Mike and Ricky exchanged a glance. "Well, if Rachel shows up, at least someone can tell her where we went."
Mike mouthed, "Leave him?" And Ricky nodded seriously. So they put Beezer back inside on the couch and they left. Now they were a bedraggled clan of seven. Would they make it out of there?
It was dark as hell. And they didn't have any lights, so they just walked along the road the best they could in the dark. If they stayed on the road, maybe they would find a car. Maybe they would.
But I can't say I was expecting that they would.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Lucy sat staring at the wall, not speaking to either man. Beezer was dozing. He was hoping if he slept, then he'd wake up to an ambulance worker, preferably a busty nurse, slowly popping his pants open and asking him to show her where it hurt. Of course, in his fantasies, she wasn't wearing anything other than the nurse's hat.
But John was fidgety. He paced in the safe room. Often he would get so close that his toes would touch the dark hallway with the wooden steps. But he never stepped out of the room. He was whispering to himself.
Beezer finally said, "Hey, dude, shut up. Some of us want to sleep."
But he ignored his friend's pleas and kept whispering to himself. His mouth moved, but no sounds passed his lips. He seemed to be psyching himself up to leave the room and look for Rachel or take a piss or whatever it was that he was thinking about doing.
Slowly, his whispers grew louder. Just barely audible. "It won't take very long. You can do this."
Beezer's ears perked up. Do what?
"Just take a pillow and do it. He deserves it," John whispered again, in big paces back and forth in front of the couch, to the hallway with the wooden stairs, and back looping to the main entrance with the staircase.
"If she could do it, you can do it." His voice seemed determined, but what the fuck was he talking about?
Beezer tried to close his eyes and let himself drift for a moment, but then he caught words that scared him.
"He should die."
The hairs on his neck rose, and he hoped to fucking hell Tiffany hadn't told him about that night where he seduced her. He shouldn't have pressed her so hard; he knew she only sort of wanted to, but she sort of wanted to! That was enough for him at the time. It wasn't like he raped her. She did, after all, take her own panties off. But... but... John and her broke up so quickly afterwards Beezer couldn't help but feel guilty. Less than a month after he banged his friend's girl...
He shouldn't have done it. But he just wanted to try. You know? Just to see if he could bang another guy's girl. And Tiffany seemed awfully like a whore. She was a slut right up till the day she banged John. Then she took a long break on his dick until Beezer fucked it up.
Fucked her up.
That couldn't be...
And then, quick as lightning, John was on top of him, a pillow pressed tightly to Beezer's face. If his arm had been broken, he wouldn't have been able to fight so fucking hard, but he did fight. He shoved the man and shouted for Lucy to get off her ass.
Lucy didn't even seem to be present.
Her eyes were glazed over and she was firmly holding a glass of punch that she was sipping. Her grin was slowly growing, and suddenly, she chugged the whole thing. Everything in the cup, carefully licking the few remaining drops. The few remaining drops of Rafael's spiked punch. His glass.
In ten minutes, if she didn't hurl, she'd slowly go out, like he did, and slowly die, like he did. Once the thought gripped her, there was nothing anyone could have said to talk her out of it. She didn't want to be in this cruel world where people that she loved died over and over again. She was living in a nightmare. Her life was a nightmare and it was time to end it. My life is a nightmare too. She closed her eyes with a grin and hoped it would start soon. The smooth numbness was already crawling across her chest. Start soon, any second. Pass out and die. Didn't everyone want to die in their sleep?
Didn't they?
I don't know about you, but I'd like to die wide awake, even screaming. I wanna remember it.
So no, she didn't give a shit, and no, she wasn't aware that John was in the middle of trying to kill Beezer.
And Beezer was losing. He was struggling, and he almost threw John off him, but then John pressed his knee painfully and purposefully into Beezer's broken limb. The bones ground against each other and Beezer screamed, flailing from the pain. His swings were wild and missed John, who was right on top of him. He couldn't control himself, pissing from the pain. He was not a human anymore; he was pain. He breathed pain. He knew pain. That was who he was now.
