Staying together, they turned to the left, walked in silence to the end of the corridor, and entered Lilly Thorn’s bedroom. Dana waited just inside the doorway, keeping watch while Tuck hurried through the room, glanced here and there, checked inside the armoir and finally sprawled on the floor for a look under the bed.
Getting up, Tuck brushed her hands off against each other and shook her head.
They crossed the hall to the bedroom Maggie Kutch had shared with her husband. It contained Maggie’s original furniture. But there were no wax figures of Maggie or any other member of her family. The exhibit showed a twelve year old boy, Larry Maywood, raising the window and looking over his shoulder in horror. His pal, Tom Bagley, lay mangled and bloody on the floor. Dana knew their story well. These two local boys had been avid fans of the tour. And they’d grown too curious. Late one night in 1951, they’d broken into the house to search for the beast. And they’d supposedly found it. Or it had found them.
Larry had escaped through the window, but poor Tom...
Dana glanced at Tom’s severed head. It rested on the floor near his shoulder. Facing her. Staring up at her.
She looked away from it.
For a few seconds, she watched Tuck performing the search. Then she just bad to look at Tom again.
He was still staring at her.
He gave her the creeps.
She kept trying to look away, but Tom’s gaze kept pulling at her.
At last, Tuck finished the search. As she came toward the door, Dana quickly stepped out into the hallway.
Tuck frowned at her. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Not getting nauseous or anything?”
“So far, so good. I just didn’t like the way Tom was staring at me.”
Tuck grinned. “He loves the pretty girls.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Has great eyes, doesn’t he?”
“They’re awful.”
“That’s what I mean,” Tuck said. “He upsets
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Dana followed Tuck down the hallway.
Arriving at the entrance to the attic, Tuck unhooked one end of the plush red cordon and eased it down gently against the door frame.
“Chances are,”she whispered, “we’ll find our missing tourist up here.”
“Oh, good.”
“They love to hide in the attic.” Tuck reached up and clutched Dana’s shoulder. Holding on, she raised a knee and pulled off her shoe. After taking off the other, she whispered, “Lose your shoes. We want to take him by surprise.”
“How’ll I kick his ass if I’m barefoot?”
“Toe his ass.”
Shaking her head, Dana grabbed Tuck’s shoulder. As she pulled off her shoes, she noticed that she was trembling. And sweaty. Her blouse clinged to her back. Her panties were sticking to her buttocks and groin. The feet of her socks were soaking wet.
“You all right?” Tuck whispered.
“A little scared.”
“I can take care of this if you wanta wait here for me.”
“No. We stay together.”
“You sure?”
“Sure I’m sure.”
“Well, I’ll go up first.”
“Okay.”
Tuck started climbing the stairs. Danafollowed close behind her. The stairway was narrowand steep. Dana had seen plenty of it, that morning.
It was Station Seven.
Every tourist had stopped in the corridor and gazed up the dim stairway while listening to the story of Maggie Kutch’s flight for safety with her kids, the beast in hot pursuit.
Dana must’ve explained, at least twenty times, that the attic was off limits for reasons of safety.
At the top of the stairs, Tuck reached out and turned the knob. Dana heard the latch click its release. The door creaked as Tuck pushed it open.
On the other side was darkness.
Instead of entering, Tuck reached around the corner. Her hand came back holding a flashlight. She showed it to Dana.
With a smile, she gave it a twirl. Then she thumbed its switch.
As a beam of bright light shot out, she stepped through the doorway.
Dana rushed up the last few stairs and into the attic. She lurched to a stop behind Tuck, bumping her gently, then putting a hand on her shoulder.
Breathing hard, heart pounding, she watched the pale tube of light swing across the darkness. It lit galaxies of floating, swirling motes. It lit support beams, a sofa, chests of drawers, steamer trunks, chairs, lamps, tables...
A man.
Dana gasped.
“Just a dummy,” Tuck whispered.
With the flashlight, she quickly pointed out a couple of other mannequins. “They used to be exhibits,” she explained. “Stay here a minute.”
Dana nodded and stayed.
Tuck started roaming the attic, playing the beam of light this way and that, making shadows leap and spread.“Doesn’t look like our missing tourist is up here,” she said. “Gotta make sure, though. When we leave, I’ll lock the door. If he’s in here, he’ll be trapped. All night long.”
“That’d be pleasant,” Dana said.
“Yeah. Wouldn’t it be? This place even gives me the creeps. I guess because the beast killed Maggie’s little girls up here.”
“You come here with the Midnight Tour, don’t you?”
“Sure do. It scares the crap out of everyone.” She laughed softly. “I guess that about does it,” she said, and started wandering back toward the door.
Dana watched her approach.
And watched the attic behind her.
Half expecting a shape to come lurching suddenly out of the darkness.
“I don’t know which is scarier,” Tuck said, “the attic or the cellar,.”
“Let’s just get out of here”
Almost back to Dana, Tuck switched off the flashlight. Dana stepped sideways through the doorway and climbed down a couple of stairs. Head up, she watched her friend return the flashlight to its place just inside the attic.
Tuck stepped out and pulled the door shut.
