by R. L. Stine
“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “I never thought I’d be glad to see you!”
Les didn’t answer.
“It was a good trick, Les,” said Trisha. “But it wasn’t fair to pull it on your own team. Why didn’t you say something?”
Les didn’t answer.
Terry looked at him more closely. Something wasn’t right. Les wasn’t moving. Not at all. Terry touched his friend on the shoulder, and Les slowly toppled off the chair onto the floor. The dark glasses flew off, revealing his staring, and very dead, eyes.
“He’s dead,” Terry said, feeling cold all over. “I knew it.”
Someone screamed.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Trisha said.
Terry turned quickly, just in time to see Justine dart outside, slamming the door behind her.
An instant later a key turned.
Terry knew without looking. They were locked in.
chapter
19
The only window was covered with a heavy metal security grate, and there was only one door.
Murphy immediately began pounding on it, but it was solid oak. “Let us out!” he shouted.
Alex and Ricky pulled and pried at the security grate, but it wouldn’t budge.
“We’re trapped!” Angela yelled shrilly. “She’s trapped us in here with a—a—dead—”
“Calm down, Angela,” said Niki, taking her gently by her shoulders.
“Yes,” agreed Trisha, her own voice shaking. “We’ve got to keep calm—we’ve got to think clearly . . . . ”
At that moment Justine’s little bell rang, from outside the window. “Surprise!” she called in to them, her face close to the security grate. She was shining a powerful flashlight on her face. They hurried to the window. It had stopped raining, they saw.
“Now, wasn’t this the best Halloween trick of all?” Justine said, obviously pleased with herself.
“Let us out of here, Justine,” said Terry. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but David will be back any minute—with the police!”
“Then I’d better hurry, hadn’t I?” she said calmly. She smiled at all her guests, a cruel, mocking smile. “It’s time for the last surprise of the evening,” she said. “But first I want you all to sit at your places at the table and open the gift boxes.”
“You’ve lied to us from the beginning!” said Alex. “Why should we do anything you say?”
“Because,” said Justine coldly, “I will be very angry if you spoil my surprise. And who knows what I might do then? Now, find your places!”
One by one the guests drifted to the table and sat down. For a minute or so the only sound was of chairs scraping along the floor, punctuated by sniffling from Angela.
“Is everybody ready?” said Justine. “Good. Now we will finish playing Truth. Only this time it’s my turn to tell the truth—and for you to pay the penalty.”
She smiled her crazy smile, and Terry again felt cold. Maybe she just wanted to talk, he hoped. He’d heard that some insane people simply needed a chance to talk about the things that were bothering them. Besides, she was outside the house—what could she possibly do to them in there?
“Before I begin,” Justine went on, “I’d like you to unwrap your packages.” She waited while the guests untied the boxes. Inside each one was an identical photograph of a smiling young couple dressed in clothes of the sixties. The woman had dark hair, but she looked hauntingly like Justine.
“The pictures are of a couple named Edmund and Cissy,” Justine told them. “Now I want you to look at the pictures while I tell you a story.” She glanced around the room to make sure everyone was looking at a copy of the picture. “Edmund and Cissy,” Justine began, “were just like you—young, full of happiness and hope for the future. They were full of hope, that is, until twenty-eight years ago tonight.” She paused, then went on in a singsong way, as if she had memorized a script.
“Twenty-eight years ago it was Halloween, just like tonight. Edmund and Cissy had been visiting friends. They were on their way home to their one-year-old daughter, whom they loved very much. Their car was going south on Old Mill Road.”
Again she paused. Even though he knew what was coming, Terry couldn’t help listening, fascinated, as the story unfolded.
“At the same time,” Justine continued, “there were two cars full of teenagers driving north on Old Mill Road. They had just been to a Halloween party and were still partying. They decided to drag. There were exactly nine of them in the two cars.
“One block from the corner of Fear Street and Old Mill Road, one of the cars with teenagers in it collided head-on with the car carrying the young couple. Their car rolled into a ditch and burst into flames. By the time firemen got there, it was too late to save them.”
Terry could tell from the looks on the other guests’ faces that most of them had guessed the truth by now. Angela and Trisha were both crying, tears running down their faces.
Justine went on, her face cruel and old looking in the flashlight beam. “I want you to shut your eyes now and imagine what Edmund and Cissy felt that night,” she said. “Imagine how it felt to be trapped in a burning car, the heat unbearable, with no possible escape. And no one to help you no matter how loudly you screamed. You may have guessed by now that Edmund and Cissy were my parents. But you may not have guessed the names of the teenagers in the other two cars.” She recited names slowly. Terry heard gasps as different guests recognized the names of their own parents.
“None of the teenagers were even hurt,” Justine said. “None of them ever paid for what they did to my parents. So I have decided that you, their children, will pay.”
There wasn’t a sound from the dining room, except for the sniffling of Angela and Tricia.
“Les had the honor of paying first,” said Justine, “because it was his father who drove the car that killed my parents. The rest of you will go together, the way your parents should have all those years ago.”
