The Midnight Tour

THE ATTACK

After shouting a few questions down the hole to Dana, Lynn stood up and turned to the group. “I guess we got more than we bargained for. The way things look, we’ve walked into a brand new chapter in Beast House history. Apparently, one of our local police officers, Eve Chaney, somehow got abducted and taken down into the tunnel. It sounds as if she’ll be okay, Dana will probably have her out of there in a few minutes. If not, I’m sure she’ll be safely rescued by the emergency personnel who should be arriving shortly. You’re all welcome to stick around. But as for tonight’s tour, I don’t see much chance of going on with it. You’re certainly free to leave. If you can, stop by the ticket booth tomorrow. We’ll either give you a full refund, or...If I run a special Midnight Tour tomorrow night, how many of you would be able to make it?”

Owen raised a hand. So did Darke, Vein, Dennis, Arnold and Bixby, Among the three couples that appeared to be married, no hands went up. Owen couldn’t hear what was being said, but he figured they were probably talking it over.

“That looks pretty good,” Lynn said. “I’ll definitely run a tour tomorrow night for those of you who can make it—assuming that it’s not impossible for one reason or another.”

Done conferring with his wife, the camel sweater man said, “I believe we’ll be able to stay over for it.”

“Great,” Lynn said.

The cellar door banged shut.

Owen looked over his shoulder and saw Clyde bounding down the stairs in the beast suit.

“Couldn’t get through,” a voice announced The muffled sound seemed to be coming from Clyde’s mask.

“What do you mean?” Lynn asked him.

“The phone’s out.”

“The office phone?”

“Right.”

“You couldn’t go someplace and find a phone that works?”

The beast shook its head.

“You’re a lot of help.”

The massive white shoulders shrugged.

“I have a cell phone,” said Eleanor, the tennis lady.

“It won’t work down here,” Lynn said. A moment later, she said, “But it’s worth a try.” Holding out a hand, she said, “Here, let me see it.”

“I’ll have a go at it myself,” said Bixby. He reached into a pocket of his safari jacket and hauled out a cell phone.

“We might as well try it, too,” said the camel sweater man.

“Alison?”

His wife reached into her purse.

Shaking her head and laughing softly, Lynn said, “I’ll try 911. Somebody else try to get hold of an operator. Shit, just call anyone you can get. Tell ‘em where we are, that we need cops and an ambulance.”

The cellar came alive with twitters and beeps.

“I DON’T THINK SO!”

Owen looked around.

Clyde had taken the beast head off. His face was red and twisted, his eyes wild. The hideous mask seemed to be resting on his shoulder. But he suddenly cocked back his arm and hurled the white head forward like an oversized softball.

Owen heard a distant, heavy blam! that sounded like a gunshot.

An instant later, the beast head crashed through the dangling light bulb.

The bulb exploded.

The cellar fell dark.

All around Owen, screams erupted.

He swung Darke around to the front and she came up tight against him. He wrapped his arms around her back. He could feel her panting for air as chaos swarmed around them.

From every side came shrieks of terror, cries of pain.

People yelled—

“No!”

“Who’s that?”

“Watch out!”

“Connie Con, is that you? YAHHH!”

Lynn shouted, “Calm down, everyone! Don’t panic! Try to get to the stairs.”

“Oh, my God.

“Get away!”

“It’s the BEAST!”

“This isn’t too cool.”

“Dude. ”

“Help me! Help!”

Lynn yelled, “Shit! Get out of here, everyone! Run!”

“Leave me ALONE!”

“Owie?” Monica’s voice, a terrified whimper, came from directly behind him.

“Monica?”

“Owie, where are you?”

“Phill!”

“Get off me!”

“The DOOR’S locked!”

“Dude, let’s haul ass. ”

“Who locked the fuckin’ door!”

“Right in front of you,” Owen said.

“NO! PLEASE!”

“Dear God!”

“Andy? Andy, where are you?”

Owen felt a hand pat his right shoulder blade. Darke’s arms were hugging him much lower, just above his waist.

“Is that you, Owie?”

“It’s me. Are you all right?”

“Fine and dandy, honey. ”

Something punched into his back. He grunted from the impact. As a molten pain flashed through him, he felt the thing slide out. Then it pounded into him again. He squealed.

Darke made a strange grunting sound.

She suddenly jerked in his embrace, twisting him sideways and driving him backward. He bumped into people but kept stumbling backward as if Darke were playing a rough game of football in a strange, pitch black stadium— fierce little contender plowing against him, determined to drive him out of bounds.

At last, they fell.

On their way down, Darke turned him. They landed hard on their sides.

Darke pulled away from him. She turned him facedown against the cellar’s dirt floor.

Through the roar in his ears and the cries and shouts, he heard Darke say, “She stabbed you.”

“Where...?”

“In the back. The knife’s still in you.”

“Where is she?” Owen gasped.

“Don’t know. Maybe we lost her. She’ll never find us in the dark.”

“Unless I HEAR you!” Monica blurted, glee in her voice.

Owen squealed with pain as the knife was suddenly jerked out of his back.