Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection)

by McCray, Carolyn

  “All clear,” Mitchell announced, raising the glass divider.

  Yes, but for how long?

  * * *

  Shifting the limo into drive, Derek slammed down on the gas pedal. Tires spinning, rocks pinging off the undercarriage. The car rounded the circular drive, just as the mummy stepped in front of the limo—arms outstretched, as if it could singlehandedly stop the car.

  “Hold on!” Derek yelled, aiming straight for the mummy.

  Jill screamed as the car smashed into the creature. Its body thumped as it hit the hood and rolled onto the roof. A loose piece of linen snagged on the windshield wiper, unraveling until the mummy landed on the ground with a thump. Its mechanical insides sparked as it spasmed on the rocks.

  “Hurry!” Jill squirmed in her seat, glancing in the side mirror.

  “Darlin’, this isn’t exactly the ideal getaway car. I’m going as fast as I can,” Derek said as he steered the car toward the tunnel of trees. The ground shook in front of them. Dirt cracked and spewed up like a volcano. A giant, twisted mass of roots and leaves rose before them.

  “Damn it!” Derek hit the brakes. The car fishtailed to a stop. What in the hell was that? Did the brothers have the whole place booby-trapped? There was no getting the limo over those roots.

  “Everybody out!” Derek yelled. He opened the door, reaching for Jill’s hand. Derek dragged her out of the car behind him.

  “Where’s the nearest town?” he asked as he glanced down at the cuts on Jill’s feet. She wouldn’t be able to hike far without shoes. Derek would have to carry her, which would slow them down.

  Mitchell eyed Derek warily. “You’re not suggesting that we head out on foot?” Mitchell wiggled his toes in his socks.

  Crap. Mitchell didn’t have shoes, either. This is exactly why you never remove your shoes when apprehending a suspect. You never know when you’d need to leave in a hurry. Mitchell would have to suck it up. Derek couldn’t carry both of them.

  Scrapes and cries came from the house. More flesh-eating zombies, giant insects, and deformed aliens spewed out the side door.

  Raising an eyebrow at Mitchell, Derek asked, “Any better ideas?”

  Jill pointed to a faint glow in the distance—like a lighthouse in a storm guiding them to safety. “Maybe that’s a house over that ridge.”

  The way that their luck was going Derek doubted it, but at this point, there wasn’t another alternative. The only option was to keep moving—and to hopefully find a phone. When he got ahold of the sheriff he was going to wring his neck. He should have arrived with the warrant hours ago.

  “Let’s go.”

  Jill moved in the direction of the light. Derek looked over his shoulder. Mitchell was rooted to the spot, doubt written all over his face.

  “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this,” Mitchell whispered, swallowing.

  Walking back to Mitchell, Derek caught the teen by his bare shoulder. Mitchell’s machismo seemed to have reached its expiration date. In a vise grip, Derek pulled him toward the woods.

  “You always have a bad feeling.” Derek was loath to admit it, but he did, too. Kinda hard not to when you’re about to enter a forest that was about to kill a theater full of people.

  “Yeah, but so far I’m batting a thousand,” Mitchell said, reluctantly following Jill and Derek.

  Derek caught Mitchell looking back at the house. He was probably wondering if his chances against the monsters were better than taking on the unknown in the woods. Derek had questioned it too, but with limited ammo, the monsters would outnumber them.

  An eight-foot hedge lined the perimeter. The only way around it was by going through it.

  Mitchell frantically shook his head. “No way am I going through there. It could eat us. We’d never make it through. We’d be trapped in the belly of a forest monster forever.”

  “Kid, it’s either that or stand here in the woods naked and alone. Well, not exactly alone. There are about a dozen monsters to keep you company.” Derek crossed his arms, waiting. “So, what’ll it be?”

  Mitchell’s eyes darted around the forest. A branch snapped in the background, making the decision for him. The leaves rustled as the branches parted. Mitchell squeezed through first, followed by Jill. Derek took one last look around before entering.

  Derek stumbled, the sound of fabric ripping as he tugged his sleeve off a branch. The moon shone on an elephant, tiger, bear, and gorilla—casting large shadows on the ground. A topiary garden. A cloud raced across the moon. Did the elephant just move?