“No!” Angela screamed suddenly. “How can you make us responsible for something that happened before we were born? It’s not fair!”
“What happened to my parents wasn’t fair either!” cried Justine.
“Let us go,” Murphy pleaded. “We won’t tell anyone what we know!”
Justine scrutinized him a moment, then burst into laughter. “Do you really think it’s that easy?” she said.
Terry looked at Niki, feeling hopeless. He didn’t know what Justine had in mind, but he was sure it was something horrible.
“We’ve got to keep her talking,” Niki whispered.
“What?”
“As long as Justine is talking, she can’t do anything to us,” Niki said. “So we’ve got to stall her until the police come.”
If they come, Terry thought. David had been gone for quite a while. Still, Niki’s idea made sense. “Justine—” he called. She turned to him, annoyed.
“What is it now?” she said.
“I just—I just wanted to know how you managed to fool all of us so completely. I mean—everything seems to be planned down to the last detail.”
Justine was obviously pleased. “I’m glad you appreciate my efforts,” she said. “I’ve been planning this for a very long time. And I must admit—even I didn’t suspect how successful it would be.”
“So all of it—the invitations, the surprises—all were part of your plan?”
“Of course,” said Justine. “Everything was leading up to this moment. And now it’s time—”
Niki interrupted her again. “But how could you do it all?” she said. “For instance, someone hit me and carried me downstairs. It couldn’t have been you—”
“But of course it was!” Justine smiled just exactly as if someone had complimented her on her hair.
“But how did you get me down to the basement?” Niki went on. “I know you’re strong, but even you couldn’t carry me that far.”
“I didn’t have to,” said Justine smugly. “There’s an old dumbwaiter system
in the house. I just put you into it on the second floor and then lowered you to the basement.”
“What about the cut banister?” said Terry. “Did you do that too?”
Justine laughed. “What do you think?” she said. “I realized before the party that someone might suspect me, so I arranged for my little accident. It wasn’t hard at all. When I was a teenager, I studied gymnastics.”
She’s thought of everything, Terry thought. We don’t have a chance. He tried to come up with something else to ask Justine, to keep her talking, but his mind had gone blank.
“What about Les?” said Niki suddenly.
“What about him?” said Justine.
“The others heard you talking to him before we came in here,” Niki said.
Justine laughed, a scornful laugh. “They heard me. But I’d be willing to bet they didn’t hear Les’s side of the conversation! But time is wasting,” Justine said, her smile fading. “If you will look up toward the ceiling, you will see that I have put up some state-of-the-art speakers for your entertainment.”
Terry glanced up, surprised. As Justine had said, four huge speakers were attached high on the walls just below the ceiling.
“The speakers are connected to a battery-powered cassette deck I have out here,” Justine went on. “Which reminds me. It’s time to begin your penalty.”
“But what about—” said Terry.
“No,” said Justine. “No more questions. It’s time to get on with the rest of the surprise.” Again she smiled, a smile so sweet that it was shocking in contrast with the terrible things she was saying.
“When I started thinking about how to make you pay,” she said, “I realized that I wanted you to suffer the same way my parents had suffered long ago. But I couldn’t arrange a car accident. And then I realized I could easily reproduce the worst parts of a car wreck.” She ducked below the window a moment, then stood up again. “I just switched on a tape that I made especially for you,” she said.
A low rumbling began to come from the huge speakers. Terry recognized the sound of a car engine starting up.
“Since I can’t re-create a real accident,” Justine went on, “I’m going to make you hear what it is like, hear the shriek of twisting metal, the screams of pain from the terrified victims . . . ”
The sound of the engine grew louder, and now there were new sounds, those of tires squealing around curves as the taped car picked up speed.
Is this what she’s going to do to us? Terry wondered in shock. Make us listen to a tape of car crashes? Is that all?
“Of course, just hearing the sounds of an accident isn’t enough,” Justine went on as if she’d read his thoughts. “For you to really pay, you must also experience the pain they experienced, and die the way they died.” She flicked on a cigarette lighter.
“I’ve piled a bunch of oily rags in the area just outside the dining room,” she said. “I’m going to go in and light them now. It will take a few minutes for the flames to reach you. You’ll have plenty of time to think about what my parents suffered—and what’s going to happen to you!”
She bent down again, then walked away from the window. Terry wanted to talk to the others, to try to plan an escape, but the soundtrack on the tape quickly grew from loud to deafening. He couldn’t hear anything as the car on the tape speeded up.
A moment later there was a sickening squeal of brakes, the crunch of twisting metal, shattering glass, and then the screams—screams of pain—and terror. Over and over these sounds played, so loud that Terry could feel their vibrations in his whole body.
To the screams on the tape were added the screams of the guests trapped in the dining room, their hands clapped over their ears as they tried to shut out those dreadful, overwhelming noises. It was the most horrifying experience Terry had ever been through. He didn’t think anything could be worse.
And then the first tendrils of smoke began to seep under the dining-room door.
chapter
20
It was like a scene from a nightmare, Niki thought as she watched her friends scream and writhe, trying to blot out the terrible sounds. Even Terry had his eyes squeezed shut, his hands pressed tightly to his ears.
