The Midnight Tour bhc-3

by Richard Laymon

“Folks go in, they don’t come out.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s what I hear.”

  “Do you know of anyone not coming out?”

  “I’ve heard plenty. I was in your shoes, I wouldn’t go in there.”

  “Sounds like traitor talk.”

  Hank laughed.

  “Do you say this stuff to the guests?”

  “Sure. Why not? They already paid, right? Who’s gonna get scared off after they’ve already forked out a hundred bucks? Anyhow, Lynn and Janice, they say I oughta keep it up. Folks come here to get scared, ain’t that so? I give ‘em what they’re here for.”

  “Ah, I see. It’s just an act.”

  “Nope, it ain’t no act. I wouldn’t step foot in that place for a million bucks. Not after dark. Not in broad daylight, either, for that matter, if you wanta know the truth. You couldn’t drag me in there, night or day.”

  “The last of the beasts were killed in seventy-nine,” Dana told him.

  “So they say. But I ain’t gonna stake my life on it. You shouldn’t either. You’re a mighty damn attractive lady, and it’d be a rotten shame if one of those critters laid its claws on you.”

  Smiling, Dana said, “I wouldn’t care for that, myself.”

  “Well, you may find it amusing now, but it ain’t funny at all—what one of them monsters’d do to a honey like you. It’d rip the clothes off your back and have it’s way with you, for starters. Know what I mean?”

  Nodding, she said, “I’d better get going. Nice meeting you, Hank.”

  “It’s got a tool on it the size of a billy club—with teeth like a rat!”

  “See you later, Hank.” She hurried away from him. Instead of heading for the table to rescue Phil and Connie, she returned to Warren. She handed him a can of beer. “Hank the bartender just warned me off the Midnight Tour.”

  “Good for him,” Warren said.

  “He’s a pretty creepy guy.”

  “What’d he have to say?”

  Aware of Warren’s own experiences in Beast House, she hesitated and felt herself blush. “The usual. But he got pretty graphic about the thing’s anatomy.”

  Warren slipped a spatula under one of the patties. He flipped the burger. It hit the grill sizzling. “I can’t actually vouch for the business about the mouth and teeth down there. That part of it might be a myth. Or it might not be.”

  He flipped the other burger. “Either way, you wouldn’t want to get nailed by one.”

  “I know I wouldn’t.”

  “Even if you survive, you’ll never be the same.”

  “Maybe we can have matching scars,” Dana said.

  “It’s nothing to joke about.”

  “I’m sorry.” She lifted her can of Bud and took a drink.

  “Well now,” Warren said.

  “What.”

  “Look.” He nodded to the left.

  Off in the distance, three figures came striding across the lawn. Even though they were fuzzy through the fog, Dana instantly recognized Vein by her size and outfit. And that had to be Darke on the left. But who was the guy in the middle?

  Owen?

  “What’s he doing with them?” Dana asked.

  “Found a couple of new friends?” Warren suggested.

  “Ohhh boy.”

  Hand in hand, the trio walked diagonally across the front lawn. If they didn’t change direction, they would end up at the front gate.

  Probably on their way to the movie theater.

  Is Owen planning to sit with them? Dana wondered.

  Can’t blame the guy. I’d sit with them, too, she thought, if it’d keep Monica away from me.

  She glanced at the abandoned girlfriend.

  Monica had been seated in the same place during the entire picnic, not once leaving her bench. Dr. Bixby, sitting across from her, had sometimes strutted away to bring her refills of wine.

  At the moment, the professor was holding forth with great conviction and volume about Bigfoot. Monica, Phil and Connie seemed to be paying close attention to his lecture.

  The angle taken by Owen, Vein and Darke would lead them straight into Monica’s line of vision.

  Maybe Bixby’s head’ll block her view...

  Tuck suddenly seemed to be aware of possible trouble. She ended whatever discussion she’d been having with Biff, Eleanor, Andy and Alison, stepped away from their group and watched Owen hurry by with Vein and Darke. Then she checked on Monica. After that, head rising slightly, she seemed to look at Dana.

