The Late Night Horror Show (35 page)

The three of them exchanged jittery glances.

Brix could see they were all thinking the same thing—
what now?

She focused on Ben. “You work here, right? Where can we go?”

The bartender had his eyes on the approaching front line of zombies and could only whimper in response.

Brix slugged him in the shoulder. Hard. “Ben!
Where
can we go?”

“Dunno. But…” he indicated the crowd of zombies approaching from the left side of the building, “…my car’s parked over yonder. We’d have to get past those things somehow.”

“You’ve got your keys?”

“Yep.”

“Then let’s do this.” A quick glance at Jason. “I’ll shoot as many as I can till I run out of ammo. We’ll fight our way through the rest. Punch them. Kick them. Knock them on their fucking zombie asses. Whatever it takes.”

Ben’s face was grim. “We’re about to die.”

Jason nodded. “Maybe. But we’ll go down swinging.”

No more time to talk. The zombies were too close.

Brix brushed past Jason.

Raised the gun.

And started shooting. Reanimated corpses dropped like slow-motion bowling pins. Then the gun was empty and they were in the thick of a battle to the death.

The Phantom slammed through the rear gate and shot across a fenced-in area behind a wing of the mansion. Monroe glimpsed tennis courts flashing by to his right and the dim shape of what might have been a swimming pool somewhere beyond. The area they were passing through now was a courtyard, with a beautiful garden in its center and some marble benches ringing it. A piece of the double-sided gate had come off its hinges in the crash and now rode atop the Phantom’s hood.
 

Melissa seemed unfazed by the violence of their entry into the courtyard. Of course. The only thing on her mind was getting to Victor, the vampire who had sired her. Which made Monroe think of Lilith. If she had told him the truth, he had been her sireling. He had no reason to doubt it was true. She had told the truth about everything else. Yet he had felt nothing for her like the overriding loyalty Melissa apparently felt for Victor. There had to be more to whatever was driving Melissa than just the blood connection to the vamp who had turned her.

“Um…are you in love with Victor?”

The question startled Melissa. She lost control of the Phantom for a moment as her head whipped toward him. There was another long and loud screech of rending metal as the side of the Phantom scraped one of the marble benches ringing the garden. She stomped on the brake, bringing the ravaged car to a squealing halt in the middle of the courtyard. The piece of the gate slid off the Phantom’s hood and hit the courtyard’s cobbled surface with a metallic rattle.

Melissa’s eyes were narrow, dangerous-looking slits. “What made you say that?”

Monroe wanted to run and hide. It didn’t matter where, just so long as he got away from those predatory eyes. “It was just a guess. I didn’t mean to, you know…offend you or anything. If I did—”

“Shut up.”

“Right. Shutting up now.”

She continued glaring at him in that unnervingly fierce way for a few more moments. Then her expression softened. “I do love him.”

“Look, we don’t need to talk about it. I was wrong to bring it up. Really.”

“I love him and want to be his bride.”

Jesus. Why did I have to say anything? Me and my stupid mouth. She’s just gonna go on and on about her fucking heartbreak or whatever while the whole goddamn world is falling down around us.

Other sounds penetrated now that the car was no longer in motion. There was a faint popping noise he initially thought was firecrackers. But that made no sense and an instant later he realized he was actually hearing distant gunfire. A recognition that did nothing to soothe his jangling nerves. He also heard a loud
whoop-whoop-whoop
he soon identified as the rotors of a helicopter. He leaned forward a bit and glanced upward through the badly splintered windshield. He caught a glimpse of the spinning rotors just over the edge of the mansion’s roof.

Melissa touched his arm. “Your friend Kira. She took what’s rightfully mine.”

Monroe looked at her, frowning. “I think Victor’s the one who did the goddamn taking. You wanna be mad at anyone, be mad at him.” His frown deepened. “You’re not gonna hurt her…are you?”

“Depends. There may be a way we can both have what we want.”

“How?”

She told him what she had in mind.

Monroe nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Ominous smiled in a grotesque way around the barrel of the revolver stuck in his mouth. With his garish makeup and corona of wild white hair, he looked like a crazy suicidal clown. He was still smiling as he applied pressure to the trigger and the revolver’s cylinder began to turn. Greg watched with a kind of morbid hope as it rotated. He would love nothing more than to see an abrupt end to this terrible game of cruel fate.
 

He sat on the edge of his seat and watched the gun’s hammer snap backward and then forward. But all that happened was a flat
click
as the hammer failed to land on the live round that would have sent the mad doctor’s brains exploding out the back of his head.

Ominous chuckled as he removed the gun from his mouth and pushed it across the desk toward Greg. He then poured more Maker’s Mark into Greg’s empty glass. “I imagine you’d like another brace of alcohol prior to taking your turn. Just think. It could be the last drink of your life. You’ll want to savor it.”

Greg snatched up the gun.

Opened his mouth wide to receive the barrel’s length.

And squeezed the trigger.

He only became aware of how hard his heart was thumping when the hammer made that flat
click
again. He let out a relieved breath as he carefully removed the gun from his mouth.

Ominous clapped his hands together three times, in a slow, mocking way. “Bravo, Mr. Nelson. Have to say I approve. That took balls the size of Mars. I shouldn’t be surprised. It took gloriously massive balls to come back for the girl. I was watching you on another feed, you know, as you were standing outside the theater. Most men in your position, having made good their escape, would have fled immediately. I’d bet my balls on it. People in general are more inclined to save themselves rather than attempt an act of almost certainly futile heroism.”

Greg grunted. “I guess I’m not most people. And you have a really weird balls fixation.”