When the smoke began to filter into the room, the hysteria grew even greater. Alex and Murphy began beating on the window bars, clawing at them. Both boys had blood all over their hands and running down their arms, but they didn’t seem to notice.
Niki could feel the vibrations from the tape through her body. But there was no terror in it for her. Rather, she felt almost as if she were standing back, watching something happen on a stage.
She did know she was in mortal danger, that all of them were.
The smoke coming in under the door was growing thicker. Niki knew that they didn’t have much time. She pressed her palm to the door. It was already hot.
Somehow, they had to find a way out. Maybe if they all worked together, they could break down the door, or bend back the grating.
She touched Terry’s shoulder. “Terry!” she said. “We’ve got to do something!”
He just stared at her, his eyes full of pain and confusion. He couldn’t hear anything she was saying, and he obviously couldn’t think straight.
She tried Alex next, but like Terry he couldn’t hear her. He turned away and went back to pulling on the grating with Murphy. “Has everyone lost their minds?” she said out loud. And realized that, in a way, they all had. Trisha and Angela were huddled together in a corner, sobbing, and Ricky was standing in front of the door, his eyes closed tightly, screaming.
None of her friends would be able to help her, Niki realized.
Maybe David would come soon with the police, but he’d been gone a long time. So many things could have happened to him that she knew she couldn’t count on him now.
It was up to her.
Trying not to panic, and trying to ignore the growing clouds of smoke, she forced herself to think logically.
The door was too heavy to break through. She went over to the window and pushed in between Murphy and Alex. The grating was thick and immovable.
She stepped back and forced herself to take two or three deep breaths of the clear air coming in from the window. By now the smoke in the room had become thick as fog, and her friends were completely lost in their hysteria.
Justine had planned her revenge well.
If only there were another way out. If only there were a skylight, or a heating vent, or— Her eyes fell on a handle set in the wall. A small spark of hope jumped within her. It might be just a cupboard. But maybe . . .
She opened the small door and almost cried with relief.
It was part of the old dumbwaiter system that Justine had talked about. The dumbwaiter basket appeared to be much too small to hold a person, but Niki was slender, and besides, Justine had said that was how she’d gotten her into the basement.
With a sinking feeling Niki realized she wouldn’t be able to lower the basket herself. It was designed to be lowered manually by someone pulling on a rope attached to a pulley. She would have to find help. But could she break through to any of her friends?
Terry was still sitting with his hands pressed tightly over his ears. She shook him, roughly. When he turned at her, she shouted as loud as she could. “Terry! You’ve got to help me!” He continued to stare at her blankly.
“Terry!” she called again. “Please! It’s up to us!”
She searched his face, willing him to understand. Terry blinked and then suddenly his eyes cleared. He looked at her with understanding.
“Funny Face,” he said.
The tape was much too loud for him to hear her. She pulled on his arm and led him over to the dumbwaiter. She pointed to herself, then to the basket, and pantomimed pulling on a rope. By now Alex had come over, too, and both boys were staring at her as if she had lost her mind.
“You can’t!” Terry said. “It’s too dangerous!”
Niki read his lips easily, but shrugged off h
is warning. She pointed to the dining-room door, where smoke was pouring in thicker and thicker.
“She’s right!” Alex shouted. “It’s our only chance!”
Reluctantly Terry nodded his agreement.
Good, Niki thought with relief. But would it work?
Together, Alex and Terry boosted her up to the entrance to the dumbwaiter. She took a deep breath and crawled into the basket. It was a tight fit, but by keeping her knees tucked up under her chin she was able to sit almost comfortably.
“Ready!” she shouted, her heart pounding furiously.
Alex began to operate the pulley. She could feel the ancient mechanism creaking and groaning under her weight. Would it hold her?
Suddenly the dumbwaiter basket caught on something. Looking up, she could see Alex and Terry pulling on the ropes, trying to free it.
It wouldn’t budge.
The air in the shaft was hot and smelled of smoke. The fire was spreading quickly. If the basket didn’t begin moving soon she would smother there inside the walls of the old house.
Knowing it was risky, she began to rock back and forth. She knew that it would either free her or cause the basket to fall the rest of the way to the basement.
With a sudden, sickening lurch, the basket dropped several inches.
Niki felt as if her heart had stopped, then she relaxed as the basket resumed its steady progress downward. At the bottom she pushed hard on the inside of the cupboard door and scrambled out.
The air was much cleaner there, and for a moment she just breathed. Then she switched on her flashlight and shone it around the dark, musty room.
The basement was shaped irregularly, and contained what seemed to be dozens of nooks and cupboards. How had Terry ever found her down there?
At last the flashlight showed the basement stairs, and she quickly ran up them, only to find that the door was scorching hot. If she opened it, she’d be incinerated.
There had to be another way out. There had to be!
Again she shone the flashlight around. Something dark and furry skittered off to one side, and Niki jumped. At last she saw the outlines of a window, and rushed over to it. Her heart sank in dismay.