  Dana nodded to her.

  Tuck nodded back.

  Any second, now...

  Monica flinched, her back jerking rigid.

  “Saw ‘em,” Warren muttered.

  “Yep,” said Dana.

  Monica started to rise from her bench. She stood halfway up, possibly to eliminate Dr. Bixby’s head from the picture.

  “She might not recognize Owen,” Warren said. “All this fog, that could be just about anyone.”

  “Process of elimination might give her a clue,” Dana said. “He’s only been missing for the whole picnic.”

  Monica sank back down in her seat.

  Bixby said something to her. Dana caught only the word, “wrong.”

  Monica shook her head, her pony tail jerking from side to side. Then, leaning forward, she reached across the table and patted the professor’s hand.

  “Crisis averted,” Warren said.

  Tuck seemed to agree. She stopped watching, glanced at her wristwatch, then turned around and rejoined her small group.

  “Guess the burgers are done,” Warren said.

  “I’ll get the buns. You want mayo or mustard?”

  “Mayo.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  Warren tossed slabs of cheese onto the dark patties while Dana slathered the buns with mayonaise.

  Just as Warren was slipping the patties onto their buns, Tuck announced, “It’s ten till ten, everyone. If you’re interested in the special Midnight Tour screening of The Horror, better start heading over to the Haunted Palace theater. The film will begin at ten. I’m on my way over right now, so you can follow me if you’d like.”

  Tuck stepped closer to her group. A few seconds later, they began heading for the gate, Tuck leading the way.

  By the time Dana and Warren were ready to find seats, nobody remained at any of the tables except Windy and Rhonda. Hank was busy cleaning up his bar.

  Dana saw Monica leave the grounds, walking with Dr. Bixby.

  “Maybe she’s found true love,” Warren said.

  Dana let out a laugh. “I hope so. But somehow I doubt it.”

  “Shall we sit with Rhonda and Windy?” Warren asked.

  “I think we probably should.”

  “Mind if we join you?” Warren called to them.

  “Come on over, boss,” Windy called, and Rhonda smiled at them.

  On the way over, Warren said to Dana, “If you’re not careful, you’ll miss the start of the movie.”

  “I’ve seen it before.”

  “But never the special, exclusive screening for the Midnight Tour.”

  “I can catch it next week.”

  “You really should see it tonight, or you won’t get the full experience.” Sounding hopeful, he added, “Unless you’ve changed your mind about the tour.”

  “No, I still want to do that.”

  “You shouldn’t miss the movie, then.”

  “But I want to eat with you.”

  “Well...the show never starts on time, anyway. You probably have fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  “Then I’ll eat with you and catch the movie.”

  They sat down beside each other, across the table from Rhonda and Windy.

  Dana took a long drink of beer. “What about Hank?” she asked. “Do you think he’d like to join us?”

  “He’s awful,” Rhonda said. “Have you ever talked to him? Yug!”

  “He’s a real sicko,” Windy said.

  “B
esides which,” said Warren, “he never eats with us. We’ve asked him before. He likes to get out of here as early as he can. Which reminds me—do you want another beer?”

  “Sounds good,” Dana said.

  “Ladies?”

  “No thanks,” Rhonda said. “I’m about ready to get started with the cleanup.”

  “Me, too,” said Windy. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be done.”

  Warren excused himself and hurried toward the bar.

  Smiling, Julie leaned foward and said to Dana, “Whatever you’ve been doing to him, don’t stop. Okay? He’s been like a new man ever since you first showed up.”

  Dana grinned. “Glad to hear it.”

  “But he’s worried about you. He has a real problem with anyone going in the house after dark. Do you know what happened to him in there?”

  “He told me,” Dana said, and wondered what he’d told Windy. A lot, probably. After all, they worked together inside the snack stand day after day. “He got beaten up by some thugs?” Dana asked.

  To Dana’s relief, Windy nodded.

  Then Windy said, “He’s really scared something might happen to you if you go on the tour.”

