The Mammoth Book of Halloween Stories: Terrifying Tales Set on the Scariest Night of the Year!

by Stephen Jones

  The apple Mommy gave me is on my plate. I could only eat half. Mommy says apples are good for me. Says candy wrecks my teeth. Says Daddy always ate apples. But it feels like something is cutting me inside.

  I try to call Mommy but can’t make words. I feel cold, like I’m snowing inside. All I hear is my breathing. Blood soaks my pillow.

  I imagine Daddy sitting in his big car, grinning up at me, in my room. He beeps the horn and I run down and we drive away into the big white clouds that turn apple-red.

  And the sky starts to bleed.

  THE ULTIMATE HALLOWEEN PARTY APP

  LISA MORTON

  Lisa Morton is a screenwriter, author of nonfiction books, award-winning novelist, and Halloween expert whose work was described by the American Library Association’s Readers’ Advisory Guide to Horror as “consistently dark, unsettling, and frightening.”

  Recently, she has coedited the anthology Haunted Nights (with Ellen Datlow) and published the nonfiction book Ghosts: A Haunted History. She has also coedited an annotated anthology of classic ghost stories (with Leslie R. Klinger) and has written for the mosaic novel series The Lovecraft Squad.

  “As a Halloween expert, an editor of Halloween-themed anthologies, and an author who has written a great deal of Halloween fiction, the challenge for me with this piece was to come up with something completely new,” explains the author, “something I hadn’t read (or written) before about Halloween.

  “One of the recent innovations appearing in a lot of Halloween haunted house attractions is the idea that you go through a maze with your phone, which has downloaded an app that reveals specters and clues you wouldn’t see otherwise, so I pushed that concept into the near-future. Sadly, I see violence and terrorism becoming an increasingly important part of our daily lives, so I integrated that into the story as well.”

  MARCUS WATCHED AS his friend Jet dissolved, head first, skin and hair turning into a blood-colored liquid that burned away his clothing as it gushed down his body. Within seconds Jet was little more than dripping bones, the jaws still clacking up and down although his voice now sounded hollow.

  “… If you think this is freq, then you don’t want to miss the party. Fuck the terrorists with Halloween horrors! Halloween night, my place, with apps that may literally destroy your head.”

  The skull laughed and blew up.

  Marcus flinched to avoid flying chips, then had to laugh at himself. “Pretty good, Jet,” he said, as the image in his oculars was replaced with date (October 31st), time (9:00 p.m.), and address. “End,” Marcus muttered. The invitation left his field of vision, replaced by a transparent screen showing the usual status alerts for parts of the city currently under attack.

  Marcus envied Jet’s ability to always be a step ahead of everyone else, although as a team leader in development at WhApp, he of course had an unfair advantage. Two years ago at a Christmas party, Jet had let his guests sample the first feelie three months before the release; although of course they had become common since then, the idea that an app downloaded into your implant could make you experience physical sensations had been revolutionary. Whatever he had for Halloween would be special.

  Special … just what Marcus had been waiting for, the thing he needed to invite Olivia out.

  Two months ago she’d arrived in the accounting department of the implant manufacturing company Marcus worked for; she’d had to leave her last company when the headquarters were bombed by the UWF. Marcus was smitten immediately. The way her glossy, black hair fell across the dark skin of her back, the way she moved, her smile, her soft voice … he knew he wasn’t the only one at the company taken with the new arrival—he’d already watched two crash-and-burn attempts from coworkers asking her out—so he waited. It had to be right. It had to be special. It had to be mind-blowing.

  To his (happy) surprise, she accepted immediately. She said she really liked Halloween, and was a fan of the stuff WhApp put out, had even already purchased a preorder download of their next release, The Ultimate Halloween Party App. She wanted a night of magic, she said; her brother had been injured fighting the Alabaster Militia recently, and she needed a distraction. Marcus preferred to think it had more to do with the way she looked back at him.

  Plans were made, the date set. Halloween was still weeks away.

  But Marcus had a feeling that it would be worth the wait.

