The Midnight Tour

by Richard Laymon

  “Sure.” Mouth twitching, he added, “A few times. Like maybe fifty or sixty.”

  “You seem awfully upset.”

  “Well...”

  “Is it the movie?”

  “I...Yeah, I guess so. I haven’t...this is the first time I’ve watched it since...you know, getting jumped.” Grimacing, he said, “I didn’t think it’d be a problem. But I guess maybe it is.”

  “Let’s book,” Dana said.

  “No, no. I’ll manage. It’ll be all right.”

  “Sure,” Dana said. She gave his leg a squeeze, then let go and stood up. “I’m booking. Want to come with me?” Not waiting for an answer, she took his hand and pulled.

  Warren rose out of his seat and hurried along behind Dana to the end of the row.

  She shoved open the door and towed him into the lobby.

  “You can let go, now. I’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t let go.

  “You don’t want to miss the movie,” he said.

  “I’ve seen it plenty of times.” She pushed open the glass door and towed Warren outside. After a few more strides, she turned around and took him into her arms. He was panting for air. His whole body seemed to be trembling. She hugged him tightly.

  Soon, his breathing relaxed and his tremors faded.

  Dana eased her hold on him. She gently caressed his back and brushed her lips against his cheek. “Feeling better?” she whispered.

  “Feel like a jerk,” he muttered.

  “Nah.”

  “Can’t even watch a damn movie...”

  “I don’t care about the movie. I just care about you.”

  Then she kissed him on the mouth, moaning, rubbing herself against him, sliding a hand down and squeezing his rump.

  She felt Warren’s hands on her buttocks.

  Against her thigh, she felt his rising hardness.

  And she realized they were standing beneath the brightly lighted marquee of The Haunted Palace, in plain view of anyone who might wander by on the sidewalk or drive past them on Front Street.

  “Maybe we should go someplace,” she said.

  “What’ve you got in your pocket?”

  “What?”

  “‘That hard thing,” Warren said.

  “Oh, that. It’s my rod.”

  “Your what?”

  “Reach in.”

  Frowning slightly, Warren slipped a hand down the deep front pocket of her shorts. The pistol swayed, bumping against her thigh. “It’s a gun!”

  “Eve loaned it to me.”

  Saying Eve’s name, Dana felt a surge of worry.

  Where is she?

  If she doesn’t show up for the tour, Dana thought, we’d better go looking for her.

  She suddenly became aware of Warren’s hand, still down there with the pistol, rubbing her thigh through the thin fabric of her pocket lining.

  She met his eyes.

  He smiled. “You aren’t really wearing my skivvies, are you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Uh...Doesn’t feel like you’re wearing anything under there.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Oh, man.”

  “So. Where would you like to go?”

  “Maybe we can find a Bingo game.”

  Dana laughed.

  Warren removed his hand from her pocket, took a deep breath, and sighed. “What about...should we go back into the theater? It’ll at least be warm.”

  “No,” she said, and kissed him on the mouth.

  “You could go back in without me,” Warren suggested. “I’ll head on back to Beast House and help the gals with cleanup.”

  “No,” Dana said, and kissed him on the mouth again. “They’d be disappointed. They wanted us to have a nice, romantic time at the movie.”

  “I don’t think that’s in the cards.”

  “No, it’s not.” She kissed him on the mouth again. “Not at the movie, anyway.” Letting go of Darren’s rump, she raised her arm and over his shoulder glanced at her wristwatch. “We’ve got an hour and a half before the tour starts. Let’s try to use it wisely.”

  Warren laughed, his body shaking against her. “I thought you were worn out from last night.”

  “Not that worn out. Let’s figure out where to go.”

  “There’s my place,” Warren said.

  “What’s that, about a ten minute walk from here?”

  “About.”

  “We’d be killing twenty minutes just going back and forth.”

  “There’s the snack stand.” He shook his head. “Only thing is, we’d probably run into Windy and Rhonda.”

