Table of Contents
Praise
Praise
Other Leisure books by Richard Laymon:
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Part One - Someone in the House
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Part Two - Simon Says
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Part Three - Witness Protection
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Part Four - Simon Says
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Part Five - Missing in Indio
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Part Six - Simon Says
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Part Seven - Checkout Time
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Part Eight - Simon Says
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Part Nine - Gunplay
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Part Ten - Simon Says
Chapter Forty
Part Eleven - Home, Sweet Home
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
RAVE REVIEWS FOR RICHARD LAYMON!
"I’ve always been a Laymon fan. He manages to raise serious gooseflesh.”
—Bentley Little
“Laymon is incapable of writing a disappointing book.”
—New York Review of Science Fiction
“Laymon always takes it to the max. No one writes like him and you’re going to have a good time with anything he writes.”
—Dean Koontz
“If you’ve missed Laymon, you’ve missed a treat.”
—Stephen King
“A brilliant writer.”
—Sunday Express
“I’ve read every book of Laymon’s I could get my hands on. I’m absolutely a longtime fan.”
—Jack Ketchum, author of Peaceable Kingdom
MORE PRAISE FOR RICHARD LAYMON!
“One of horror’s rarest talents.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Laymon is, was and always will be king of the hill.”
—Horror World
“Laymon is an American writer of the highest caliber.”
—Time Out
“Laymon is unique. A phenomenon. A genius of the grisly and the grotesque.”
—Joe Citro, The Blood Review
“Laymon doesn’t pull any punches. Everything he writes keeps you on the edge of your seat.”
—Painted Rock Reviews
“One of the best, and most reliable, writers working today.”
—Cemetery Dance
Other Leisure books by Richard Laymon:
BODY RIDES
BLOOD GAMES
TO WAKE THE DEAD
NO SANCTUARY
DARKNESS, TELL US
NIGHT IN THE LONESOME OCTOBER
ISLAND
THE MUSEUM OF HORRORS (anthology)
IN THE DARK
THE TRAVELING VAMPIRE SHOW
AMONG THE MISSING
ONE RAINY NIGHT
BITE
LEISURE BOOKS ®
July 2004
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Copyright © 1993 by Richard Laymon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
ISBN 0-8439-5184-2
The name “Leisure Books” and the stylized “L” with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.
Visit us on the web at www.dorchesterpub.com.
This book is dedicated to our friends:
Larry Mori & Joan Parsons,
Curators of the Mori-Parsons Museum
of the Weird and Wonderful
where they dwell
Part One
Someone in the House
Chapter One
Jody came awake moaning.
“Wake up!” The whisper sounded urgent. “Jody, wake up! Please!”
The voice belonged to Evelyn. Probably so did the hand shaking her shoulder.
She thought, Oh, yeah. I’m at Evelyn’s. Sleeping over. Trying to sleep over, more like it.
She opened her eyes, rubbed them, yawned. The room was dark, but she could see Evelyn looking down at her from the bed. The girl’s face was a dim blur smudged with shadows. Her arm, darker than the white sheets, was stretched toward the floor where Jody had settled for the night in her sleeping bag. Her hand had a tight grip on Jody’s shoulder.
Jody moaned again. “What is it this time?”
“I heard something.”
“Gimme a break,” she murmured. “You messed up a really neat dream. I wanna get back to it, if you don’t mind. Jeez.” As she yawned, Evelyn shook her shoulder again.
“I mean it. I’m not kidding. I heard something.”
“So?”
“I’m scared.”
So what else is new? Jody thought. She didn’t say it, though. Evelyn had a way of blowing just about everything out of proportion, making big deals out of nothing—but she was Jody’s best friend. They’d been best friends since kindergarten, so Jody’d had about ten years of experience with her histhonics.
“It probably wasn’t anything. Just go back to sleep.”
“It was somebody breaking one of the windows downstairs.”
“Uh.” Jody yawned again. Now that she’d been awakened, she felt too hot inside her sleeping bag. Had Evelyn’s father shut off the air conditioner before turning in? “Breaking glass?” she asked. “Maybe one of your parents is up and dropped something. What time is it, anyway?”
“One-fifteen.”
“Jeez.” She found the inside zipper tab up near her left shoulder. The hand on her other shoulder flinched when she slid the zipper down. “That was just me,” she explained.