His body shuddered underneath John, and John leaned in and screamed, "You got her fucking pregnant. She fucking killed it. You killed my fucking family." His breath was short and terrible, right in Beezer's face. And Beezer finally connected his fist to the other man's jaw. It was a loud crack and John went wide eyed from the pain and his nose started to bleed and he did the most horrifying thing.
He grabbed Beezer's broken leg and bent it up, and then further; he was oblivious to his friend's pain, his screaming, because John could only see the dead baby, the dead baby he wanted. The broken screwed-up girl he loved, and the dead baby he wanted.
Beezer's ankle twisted up to his hip, and Beezer, mid shuddering, life-changing scream, passed the fuck out. Thankfully.
It didn't take long to smother him after that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Do you think the house did that? Do you think it was ghosts? Or did John finally snap under the pressure of being frozen after a breakup?
Do you think he did see a ghost while he was puncturing Tiffany's stomach? Maybe he was just a crazy person. Maybe he was possessed.
I don't know for sure, but I do know the man was under an extraordinary amount of pain and stress and had been recently tortured. Besides, when he decided to stay behind, Beezer wasn't even going to stay...
Or did he know that by staying behind, the others would have to decide if they were going to leave Beezer helpless on the couch. Maybe he was just hedging his bets?
Now John was the only person alive in the house. Still no sign of Rachel or Cletus.
So let's go back and see how those crazy kids were doing on the road with no flashlight. In the dark. It was nearly eight thirty now.
Ricky was impatiently leading them down the road; he was pissed as hell. He should have stayed behind and looked for Rachel. He regretted it over and over again with every step. Did they really need so many of them to walk down this road? It didn't seem like they were in a dangerous situation anymore.
Hell, Mikaela, Beth, Tiffany, and Jenny were holding arms and giggling as if this was a fucking pleasant hike and not a rescue mission. First house they found and he was calling the cops, an ambulance, and getting the hell back to the guesthouse. What if this was a huge mistake?
Mike and Zane walked behind the girls, keeping them protected in a man sandwich. Zane and Mike both held thick walking sticks. They weren't sure what the enemy was; hell, they weren't even sure if there still was an enemy on this road.
But both of them couldn't stop thinking about Ben and his brutally beaten face. They wouldn't let that happen to these girls. Never. So they walked as sentries would walk, prepared for a fight. They were cautious and made sure everyone was together.
Brave Ricky was the first one to spot a light in the distance. He broke into a jog. "Guys, I see a light. I hope it's a house."
"Slow down," Mike barked, nervous about how quickly everyone started to spread out. Jenny was jogging along with Tiffany, but Mikaela and Beth continued their leisure walking. "Shit. Girls, pick it up," Mike shouted.
Zane's eyes widened as he recognized what was happening too. Jenny and Tiffany and Ricky were already melting into the dark. The only way they could still see them was if they happened to step in front of the small light. Otherwise, they were just dim shadows.
"You catch the girls. I'll stay with Beth and Mikaela," Zane said, and Mike t
ook off running with his stick.
It wasn't a moment later that the three of them vanished. They were split into three groups, racing towards the light at different speeds.
Mikaela and Beth and Zane were in the rear.
Ricky was the first one at the light. He stopped in a moment of panic. They had been walking for at least an hour. Maybe two; who knows--they didn't have watches or anything. They had been walking a long ways. He could feel the burning in his thighs as he stopped and panted. He was pretty fit, and he knew they had gone miles. Maybe five? Ten? It was hard to tell.
But there he was, staring at Mike's van wrapped around a concrete planter. His truck and Rachel's sandwiching Jenny's with the broken windshield. And the dim light he had been staring at was the light on in the safe room. How had they gone in a circle? It was dark, and yeah, they were staying on the main road, so maybe they accidentally took a loop instead of staying on the main road, but it seemed ridiculous. How could this have happened?
