WidowMaker

by Carolyn McCray

  Uh oh. Mitchell held up the pole in his hand. Three quarters missing. Mitchell looked up as the other two zombies approached from opposite sides of the pool. He was cornered.

  Screaming, Mitchell raced at the zombie, jamming the severed pole in its eye. The zombie fell straight back, its head giving a wet thud as it slammed into the floor. Mitchell placed his foot on the zombie’s head and tried to pull the pole out. The pole stuck.

  “Great. This just gets better and better.”

  Mitchell spun around. The last zombie groaned as it clutched Mitchell by the throat, lifting him off the floor. Air wheezed out of Mitchell’s lungs as his legs kicked in the air. Clawing at the zombie’s face, Mitchell gagged as pieces of flesh and muscle crammed under his nails. Pinpoints of light shot in front of Mitchell’s eyes. He dug in his pants pocket, pulling out a pen. Mitchell jammed the point into the zombie’s ear. He felt a squish as it pierced the brain.

  The zombie dropped to the floor, and Mitchell sprawled across it. He pushed himself off, giving the zombie a kick in the head. So much for getting an autograph. At least the pen came in handy for something.

  Mitchell surveyed the dead, well, dead again, bodies lying around the pool. Not bad for a movie geek, huh?

  “Now to get out of Zombie Central.”

  The door was still the only other way out. Unless he was Spider-Man and could climb his way back up the slide. Mitchell braced a foot on the door, grunting as he tried to pull the door open. How the hell was he going to get out of here if the damn door was locked? Mitchell gave it his best karate kick. Hinges creaked as it pushed open.

  “Crap! It was open all the time.” Mitchell stuck his head out into the hallway, looking left, and then right, before stepping out. “If this were a movie, I’d deserve to be killed.”

  Mitchell paused, looking toward the ceiling for cameras.

  “Of course, if anyone’s listening, I didn’t mean that literally.”

  * * *

  Jill stopped as Derek squeezed her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you hear that?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

  Her heart raced. Maybe Mitchell had escaped and found them.

  But Derek frowned. “I heard a clicking sound.”

  That could not be good. Clicking did not sound like something they wanted to hear.

  Tick. Tick. Tick. Now she heard it, too. A creature, seven feet long, scurried up the wall and across the ceiling. A black shell covered its back, long antennae extending from its head.

  “Run!” Derek released her hand and shoved her forward. She heard him shoot twice, but the bullets ricocheted off the creature’s shell.

  He hauled ass after her. “What kills overgrown cockroaches?”

  “I don’t know!” she said, running as fast as she could. “I never watched monster movies!”

  And yes, she did realize how ironic that was, given how they got into this mess.

  “Where’s that damn kid when you need him?” Derek asked.

  “This way!” Jill shouted, pointing to a door at the end of the hall. “Maybe this one’s unlocked.”

  “Go!” Derek fired another round at the creature’s head. It hissed, but kept crawling toward them. Jill pushed open the door. Derek dove through, and Jill slammed it shut behind him.

  She jumped back as the creature rammed into the door, its squeals muffled. Derek jumped up and twisted the lock closed. He patted the metal door.

  “I’m beginning to like this idea of a steel house.”

  “What do we do now?” Jill asked struggling against tears. “There’s no other way out of here.” She indicated the windowless kitchen. Sure, there were plenty of steel countertops and cabinets, and even a pig roasting on a skewer over a gas fire, but not a single other door.

  Derek squeezed her shoulder. “We may not need a door.”

  She shot him a questioning look, but Derek walked over to the fire pit.

  “Derek, what are you …?”

  Scraping and pounding continued at the door. Louder. Moaning and shrieking accompanied the clicking. Great. The cockroach brought friends.

  “Help me find the turn-off valve for the gas,” Derek said as he checked the other side.

  Jill bent down and felt around the lip of the pit. “Got it!” She turned to the right. The flames lowered, and then popped out.

