The Black Train

Dominique fell off the bed.

He jerked to a sitting position, wailing as he sucked in air. Black spots before his eyes began to dissipate. He saw Dominique sprawled on the floor, but—

Something unidentified seemed to cover him. The pillow she’d been smothering him with had torn open…

Feathers?

He brushed the unpleasant substance off his face.

What IS this stuff? He almost threw up when he realized it was human hair.

Mostly brown but with swathes of blonde and some streaks of red…

Next, he threw himself off the bed, revolted, but he moved like a madman. Dominique was out cold. He hauled on his clothes, then flopped Dominique around on the floor and redressed her. He skipped the hassle of putting her underwear on but when he paused and noticed her cross twinkling on the bedpost, he put it back around her neck.

Collier’s adrenaline more than made up for his negligible physical strength. He flung Dominique over his shoulder and plodded out of the room.

Oh, Christ…

The stench of urine in the hall choked him like tear gas. He took a few steps, blinking hard, and then suddenly Dominique’s unconscious body felt heavy as a sack of bricks. Collier stopped a moment, to reestablish his balance…

Did he hear these words?

“Come inside…”

He looked to find himself standing immediately before the door to the next room.

Room two.

The room that was always locked.

“Come inside my secret room,” came the plush accent.

Collier’s eyes were riveted to the doorknob. Very slowly, it began to turn.

Something clicked…

The voice started to warble.

“Come inside, sir, and oblige a lady…”

The door swung open, revealing a black void. The stench quadrupled and slammed Collier in the face so hard he could’ve staggered backward and flipped over the rail with Dominique still on his shoulder.

He trudged away just as he thought he detected a shapely nude figure stepping out of the room.

Senseless, Collier tore off like someone wading through mud. He almost fell down the stairs but probably wouldn’t have minded because it would’ve gotten him to the bottom all the more expediently. The stench followed him as though it meant to run him down.

Only a few yards to go! his mind yelled when the vestibule doors surfaced in the murk.

“But, sir,” a squawky male voice rose. “Why did you not sign your check? You must know that cash money cannot be rendered without your signature…”

The scrawny man sitting at the writing table looked perturbed, wearing an odd red hat.

A gold nose flashed.

Collier actually used his head to bang open the vestibule doors. Then he banged through the next set and was scrambling out into the night.

Before the doors could close behind him, her wanton voice beckoned him one more time:

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Collier. I trust you’ll be back to see me again very soon…”

Collier flopped Dominique into the car, then drove away from the house. In the rearview, he thought he glimpsed four figures standing between the pillars of the front porch, two of them short, and two taller.

The sound of a dog yapping faded as he sped away.

He parked in front of the restaurant. The town lay dark and silent before them.

But it seemed normal.

Dominique murmured something in her unconsciousness, then curled in the seat, asleep.

A final silent throb of lightning marked the end of the storm. Collier’s adrenaline rush finally drained. He fell into a black and gratefully dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN I

Collier awoke to a wall of sun in his eyes, and an agitated rapping sound.

Ugh. What the—

A frowning man in a police uniform was knuckling the window. Collier rolled it down, shielding his eyes.

“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Collier,” the cop said. “I heard you were in town. I’m Sheriff Legerski. Here’s your ticket.”

Collier tried to shake off his grog. “Ticket for what?”

“Not even big-time TV stars can illegally park.” The sheriff indicated the sign right next to Collier’s lime- sherbet fender. NO PARKING 9-5.

Collier looked at the ticket. “A hundred bucks?”

“Usually it’s twenty-five, but you get the celebrity rate.” The sheriff guffawed. “Just kidding. But thems the breaks, you know, Mr. Collier?”

Jesus. Collier signed with a proffered pen.

“Just send your hundred in anytime you like. Check, money order…or, you can just put twenty-five in my hand right now, you know, if it’s more convenient.”

Collier gave him the cash, head aching from the sun.

“Thanks. Say, is that Ms. Cusher in there?”

“Uh, yeah.”

The sheriff winked. “I won’t ask.” He tore up the ticket. “But I really love your show! Hope ya have a great day. Oh, and move the car, huh? And you might want to get it painted a better color, too. Something more… manly?”

Collier moved the car several yards to another sign that read FREE PARKING ALL DAY. Beside him, Dominique roused.

She blinked around. “What the hell?”

“Good morning.”

Her hands felt around the car as if in disbelief. “What am I doing in this weird-looking car? And—what time is it?”

“Quarter after ten.”

“Damn it!” She brushed a tangle of hair out of her face. “I was supposed to open at ten! How could you let me sleep so late?” A fretful look at the restaurant’s front doors showed several employees grinning at them. “Damn it!”

She smirked down at her shoes. “Where are my socks?” A hand came to her bosom. “Where’s my bra?” Then her eyes bugged when she briefly slipped her hand below her belt line.

She gave him a long, hard look. “Justin. Where’s my pubic hair?”

Collier leaned back and sighed. “You shaved it off last night. In the bath closet. By candlelight. With a very old straight razor.”

He could see her mind churning behind her eyes.

“I…think I…remember,” she said. When she touched the side of her head, she glared. “I also remember you punching me in the head!”