Graverobbers Wanted (No Experience Necessary)

by Jeff Strand

  Okay, I had another problem to deal with. Should I call Helen and tell her that our kids were currently in the hands of a murderer?

  All my instincts said no, absolutely not. Because Helen would certainly not sit in her hospital bed and wait for news. She might demand that the police try to find her babies. She might hop into a wheelchair and look herself.

  No, I couldn't tell her. It was too dangerous.

  If Theresa and Kyle died, she'd hate me forever.

  No she wouldn't. She would never hate me.

  Ididn'tthink she would.

  Anyway, none of this mattered because the kids were going to be fine.One hundred percent fine.

  Ihadto stop thinking about them! The riddle was the important thing right now!

  "What the hell does it mean?" I said out loud, not caring if anyone overheard me.

  By the time the taxi arrived, I still had no answer.

  THE LIBRARY wasn't quite on the way home, but it was a small enough detour that I felt reasonably safe in asking the cabbie to drive by where I'd left my car. If it was still there, I'd have access to the physical clues instead of having to rely on my memory.

  It had already been towed.

  I told the cabbie to take me home.

  WHEN I got there I was surprised to find that Helen's car, now sporting a shattered windshield and a broken passenger-side window, was parked in the driveway. At first I thought Roger and the kids hadn't even gotten away from the house before they were jumped, but then I noticed that there was no safety glass on the pavement. The car had been driven back here.

  Theresa'sbookbag wasn't inside, but the tape rested on the seat. The killer clearly didn't want me to be without my clue.

  The first thing I did after I went inside was dial the number to Michael's cellular phone, hoping the killer would answer. He didn't.

  I checked my watch. Eleven o'clock.One hour until I was supposed to be at the taping. One hour to either sit around the house and go absolutely positively totally freaking insane, or collect myself and try to figure out the clue.

  The insane option sounded more appealing at the moment, but I forced myself to pop the tape back into the VCR, sit down on the couch, and watch the video again.

  It was the same video, and my extra clues didn't provide any additional insights.

  I leaned back, closed my eyes, and tried to relax. Maybe I was concentrating too hard. Maybe if I just lay there and let my thoughts flow freely, my subconscious might come up with something.

  I tried that for about ten minutes. My subconscious didn't do squat.

  I wondered if Theresa was sobbing now.Or screaming.

  I watched the entire video yet again.

  Nothing.

  I paced around the house. Could the killer see me? Were Theresa and Kyle nearby?

  And then it was eleven forty-five.Time to go.

  CHAMBER DOESN'T have what you would call a slum, but the address was definitely in the poorest section of town. Didn't seem like the kind of area where the residents would have the extra income to pay to be the stars of their own horror movie.

  I drove to the very end of the street, past some kids playing basketball using a hoop without netting, and into the driveway of a dilapidated two-story house that looked like it should be located next to an old graveyard at midnight.

  There were no other cars in the driveway.

  I checked to make sure I had the right address, and then got out of the car. Either everyone else was late, or there wasn't really a taping here.

  Could everyone in Ghoulish Delights be in on it?

  Or were none of them ever told to come here?

  Nobody else had been around when Rachel gave me this address. It could have been a setup from the very beginning.

  Well, I'd find out in short order.

  I walked up to the front door and rung the doorbell. I didn't hear any buzzing or chiming from inside, so I figured it wasn't working. Not a big surprise. I knocked loudly, waited about thirty seconds, and then knocked again.

  No answer. That wasn't a big surprise either.

  I tried to peek through the windows, but the curtains were drawn. I tested the doorknob.Unlocked.

  Could Theresa and Kyle be in there? Could the killer have made it that easy?

  I had to cancel that thought. Even if they were inside, I had a feeling that getting them back would be anything but easy.

  I opened the door and stepped inside. If ever a house looked like a perfect site for a haunting, this was it. It had obviously been abandoned for quite some time, as there was a thick layer of dust over everything and cobwebs in every corner. Between the dust and the fading, I couldn't even tell what color the furniture was.

  I took a step, and the floorboards creaked. I wondered if this is where I'd been tied to the chair. No, probably not...I hadn't noticed the thick musty scent before that Iwas smelling now. Even with the burlap sack over my head I should have been able to smell it.

  The dust wasn't actually everywhere. A reasonably clean path ran from the doorway to the staircase, as if somebody had made several trips back and forth, enough to wipe away the dust and not so few as to leave individual footprints.

  I could go ahead and explore the rest of the first floor, but it was pretty clear that if there was anything to find, I'd find it upstairs.

  I flipped on the light switch, not really expecting it to work. I was correct. Even with the curtains closed, enough light streamed into the house that I could see where I was going, though upstairs would probably be a different story.

