Out Are the Lights (23 page)

    The rope jerked her backwards off her feet. She cried out as she landed on her tied arms. Schreck stepped past her. He grabbed her left foot, and dragged her to the end of the hall.

    
He'll break my arms,
she thought.
If he takes me down the stairs like this, they'll both…

    But he stopped at the head of the stairway. He leaned over her, gripped her crotch and the front of her jacket, and hoisted her overhead. He carried her down the stairs that way, holding her high, one fist like a post pounding her chest, the other clutching as if to split the fabric of her warm-up pants and claw into her.

    The door at the bottom of the stairs was open. He carried her outside, and stopped.

    She expected to be hurled into the night, but he simply swung her down and shoved her against the wall. Todd was standing on the lawn, smiling and nodding.

    Then Bruno came out the front door with a video camera on his shoulder as if he were here to capture the event for Eyewitness News. He stepped down the porch stairs, turned on a powerful light, and aimed the camera at her.

    Schreck punched her in the belly. As she doubled over, choking, he flung her from the porch. She twisted in midair, and landed on her side.

    Schreck cut her hands free. He grabbed the back of her jacket and carried her like a piece of luggage. Her feet dragged the grass, her arms hung numb and useless. Near the back of the house, her zipper popped apart at the bottom. It skidded open, dropping her. Schreck let her fall to the ground.

    She didn't try to get up. She lay there on the cool wet grass. Her arms were no longer numb. They hurt and tingled.

    She tried to think, but she couldn't concentrate. Her mind seemed blurry.

    Schreck jerked her to her feet. She turned her face away from the brightness of Bruno's camera light.

    Bruno pushed a shovel at her.

    She took it.

    He pointed to the ground at her feet.

    She could barely grip the shovel. She punched it at the ground. It hardly went in an inch. She jumped on the top edges of its head. Her weight forced it deeper. She pried out a wedge of dirt, and dumped it on the grass. Then she repeated the process. This time, her arms were stronger. She jumped on the shovel with more force. It plunged in deeper. She took out a larger load.

    Todd, she saw, was standing close to Bruno. Schreck remained beside her.

    She stabbed in the shovel, jumped on it, and removed the dirt. She dumped it onto the growing pile. Then she lunged forward.

    Schreck grabbed her. He caught the hanging hood of her warm-up jacket.

    Todd's mouth moved. 'Let her go! Run her down!'

    Schreck let go.

    Connie ran. Glancing back, she saw Schreck close behind her. The others followed. She ran harder, but the shovel weighed her down. If she tossed it, she might outrun Schreck.

    Ahead, she saw the tree where they'd burned the girl. Beyond it would be a steep slope, the brook, and a thickly wooded area. If she could make it to the woods…

    She glanced back.

    Saw Schreck's wild face, his reaching hands.

    Shovel clutched to her chest, she threw herself head over heels, hit the grass, twisted around and jammed the handle to the ground. Schreck, unable to stop, ran against the shovel blade. The shaft jerked in Connie's hands. She yanked it, throwing Schreck overhead. He hit the ground and rolled. She rushed him. She raised the shovel high and crashed it down on the back of his head.

    Looking around, she saw Todd and Bruno racing to catch up.

    Schreck rolled onto his back.

    Connie punched the shovel blade into his belly. It hardly went in an inch. She jumped on it with both feet, and it plunged in deep.

    She jerked it out and whirled around. Shielding her eyes from the camera light, she saw Todd and Bruno a dozen feet away.

    'Okay bastards, who's next?'

    

    

    A nurse pushed the wheelchair out the automatic doors of the hospital. 'We're going to miss you, Pete.'

    'Well, we'll be back one of these days. Give us about nine months.'

    'Rascal.'

    Connie handed him the crutches, and he used them to push himself out of the chair.

    'Now watch yourself crossing streets,' the nurse said.

    'I'll be careful.'

    Connie smiled. 'I don't think he has to worry about any more accidents.'

    

    

    

    In the shadows at the head of the cellar stairs, the door opens. A woman in a white nightgown lunges through it. Stumbling off the top stair, she throws herself against the railing. It wobbles, but stops her fall.

    The door above her swings shut.