  “Let’s not.”

  “I know! The museum!”

  “The Beast House museum?”

  “Sure.”

  Dana could see it from where she stood—on the other side of Front Street and half a block to the north. The neon sign above its door flashed BEAST HOUSE MUSEUM & SOUVENIRS in swirling red letters that appeared to be dripping blood. Perched above the words was the blue neon outline of a seven foot tall, prowling beast.

  A much smaller sign, also blue neon, lit up the middle of the display window. It read CLOSED.

  “We can be there in a couple of minutes,” Warren said.

  “Can we get in?” Dana asked.

  “Sure. I’ve got keys to everything.” He pulled her by the hand.

  They rushed over to the curb. There was no traffic in sight, so they ran across the street.

  As they hurried up the sidewalk, Dana asked, “Will you be all right in there?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, if the movie got to you like that...I’d think the museum might be even worse.”

  “It doesn’t bother me.”

  “Have you been in it lately?”

  “Does last week count?”

  Dana nodded.

  “Janice normally runs the place, you know. When she’s there, I drop in two, three times a week. And I have no troubles.”

  “Might be a little different at this hour of the night.”

  “Might be. Thanks for mentioning it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Approaching the door, Warren dug a key case out of his pocket. “When I get it unlocked, I’ll have to make a run for the alarm.”

  “It won’t go off, will it?”

  “Not if I get there in time. But don’t worry. It’s no big deal. I just won’t be able to dally in the doorway.”

  “You don’t want me to clutch you to my bosom in a feverish embrace?”

  He chucked. “Did I say that? Never mind. Screw the alarm.”

  At the door, Warren slipped a key into the lock. Dana stood behind him. “I feel like a lookout for a heist,” she said.

  “Anybody coming?”

  In both directions, the sidewalks looked deserted. A few cars were parked along the curbs. A van that had already passed them was heading away, its tail lights glowing red.

  “Coast is clear,” Dana reported.

  “Ever been in jail?” Warren asked, and opened the door.

  “No.”

  Pausing at the threshold, he smiled back at her. “Always a first time.”

  “Warren!”

  Laughing, he hurried into the darkness.

  Dana stepped inside, shut the door, and waited. Compared to the outside chill, the museum felt comfortable. And it smelled wonderful, air rich with pleasant scents from the candles and soaps in the gift area.

  The neon CLOSED sign in the window gave everything nearby an eerie blue glow. It cast a dim shine along the top of the glass counter beside Dana, but it left most of the museum in darkness.

  Off in the darkness, she heard footsteps.

  “Got it,” Warren said.

  “So we won’t be going to jail?”

  “Hope not”

  Dana made out a vague shape coming toward her. “That better be you,” she said.

  The shape stopped in front of her and reached out. She felt a warm hand drift agai
nst the side of her face. “Maybe we should get away from the windows,” Warren said. “Might be a slight bit embarrassing if we got caught in here.”

  “Maybe we’d better not be in here.”

  “We aren’t breaking any laws. I have a key.” He took Dana by the hand and began leading her into the darkness. “I also have Janice’s permission to come and go whenever I want.”

  “Do you really?”

  “Yeah. Far as she’s concerned, I can do no wrong.”

  “Do you think she’d approve of this?”

  “Oh, yes. When she finds out...”

  “You’re not going to tell her?”

  "Well...”

  “You can’t tell her we snuck in here in the middle of the night.”

  “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. Do you tell her everything?”

  “Pretty much.”

  "Wonderful.”

  “I can’t wait to tell her about you. She’s been...a tittle worried about me. Since the incident, you know? She’s been afraid I might...sort of cut myself off.”

  They stopped walking.

  They seemed to be somewhere near the back of the museum’s main room, near a corner. Looking toward the front, Dana glimpsed a few small mists of blue glow. Most of her view was blocked by tall shelving, shrouded by darkness. From where she stood, no windows were in sight.

  She turned toward Warren, but could barely see him.