  I began to ascend the stairs slowly, one at a time. They groaned with each step, but seemed sturdy and unlikely to collapse and send me plummeting into darkness beneath. A small pile of bones rested on the second-to-last step, possibly belonging to a bird.

  At the top of the stairs, I turned left and found myself in a narrow hallway, with two doors on each side, and one door at the end. All of the doors were closed. There were no windows, and the light from downstairs provided only the faintest illumination. If only I'd known I'd be creeping around an abandoned house, I'd have brought a flashlight. I didn't even have Roger's lighter anymore. I could go buy one, I supposed, but there might not be much time. I'd have to make do with the little light available.

  I slowly walked over to the first door on the right and opened it. The door made a horrible creak as it swung open, loud enough to awaken any slumbering ghosts. The room hadn't been entered in a long time. Dust covered the crib and the rattles on the floor.

  I opened the door on the other side, wincing again at the creak.A bathroom.Vacant.

  I continued down the hallway to the second set of doors. The first led to a bedroom. The mattress on the queen-sized bed had been torn apart, with stuffing flung everywhere. I couldn't see well enough to tell if the dust had been disturbed or not.

  "Hello?" I called out.

  No answer.

  I listened carefully for a few moments.Total silence. Nobody was here.

  I opened the opposite door, which also led to a bedroom. Once again, I listened and heard nothing.

  Theresa and Kyle could be underneath the bed, blood pooling beneath their bodies as spiders scurry over theirfaces ...

  I almost had to hit myself to break the thought process. I turned to the door at the end of the hallway and opened it.

  No creak.

  It opened to a closet. Empty, except for a ladder leading up to the attic.

  I stepped into the closet and looked up. No light at all.

  I had to get a flashlight. Borrow one from a neighbor or something.

  "Hello?" I called out. "Is anyone up there?"

  Nobody responded.

  "Theresa! Kyle! Are you there?"

  Something in the attic rattled.

  Then I thought I heard something else.Maybe a voice, but faint and muffled.

  Screw the flashlight. I was going uptherenow.

  I gripped the ladder tightly and began to climb. It held my weight fine, and
I made it to the top without breaking any bones. The attic was completely dark, except for a tiny bit of light streaming in from underneath some curtains. The window was only a couple of steps away from the ladder, so I carefully put my foot down on the attic floor. It seemed like it would hold me. I walked the two paces to the window, and pulled the curtains, filling the attic with light.

  It wasn't difficult to figure out what I was here to find.

  The attic looked like a zoo hitting hard times, loaded with cages but not enough animals to fill them. There were at least a dozen cages up here, but only four of them were occupied. And the inhabitants of these cages weren't animals—they were people. None of them were Theresa or Kyle.

  Bound and wrist and ankle by thick chains, the four prisoners suffered in cages barely large enough for a human. The captives seemed to be in their street clothes, except that their heads were completely covered with black leather masks, as if they were executioners who found themselves on the wrong side of the chopping block. The masks had openings over the nose, but no eye holes, and only a closed zipper over the mouth.

  I took a step forward. "Can you hear me?" I asked in a loud voice.

  There was an immediate reaction of writhing and muffled groans. I knelt down next to the first cage, which held a dangerously thin woman whose blouse was covered with dirt and mostly unbuttoned. I rattled the door of the cage, but a padlock held it shut. There were padlocks around her chains as well. Fortunately, the bars of the cage were far enough apart that I could squeeze my hand through. I put my hand on her shoulder, and the woman flinched as if my hand was an ice pick jabbing into her flesh.

  "It's okay," I whispered. "I'm here to help."

  A zipper ran up the back of her mask. I twisted my arm into a good position, and then slowly, so as not to startle her, I unzipped it all the way and slid the mask off her face. The zipper caught on her tangled, dirty blonde hair, but I removed it gently and let the mask fall to the floor.

  The woman squinted and let out a whimper as the light struck her eyes. There was an ugly bruise on her chin, but otherwise she seemed physically unharmed.

  "Who are you?" she asked.

  "My name is Andrew Mayhem. I'm going to get you out of here, I promise. But I need your help. Do you know who did this to you?"

  She shook her head. "There was more than one. I never saw any of them." Her voice grew frantic. "Please, you have to get me out of this place before they come back! They've come and taken away most of the others already! Please! I can't stand it anymore!"

  "I need you to calm down for me," I said, not raising my voice. "What's your name?"

  "Tracy."

  "Tracy, you'll be free before you know it. Now, what about the keys? Do you have any idea where they are?"

  She shook her head rapidly.

  "How long have you been here?"

  "I don't know...days...weeks...the mask never comes off. It was so hard to breathe. I thought I was going to die. They take us out of the cages sometimes, once a day, I don't know, and let us walk around for a few minutes. They shove some food down our throats, give us some water, yank down our pants and shove us on a bedpan, but then we're locked up again."