  On the evening of the 31st, Marcus picked her up just before 9:00 p.m. The evite had specified that costumes weren’t necessary, but Olivia had dressed in a deliciously bold orange-and-black one-piece that suggested “costume” without actually being one. Marcus regretted his simple light shirt and dark slacks.

  As his car took them to Jet’s address, they talked about meaningless things: coworkers, a new restaurant near work that served only synthfood, the gossip about Hamid Malouf, governor of Sagantown on Mars. When the car abruptly chose a new route to avoid fighting taking place on Broadway, they barely noticed; when the sky to their left lit with an orange glow, Marcus felt a small stab of concern, but mainly because he wanted to protect her. They talked about how The Ultimate Halloween Party App had been brilliantly marketed and broke preorder records, even though WhApp had been enigmatic in saying what it actually was. It was easy talking to her; Marcus never felt uncomfortable, at a loss for words, as he sometimes had on other first dates. He’d had one date with a coding star that had been so uncomfortable he’d actually been searching the web for conversation topics and clever lines while they were talking, and had been glad when they’d been ordered to clear the restaurant.

  After the car parked, they left and walked from the garage to the front door of Jet’s home, an old three-story office building he’d bought after nailing his first big contract with WhApp. Marcus was slightly surprised to see that Jet hadn’t decorated the exterior of the building, but he thought maybe his friend had chosen not to draw attention to it on a night many security experts had predicted would offer “elevated risk levels.” After they reached the front door and were scanned, a message notification popped up in their oculars.

  Marcus and Olivia both directed, “Open.”

  Jet appeared in the message, speaking to them. “Welcome, foolish mortals, to my first annual Halloween party! However, before you may enter my humble abode, you must make a choice. Tonight, you will participate in the unveiling of WhApp’s latest and greatest release—The Ultimate Halloween Party App. At the end of this message, you’ll be given a choice between three themes, but choose carefully, because your selection will dictate what you’ll experience for the rest of the evening. So, without further delay, I herewith present to you The Ultimate Halloween Party App from WhApp!”

  The door before them opened, and at first Marcus wasn’t sure if he was seeing something in his oculars or if the door had really opened, but then he heard voices and laughter and music. A menu appeared, hanging in the air before the door, as a voice in his head intoned: “Before you can experience The Ultimate Halloween Party App, you must choose between three themes. Number one: Classic Monsters.”

  The Frankenstein Monster and Dracula both burst out of the house. Marcus laughed at his own involuntary step back before the creatures dissolved into pixels.

  “Number two: Haunted House.”

  A startling shriek filled Marcus’s hearing as translucent, skull-faced specters rushed through the doorway and out into the night before vanishing.

  “Or number three: Gore Factory.”

  A hockey-masked maniac with a machete in one hand and a dripping, freshly-severed head in the other thrust out of the house and disappeared.

  “Whoa,” Olivia said softly, beside Marcus. “That is intense.”

  Marcus grinned when he saw her astonishment and delight. “So which one are you going to pick? I’ve always been a fan of the old movies myself, so I think I’ll go with Classic Monsters.”

  Olivia gave him a playful shove, a touch that, even small, left him buzzing. “That’s for kids. I’m going with
Gore Factory.”

  Staring at her in surprise, Marcus said, “Really?”

  “Yeah. That’s more like what I grew up with.”

  They made their choices. Bela Lugosi as Dracula appeared before Marcus, framed in Jet’s doorway. “Welcome to my castle. Enter freely and of your own will.” He held a candelabrum in his left hand while his right gestured elegantly toward the interior.

  “Oh my God,” Olivia said, with a nervous giggle. Marcus had been about to step into the house when he realized she was holding back. “What?”

  “Oh, I forgot—you’re not seeing what I am. There’s a guy standing in the doorway cradling his own guts in his hands.”

  “Do you want to try to end the app?”

  “No. It’s fun when you know it’s not real.” She grabbed his hand and headed up the steps.