  Derek grunted as he lifted the pig and the skewer off the hook, tossing them on the floor.

  “Um … what are you …?”

  Then Derek climbed up into the fire pit, sticking his head under the exhaust flue, tugging on the grate covering the opening, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Grab me a knife or something, would you?”

  She could hear the scrape of claws on the metal door as she yanked the drawers open. Utensils pinged as they crashed to the floor.

  Jill found what she was looking for. She hurried over and handed Derek a knife. But before he got back to work on the grate, his eyebrow cocked.

  “Trying out for the next Jamie Lee Curtis role?”

  She looked down at the butcher knife in her hand. “A girl can never be too careful. But what’s the plan?”

  Derek wedged the knife under the lip of the grate. “Look, this baby has got to vent to the outside. I bet they didn’t think to guard the opening at the top. We’re going up and out.”

  “Derek …” Jill warned.

  “Just give me a sec.”

  A hissing filled the room. The air throbbed with it. Jill pointed her butcher knife out in front of her as a figure emerged from the broom closet. Derek dropped down off the stool beside her as Dracula stepped into the light. His fangs bared as his eyes pulsed red.

  So red. She felt heavy. Too heavy. The butcher knife in her hand seemed to weigh a ton. She let it fall out of her hands, and it clanged to the floor.

  “Goddamn it! Jill! Get back!”

  But Jill stood frozen. Transfixed by those eyes.

  “I … I can’t … move …” she managed to whisper. “Don’t look into its eyes.”

  * * *

  “Wasn’t planning on it, darlin,” Derek said as he spun her around to face him. “Look at me, Jill. Focus on me.”

  She blinked a few times, and then shook her head. “I think they used some kind of hypnotism.”

  “Of course they did,” Derek said urging her up onto the stool. “Now, once I get you up there, you climb. Got it?”

  Jill nodded, although she still seemed sluggish as he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up. Derek shoved her through the opening, her feet disappearing through the hole.

  A scream came from the vent. Jill’s legs pushed back through the opening. Derek caught her as she tumbled out.

  “What the—”

  “They have lasers up there.” Jill held her hand, lanced with a burn. “I touched it before I could see them.”

  “Those bastards!” Not just one step, but three steps ahead.

  “Derek …”

  The vampire still stalked forward, intent on its prey. Derek raised his gun and fired. The gun clicked. Empty. Shit. Derek ejected the clip out of his gun and pulled another from the waistband of his pants, snapping it in place.

  “We need a stake!” Jill yelled.

  Of course, a stake. Why didn’t Derek think of that? This kinda stuff happened all the time. Derek ran over to the pig, yanking out the skewer.

  Jill shook her head. “No! It’s gotta be wooden!”

  Wooden. Where were they going to find wood in this “we can’t kill a tree” house?

  “What else can we do?”

  “Oh, God …What did Sir Anthony Hopkins do in that Dracula remake …?” Jill mumbled. “Oh God! He beheaded him!”

  “Now, that I can do!” Derek answered.

  The butcher knife lay on the floor at the vampire’s feet. Derek judged the distance from the vampire’s sharp teeth to the shiny blade on the floor. Crap. This was going to be close. Way too close for Derek’s taste.

  Divin
g across the floor, he not only picked up the knife, but kicked out the vamp’s legs. Scrambling up, he brought the butcher knife around, but Drac was already up. Too bad. Derek slashed downward, slamming the blade into Drac’s neck. Wires popped out, but the vampire pushed forward. Its eyes focused on Jill.

  “B … b … blood.”

  This one wasn’t as easy to kill as Derek thought. Pulling the knife from the vamp’s neck, Derek hopped on the vampire’s back, tugging its head to the side, and sawed back and forth. The skin peeled back.

  “Derek! Hurry!” Jill screamed, scrambling around the fire pit.

  “You want to get up here and give it a try?”

