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Halloween House(continued) "Jesus!" he said, tightening his grip on the railing, waiting
for his eyes to adjust before going back upstairs. Then he heard something
rustling, where that thing was, followed by a metallic tinging and twanging,
like a slinky expanding and contracting in rhythmic waves, and he imagined
that ridiculous mechanical device advancing toward him from the inky
blackness. He yelped and dashed back upstairs, his heart thudding rapidly
against his chest. He slammed the door, felt for the key and locked
it. Jesus. "I've got the flashlights," Jill called out. "Are you
all right, honey?" He followed a cone of light out to the kitchen, heart still pounding.
Some kind of fun-house gimmick, he thought, and he fell for it. He decided
not to mention it to Jill. "I stubbed my foot on a step, that's
all. Let's light some candles." "Dinner by candlelight," Jill said. "How romantic." "Yeah, but no TVtonight. This could be a real pain in the ass.
No wonder nobody wins." "Rob," Jill said. "I just thought of something. The
door. How do we get out? The card-key won't work." "Maybe it's on a different circuit. I'll check it out. They can't
keep us penned in here. What if there were an emergency?" He grabbed
the other flashlight and started toward the hall. "Rob. Wait!" "What?" Then, "Stupid me," he said. "If it works, we'll forfeit the two hundred bucks. Hey, I bet that's why nobody's won the prize yet. It's a gambit, and everybody falls for it. This whole thing is a fraud."
"That's my stomach growling," Jill replied, and then she
started giggling. "I'm hungry." And then they both started cackling, and the bed shook and bounced
as they succumbed to a fit of laughter. Jill recovered first. "I'm
going down for something to eat. You hungry?" "No, actually. I stuffed myself, remember?" "I'll bring a plate up, anyway. Be right back." "Wait a sec, maybe the lights are on." He reached for his
bedside lamp and pulled the chain. Nothing. "No, dammit. How long
do they keep this farce going?" "I don't know. Seems overdone to me. And that's all there's been,
but for those goofy moans and groans," Jill said, as she turned
her flashlight on. "I won't be long." She left the room, and
Rob lay in the darkness. Still, it was worth the two hundred bucks. The easiest money he'd ever
made. And not even a pretense of a scare. It was almost laughable —
hell, it was laughable. Just that stupid giant slinky in the basement,
some silly sound effects, presumably from Janet Jameson's frustrated
ghost, and that was it. Nothing else. How pathetic. Somebody shrieked. "Rob! Oh God, the pictures, Rob. She's screaming, and he looks
terrified. Quick! Come here, Rob. Somebody changed the —" Silence. "Jill?" Nothing. "Jill, honey?" No answer. He heard
somebody clumping downstairs. Then a woman talking. "Where are you?" she asked. She sounded a long way off. "I
can't find you. Where have you gone, honey?" Jill's voice was muffled
now, as she wandered throughout the first floor of the house. "Say
something, honey." Very faint now. Rob threw off the covers and sat up, reflexively putting his watch
on his wrist. His heart slammed like a drum. "Jill!" he shouted.
"What's going on? Where are you? What's wrong?" He reached
for his khaki trousers, slipped them on and fastened them, then stuffed
his feet into his loafers. He grabbed his flashlight, heard her voice
again. "Are you down in the basement, honey?" she called. Rob heard the click of a door unlocking. "Jill!" he shouted.
"Don't go down there!" What was wrong with her? Couldn't she
hear him? Why was she so disoriented? He ran out of the bedroom into
the tiny hallway and shined his light downstairs. A door slammed shut.
Then he heard a series of footsteps on a wooden surface. Good Lord,
had she gone down into the basement? "Jill!" he screamed.
"Come back here!" And then there was silence. He cocked his
head, listening. Nothing. "Jill! Where the hell are you?" he shouted, but she didn't
answer. He rushed downstairs and opened the basement door. He shined
the flashlight down the steps onto the bare concrete floor. "Jill?
Jill, where are you? Everything's all right, honey. Just come back upstairs."
It must have been the pictures, he thought. Absolutely scared the hell
out of her, totally freaked her out. He'd have to take a look afterwards. He took a step down. Another. "Jill? Are you there?" With
each step that he took, more of the basement came into view, but he
didn't see Jill anywhere. Finally, at the bottom, he shined the light
all around the gloomy, cavernous space. Jill simply wasn't here, unless
she was cowering behind the staircase, petrified with fear. And then
he saw the door across the way, against the far wall. Partially open.
She'd ducked in there, too scared to answer him." Jill," he
said, in a calm, soothing voice. "I'm coming for you, honey. Everything
will be all right. Just hold on. I'm almost there." He found himself tiptoeing in the eerie stillness of the cold, dark
cellar, his hands shaking now, heart hammering, chills running up his
spine, terrified of the state Jill might be in. He'd have to get her
out of this place fast. And then, from behind, he heard a scraping sound.
Something metallic. At first he thought it was Jill. She'd been hiding
behind the staircase after all, except, now that he thought about it,
where was that damn slinky thing? He hadn't seen it. And then he heard
a noise on the staircase, just like when a slinky — He turned instinctively toward the sound, shining his light. And there
it was, that mechanical metal monster, its bulbous head raised off the
floor and facing him, its coiled body occupying the three lowest steps.
Two tiny, beady black eyes seemed to bore into his soul from a lumpy,
distorted face. It squeaked and twittered at him through a jagged mouth
that spewed spittle into the air, and its dual antennae whipped menacingly
back and forth, tipped with hooks that dripped some kind of sizzling,
smoking liquid. It began slinking toward him. Slowly, thank God. It
couldn't move very fast.
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