Blind Date

by Bruce Richards

  Annotation

  Alicia has it all: good looks, talent and the star of the football team for a boyfriend. Why then, is she hanging around with «weird» Evan, the nerd? Evan is the biggest dweeb in school and Alicia feels sorry for him and for all the cruel jokes her friends play, but sympathy only makes it worse. The nicer she is to Evan the more they beat him up. Then Alicia's friends begin to disappear. A dead cat with its eyes plucked out is found in the trunk of a car and a terrible accident is about to happen. But will it really be an accident?

  * * *

  Bruce Richards

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  * * *

  Bruce Richards

  Freddy Krueger's Tales of Terror #1: Blind Date

  Prologue

  Sheets of rain pounded the houses along Elm Street, the wind bending the trees nearly at their roots. The old, boarded-up house at the corner creaked as if in pain. A sudden gust of wind made its way inside and blew an upstairs door decidedly shut.

  A slow-moving, hulking figure of a man crossed the hall on the second floor. His face was a mass of pale, horribly crisscrossed scar tissue, the eyes mercifully hidden behind heavy black sunglasses.

  The man descended the stairway, his walk stiff. He flipped up the collar of his tattered raincoat, and stepped out into the pulsing rain. His razor-tipped fingers glinted in the light of the street lamp as he pulled the brim of his oversized, slouchy hat down low over his forehead, casting his loathsome face into shadow. Then he hunched his awkward, angular figure into the pounding wall of water.

  He pulled a blind man's cane out from under hisraincoat; then, dark glasses still in place, Freddy Krueger tapped his way down the broken flagstone walk toward a battered hearse in the driveway. The hearse was waiting for him, its engine idling.

  The door of the hearse swung open as Freddy approached. He slid his bony body in behind the steering wheel, and the door slammed shut. Freddy's raspy voice hacked through the wet air like a buzz saw:

  "Ever been on a blind date that didn't exactly work out? A blind date from hell? Can't say I have. In fact, I didn't go on a date of any kind when I was in high school. Maybe the girls were scared of me. I guess they didn't like the way I gave them the eye."

  Freddy slowly slid the dark glasses up and off his face to reveal the dripping, empty sockets where eyes should have been. They looked as if the eyeballs had been gouged out only moments before.

  His sadistic cackle echoed down the empty street.

  "Yeah, I never had a date. But maybe this time I'm gonna get lucky."

  The hearse coasted down the driveway, then disappeared into the gloom of the night.

  * * *

  A storm was ravaging Springwood. The dark sky broke apart again and again as jagged lightning bolts lanced earthward toward Elm Street.

  One bolt struck a lightning rod perched atop Weird Evan Walker's house. The jolt shook the house all the way down to the basement. The house rattled, as if being shaken by a huge, monstrous hand. A shutter broke loose from its top hinge and hung at a crazy angle, the wind whipping it back and forth against the side of the house.

  A short distance down the street from Evan's house, the persistent banging woke Alicia Norris from a deep, peaceful sleep.

  An innocent sleep.

  Groggily, she sat up on the edge of her bed. Where was that noise coming from? she wondered. Could someone possibly be hammering at this time of night? In this weather?

  She hunted for her slippers with her bare toes. The wood floor felt cold and wet against the soles of her feet. Rain had gotten in. She found the slippers, soft and fuzzy, and pushed her feet inside. She stood up then and walked to her bedroom window. Outside, the storm raged on. The fierce wind whistled through the trees that grew outside her window, rattling their branches like bony, skeletal hands.

  A sudden bolt of lightning transformed the branches into toothy jaws that wanted to bite her through the window. Alicia jumped back, her heart pounding, and she realized she was holding her breath. It's just the apple tree, she reminded herself.

  Staring out her window at the lashing rain, Alicia watched as the neighboring houses, already dark, seemed to grow even darker, as if a shadowy blanket were being lowered over Elm Street. Trees bent to the gusting wind. The wind shifted suddenly then, blowing a sheet of rain against her partially-open window. Water shot in, soaking her light cotton pajamas.

  Alicia gasped as the cold water touched her skin. She slammed down the window and the storm was reduced to a gentle drone. Still, she continued to stare out the window, mesmerized. Through the relentless rain, the whipping wind, the pounding thunder, she could still hear the banging. Impossibly, it seemed even louder now, even though the window was closed.

  Where the hell was that banging coming from?

  Alicia opened her bedroom window again. An angry rush of wind chilled her to the bone through her wet pajamas. She leaned her head out, looking up and down Elm Street for the source of the noise that had awoken her.

  It was coming from Evan Walker's house. Weird Evan Walker. Her neighbor. The butt of virtually every joke told at Springwood High.

  Alicia saw a battered, black hearse progressing slowly down Elm Street like an ominous, dark torpedo. It was the only car visible. Even the few cars that were usually parked overnight had apparently found shelter elsewhere.

  The hearse stopped in front of Alicia's house.

  She wondered if Evan was driving it.