  “We’d appreciate it if you’d cease and desist …”

  “… your rather destructive pastime.”

  Derek looked up. Jason Baxter held Jill. A knife against her throat. A tear slid down her cheek. Her eyes apologetic. The door behind her wide open. The cheating bastards must have used a key.

  “Or would you rather us do the same procedure on her?” Jason pressed the blade against Jill’s throat.

  Fuck arresting the Baxters. Derek was going to kill the brothers. Slowly. His grip tightened on the butcher knife.

  “That’s an extremely expensive piece of machinery,” Jeremy said, pointing to the vampire that was still lurching forward.

  “The photo-optic hypnotism feature alone took millions to develop.”

  “So if you don’t mind,” Jason finished, “unhand our prototype.”

  Could Derek take on both of the brothers without Jill getting hurt? Was he willing to take that chance? To let his arrogance risk another life? Derek shoved the vampire away from him. Its head dangled by a single wire.

  “B … bl … blood,” the vampire moaned, before it fell over with a thud on the floor.

  Holding his hands up in surrender, Derek asked, “What now?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jeremy sneered.

  “It is going to be epic,” Jason said, pushing Jill through the open door.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 13

  Simon leaned against the wall, his forehead pressed to the window overlooking the theater. The movie flashed on the screen below. The steady whir of the projector next to him was confirmation that Simon completed his assignment and was off duty. Thank God, because right now his legs felt like JELL-O. Simon laughed, sliding to the floor.

  Bob scooted toward Simon, blowing out a trail of smoke as he passed a joint. “Didn’t I tell you this was good stuff?”

  Simon inhaled. “Oh man, I needed this,” he said releasing a puff of smoke. “That bitch Amanda Temple has had my balls clenched in her fist all damn day.”

  Changing his tone to match Amanda’s arrogance, he mimicked, “Check with the caterers, Simon! Guard the film, Simon! Eat me with a spoon, Simon!” Simon flipped his middle finger toward the window. He wished he had the balls to tell her to screw off in person.

  The projector began to glow from within. It vibrated, shaking the floor.

  Bob nudged Simon, pointing to the projector and tugging the joint out of Simon’s hand. “Oh man, didn’t I … didn’t I tell you this has gotta be the best goddamn weed on the West Coast?” Bob eyed the joint before placing it between his lips and sucking in a sharp breath.

  Laughing, Simon pulled the joint back, inhaling deeply. “Screw that! This is the best shit ever!” Simon was going to have to hang out with Bob more often. For a grunge head, he was kinda cool. Definitely took the edge off of a shitty day. And as long as Simon worked for tight- ass Amanda, he was going to need a regular supply from his new best friend.

  Simon pushed himself off the floor. He stumbled toward the glowing projector, imitating the steady beat that rocked the floor. “Boom … boom … boom …” Simon slapped his hands against the projector. “Boom … boom … boom.”

  Bob snickered from behind Simon.

  “Screw you, Amanda!” Simon slurred, unzipping his pants. “This is what I think of your damn film.” Simon peed on the base of the projector, twisting back and forth. A spark zapped out of the projector, zinging up Simon’s stream of urine.

  A wet stain spread across Simon’s pants. “Damn thing shocked me!”

  Bob fell over laughing as he clutched his stomach. “Didn’t … Didn’t your daddy ever teach you not to pee on an electric fence?” He continued to laugh, his body curled into the fetal position.

  Sure, laugh it up, Bob. He wasn’t the one who just had a volt of electricity shoot up his junk. Damn. That really hurt. It would probably burn to pee for the next week.

  Zipping up his pants, Simon frowned. Maybe he needed to lay off the pot for the rest of the night. Simon couldn’t attend the after-party stoned off his ass. That would be the end of his promotion.

  A tornado of electricity wrapped around Simon, lifting him off his feet. Back arched, his body jerked as the current sliced through his body. Simon’s clothing singed. The acrid smell of burning flesh permeated the room.