  A short hallway brought them to a huge central space; the bottom floor had once held offices and storerooms, but Jet had knocked down the walls. It was filled now with partygoers, some chatting, some eating, some dancing. The lights—which Marcus knew were real—flickered in carefully-programmed shades of blue and green. Marcus heard a loud shriek, and then laughter.

  “Do you see your friend?” Olivia asked.

  Marcus scanned the crowd—there had to be two hundred people present—and wondered how he’d find Jet. He was about shake his head when he noticed a man pushing through the crowd toward them. He was tall, wearing an antiquated suit and cape, with a black skullcap and a featureless white mask. He strode purposefully toward Marcus and Olivia, who waited, intrigued.

  “What do you see coming toward us?” Marcus asked.

  “A killer in overalls and a pig’s head. The resolution is amazing.”

  The figure stopped a few feet away, and abruptly tore away the mask, revealing a grimacing face with jutting cheekbones, wide eyes, irregular teeth, and a few strands of hair draped over skin the color of a toxic fungus.

  Marcus couldn’t restrain a gasp, followed by an exclamation. “The Phantom!”

  The Phantom executed a courtly bow, but when he rose again Marcus saw his friend Jet. Marcus put out a hand to shake or bump, but put it back at his side when he realized Jet wasn’t doing the same. “Good to see you, man,” Jet said, grinning. “Thanks for coming out in all the chaos.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Jet, this is Olivia.”

  Jet turned to her and asked, “Which option did you choose?”

  “Gore Factory.”

  “So you just met the Pig Man, right?”

  She laughed. “I did. This app is freq! You worked on it?”

  “It’s kind of my baby.”

  “It’s so real! I mean, even the best feelies still have that sort of translucent look… .”

  Jet nodded, obviously pleased. “We found some interesting new ways to make your ’plant stimulate the retinal ganglion cells. Of course that’s not what I do—I’m more of a design guy than a neurotech.”

  “Well, whatever you do, it’s brilliant.”

  Marcus didn’t need an app to know that the grin Jet turned on him said, You got a winner here, brother.

  Jet looked up sharply. “More guests arriving. Catch you two later. Forget the outside world and dive in!”

  He rushed off. Marcus turned to Olivia. “Hey, I could use some food.”

  She nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They pushed through the crowd. Marcus saw a few faces he knew, offered some waves and greetings. He paused to chat with a friend, Cho, whom he hadn’t seen in a year, and whose face was now badly scarred from a bomb explosion (“Hey, I got lucky—the dude next to me lost both eyes and an arm”). They spotted tables arrayed along a wall with more food than Marcus had ever seen in one place, including slices of what he guessed was real meat, not the usual vat-grown synthfood. He wondered how Jet had gotten so much of it; even with serious black market connections, it’d been hard to come by since the Animal Liberation Army had disrupted so many of the transport lines out of agricultural areas.

  “Wow,” Olivia muttered.

  Marcus agreed. “Jet knows how to throw parties. And he’s made enough money to do it right.”

  Olivia picked up a narrow cracker spread with a creamy cheese. “I’m betting this doesn’t look like a severed finger to you.”

  “No—” Marcus broke off as the food array shimmered, changing into heavy wooden banquet tables of long-decayed rot covered in thick, dust-sprinkled cobwebs and crawling with rats. “Oh, wait—I got Dracula’s banquet hall, I think.”

  The food changed back, leaving Marcus smiling.

  They took plates of exotic fruits, hors d’oeuvres that were each miniature works of art, imported cheeses, beef and (real) smoked salmon, macarons, and tiny crème brûlées. They made their way through the party, juggling the plates, until they came to a less-cramped area where they could chat as they ate. At one point the nearby walls transformed into the shadowy, hieroglyph-scrawled interior of an Egyptian tomb. Olivia saw Marcus react, asking, “What?”

  “The walls just turned into a set from The Mummy.”

  “Oh. Maybe I should’ve picked ‘Classic Monsters,’ because I’m looking at walls that are gushing blood.”

  The building rocked, causing the lights to dim. Marcus knew this wasn’t part of the app.