    Pushing herself off the railing, she steps up to the door and tries it. Locked.

    Slowly, she descends the stairs, moving out of shadows and into light. Her nightgown is grimy and torn, exposing her right breast. Her neck and face and legs are bandaged, her face dark with bruises.

    Halfway down the stairs, she stops. She gazes at something below, then hurries to the bottom.

    A man lies on the bone-littered floor near a coffin - tied and gagged.

    Kneeling beside him, she peels the wide strip of tape off his mouth. His mouth is stuffed with a handkerchief. She pulls it out.

    'Untie me,' the man says.

    'Not just yet.'

    'Please.'

    'Tell me what's going on.'

    'How do I know?'

    'How'd you get here?'

    'Some guy rang my doorbell. A fat guy. I opened up, and he stuck a gun in my face.'

    'Who was he?'

    'Untie me, huh?'

    'Who was he?'

    'Never seen him before. I figured he was a cop, you know? In fact, I asked him. He grinned and said, "You're under arrest for attempted murder. For hit-and-run." He didn't read me my rights, though. Then, down at the street, he opened the trunk of his car and bashed me on the head.'

    'Roll over.'

    He rolls onto his side, and the woman picks at the knotted rope behind his wrists.

    'That's about what happened to me, too,' she says. 'Mine was a red-headed guy. I knew for sure he wasn't a cop. I saw plenty last night, and they didn't behave like this guy.'

    'Did he hurt you?'

    'Yeah. The bastard knocked me around, tore my nightgown. He didn't bash my head, though.'

    'Did he put you in a car trunk?'

    'Fuckin' right he did.' She finishes untying his hands. He rolls over, sits up, and starts to work on the knot at his feet.

    'Who do you think they are?' he asks.

    'Somebody's figured it out.'

    'Huh?'

    'Somebody knows we did it.'

    'Who?'

    'Three guesses.'

    He shakes his head and unwraps the rope at his feet. He rubs his ankles. 'Just tell me, okay?'

    'Your adorable fiancee.'

    'You're kidding.'

    'Think about it. She saw us. She put it all together.'

    He scowls and shakes his head. 'I guess… maybe so. What do you think she's gonna do?'

    'I don't know, but we'd better get out of here.' She helps him to his feet. They stand by the coffin, each silently scanning the cellar.

    Behind them, the coffin lid is flung off. They whirl around. Inside the coffin, a hooded figure sits up. The hood belongs to a warm-up jacket worn backwards. Ragged holes have been cut for eyes and mouth.

    As the figure stands up, the man and woman back away. It steps out of the coffin, bare feet crushing the bones on the cellar's dirt floor.

    'It's her,' the woman says.

    The man shakes his head. He is pale and trembling.

    'What do you want?'

    The figure doesn't answer.

    'Let's take her,' mutters the woman. 'Now!' She attacks.

    Alone.

    The hooded one grabs her arms, pivots, slams her to the floor, and steps past her.

    'It is you,' the man says, moving backwards. 'You think I…' He shrieks as a kick smashes his left knee. He drops sideways, screaming. Before he hits the floor, a second kick shatters his right knee.

    The hooded one pivots and shoots knuckles into the face of the attacking woman. The blow slams her backwards. The nape of her neck hits the coffins' edge. Her head snaps back.

    She jerks and trembles as if a thousand volts are ripping through her body. Then she slumps.

    Slender figures press her neck as if seeking a pulse. Then the hooded one straddles her body, grips her beneath the arms, and wrestles her into the coffin.

    The man is still on the floor, whimpering.

    The hooded one drags him to the coffin.

    'No!' he cries. 'No, please! I'll do anything! Whatever you say!'

    'Confess.'

    'Okay! I did it. We both did it. There!'

    'Get in the coffin.'

    'No!'

    Screaming, he fights as the hooded one struggles to lift him. His hands jerk open the jacket. He pounds the bare back, claws furrows in the skin. He rips at the blonde hair behind the hood. Then he falls into the coffin on top of the woman. Grabbing its edges, he pulls himself up. A fist smashes his nose, and he drops away.

    The hooded one places the lid on the coffin.

    Muffled screams rage inside the coffin as the lid is nailed down.

    
THE END