reality. Colleen let blackness wash over her.
"That's right." Mrs. Wodell's voice seemed to come from close to her ear, whispering. "Let go. It's over now."
So Colleen let go. The blackness enveloped her completely. But she wasn't alone. Others milled about in the darkness. A sourceless light came up, revealing Tish, Melina, Ricky, and Kirk in a group. Even Denny was with them. They all looked at her with pleading eyes. It was Denny who spoke for them all, in a clear, deep voice:
Freddy Krueger's Tales of Terror #4: Twice Burned Page 12