  Evan's uncle owned a hearse. Evan often drove it to school. That was one reason why everyone called him "Weird Evan." Alicia acknowledged that her neighbor was a bit on the eccentric side, like the uncle he lived with. But no way was he totally weird. He certainly didn't deserve the cruel treatment her friends liked to dish out his way.

  A tremendous crack of thunder startled Alicia momentarily, then her gaze returned to the hearse. She wondered if Evan might be spying on her. She knew he had a crush on her. Maybe he was trying to look into her window.

  A small noise behind her made Alicia jump. She turned and saw her door closed, unchanged. She glanced at her digital clock just as it clicked to midnight. Why was she so nervous tonight? she wondered. Alicia had never been afraid of storms before. And she was such a heavy sleeper that storms usually didn't even wake her up.

  Lightning flashed, illuminating Elm Street in an eerie, glaring glow. In that moment of brightness, Alicia saw Evan, skinny, bony Evan, walking purposefully down the street, apparently oblivious to the rain. He looked like he was drenched to the bone, but his eyes were glued to the sidewalk in front of him, and he seemed lost in a world of his own.

  He was cradling a wet kitten in his arms, Alicia realized. Probably another stray, she thought. Evan had more than a dozen pet cats and
he was always adding to his private menagerie.

  As if he could sense her watching him, Evan glanced up at Alicia's bedroom window. Alicia quickly stepped back, hoping he hadn't seen her.

  When she took a sidelong peek out the window again, he was gone.

  But the hearse was still there. In front of her house.

  Alicia strained her eyes, trying to see if there was a driver. She was able to make out a silhouette — someone wearing a big, floppy hat. Then the driver's window slowly opened.

  Another flash of blinding lightning startled Alicia, her eyes closing in quick reflex. She rubbed them, then opened them slowly, an icy chill running through her rigid spine. The driver of the hearse came into focus and two empty eye sockets stared up at her, glowing with a diabolical light, like tiny, twin boilers alive with flames.

  Then Alicia heard a sadistic laugh. It came to her in a wave and grew louder before echoing away again, as if sucked back inside a hideous mouth. Alicia wanted to run, but there was no place to go.

  The car window rose again, then the hearse rolled down Elm Street and turned into Evan Walker's driveway.

  Fixed with fear, Alicia continued to stare out her bedroom window, oblivious to the rain pelting her face.

  "One, two, Freddy's coming for you…" A children's play song she hadn't heard for years. Not since she was a little girl jumping rope with her Elm Street friends.

  "Three, four, better lock your door…"

  No! Freddy Krueger was dead and in hell. His body was ashes. Alicia knew this was true because her own mother had been part of the lynch mob that had burned the child killer to a black crisp.

  So then who was driving that hearse?

  And why had he stopped in front of her house?

  Like a paper clip drawn to a magnet, Alicia felt an overwhelming compulsion to find out who was in the hearse. Her fear of a moment ago was replaced by a furious anger. She would not be intimidated by some perverted Peeping Tom. She'd find out who it was and call the police!

  Alicia threw on some clothes and made her way down the stairs to the first floor of her house, careful not to waken her mother, who was a light sleeper. She grabbed her raincoat from the hall closet and pulled it on. Then she slipped out of the house and made her way down Elm Street to Evan Walker's house.

  The rain had let up some by now, but the sky was still ominous with gray clouds that threatened to burst at any moment.

  A ghostly sky, she thought.

  As Alicia walked up Evan's driveway, she began to rethink her impulsive decision to follow the hearse. The rain was seeping through the seams of her raincoat. It still wasn't too late to turn around and race home, back to the comfort of her bed.

  Alicia shivered — from cold or fear, she wasn't sure which. A million horrible thoughts crowded her brain. She knew that running home and hiding under the covers wouldn't really comfort her. Not while there was someone in a hearse watching her. Maybe even stalking her.

  Her steps slowed as she approached Evan's garage. She lowered her head to peek into the garage door window, but it was grimy and covered with cobwebs. She couldn't see a thing. She wiped some of the dirt away with the sleeve of her raincoat and pressed her forehead against the filthy pane. Suddenly, she heard a crack near her — and felt the glass pane shake against her forehead. She jumped back with a start. A scream caught in her throat.

  Then she heard it again. This time Alicia saw it. A rat leapt at her from behind the window, smacking its head on the pane of glass.

  Alicia felt herself gag as the rodent bared its tiny, yellow, razor-sharp teeth at her.

  Get a grip, Alicia commanded herself, struggling to get her breathing back under control. Then she heard soft laughter coming from the basement of Evan's house. Like someone laughing at a private joke.

  Heh heh heh.

  Or was it the wind?

  Glimmering light emanated from the basement window. Someone was down there!

  Her heart pounding, her body shivering and on the verge of collapse, she carefully made her way through the saturated lawn to the basement window. She peeked inside and saw a fire raging inside an old rusty boiler. A shadow moved in front of the boiler's open mouth — a man, tall, angular, feeding the fire. He wore a hat — the hat from the hearse. His back was to her, sharply outlined by the blazing light behind him.

  He cackled wickedly and started to turn toward Alicia, slowly, purposefully. Alicia experienced dread as she had never felt it before.