“I was touched inappropriately as a child.”

Why am I not surprised?

Greg glanced at the weapon still clutched in his hands. A crazy idea occurred to him. A notion so compelling he nearly acted on it. The gun held a single live round. He could aim the gun at the crazy man and simply squeeze the trigger repeatedly until it fired.

Ominous laughed heartily. “You could not be more transparent, Greg. May I call you Greg? I feel as if two men engaged in a game in which the stakes are life and death should be on a first name basis.”

Greg shrugged. “Knock yourself out, Ominous.”

“Excellent. And you may call me Eerie.”

Greg arched an eyebrow. “Eerie?”

“My full name is Doctor Eerie von Ominous.”

No. No, it isn’t, you fucking fruitcake. I don’t know what your actual given name is and I don’t give a damn.

“I’ll just keep calling you Ominous, if you don’t mind.”

“You can call me whatever you like, just don’t call me late to dinner.”

Greg groaned at this lamest of lame old jokes.

The mad doctor’s expression sobered as he eyed the gun. “I’d advise you not to attempt anything stupid. Possibly you would succeed in killing me, but O’Dell would then immediately kill you. Isn’t that right, O’Dell?”

The midget, still hanging out somewhere behind Greg, said, “Damn straight.”

Ominous nodded. “And your woman would remain where she is.” His eyes twinkled as he leaned forward a bit to lend extra emphasis to his next utterance.
“Forever.”

Greg set the gun on the desk again, exchanging it for the replenished glass of whiskey. “I’ll play by your rules, Ominous.” He smirked. “Even if I think the game is rigged.”

“You wound me, Greg. I am an honorable man, I assure you.”

Like hell.

Ominous pulled the gun toward the center of the desk, where he gave it a twirl, like a kid playing a game of Spin the Bottle. He laughed yet again when it stopped spinning and wound up pointed roughly in Greg’s direction. “Not at all portentous, I’m sure.”

Greg sipped more whiskey and didn’t reply.

Ominous kept smiling and tapped his fingers in a jaunty beat on the desktop. He clearly was drawing out the next stage of the game. Because he was having fun and didn’t want it to end too soon. The evil fuck. The tapping of his fingers became more manic until he slapped his hand on the desk and barked a command at the midget. “O’Dell! This party needs tunes. Cue the Mix of Diabolical Awesomeness!”

Greg squinted at Ominous. “The what?”

A maniacal cackle from the doctor. “The Mix of Diabolical Awesomeness!”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

He heard O’Dell moving around behind him for a moment and then music was emanating from hidden speakers. Shriekback’s “Nemesis” again, a song he only knew thanks to a mix CD made for him by an older cousin years earlier.

Ominous pushed back from his desk, stood up, and started dancing manically around like the certifiable lunatic he was.

Greg helped himself to more whiskey and waited with failing patience for the game to resume.

The tumble down the stairs left her in tremendous pain, though miraculously no bones seemed to have been broken. There was, however, some serious internal discomfort as she tried to rouse herself from the cellar’s concrete floor, so maybe she did have some cracked ribs. She winced and bit back a cry of pain as she braced her hands on the cool concrete and tried to push herself up. But her strength was at a very low ebb and all she could do was whimper in frustration as Heidi and Blaine came clomping down the wooden cellar stairs.

Lashon glanced up and saw their forms partially illuminated by the light pouring in from the door to the kitchen. The faint light also allowed her to glimpse other things. There were other people down here with her. People who looked like they were floating in midair. A stench of decay hung heavy in the air and hinted at a darker truth regarding her silent companions.

Blaine and Heidi reached the cellar floor.

There was a click and a low-wattage red bulb—like the one Lashon remembered from the living room—popped on, revealing a half-dozen bodies in various stages of decomposition hanging from meat hooks. One body looked relatively fresh. The dead man’s face looked vaguely familiar. He had on a T-shirt depicting a scene from an old horror film called
Basket Case
. Lashon wondered why he should seem familiar. Then it hit her. She had caught a glimpse of him in the audience for
Chainsaw Maniac
. So she and Johnny hadn’t been the only unfortunate souls transported to this nightmare place from the theater. The blood-tipped point of the steel hook protruded grotesquely from the man’s chest. It had taken great strength to impale the guy that way. A thing like that had to have been done by either Barry or Rob, who were both dead now.

Heidi screamed and came running at Lashon.

In her weakened state, there was no time to react or defend herself as Heidi kicked at her, burying the point of her shoe in the soft flesh just beneath her already banged-up rib cage. “Take that, you fucking filthy whore!” Another savage kick, even more painful.
 

“And that!”
 

And yet another.
 

“And that!”

Blaine came up behind Heidi and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “That’s enough.”

Heidi shrugged his hand away. “You’re not the fucking boss of me!”

She kicked Lashon several more times before finally breaking off the attack.

Lashon sucked in a great, gasping breath and then sobbed. She wanted to defend herself. Wanted more than anything to fight back. But her body just wouldn’t cooperate. She had never been in so much pain.

It’s hopeless,
she thought.
They’re gonna kill me and there’s nothing I can do about it.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the dangling bodies of the crazy family’s earlier victims. There were two more hooks she could see that had no bodies hanging from them. Though it was obvious neither Heidi nor Blaine possessed massive upper body strength, she supposed it was possible they could get her on to one of those hooks if they worked together. She imagined her body sliding on to one of those steel points and wanted to cry.

Heidi saw her staring at the hooks and laughed in a cruel, heartless way. “Yeah, bitch. That shit’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker. You wouldn’t believe the fucking noise people make when they get put on those things.”