Ricky didn't move forward. He just stared at the vehicles, totally frustrated. Ten minutes later, Mike, Tiffany, and Jenny showed up.
"What the fuck?" Mike said slowly.
"How did we get back here?" said Tiffany.
"Do you think the ghosts did this?" said Jenny, her tone nervous.
"I don't know. I wasn't even sure there were ghosts," Tiffany said, her toe digging into the dirt nervously.
Smart, lovely Ricky suddenly started charging towards the front door. "I'm checking to see if Rachel's back. I've been worrying about her." He got to the front door and started pulling on it, but it didn't open. It didn't budge. Inside, they could see John slowly tying the jump rope that he took from the chandelier. Tiffany looked in the window a little closer, recognizing that Lucy was purple and dead.
Her eyes grew wide with fright. "Is Lucy dead?"
Ricky was pounding on the door now, pulling with all his might, but it didn't open.
Jenny cupped her hands around her eyes and peered in the window too. Lucy definitely looked dead to her. Beezer was harder to see; the angle wasn't very good. But he certainly wasn't moving. "Lucy doesn't look good, that's for sure. I hope she's not dead."
Mike wasn't paying attention to any of them; he was nervously running the route through his brain. How had they looped back to the guesthouse? Sure, it had been dark, but it didn't seem like it was so dark that they would've accidentally gone in a circle. But maybe they had? They must have. How else would they be here?
He was, at this point, really frustrated. His frustration was accented by Ricky pounding on the door, jerking on the handle. Ricky let out a shout and then started kicking the door. He was going full ninja turtle on the door's ass.
Jenny kept staring in the window. "What the hell is John doing?"
Tiffany, who had been looking away--she was so uncomfortable with the dead Lucy and the possibly dead Beezer--let out a gasp. He was carefully tying the long double-dutch rope into a noose. He had just finished.
Ricky shouted, "Open the door, John!"
Tiffany put her fingers to her lips, stifling the scream that was starting to build. John slowly slid the noose around his neck, and he looked calm. He calmly walked to the kitchen and looped the other end of the rope around the chandelier. Tiffany did let out a scream now, pounding on the window with her fist. "John!"
Jenny frantically looked over at Mike. "What can we do?"
Strong Ricky screamed and threw his shoulder into the door. He beat the door with his fists, and then rattled the handle again, kicking it.
John positioned himself on the edge of the table, pulling all the slack from the rope and carefully tying it to the chandelier. One step and he would be hung. I want to tell you that they managed to get inside in time.
But they didn't.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Tiffany was wrapped in Jenny's arms; she was sobbing uncontrollably. The two girls were both turned away from the window. And Mike had finally made the decision to break in. He was in the middle of shattering the very window that they had been staring through.
Ricky was still trying to open the door. He was furious. His angry face is beautiful.
And John was dangling from the chandelier, still squirming, his face turning purple. There was no way they could save him in time. Even with Mike shattering the window in record time, and then charging in, they couldn't possibly save him. What was happening?
It took Mike a while to break through the window, using just rocks, but he did the best he could. John was on the end of the rope, no longer thrashing. Mike tore him down and tried mouth-to-mouth. But it was unsuccessful, and John lay there, dead as a doornail.
Ricky seem completely oblivious to everything that was happening. He ran through the house, yelling for Rachel. He didn't check John, Beezer, or Lucy. He didn't check a single one of them. Jenny told Tiffany to stay outside, and she went in and checked each of them one at a time. She was tough, farm tough. But looking at so many of her friends, now corpses, messed her up. She tried to take Lucy's pulse and found her body already quite cold. She was very dead.
Beezer was less dead, his body still warm underneath her fingertips. But he was dead just the same, no poking or prodding gave any sort of response. She considered trying mouth-to-mouth, but after looking at Mike sobbing over John, she reconsidered. No reason for two of them to kiss the dead.
She burst into tears.
Ricky did not find Rachel. He scrambled up the stairs to check the master bedroom, checked the twins' room, and checked the remaining room.
