“This is a joke, right?” Murphy was saying. “It’s another trick—”
“Sure it is,” said Alex. “Terry’s still mad that the wimps lost the treasure hunt, and this is his mature way of showing it. Did he pay you off to go along with it, Dave?”
“It’s no joke!” said David, shaking slightly in his wet clothes. He and Terry were standing in front of the fireplace, drying off. They were facing the remaining party guests. Tentative smiles and laughs had turned to expressions of horror as they began to realize that this Halloween trick might be for real.
Trisha spoke now, trying to fight back tears. “Are you telling us that Les is—is dead?”
“Murdered,” said Terry grimly.
“But who—?”
“And Uncle Philip?” Justine spoke for the first time. “Something has happened to him too?”
“We don’t know for sure,” said Terry. “But we found his jacket covered with blood.”
Justine buried her face in her hands and began to cry. Alex, who had been sitting next to her, put one arm around her and patted her gently with the other.
Angela stood up, shaking. “Someone—someone in this house is a—a murderer!” she said. Her voice sounded very high-pitched and almost hysterical.
“Or someone outside the house,” said David. He told the others about the cut phone line.
“I—I want to go home!” Angela said. “I have to get out of here!” She ran toward the front door, with Ricky and Murphy both after her.
“You can’t go out!” said Ricky. “It’s really pouring now!”
“Besides,” Murphy added, “Marty and Bobby might still be out there!”
“I don’t care!” she shrieked. She slipped away from them and rushed through the door. An instant later there was a cry from the front porch.
Murphy and Ricky rushed outside. A moment later Ricky came in, more frightened than ever. “It’s okay,” he said. “She fell down. She tripped on the piece of plywood Marty and Bobby put down as a ramp.”
Murphy came inside carrying Angela. She was still crying but no longer sounded hysterical. “My ankle,” she moaned.
“I think it’s sprained,” said Murphy. He set her down on one of the sofas.
“You’ll have to carry me home, Murphy,” Angela said. “I don’t think I can walk.”
“I’ll help,” said Alex.
“Stop!” Justine cried suddenly. “Don’t leave me alone! Please! Wait till morning! We can all go for help then!”
“We’ve got to call the police,” said David gently. “But there’s no reason for everyone to go. There’s a pay phone at the corner of Fear Street and the Old Mill Road. It should only take me a few minutes to drive there.”
Terry thought about the walk through the cemetery to get to the cars and wondered how David could face it. But he knew David was right—he had to go. In any case, Terry had to stay there to find Niki.
“Don’t worry,” said David. “You’ll be safe here as long as you all stay together. Don’t leave the living room and lock the front door. I’ll be back with help in just a few minutes.”
He pulled on his varsity jacket and slipped out the front door. For a moment the only sound in the room was Angela’s muffled sniffling. Then Ricky got up and locked the front door.
Everyone had crowded closer together in front of the fire, and even Justine seemed lost and frightened in the flickering light.
“It’ll only be a few minutes,” said Trisha soothingly to Angela. “As long as we all stick—Terry, where are you going?”
“I still don’t know where Niki is,” he said, trying to sound calmer than he felt. “I was looking for her when I found Les.”
“This isn’t just a trick?” said Alex suspiciously.
“What do you think?” Terry snapped. “Do you see Niki anywhere? She’s been missing for over an hour!”
“I’m sorry, man,” said Alex, suddenly frightened. “I’ll help you look for her.”
For a moment Terry wanted to tell Alex to mind his own business. But he read an expression of real concern on his former friend’s face and realized for the first time how much Alex really cared for Niki. Besides, he told himself, the most important thing wasn’t who found her, but to find her as quickly as possible.
And too much time had passed already.
With a growing sense of urgency, Terry realized that it might already be too late.
As he walked toward the woods surrounding the cemetery, David realized he had never been so scared in his life. He had volunteered to go for help because he couldn’t stand the thought of just waiting in the mansion with Les’s body there. But he couldn’t get Les out of his mind.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw Les’s staring, sightless face.
Every time the wind shook the trees he saw the skeleton costume.
The rain was slanting down harder than ever, and he was soaked completely through. His body had started to shiver from the cold, and from fear.
It was taking him a lot longer to get to the cemetery than he remembered. The ground was deeply rutted and now so slippery with mud that he had to watch every step. The wind had shifted and was blowing directly in his face, as if to force him back to the Cameron mansion.
The only good thing was that there’d been no sign of Bobby and Marty. Maybe the weather had gotten too bad for them.
The wall surrounding the Fear Street cemetery loomed just ahead. He pushed open the gate and began to pick his way along the path between the grave markers, trying not to think about where he was.
With every boom of thunder, lightning lit up the graveyard like a snapshot, the old gravestones standing out in eerie relief.
It was only a few more yards to the end of the graveyard and where the cars were parked. In a flash of lightning he finally saw them in the distance and felt a flood of relief for the first time in hours.
In just a few more steps he’d be out of there and on his way to help. At last he reached the gate, swung it open, and began to run toward the handful of cars parked at the end of Fear Street.
He reached into his pocket and took out his keys as he approached his red Corolla.
And stopped, holding them in his hand.
The Corolla was sitting at an odd angle. Every one of its tires had been slashed. Every tire on every car belonging to the guests had been slashed.