  Then, just as the man was about to reveal his identity to her, an alley cat shrieked loudly — painfully.

  — Alicia bolted upright in bed!

  A nightmare…

  Or was it?

  Chapter 1

  That Sunday night, the rain continued to pour down on Elm Street.

  Alicia Norris sat on the edge of her bed and tried to remember her dream. It had definitely been a nightmare — of that much she was certain. But try as she might, she couldn't remember any of the details. Her mind was a blank.

  The window billowed her bedroom curtains and Alicia realized that the rain was coming in the window. She got out of bed and trudged across the floor. When she reached the window, she noticed first that the rug was drenched. Then she noticed someone standing in the shadows outside her house.

  — Staring up into her window.

  She yanked the shade down angrily and drew the curtain.

  How disgusting! A Peeping Tom. Alicia peeked out the window. The guy was still there, lurking.

  Alicia crawled back into bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin. She stared blankly at the window shade.

  The shade snapped up.

  Alicia jumped and cried out, startled.

  The streetlight shone through the branches of the apple tree outside and cast shadows across the ceiling. Weird, scary patterns danced on the bedroom wall, above her life-size poster of James Dean. Then the wind gusted more heavily outside, and jagged clawlike shadows seemed to scratch at James Dean's eyes.

  The rain was still coming in her window. Alicia got out of bed and walked over to close it. A single moonbeam broke through the rain clouds and shone down on Elm Street, and in that light she saw Evan, drenched from the rain, walking down the street. He was cradling a kitten in the folds of his jacket, only its knobby head visible.

  Evan might be eccentric, Alicia thought, but there was obviously a kind side to him — at least when it came to cats.

  Then the vague uneasy feeling she had felt after her nightmare returned.

  Alicia slammed the window shut and turned the lock. Then she crawled back into bed, and prayed for a dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  Monday morning.

  Alicia sat at the kitchen table picking at her corn flakes. Her mother was at the kitchen sink washing the dishes, dressed as usual in her flimsy housecoat and worn-out slippers. Her hair was in curlers, as always, though Alicia couldn't understand why she bothered. Her mother never went out anymore. Not since Mr. Norris's heart attack. Mrs. Norris had become increasingly withdrawn since that fatal evening. Apathy swamped her like her oversized, threadbare bathrobe. For Alicia, waking each morning to find her mother so distant, so void, was like reliving her father's death again and again. She loved her mother dearly, and understood her mother's pain and loss. But for Alicia, the pain was twice as hard to bear. When she lost her father she knew she had also in effect lost her mother.

  Alicia felt a familiar self-pity welling inside her. Thinking about her father's death and her mother's mental collapse never got her anywhere. Her seventeenth birthday was only a few days away, and that seemed fraught with its own problems. It was the day when Coach Wilson would choose the captain of the cheerleader squad, and Alicia's double cartwheel needed serious work. Alicia knew that no matter how hard she worked, her main rival, Ellen Sawyer, probably already had the position locked up. Ellen Sawyer would probably get the homecoming queen vote too. How could Alicia compete with a goddess?

  Ellen was tall, blonde,
beautiful, and athletic. And she had money. Why bother? Alicia wondered. It just didn't seem fair that one girl should have so much going for her. Of course, Alicia knew that she was attractive, too. At least everyone told her so. But compared to Ellen, Alicia considered herself too skinny, and kind of small and pale. And she hated the smattering of freckles across her nose.

  Oh well, she thought. At least she had her artwork. Nobody could take that away from her. She had applied for a scholarship to an expensive art school, and she believed she had a chance of winning that. Go ahead and let Ellen become a professional cheerleader, if that's what she wanted.

  Alicia rubbed her sleepy eyes. She stared at her mother's back and wondered if she should mention the nightmare. Why not? Maybe it would be the start of a conversation. The kind of conversation mothers and daughters were supposed to have when they had breakfast together.

  "Mom?"

  Her mother stopped her dishwashing but kept her back turned. Not a good sign, Alicia thought. But she persisted.

  "Mom… I had this really horrible nightmare last night…"

  — A horn blare crushed the still of the morning.

  A coffee cup slipped from her mother's hand and fell with a crash. Mrs. Norris jumped back with a startled cry, then stared at the broken pieces for a long, blank moment. She turned toward Alicia, her face tight with that about-to-cry expression she often wore. Then she bent down to pick up the jagged shards.

  "Careful, Mom, you'll cut yourself," Alicia cautioned. She ran to help her mother, help her to pick up the pieces —

  — The horn blasted again.

  "Who is blowing that horn?" her mother asked in a shrill voice.

  "It's okay, Mom, it's just Scott. He's here to pick me up."

  — The horn blared.

  Alicia threw the broken pieces of coffee cup into the garbage and ran to the side door that opened to the driveway and leaned out. "Keep your shirt on!" she yelled to Scott. "I'll be right out!" So much for a conversation with Mom, Alicia thought as she ran back into the house and threw on her denim jacket. She grabbed her book bag and hurried to the kitchen to say goodbye.