Win or lose… There were four of them, and only one April. It was that simple, and it was still happening today. Some things never changed, because people never changed.
Bat and Griz and Todd and Derwin hadn’t changed.
But Amy had changed. She had grown up. People like Amy…
…tormented people like April. And they went on to torment husbands and lovers and friends, bending them to their own personal agendas. They leeched on misery, ripped up bright futures and stole the best of the scraps. They laughed and whispered and trashed lockers and trashed lives, driving the April Destinos of the world into trailer parks. People like Amy hated people like April, hated them for the things they had gained so easily, and the things they surrendered without a fight.
Suddenly, it seemed so simple.
April in a hot metal trailer.
Amy in a cold metal coffin.
That was the truth of it.
When you hit us, we bruise, every one of us… When you cut us, we all bleed.
April, I’m so scared.
Welcome to the club. Try living like this for eighteen years.
A c hill wracked Amy’s chest. April’s sweater was heavy with water. Amy knew there was no way to get warm. I never took any hits, Amy thought. Not really. I never knew what it was like, April. I swear to God, I never saw what it was like to be so alone. I never knew it could be so cold.
The darkness was waiting. The still water opened a welcoming hand.
April had been her teacher, leaving the sweater and the eight ball, leaving her Doug Douglas and Steve Austin. But the lesson had gone on from there, into what seemed another world, a place where the dead and the living existed on the same plane, a place where the same battles were fought again and again.
I can’t do it alone, April.
The cheerleader’s sweater was heavy with darkness. The wet Kleenex stuffed inside April’s bra cupped Amy’s small breasts, molding to her skin like the marble hands of the dead.
I don’t want to be alone, April.
April’s hands were on her, like stones.
Strong hands which had never become fists.
April, I…
The cold rushed in, and something froze deep inside Amy. The darkness blinded her. Icy hands increased pressure on her chest until her ribs threatened to snap, and violent tremors tore through her, and she rode the spasm until the frozen thing shattered within.
11:44 P.M.
The Colonial Chapel Mortuary was a study in glowing green-white. The energy-efficient halogen lights appealed to the bottom-line instincts of the proprietors, while the Barnum in them appreciated the mystical, otherworldly aura that the lights lent to the colonial-courthouse-style structure in the late hours.
Steve extinguished his headlights as he approached the mortuary. He pulled into the rear area where the hearses-one black and one white-were parked. Steve’s Dodge drifted to a stop between them.
Bat Bautista wanted to lure him to the cemetery. Wanted him to drive up, lights blazing, and park on the winding road near April’s grave. Wanted to blow his ass away from behind a tombstone.
No way that was going to happen. No way Steve was going to play their game, because he knew that they didn’t have anything that he wanted. Bat Bautista was a liar.
Steve glanced in the rearview and saw the guy who had tried to corral Bat Bautista with words sneering back at him. How had he ever imagined that he could tell Bat that April was back, and then expect him to leave her alone? Stupid, to have thought that he could scare Bat and the others, when they were the bastards who had trapped April in the nightmare in the first place. They were too stupid to fear anything.
They took April, all right. The A-Squad and that little bastard Shutterbug. They didn’t even bother with her dead husk, except to make it into a billboard.
Steve’s hands shook on the steering wheel as he remembered the note safety-pinned to the corpse’s cheek. That minor atrocity didn’t slow the A-Squad’s progress one second. They left April with Shutterbug, hoping to play out their hand, hoping to get the film, wanting everything, because that’s what guys like Bat and Derwin and Griz and Todd always wanted, and too many years had passed since any of them had gotten even a little piece of everything.
Steve slipped his gun belt around his waist and fastened the buckle. Leather creaked, and the familiar sound put him at ease. Hopefully he would manage to surprise them. Hit the A-Squad before they knew he was even there. Come out of the darkness like a boogieman.
Steve snatched up his shotgun.
He opened the car door quietly, stepped out soundlessly.
And the morons thought that he was stupid enough to drive up to the grave, lights blazing.
The 16mm loop was in Steve’s pocket. He knew what he was going to do with it. He was going to shoot Bat Bautista, but not kill him through. And then he was going to put the film in Bat’s pocket and light it on fire.
Steve closed the car door and turned, shaking his head, grinning…
…and he stepped into a nightmare.
11:47 P.M.
“You hear that?” Derwin asked.
“Yeah,” Griz said.
“Sounded like gunshots.”
“Yeah,” Griz agreed.
“Or a car backfiring,” Todd put in.
“Shut up,” Bat said. “Whatever it is, it’s got nothing to do with us.”
“But if someone calls the cops,” Todd offered.
“No one’s gonna call the cops.” Bat sighed. “Think about it. There’s a closed drive-in on the other side of the road. This cemetery is as big as the fucking Oakland Coliseum. If anyone heard anything, they’ll just ignore it. And even if they don’t, you think the cops come running every time someone fires a gun? In this town?”
“But Bat- “
“Shut the fuck up! If Austin hears us, this whole thing will go bad. Now stake out this place like I told you. Together we’re sitting ducks.” Bat whirled, moped off, and hid behind a tombstone. He was sweating now, and his heart pounded like a little bongo drum locked in his chest. And his stomach…man oh man, his stomach.
Bat lay Ozzy Austin’s. 45 on the grass and fished a roll of Tums from his pocket. Crunched three of the things. Vague fruit flavors masked the sour taste in his mouth.
Jesus, sitting here in the dark with three morons. Hiding behind tombstones, waiting for Austin’s car to show.
Maybe Austin would be smarter than that. Bat was counting on pissing him off, forcing him to rush after them like a wildman on a mission. If Austin stopped long enough to think things through- No way. Ozzy Austin wouldn’t do that. The guy was a lunatic. He would want his bitch back. He would want Amelia Peyton right now, so he could get on with whatever crazy game they were-
A whisper next to his ear: “Hey…Bat.”
Bat spit flecks of Tums. Todd was standing there, his silhouette barely discernible. Had to be Todd because the silhouette was too short for Derwin and too skinny for Griz. “Don’t go sneaking around like that,” Bat whispered. “Everyone’s jumpy. You’ll get your ass shot. Now get back to that tombstone and keep your eyes