  Mitchell stood hugging himself, his mouth open in a silent O. Jill rubbed her hands up and down the kid’s arms to warm him. “Did anyone else see the television remake of Stephen King’s The Shining?” Mitchell whispered.

  Derek was afraid to ask. “No. What of it?”

  Mitchell’s voice shook. “Well … In the miniseries, the topiary animals come to life and kill people.”

  Perfect. Just perfect. Don’t think bullets are going to work on a bunch of bushes. Derek looked back at the elephant—that was strangely closer than it was a moment ago. “You don’t think …”

  A lion’s deep roar rattled the hedge’s leaves. Of course, they should think the topiary was coming alive.

  “Run!” Derek yelled, getting really, really, really tired of having to give that command as he guided everyone in the opposite direction of the roar. The glow in the distance grew larger.

  “Do you smell that, brother?”

  “The stench of fear.”

  “Like mother’s milk.”

  Dear God. They even had speakers in the damn foliage. Talk about egotists.

  A sliver of moonlight spilt on the forest floor. The uneven earth slowed their pace, extra caution being taken for Jill’s and Mitchell’s lack of shoes. Jill cried out as her hand was wrenched out of Derek’s. Derek spun toward Jill, gun aimed, expecting another zombie.

  Sprawled on the ground, Jill clawed at a vine entwined around her ankle. Derek dropped to his knees. Tugging the knife out of his waistband, he hacked the vine in two. A squeal pierced the night.

  Mitchell stepped closer to Derek. His legs bumped into Derek’s back.

  “How bad is it?” Derek asked, gently probing the raw welt on Jill’s ankle.

  “Not too bad …”

  A vicious roar arose in the distance. Mitchell was back to bouncing on his toes. Each hop pushed Derek forward. He shot Mitchell an irritated look.

  “Um … I hate to be rude, but we’ve got to keep moving!” Mitchell warned, gesturing toward the sound. “Can’t you hear them? Bambi and Thumper are getting hungry out there!”

  “Give me a minute!” Derek ground out.

  “But …”

  Impatient, Derek snapped, “Then scout ahead!” The kid survived zombies, Mr. Hyde, and mutated ants. Where was the kick-ass Mitchell? Because right now, Derek needed him.

  “Go out there? By myself? Are you …?”

  Derek glared at Mitchell. The sound of the animals drew closer.

  Mitchell bobbed his head. “Okay … I’m not going outside of screaming range, though.”

  Once Mitchell moved off, Derek leaned toward Jill.

  “I’m sorry, I …”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be more careful next time and watch where I step.”

  “No …” Derek said, suddenly feeling the fool. But with death on the horizon, he didn’t want their story to end in a fight. “No, not about tonight. Well, yeah, about tonight. But I meant about everything …”

  Jill’s eyes softened. She tenderly placed her finger on Derek’s lips, silencing him. “Later.”

  Derek forgot about the approaching tree animals, the monsters, everything. Right now, all that mattered was Jill.

  “There may not be a later …” Derek wrapped his fingers around Jill’s shoulders, pulling her in closer.

  “There has to be …” Jill whispered as her eyes drifted closed. Her lips parted.

  Just as Derek felt Jill’s warm br
eath on his lips, Mitchell ran toward them, screaming. “Holy shit! This is not good!”

  The kid and his timing. But then he noticed that Mitchell was kicking snakelike vines away from Derek and Jill. For once—well, make that twice—Mitchell saved the day.

  “We’ve got some seriously evil foliage, and the damn altar is just beyond these trees!” Mitchell yelled. “Plus, I get to tell you ‘I told you so’ until the end of time!”

  Derek pushed himself off the ground. He grasped Jill by the elbow, guiding her to her feet. “Can you manage?”

  “Guess I’ll have to.”

  Derek wrapped his arms around Jill’s waist, supporting her. He half carried her toward the glow that now pulsated, giving the effect of a forest fire.

  “Cecil!” Jill shouted.

  Their driver was strapped to a stone altar surrounded by a circle of glowing stone pillars. This must be where the main event was taking place. The official sacrifice. Derek slipped his sleeve back, checking the time. Almost 1:30 a.m. They needed to get out of there. Fast.

  Jill limped toward Cecil. Derek placed a restraining hand on her arm.