“What’re you doing!”
“Melting.”
“We’ve gotta do something.”
“Yeah. Let’s go back to sleep.” She swept aside the stifling thickness of her sleeping bag. From the knees down, it still buried her. She freed her legs and stretched out, uncovered. That felt better, cool and nice except where her nightshirt kept the air away. If she were at home, she could simply take it o
ff. Not here, though. “Does your dad turn off the air conditioning at night?”
“My God, Jody.”
“Can we open a window, or something?”
“They don’t open.”
Remind me never to live in a state-of-the-art house, she thought. “That’s probably why somebody broke one.”
“I don’t find any of this amusing.”
Jody felt her nightshirt glide up her body, giving her a momentary, soft caress as she raised her arms and folded her hands beneath her head. Now, she could feel the air’s touch higher on her thighs. She eased one leg sideways.
A lot better.
Just gotta get back inside the sleeping bag before daylight. Wouldn’t want either of the guys to see me like this. God, that’d be embarrassing. I’d never be able to look Mr. Clark—Charles—in the eye again. It’d be even worse if Andy got a look. A lot worse. Him and his major-league crush. The poor tyke might throw a heart attack, be the first twelve-year-old in history to drop dead from over-excitement.
“Do you think we oughta take a look around?” Evelyn asked.
“All you heard was a little breaking glass?”
“Yeah.”
“That could’ve been anything. It probably came from outside. Maybe somebody dropped a bottle.”
“What if it’s a robber?”
“If it’s a robber, I don’t think he would appreciate a visit from us.”
“Ha ha.”
“Anyway, the burglar alarm would’ve gone off.”
“Maybe not.”
“Your dad always sets it before he goes to bed.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“My God, Ev, every time your folks turn in before us, your dad always warns us not to touch any of the doors. Or does he only do that when I’m staying over? Does he think I’m a bad influence and’ll talk you into sneaking out to get wild?”
“No. He thinks you’re great.”
“Very perceptive man.”
“But the alarm doesn’t have to go off, you know? Not even if it is set. Criminals have ways ...”
“Sure. Real pros do. But pros try not to go busting into houses when people are in them. They like to go in when nobody’s home. For one thing, it’s less of a hassle. For another, it’s a much lighter sentence if they get caught. It’s only burglary, if nobody’s home. Boosts it up to robbery if anyone’s there, anned robbery if the bad guy has any kind of a weapon. That’s what Dad says.”
“He always carries a gun, doesn’t he?”
“Most of the time.”
“I sure wish he was here right now.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Ev. If you’re this worried, maybe we’d better take a look around. Or maybe you’d rather dispense with the preliminaries and just dial 911.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Oh, your parents would love that. Look, why don’t we go and wake up your dad?”
“Sure. He’d kill me.”
“Not if there’s a bad guy in the house.”
“But what if there isn’t? What if I wake him up, and it’s all a false alarm?”
“You woke me up.”
“That’s different.”
“Yeah, it’s okay to wake me up.”
Evelyn was silent for a few moments. Then she said, “Maybe I’d better.”
“Better what?”
“Tell Dad.”
For the first time, Jody felt a slight tremor of worry. Even though Evelyn’s father seemed like a really nice guy, the poor girl had always shown major reluctance to disturb him. If she was ready to wake him up, she must be seriously concerned about the noise she’d heard.
Evelyn swung her legs down from the mattress. She stood up and took a long stride to step over Jody’s chest.
“You’re really going?” Not waiting for an answer, Jody said, “I’ll go with you.” As soon as Evelyn was out of the way, she sat up. Evelyn kept walking. “Hold it. Jeez.”
She stopped and waited.
On her feet, Jody asked, “Do you have a robe I can wear?”
“I thought you were supposed to be hot.”
“I am hot. But what if Andy’s up and around?”
“Don’t worry, he’s not. Nothing wakes him up.”
Evelyn pressed a shoulder against her bedroom door and turned the knob. When she stepped back to pull the door open, Jody did a quick shuffle to avoid being stepped on.
Evelyn swung the door open wide.
And grunted.
Jody heard a quick, wet punch.
Something poked her belly. She sucked in her breath, drawing in a stench like week-dead rat, and stumbled backward as Evelyn seemed to leap straight up in the middle of the doorway. But it wasn’t a leap. On her best day ever, she couldn’t have leaped so high. Her head struck the top of the door frame.