  "Would you recognize any of the voices?" I asked.

  "No. They never talk in front of us."

  "Okay, look, I don't have anything to cut the padlocks with, but I'm going to..."

  I stopped in mid-sentence as I looked across the attic and saw a wood-chopping axe lying on the floor. Either a forgetful lumberjack had been in the vicinity, or that was what I was meant to use.

  It seemed a little too easy. The killer had to have a surprise waiting.

  But I certainly couldn't leave these people here, so I made my way across the attic and retrieved the axe. It was a nice, solid tool, which I was happy to note was not covered with blood. I stopped at the nearest cage, which held a man who sat pressed against the corner.

  "I'm not going to hurt you," I said. "I'm going to take that mask off,then I'm going to set you free."

  The man nodded. I reached inside, unzipped the mask from the back, and pulled it off him. The man's face was a bruised and bloody mess. I wondered if he'd put up a struggle when he was kidnapped, or if they'd done it afterward.

  "Thank you," he whispered.

  I removed the masks of the other two people. Their faces were in about the same condition asTracy 's—a bruise or two, but nothing serious. All four of them were from the coming attractions segment of the first video.

  I returned toTracy 's cage, lifted the axe,then brought it down as hard as I could upon the padlock on the cage door. The cage shook with a loud clatter, but the padlock remained in place. With the second swing, however, the padlock dropped to the ground and I pulled the door open.

  The locks on the chains were going to be more difficult because I could only raise the axe as far as the top of the cage. And since they were right next toTracy 's ankles and wrists, there was always the chance of a nasty accident.

  "Don't move," I told her.

  "I couldn't if I wanted to," she said.

  I slammed the axe down on the padlock binding her ankles, but it didn't break. I was too concerned about accidentally chopping off one ofTracy 's feet to hit it with full force. In theory, much worse things than losing a foot would happen if I didn't get the prisoners out of here in time, but I couldn't help trying to be careful.

  "Andrew?"

  I froze at the sound of the voice.

  "Andrew, are you here? It's me, Rachel!"

  For a few seconds I allowed myself to feel relief that I now had somebody to help me free the prisoners, but that was soon replaced with a sense of unease. After all, who had given me the location of the "taping" in the first place? Very possibly, I'd put my trust in the wrong person.

  "C'mon, Andrew, I know you're here! I saw your car out front!"

  How would she recognize Helen's car? I cautiously stepped away fromTracy 's cage, still holding the axe.

  "Andrew, talk to me! Are you here or what?"

  Her voice was closer. She was on the second floor now.

  There was silence for almost a full minute except for Rachel's footsteps. I eased my way over to the ladder, gripping the axe handle tightly with both hands, making sure I couldn't be seen from below. Then a flashlight beam shone on the ceiling.

  "What, are you hiding up in the attic? C'mon, I'm notgonna hurt you, for God's sake!"

  They'd done well so far, and I prayed the prisoners would continue to remain silent.

  "Okay, I'm coming up. Don't shoot me or anything, please."

  The ladder creaked as Rachel began to climb. I stood by the entrance, just out of sight, axe poised and ready to strike.

  Chapter 21

  RACHEL'S LEFT hand came into view, and then her right hand, which was holding the flashlight as well as gripping the ladder. Then her head rose up above the entrance. Her eyes widened as she saw me holding the axe. "Whoa! Settle!"

  "What do you want?" I demanded.

  "Could you maybe put the axe down?"

  "I could, but I'm choosing not to."

  "Fine, but could you promise not to hit me with it as long as I don't make any sudden moves?"

  "Sure."

  "Can I come up?"

  "I'd rather you didn't."

  "Suit yourself." She glanced over her shoulder and for the first time noticed the prisoners in the cages. "Oh my God..." she gasped. "Are these the people you were telling me about? Sorry, dumb question, but Andrew, we've got to get them out of here!"

  "That was my plan."

  Rachel sighed. "Okay, look, it's pretty obvious what you're thinking. But listen to me, Andrew—I had nothing to do with this! Nothing! And every second you waste not believing me is time that we should be using to set these people free!"

  "Why did you come here?" I asked.

  "To check the place out before the taping.Nobody lives here, so I figured I could look around beforehand."

  "Uh-huh. And how did
you know it was my car?"

  "There were toys in the backseat. Nobody in Ghoulish Delights has kids, and it certainly wasn't out of the question that you'd show up here, so I took a guess. C'mon, Andrew, let's not risk the lives of these people just because you're being paranoid."

  "Okay," I said, stepping back as my stomach tightened at the mention of my kids. "You can come up."