  “I’ll take point.”

  Derek circled the glowing stones. He hesitated before letting his fingertips touch the stone. Like a light, they all snapped out at once.

  “Good going. On your first try you found the ‘off’ switch,” Mitchell said from behind Derek.

  “Stay here,” Derek said, holding his palm up. “I’ll free Cecil.” Leaves crunched under Derek’s shoes with each step. “Cecil?”

  Cecil’s eyes fluttered open, then closed again. Derek drew his knife, careful not to cut the man as he sliced the rope.

  “Hold still. I’ll have you free in a second.”

  “H … help me!” Cecil moaned. His body jerked, and the knife bit into Cecil’s wrist.

  Like watching a movie in slow motion, Derek saw blood swell from the wound, small drops dripped off Cecil’s wrist onto the altar. The splash of each drop amplified.

  The altar burst into an orange glow. The surrounding stones flashed on one by one.

  “That is not good.” Frantic, Derek cut away at the rope on Cecil’s other arm.

  “Hurry!” Jill pleaded.

  “She’s right! It’s time! The ninety-minute mark of the premiere!” Mitchell warned.

  Derek watched as the surface of the stone shuddered. Cecil’s body shifted, as though he were lying on a bed of water.

  “Get me off of here!” Cecil yelled, his arms and legs flailing. The altar slowly sucked Cecil in.

  Derek clutched Cecil’s arm. Every muscle in his body strained against the force drawing Cecil under. Derek turned to Jill and Mitchell. “Help me!”

  Muffled cries came from the stone. Cecil’s entire body was swallowed, except for his arm. Jill dug her fingers into Cecil’s shirt. Mitchell wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist, anchoring him in place. Derek groaned as he braced his foot against the altar.

  Mitchell tightened his grip around Derek. “He must be the final sacrifice! The last payment of blood! Once Cecil’s consumed, the spirit will be free!”

  “No!” Jill cried. Her body pulled closer to the altar, and her arm scraped against the stone.

  “I can’t hold him! I’m losing him!” Sweat trickled down Derek’s arms, making his palms slick.

  “Don’t!” Mitchell yelled.

  Cecil’s hand tore out of Derek’s grip. Jill still clung to her driver, tumbling into the altar with Cecil.

  “Jill!” Derek dove at the stone. His body slapped against the hard surface. “No!” Derek slammed his fists against the altar. “Jill!”

  Mitchell slumped to the ground, his head in his hands. “We’re too late …”

  CHAPTER 16

  Wind shrieked and howled around Derek, kicking up dirt and pebbles. The stones throbbed with a ruddy glow, like a steady heartbeat.

  Derek tipped his head back, releasing a tortured scream.

  “No! You can’t have her!” Derek squeezed his eyes shut against the memory of Jill being sucked through the stone. “Not again!” Derek whispered.

  Pain seared through his chest. Derek would rather take a bullet again than to lose Jill.

  “There’s nothing you can do!” Mitchell yelled, shaking Derek. “It’s coming … look!”

  Derek turned as a cyclone of leaves spiraled toward them. Shifting and churning, a cloaked form bloomed out of the chaos.

  “The Druid god …” Mitchell said in awe.

  Derek stood transfixed by the shape taking form in front of him. It resembled the Grim Reaper. Dark and foreboding. Masking an unknown terror inside. The only thing it lacked was a scythe. Arms raised, a foreign chant floated out from the depths within, and then a figure seemed to come forth from the darkness.

  “Derek!” Jill’s scream erupted from deep inside the cloak.

  “Jill?” Derek asked, squinting and peering into the cloak. His arm unconsciously reached forward.

  “Help me!”

  “Jill!” Derek took a step toward the god, stopping short when the air around him crackled and popped. Everything in the woods shimmied and jerked. Familiar music from Terror rang out.

  “It’s connecting to the film!” Mitchell shouted over the growing noise. “It’s about to break loose!”

  “Not if I can help it!” Derek raised his gun, aiming for the head of the god. “Not with Jill!” Derek didn’t know how she transferred from the altar to the god. He didn’t care. All that mattered was getting Jill the hell out of that thing.