This isn’t happening, Jody thought.
No.
Huh-uh.
No way.
But she could feel a small trickle of blood sliding down her belly. Untouched by her loose hanging nightshirt, it dribbled on downward to her groin. It felt very real.
So did the blood she heard splashing as it fell from Evelyn. Very real.
And the stink of rot was real, too. For a few days last summer, Jody had smelled much the same disgusting odor after a rat had died behind a bathroom wall at home. Dad hadn’t been willing to demolish the wall to retrieve the carcass. So they’d had to wait it out.
This smells just like death.
This can’t be happening.
Evelyn hung there limp, head drooping sideways, bare feet nowhere close to the floor, a blob of darkness growing on the back of her nightgown. From the middle of the blob protruded a pointed silver tongue.
Before Jody could make sense of what she was seeing, Evelyn glided away from the doorway and vanished into the corridor.
Jody stood frozen.
She couldn’t move or scream. She couldn’t breathe.
The shape in the darkness looked like a man. A big man. An obese man. His pale head was smooth, probably hairless. Though somehow he didn’t seem to be naked, every part of him that Jody could see had the same gray hue as his head.
The act of swinging Evelyn’s body away from the doorway had turned him sideways.
Jody couldn’t see the shaft in his hands. She knew it had to be there, though. Maybe six feet long.
Her best friend was hoisted on its point.
As she watched, numb, the man marched off.
He didn’t see me!
Oh my God, oh my God! He doesn’t know I’m here! Evelyn was standing in the way, and ...
I’ve gotta get out of here!
But then she wondered if it might be safer to hide. No. Maybe he’ll be back. Maybe he’ll search the whole house. Maybe he’ll set it on fire before he leaves.
Gotta run!
Get dressed first? She wanted to get dressed. In just the nightshirt, she felt exposed and vulnerable.
But what if he comes back while I’m ... ?
Besides, there was money in a front pocket of her jeans—a whole handful of coins. Bound to jingle if she picked up the jeans.
Gotta just go. The hell with my clothes.
She crept forward. Crouching, she peered around the door-frame.
The man with Evelyn was halfway to the end of the hall, framed by a yellow glow that came from the lighted doorway of the master bedroom.
The rotten odor had faded, but still hung in the air, sweet and filthy.
It’s him, Jody realized.
How can he smell like that?
I don’t want to know, she told herself.
He looked as wide as a refrigerator. He seemed to be dressed in shaggy scraps and tatters that swayed with the motion of his lumbering walk. He carried Evelyn in front of him, on the end of his spear, her head near the ceiling.
As he neared the lighted doorway, he lowered her slightly. He swung her to the right. He marched her into the bedroom, followed and disappeared.
<
br /> They’re all dead! Evelyn, her mom and dad—Andy? What about Andy?
The boy’s door, straight across the hall from Jody, was shut.
She glanced both ways, then scurried for his door on hands and knees.
He would be no help to her. She knew that. What help could a twelve-year-old kid be in a situation like this? Especially a kid Andy’s size. But she didn’t want his help. She wanted to get him out of the house.
A terrible thing to wake him, though. It might be a kindness to let him sleep, safe from the knowledge that his family had been destroyed.
She would be waking him up into something too horrible to understand.
She knew that she might not be able to save him, anyway.
They might both end up getting killed.
She would stand a better chance of survival, herself, if she let him sleep and made her break alone.
What the hell, she thought.
A voice inside her head, sounding very much like her father, told Jody, Go for broke, honey.
Reaching up, she gripped the door knob. She turned it. The latch gave out a tunk that made her wince. She pushed the door. As it swung inward, she crawled into Andy’s dark bedroom.
She got to her feet and eased the door shut.
Leaning back against it, she tried to catch her breath.
In this room, the curtains were shut. Blurred smears of light glowed along their edges. Jody could see little more than the vague shape of Andy’s bed. She couldn’t even be sure the boy was in it.
She listened. She heard the wild pounding of her own heartbeat. And she heard Andy breathing.
Slow, easy breathing.
He’s either asleep or faking it, Jody thought.
From somewhere in the distance came a sound of quiet music. The main song from Cats. Was it coming from Mr. & Mrs. Clark’s bedroom? Had that monster turned on their radio ?
Endless Night Page 1