  “So anyway,” he said, "Janice’ll be awfully glad to find out that I’ve...uh...found someone I really care about.”

  “You really care about me?” Dana whispered.

  “More than... yeah. I sure do.”

  “More than what?” she asked, her heart pounding faster.

  “More than anyone. Ever.”

  She wrapped her arms around him.

  Sprawled on top of Warren, breathless and sweaty, Dana pushed herself up to a sitting position.

  He stayed in her.

  Raising both hands toward her face, she pressed a button to light the numbers of her wristwatch.

  11:47

  “What’s the bad news?” Warren asked.

  “Quarter till twelve.”

  He groaned.

  “I’d better get dressed.”

  He took hold of her thighs. “No, wait.”

  “I promised Tuck.”

  “I know. But...five more minutes?”

  Smiling in the darkness, Dana hunkered down over him. She placed her hands on the carpet and eased from side to side. Her breasts swung, nipples brushing across Warrens chest. She felt him move inside her. Felt him grow.

  "You want me to miss the tour, don’t you?” she asked.

  “You don’t have to miss it. Five or ten more minutes...”

  He pushed up slightly, sliding himself deeper.

  Dana moaned "You don’t make it easy.”

  "Sorry.”

  "Sure.”

  "You’d better get going,” Warren said.

  “Yeah. I’d better.”

  She sank down on him, mashing herself against him, sucking his tongue into her mouth. His tongue slurped out as she pushed herself up. Gasping for air, she guided his hands to her breasts, then clutched him by the shoulders. “I think I can spare a minute or two,” she said.

  By 11:55, they were both dressed and standing just inside the museum’s front door.

  Dana gave Warren a quick hug and kiss. “I’ve got to run,” she said. “Maybe you’d better stay here, make sure we didn’t lose anything in the dark.”

  “You didn’t lose your pistol, did you?”

  She had felt the weight of the .380 in her pocket as she’d pulled up her shorts, had felt it bump against her thigh with each step she took on her way to the door. She could feel it now like a hand trying to tug down her shorts. “Still there, all right.”

  “I hope you don’t need it.”

  “If I do, should I save the last bullet for myself?”

  "Don’t even joke about that.”

  "I’ve gotta go.”

  “I’ll come along.”

  She shook her head. “No, really. You should stay here and clean the place up. We don’t want to leave a mess behind.”

  "You’re probably right.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  Warren nodded.

  Dana pulled him against herself and gave him one long, hard kiss. Then she eased him away, turned around and opened the door.

  "Be careful,” he called after her.

  “Bye-bye, honey,” she said, and hurried to the curb.

  The fog was much thicker than before.

  She could hardly see to the other side of the road. The street lights looked as if they’d been muffled with cotton.

  A block away, the marquee of The Haunted Palace was a shapeless, fuzzy red blur.

  Shivering, Dana rubbed her arms.

  She glanced both ways, looking for headlights. Then she dashed across Front Street. At the other side, she leaped the curb, swerved to the right, and sprinted up the sidewalk toward Beast House in a race to beat the midnight deadline.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  WARNINGS

  “I know you’re all freezing,” Lynn called, walking backwards at the front of the group. “So I’ll spare you my usual twenty minute speech in front of the porch, and we’ll go straight in.”

  “Here here!” bellowed the professor.

  As they hurried along, Vein zipped up her leather jacket. Darke let go of Owen’s hand and huddled against his side. He put an arm around her back. Through the thin silk of her shirt, he felt her shaking.

  “Hang on,” he said. He pulled off his Crawfotd Junior High School windbreaker. "Here, put this on.” He held it open while Darke slipped her arms into the sleeves.

  Though her black blouse was still unbuttoned, exposing bare skin all the way down to her waist, she drew the windbreaker shut and fastened its snaps. Trembling, she smiled up at Owen. "Thanks,” she said, then once again tucked herself in against his side.

  Again, he put his arm around her back.