  He and Olivia stopped eating to look at each other. In the wavering light, they held each other’s gaze. In that moment Marcus knew that if he died here—if his luck finally ran out tonight, on Halloween, if fate determined that he’d sidestepped one too many attacks—he would die with Olivia, and that thought brought peace.

  But then the shaking stopped, the power stabilized, and they both looked away, nervously, not because of the explosion outside but because of what had happened here, between them.

  They didn’t speak for a few seconds. Both set their half-eaten plates down, and they reached out, clasping hands. Marcus leaned in and kissed her, gently. When they separated, he was relieved to see her smiling.

  She uttered a small cry and leapt back. At first Marcus feared something had gone terribly wrong, but she was looking past him. “What?”

  “A deformed man with a chain saw just popped up behind you. It’s okay, he’s gone now.”

  Marcus didn’t like the shadow he saw on her face. “Are you sure you don’t want to delete the app?”

  “I’m not sure we can. Does yours have a delete or even a pause function? I can’t find one in mine.”

  Scanning across his visual field, Marcus realized there were no function keys or icons at all. “That’s weird—it’s got to have them.” He thought for a second, then said, “Pause app.”

  Olivia turned into Frankenstein’s Bride and shrieked at him.

  Marcus pushed down a rising alarm—his friend had designed this thing, of course there had to be a way to disable it, turn it off. “Return to main menu.”

  Nothing happened.

  The Bride asked, “Remember what it said when we first loaded the apps? Something about how we wouldn’t be able to change for the rest of the evening?”

  “Yeah, but that was just about which theme we chose… .” Marcus broke off, realizing he wasn’t sure at all what that had meant. “Jet will know. Let’s ask him.”

  Olivia nodded. Marcus led her through the party.

  They didn’t find Jet in the main room. Marcus walked her toward the rear of the main floor, where Jet had installed an indoor pool. There were fewer people here; occasionally one would glance at the pool and point or cry out.

  Marcus was about to walk around the side of the pool when Olivia resisted. “I don’t want to go this way.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the pool is full of rotting bodies.”

  Marcus glanced down—and stumbled back as the Creature from the Black Lagoon leapt out of the pool, reaching for his ankle. He knew it wasn’t real—that it was just a collection of pixels projected into his retina from the app—but knowing that didn’t quell his unease. “Yeah, let�
��s go another way.” He deliberately turned his back on the green monster hauling itself up out of the murky waters of the pool, although he heard its clawed web feet slapping the floor behind him, its labored breath as gills struggled with air… .

  The building shook again. The sounds of the Creature behind Marcus vanished. Jet’s voice replaced the music over the speakers.

  “Hey, everybody, we’ve got some action going on in the street right outside. Don’t worry—the building’s protected with half-inch reinforced plasteel—but I have to ask everyone to stay where you are until it’s safe. Shouldn’t be long. Thanks, and party on!”

  The music came back, but the mood of those around them was considerably less festive. Now the revelers chatted together in hushed, fearful tones, glancing around anxiously. Marcus turned to Olivia. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a while.”

  “Just not near that pool, please.”

  They found an empty couch in the main room and claimed it. After sitting quietly together for a few seconds, Olivia said, “Marcus, I hate to ask you this, but … how well do you know your friend Jet?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She leaned toward him. “I mean … this guy’s supposed to be a top app designer, right? So what designer designs an app you can’t easily remove? Or even turn off?”

  “Are you suggesting it’s deliberate?”

  Olivia just looked at him.

  Marcus turned away, considering. He’d met Jet three years ago when his company had contracted to work with WhApp on implants modified for gaming. They’d hit it off, spent several nights bar-hopping around battle zones. What did he know about his friend beyond that, and his fame as an app creator? He realized he didn’t know Jet’s views on politics, religion, or any of the other things that fired up recruits to terrorist organizations (although he guessed that extreme veganism was out, given the amount of meat laid out with the party food).

  Olivia stroked his shoulder. “Hey,” she said, softly, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make him sound like the villain, but… .”