  “I guess it shows he cares.”

  “Cares a lot,” Windy said. “You ask me, he’s in love with you.” She glanced to the side. “Here he comes. Don’t tell him I said that, okay?”

  Feeling a tightness in her throat, Dana smiled at the girl.

  Warren placed an open can of beer in front of Dana, then climbed over the bench and sat down beside her.

  “Thanks for the brew,” she said, and put a hand on his back.

  He leaned sideways, bumping her gently. Then he said, “You’re going to be late for the movie if you don’t start eating.”

  “I had to wait for you.”

  “I’m here. Eat.”

  She took a large bite out of her cheeseburger, moaning with pleasure as the flavors flooded her mouth.

  “Tell you what,” Windy said. “Why don’t you both go to the movie?”

  “That’s a great idea,” Rhonda agreed.

  Warren shook his head. “I can’t leave you two with all this mess.”

  “We insist,” Windy said. “Besides, Lynn’ll be along in a little while and give us a hand.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you, but...”

  “It’s no big deal,” Windy said.

  “We insist,” said Rhonda.

  “If it’ll make you feel better, you can do our share of the cleanup next week.”

  “Well, in that case...”

  “We accept your offer,” Dana said. “And thank you. That’s very nice.”

  “You’d better get going,” Windy said.

  “Take your food with you,” Rhonda suggested. “You can eat and drink as you walk.”

  “Wanta?” Warren asked Dana.

  “Fine with me.”

  Leaving their plates on the table, they picked up their burgers and beers. Then they climbed clear of the bench. On their way around the table, they both thanked Windy and Rhonda again.

  As they hurried toward the gate, Rhonda called, “See you later.”

  “See you,” Dana called back.

  “Be good,” Rhonda advised.

  Windy elbowed her. “Don’t tell them that.”

  The two girls laughed.

  “Don’t be good,” Rhonda called.

  “Be great!” shouted Windy.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  THE HAUNTED PALACE

  When Owen arrived at the theater with Vein and Darke, the marquee was dark, the ticket booth empty. But the lobby lights were on. Through the glass door, Owen saw a Beast House guide standing alone on the red carpet, staring out at them.

  The big, smirky-looking guy.

  The muscle-bound jerk.

  God’s gift to women.

  Clyde.

  He strolled over to the door and opened it. “Midnight tourists?” he asked, a cigarette jerking between his lips.

  Owen tapped a finger against the badge pinned to his chest. Clyde nodded at it, then glanced at Darke. She dipped fingers into a breast pocket of her black silk shirt, drew out her red badge and showed it to him.

  “And how about you?” he asked Vein.

  After leaving the men’s restroom at Beast House, she had zipped up her leather jacket. Now, she skidded the zipper down and pulled her jacket wide open.

  Clyde grinned around his cigarette. “Ah,” he said. “There it is. Please come in.”

  They entered the lobby.

  Though Clyde couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Vein’s chest, he made no lewd or suggestive comments.

  Probably afraid of us, Owen thought.

  Clyde seemed large and strong enough to handle all three of them at once, but Owen figured he must be creeped out—at least a tittle—by Vein and Darke.

  “The show’ll be starting in just a few minutes,” he said. “Feel free to wait out here in the lobby, if you like. Or you can go in and choose your seats.” As if addressing only Vein, he said, “My name’s Clyde. I’m one of the Beast House tour guides.”

  “Will you be our guide tonight?” Vein asked.

  “Not tonight. That’ll be Lynn Tucker.”

  “Pity,” Vein said.

  “I’m only the projectionist for tonight.” He tapped some ash from his cigarette. “But I work Wednesday through Sunday at Beast House.”

  “Maybe we’ll see each other again,” Vein said.

  Clyde grinned and nodded.

  “That wasn’t a come-on,” Darke told him. “That was a threat.”

  Clyde stood taller and his eyes narrowed. “Maybe you three had better go in and take your seats.”