  Turning his head, he pushed his face into her soft hair.

  "Oh. how sweet,” came Monica’s voice from somewhere behind him. “Owie’s got a boyfriend.”

  As she spoke the last word, Darke reached back and slipped a hand down inside the seat pocket of Owen’s jeans.

  "If you look to your left,” Lynn announced, “you may note that something seems to be missing.”

  Owen looked. Through the iron bars of the front fence, he saw the lawn dissolve into fog. There was no trace at all of Beast House.

  “We may have to rethink our plans for the tour,” Lynn said.

  “This is so cool,” Darke said quietly to Owen..

  “Yeah.”

  “I just love the fog.”

  “Me, too,” he said. "Do you get much of it where you live?”

  "Not much.”

  Somewhere in the fog ahead of them, Lynn said, “Go all the way up to the house.”

  “Where do you live?” Owen asked.

  "Tucson.”

  "Arizona”

  Darke nodded. “I’m in grad school at the university.”

  “What’re you working on?”

  "Go on up to the house,” Lynn said, closer now. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

  “An M.A. in literature. Vein, too. We’re roomies.”

  Following those in front of them, they turned to the left just before the ticket booth. They passed Lynn, who was holding the gate open.

  “Go all the way up to the house,” she told them. "I’ll be along in a minute.”

  As they headed up the walkway, Lynn repeated the instructions to those behind them.

  “Is Darke your real name?” Owen asked.

  “Of course not,” she said.

  Soon, the black shape of Beast House began to emerge through the fog. Somehow, it made Owen think of a ghost ship bearing down on them.

  “Look at
that,” he said. “It’s like something out of William Hope Hodgson.”

  The hand in his back pocket squeezed his rump. “You been talking to Vein?”

  “Huh?”

  “I just love Hodgson.”

  “You’re kidding,” Owen said. “Most people have never even heard of him.”

  “You meet the coolest people on a Beast House tour.” She squeezed his butt again. “Who else do you like?”

  "Herbert.”

  "Herbert who?” Darke asked.

  "James.”

  "Herbert James? Any relation to Henry?”

  “I hate Henry,” Owen said.

  "I love Herbert,” said Darke. "And you’re right about Henry. He’s a bore. And he don’t know shit about rats.”

  They climbed the porch stairs. In the midst of the other tourists, they turned around and waited,. A few more people, down on the walkway, were materializing out of the fog.

  Then Lynn appeared. "Is everybody ready for the Midnight Tour?” she called.

  A few scattered voices replied, ‘Ready.’ and "All set,” and "Any time.”

  “It’s terribly cold out here,” complained the woman in the tennis outfit. Since the last time Owen had noticed her, she’d put her sweater on.

  "Colder than a witch’s tit,” said Arnold.

  “Colder than a zombie’s dick,” said Dennis.

  "Colder than...”

  Raising a hand, Lynn said, “Guys, guys, guys.”

  "Morons.” The quiet mutter came from Monica. She sounded as if she were standing directly behind Owen.

  "There are ladies present,” Clive proclaimed.

  “It’s an unexpurgated tour, dude,” Dennis said.

  “Right on,” said Arnold.

  Stopping at the foot of the porch stairs, Lynn said, “I’m sure everyone would appreciate...”

  A dark, running shape raced out of the fog behind her.

  "Look out!” someone shouted.

  She whirled around.

  "It’s me, it’s me!”

  Owen recognized the voice and the tall, shapely figure.

  Dana.

  He felt as if an old friend had shown up. Strangely, however, he didn’t find himself excited or even very interested in her arrival.

  The lack of interest made him feel as if he’d somehow let her down,

  That’s crazy, he told himself. She never cared about me.

  We’re strangers.

  But I wanted her so badly!

  He tried to picture how she’d looked last night, naked by the jacuzzi. But the image that entered his mind and made him start to stiffen was Darke in the men’s restroom earlier tonight when she first pulled open her shirt.