bare feet just above the floor and only empty night behind him… empty night and a long fall… a fall that looked endless.
Mark had no choice.
He slammed into the man’s body, hugged him around the waist and held on for dear life as they both swung out over the abyss. The roped creaked.
What if it breaks?
‘Gotcha now,’ the man said.
The voice sounded familiar. Mark looked up. The face of the hanged man was tilted downward, masked by shadow.
‘Who are you?’ Mark blurted. ‘What do you want?’
‘First, I’m gonna rip off your head.’
Fred!
Though they were now far out over the abyss, Mark let go. He began to drop—then stopped, his head clamped tight between Fred’s hands.
‘You aren’t going anyplace, young man. Not till I’m down with you.’
With a sudden wrench, the hanged man jerked Mark’s head around.
‘Mark stared out behind himself, knowing his head was backward, his neck was broken.
Oh God, no. I’m killed.
Or maybe I’ll live, but I’ll be totally wrecked for life, a miserable cripple like Bigelow.
And out in the moonlight night not very far in front of his eyes flapped the dead white, skin-covered bird.
‘Get out of here!’ Mark yelled at it. ‘Leave me alone!’
‘Nevermore, asshole.’
A moment later, Mark’s neck gave way.
Fred’s bare legs caught his torso and kept it.
Apparently, he had no more use for Mark’s head.
Falling, Mark gazed up at the swinging naked man and at his own headless body.
Oh my God, he’s really going to do it! And I’ll get to watch! I don’t want to see him do THAT to me!
Then Mark saw the fleshy white bird swoop at him and realised it meant to grant his wish.
‘Yah!’ he cried out, and lurched awake in total darkness.
He was gasping, drench with sweat, still sick with terror and revulsion.
Jeez!
For a moment, he thought he must be home in bed in the middle of the night. But this was no mattress under him.
Oh, yeah.
Better stay awake a little while, he told himself.
He’d heard you can get the same nightmare back if you return to sleep too quickly.
Not much danger of that, he thought.
For one thing, he felt wide awake. For another, he needed to urinate.
Man, I don’t wanta do that in here.
Might have to, he thought. I can’t leave here till after six, and it’s probably… what?… three or three-thirty?
He brought his hands over his face, pushed the cuff of his windbreaker up his left arm and pressed a button on the side of his wristwatch.
The digital numbers lit up bright red.
6:49.
Chapter Thirteen
He’d actually slept past the Beast House closing time!
Fantastic!
He turned himself over. Holding the belly pack by its belt, he started squirming forward through the darkness. Soon, the fingers of his right hand snagged a thin cord.
All right!
He pulled at the cord and retrieved his headphones.
Holding the headphones in one hand, his pack in the other, he continued to squirm forward. He stopped when he came to a steep upward slope… the slope hed skidded down head-first when he plunged into the hole.
Almost out.
No light came down into the tunnel. No sound, either.
The whole house should be locked up by now, everybody gone for the night.
Everybody but me!
He grinned, but he felt trembly inside.
This is so cool, he thought.
Then he realized that his mother and father should both be home by now. Had they found his note yet? Probably.
They’re probably both mad as hell, he thought.
And worried sick.
He felt a little sick, himself.
I had to do it, he thought. How else was I going to get a date with Alison?
In his mother’s voice, he heard, Maybe you should think twice about WANTING to date a girl who would ask you to do something like this.
‘Yeah, sure,’ he muttered, and scurried up the steep slope. Not stopping at the top, he crawled over the edge of the hole and across the dirt floor of the cellar until his shoulder bumped into a stanchion. The post wobbled, making clinky
Mark had no choice.
He slammed into the man’s body, hugged him around the waist and held on for dear life as they both swung out over the abyss. The roped creaked.
What if it breaks?
‘Gotcha now,’ the man said.
The voice sounded familiar. Mark looked up. The face of the hanged man was tilted downward, masked by shadow.
‘Who are you?’ Mark blurted. ‘What do you want?’
‘First, I’m gonna rip off your head.’
Fred!
Though they were now far out over the abyss, Mark let go. He began to drop—then stopped, his head clamped tight between Fred’s hands.
‘You aren’t going anyplace, young man. Not till I’m down with you.’
With a sudden wrench, the hanged man jerked Mark’s head around.
‘Mark stared out behind himself, knowing his head was backward, his neck was broken.
Oh God, no. I’m killed.
Or maybe I’ll live, but I’ll be totally wrecked for life, a miserable cripple like Bigelow.
And out in the moonlight night not very far in front of his eyes flapped the dead white, skin-covered bird.
‘Get out of here!’ Mark yelled at it. ‘Leave me alone!’
‘Nevermore, asshole.’
A moment later, Mark’s neck gave way.
Fred’s bare legs caught his torso and kept it.
Apparently, he had no more use for Mark’s head.
Falling, Mark gazed up at the swinging naked man and at his own headless body.
Oh my God, he’s really going to do it! And I’ll get to watch! I don’t want to see him do THAT to me!
Then Mark saw the fleshy white bird swoop at him and realised it meant to grant his wish.
‘Yah!’ he cried out, and lurched awake in total darkness.
He was gasping, drench with sweat, still sick with terror and revulsion.
Jeez!
For a moment, he thought he must be home in bed in the middle of the night. But this was no mattress under him.
Oh, yeah.
Better stay awake a little while, he told himself.
He’d heard you can get the same nightmare back if you return to sleep too quickly.
Not much danger of that, he thought.
For one thing, he felt wide awake. For another, he needed to urinate.
Man, I don’t wanta do that in here.
Might have to, he thought. I can’t leave here till after six, and it’s probably… what?… three or three-thirty?
He brought his hands over his face, pushed the cuff of his windbreaker up his left arm and pressed a button on the side of his wristwatch.
The digital numbers lit up bright red.
6:49.
Chapter Thirteen
He’d actually slept past the Beast House closing time!
Fantastic!
He turned himself over. Holding the belly pack by its belt, he started squirming forward through the darkness. Soon, the fingers of his right hand snagged a thin cord.
All right!
He pulled at the cord and retrieved his headphones.
Holding the headphones in one hand, his pack in the other, he continued to squirm forward. He stopped when he came to a steep upward slope… the slope hed skidded down head-first when he plunged into the hole.
Almost out.
No light came down into the tunnel. No sound, either.
The whole house should be locked up by now, everybody gone for the night.
Everybody but me!
He grinned, but he felt trembly inside.
This is so cool, he thought.
Then he realized that his mother and father should both be home by now. Had they found his note yet? Probably.
They’re probably both mad as hell, he thought.
And worried sick.
He felt a little sick, himself.
I had to do it, he thought. How else was I going to get a date with Alison?
In his mother’s voice, he heard, Maybe you should think twice about WANTING to date a girl who would ask you to do something like this.
‘Yeah, sure,’ he muttered, and scurried up the steep slope. Not stopping at the top, he crawled over the edge of the hole and across the dirt floor of the cellar until his shoulder bumped into a stanchion. The post wobbled, making clinky
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