  Vein pursed her black lips and kissed the air. “It’s been a slice, dahhhling.” To Owen and Darke, she said, “Come along, dears.”

  They followed her into the theater auditorium. Overhead lights were on, illuminating two aisles, row upon row of empty red seats, a slim edge of stage and an enormous white movie screen.

  Sitting near the middle of the second row were Dennis and Arnold. They looked over their shoulders and waved.

  “Dudes!” called Dennis.

  “Greetings!” called Arnold.

  “Children of the night!”

  “Vampires rule!”

  Vein bared her teeth at them.

  “Whoa!”

  “Awesome!”

  “How you doing, guys?” Owen called.

  “Flyin’ high, dude!”

  “Top notch!”

  Darke stuck out her tongue and wiggled it at them.

  Dennis hooted.

  Arnold squealed.

  Then Vein pulled her jacket off, swung it over one shoulder, and started striding down the aisle.

  Dennis and Arnold stared at her, struck silent.

  Vein stopped a few rows back from the guys. “In here,” she said to Owen and Darke. She sidestepped toward the middle of the row. Owen went in next, followed by Darke. Arriving at the seat she wanted, Vein spread her leather jacket across its back. Then she turned toward the watching boys. “It promises to be a most interesting night,” she said to them. Writhing, she slid her tongue across her lips and gave her left breast a slow massage through her bra. “See you later, dahhhlings,” she said, and sank down into her seat.

  Dennis and Arnold turned toward the screen.

  Vein grinned. Darke laughed softly. Owen sat between them, feeling a little nervous but also, strangely, very safe. As if he’d found himself a couple of spectacular body guards—weird, maybe, but his.

  It seemed more like some sort of wild dream.

  A great dream.

  After so many things going so badly, to be followed into the men’s room by these two bizarre, incredible strangers...

  Did we really do all that?

  Damn straight, he thought, and smiled. He could feel the reality of it all over his body.

  They aren’t exactly strangers anymore.

  Turn
ing his head, he looked at Darke. She was staring forward, her eyes half-shut.

  How could I ever think she was a guy?

  She looked at him. A corner of her mouth tilted slightly.

  Then she leaned toward him, reached over the chair arm that separated them, and gently took hold of his hand.

  His heart raced. His mouth went dry.

  This is crazy, he thought.

  She’s holding my band like a normal girl.

  But the feel of a girl’s hand hadn’t made Owen feel like this in a very long time. Not since he was thirteen, he supposed. Thirteen and holding Nancy Farrow’s hand...

  “Is this row all right with you, professor?”

  Monica’s voice.

  It gave Owen a sudden sick feeling.

  Darke’s hand tightened its grip.

  “Lady’s choice,” Bixby said, his voice booming at its usual volume.

  Owen swung his head, peered over his right shoulder and saw Monica coming down the aisle with the professor.

  “What do you want to do?” Darke whispered.

  The sound of her voice sent a thrilling warmth through Owen.

  He looked into her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” she said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Vein said.

  “I mean it.” Darke released her hold on Owen’s hand, but he kept his grip on hers. Her eyes widened a little. She pressed her lips together.

  “This’ll be fine,” Monica said.

  Owen kept his eyes on Darke’s eyes. But he noticed that Monica’s voice had come from nearby.

  “If you want her back,” Darke whispered, “I can help.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I can’t stand her.”

  Nodding slightly, Darke squeezed his hand. Her eyes shifted sideways, then returned to Owen. “Looks like she’s going to sit behind us.”

  “Owie, is that you?”

  He twisted in his seat and forced himself to smile. “Hello, Monica.”

  She sat down directly behind Darke. “You’ve met Professor Bixby, haven’t you?”

  “Hi, Clive.”

  “Owie,” Clive boomed, and dropped into the seat behind him. “Too bad you missed the picnic. We had a ripping good time!”

  “Glad to hear it,” Owen said.

  “Had a spot of digestive trouble, did you?”

  “Right.”

  “A shame. Likely the Polish sausage. But of course, your sister also ate the Polish, and had no trouble at all.”