  “Gunfire isn’t gonna kill it! It’s like the mechanical monsters. You need to discover … discover a …”

  “A weak spot?” Derek finished, looking at Mitchell for confirmation.

  “Exactly.”

  “But what?” Derek had to kill it without harming Jill.

  “Hey, do I look like a Druid?” Mitchell asked, flinging his arms wide.

  Fred’s iPhone would come in handy right about now. A quick Google search on Druid gods would be nice.

  Jeremy’s voice rose above the music. “Come to us, Lord!”

  Derek glanced around the woods. He could have sworn that he heard Jeremy’s voice. “Did you hear that?” Derek asked Mitchell.

  “What?” Mitchell asked, eyes darting around the circle.

  “Fill us with your spirit!” Jason pleaded.

  “The twins. They must be here somewhere.” And when Derek got his hands on them, he was going to rip their heads off. Preferably at the same time.

  “It’s escaping!” Mitchell warned, pointing behind Derek.

  Derek spun around to see a theater filled with people. Jeremy and Jason knelt in front of the screen, their arms outstretched to the god.

  “Shit! They really did conquer the 3-D barrier,” said a person in the audience.

  Derek looked at Mitchell to confirm that what he saw was real. Mitchell was slack-jawed. Yep, it was real.

  “Mitchell, are we in the movie?” Derek asked. The answer, obviously, was in front of them. But they did not want to believe it.

  “Oh, Spirit of Root and Loam, give us your blessing!” Jeremy said, bowing. His forehead almost touched the floor.

  Jason mirrored Jeremy’s position. “We, your humble servants, await your touch!”

  A gnarled hand of twisted roots burst through the screen into the theater.

  “Screw it!” Derek wasn’t about to let that thing get away with Jill and kill all of those innocent people in the theater. Derek released two shots into the god’s head. The god paused. Its neck cracked and snapped as it swiveled around.

  “No!” Jeremy screamed, jumping up.

  “Ignore him!” Jason sat up on his heels, unfazed by Derek’s attack. “He is of no consequence.“

  “I told you—bullets won’t kill it!” Mitchell shouted.

  “But they’re doing a pretty damn good job of distracting it!” Derek backed Mitchell away, walking the length of the screen. Derek fired another round into the clo
ak. “Now think of a way to kill this thing!”

  “Why me?” Mitchell asked, whining.

  “Because I don’t see you doing a whole hell of a lot …”

  The god let out a roar of air, vaulting Derek and Mitchell through the movie screen and into the theater. Mitchell’s underwear-clad body crashed into Derek.

  “Ouch!” exclaimed Mitchell, as he glanced around the theater.

  Derek shoved Mitchell off and scrambled to his feet. The Baxter brothers headed straight for Derek, looking mighty pissed. Yeah, well, that made three of them. Derek scanned the floor for his gun. It rested under one of the theater seats. The man occupying the seat shoveled popcorn into his mouth, fascinated by what he undoubtedly thought was part of the show.

  Jeremy swung at Derek. Dodging the blow, Derek slammed his fist into Jeremy’s jaw. Jason caught Derek off guard with a punch to the ribs. Derek doubled over, clutching his side. Derek underestimated the brothers in a fistfight.

  The audience cheered in the background, telling Derek to kick the brothers’ asses. Derek always thought it was funny—how people talked to the movie. As if the actors could really hear them. Well, at least this time, they could.

  Jason slumped to the floor. Mitchell held a large, yellow canister, which he’d used to crack the brother in the head. “That’s for the zombies!”

  Mitchell twisted open the canister, splashing a greasy yellow liquid on the movie screen. Before Derek could ask why, Jeremy’s arm wrapped around his neck from behind—squeezing Derek’s airway in a viselike grip. Derek jammed his elbow into Jeremy’s sternum.

  “Hurry!” Mitchell commanded.

  “I don’t need any encouragement there!” Derek said, diving for his gun, his shoulder slammed into the floor. He lifted it, aiming at Jeremy.

  “No!” Mitchell yelled. “Shoot the screen!”

  “What …?” Derek asked, confused.

  “It’s popcorn butter!”

  Derek glanced at Mitchell. “Have you lost it?”

  “It’s mostly oil. Flammable oil!”

  Derek swung the gun and fired. Flames erupted, licking a path to the god.