He came back down to the safe room, checked the library, checked the kitchen and dining room. And then he stood at the top of the wooden stairs, staring down into the basement. Two of the locks were unlocked on the bottom door. And Carson's corpse, still missing his head, was lying at the bottom of the stairs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I think that Ricky loved Rachel. I don't know if Rachel loved him back; that will be something we find out later, I guess. He had a ring in his pocket. And he fully intended that after this ridiculous weekend, the perfect ending to her murder mystery ghost house would be an acceptance of his proposal.
He helped with almost all of the party planning: painting little objects, hiding keys, hiding locks and clues. It was her idea that they would rent an actual house, where actual murders had taken place. She did a ton of research. He had helped her collect the news articles, then visited the gravesite. Hell, he had even helped her install...
He had helped her install...
The freezer components for the master bedroom. So they could make it cold unexpectedly. (Honestly, I would have told them not to bother, Richard was perfectly capable of making the room cold without it) He had helped her make the ghoulish video projection of Oliver. In fact, there was more. There was a lot more.
He assumed while he was going out to "restart the generator," she was doing her part. And maybe she had; he wasn't sure if killing Cletus and Carson was part of the thing. He would've said it was too far, but they'd gone too far. But, he liked going too far with Rachel. He liked that she was a little sick, little twisted, and really liked to scare the shit out of her friends.
Rafael dying was ridiculous and frustrating to both him and Rachel, but it just seemed like a fluke. Not like a party-ending event. Even Beezer's leg was not that big of a deal. Her killing the goat seemed like a fucking bad idea, but not a big deal either.
But now, Rachel hadn't come back. And Lucy, Ben, Beezer, and even John were dead. Five of them were dead. There were only eight left. This was seriously fucked up. Even for Rachel.
And they had done some weird stuff together. It was all in good fun, and it seemed like they were on the same level. Sure, and even slapped each other around now and again in the bedroom. But this, this was something different. This had gotten way out of hand. And Ricky wanted to know if Rachel was still trying to scare the shit out of everyone.
Or was something deeper and scarier happening? He wanted
to know if there really was a ghost, and if they really were fucking with everyone. He wanted to know where Rachel was. And if she was still the kind of woman he wanted to propose to. I wasn't really rooting for her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
"I moved Rafael," Gorgeous Ricky said. "Not just that, but I helped make that vision, if you want to call it, of Oliver." He paused while Tiffany and Jenny and Mike registered what he was saying. "I don't know what happened to Carson, and I don't know where Rachel is. I thought this was part of the weekend."
Tiffany stared at him slowly. "People are dead."
"I know." Ricky paused and stared out the window slowly. "I think Rachel is still trying to play, despite everything going on."
"But?" Jenny said.
"I just don't understand how everyone died," said Ricky. "This is really fucked up. Why is it so hard to leave? What happened to Ben? Why the heck..."
Tiffany turned and looked at Jenny. "How did you get locked in your car?"
"I told you, I woke up there. I..." Jenny frowned." The thing is, I just don't remember. I wish I did; it could've been Rachel. I don't know how she would've gotten me in the car. I just woke up there. I think I've been hoping it was Rachel. Or Ricky. I was hoping..."
Mike suddenly said, "Where are Zane and Mikaela? Where are they? They should have been right behind us. We were not far apart. Hasn't it been like an hour?"
Everyone looked at each other quietly. Tiffany turned and looked outside. Still dark. Mike stood up and stepped through the shattered window. The others joined him. Mike said, "Let's get some fucking weapons. Maybe some psychopath is here with us."
I wonder if he was right.
Mike grabbed his stick, took some of the glass shards from the window, and started to lace them to his stick. He was using Beezer's shoelaces. Tiffany grabbed a knife from the kitchen. Mike looked up at her. "Not a knife. You need something long-range. Tie it to a broom handle. I don't know. You can't win a hand-to-hand knife fight. Make a weapon where you can hit them where they cannot hit you."
Gridlocked Guesthouse (Locked House Hauntings Book 1) Page 9