  * * *

  Hanging with Simon wasn’t that bad. It beat smoking alone at home. The dude was funny once he got the stick out of his ass. But he better clean up the mess he made on the floor. If Bob wasn’t so high right now, he might have kicked his ass for pissing all over his precious projector.

  A foul stench harshed Bob’s mellow mood. “Man, what’s that smell?” he groaned, covering his nose. That shit was nasty. What did Simon eat before he came up here? A turd sandwich?

  “Phew, man!” Bob gagged, waving his hand in front of his face. “Something crawled up your ass and died!” Talk about making himself at home. The dude could take his stink right to the bathroom—where it belonged.

  Bob sat up, twisting toward Simon’s still form stretched out on the floor. The projector continued to glow. The thumping stopped. Just the steady click and whir of the projector continued.

  “Told ya the shit was strong. Couldn’t handle it, could ya?” Bob opened his pouch of pot, smiling. “All the more for me, man …”

  * * *

  Derek watched as Jeremy pulled a remote out of his camouflage pants, aiming it at a blank wall in the hallway. The wall slid open, revealing an elevator inside. Jason pulled Jill in first. The knife bit into her neck, drawing a bead of blood.

  Jill whimpered, her eyes wide with fear.

  That son of a bitch! Derek stepped forward flexing his hands. Jason was dead.

  Jason tsked, jerking Jill’s head back. “Easy, Agent Boulder. Accidents happen. You wouldn’t want the knife to dig any deeper, would you?”

  Jill’s eyes pleaded with Derek to stop. Her face was streaked with tears. Derek hated this feeling. And for a feeling he hated so very much, he kept landing right in the middle of it.

  If anything happened to Jill. … No. Nothing was going to happen to her.

  Jeremy gripped Derek’s arm, shoving him to the corner of the elevator. The doors swished closed. Cheesy elevator music began as the elevator rose.

  The brothers liked to hide behind their monsters and defenseless women. Derek would love to see how tough they were one-on-one.

  “Where are you taking us?” Derek demanded.

  Jeremy’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Oh, it’s a surprise.”

  Sick of their surprises, Derek looked at Jill. The knife to her neck shone under the fluorescent lights. He could take Jeremy, that was no question, but that left Jason with the blade and Jill. No, Derek would have to wait and take them off guard. Patience was needed right now. Unfortunately, that was not exactly his strong suit.

  The elevator bounced to a stop, and then the doors swished open. Jeremy stepped out first, waiting for Derek. Followed by Jill and Jason. They crossed the deserted hall entering the brothers’ viewing room. A large television screen rested on the wall in front of them. E! News was muted, showing Terror’s movie premiere. Ten black and white security monitors showed different areas of the house. No other lights, except for the glow from the monitors. And no monsters. So, what did the brothers have plann
ed?

  “Please take a seat, Agent Boulder.” Jeremy directed Derek to a straight-back metal chair facing the monitors. Derek wanted to tell him where he could shove that chair, but one look at the knife digging into Jill’s throat made him sit silently.

  Jeremy lifted a coil of rope off the desk. He wound it tightly around Derek’s wrists, securing him to the chair. Derek shifted his wrists. For a small guy, Jeremy was good at tying knots. Maybe the freaks were Boy Scouts, too.

  “Your psych file made for some interesting reading material, Agent Boulder,” Jason said as he secured Jill to the metal chair next to Derek.

  Derek’s head snapped toward Jason. What game were they playing now?

  “The government should really be more careful with their security,” Jeremy scolded, shaking his head.

  “We didn’t expect you to get as far as you did today. Your file said that a car backfiring would have you diving for cover. They were unsure of your reliability as a partner. If you would cave under fire. That’s why you were given the rookie. Easy case files until he was ready to go live in the field. But then well, he got hurt under your watch, too.

  “You son of a …” Derek jerked in his chair, his face burning with rage. The vault door creaked open.