13 Tales To Give You Night Terrors by Elliot Arthur Cross, Troy H. Gardner, Erin Callahan, Scott Clark, Jonathan Hatfull, Tom Rimer, Vinny Negron, & Rosie Fletcher
PROLOGUE
August 2, 1983
THE summer heat had eased off and Miles took a grateful breath of the cool evening air. Back in Dallas, his hometown, the sidewalks practically sizzled all year round, but even he'd found the sweltering Colorado weather tough this week. He was glad that being a camper at Camp Genesis meant he got to wear shorts and a vest and goof off in the lake most of the time; otherwise he'd have melted into a gooey monster version of himself days ago. Hell, it was so hot he'd have worn nothing if he could get away with it. For some reason, though, the counselors frowned on nudity.
"Gorgeous, huh?" he sighed. As much as he hated the anti-gay activities they were forced to endure there, he couldn't deny the camp's beauty.
"What?"
Beside him, Blake looked blank and Miles shot him a glare. Blake didn't appreciate the peace of the dusky woods like Miles did. He came from Kentucky, where every sunset was a living postcard. He was taller, barely seventeen, and his tanned, defined arms gleamed blue in the moonlight. Miles shoved him, but Blake's innocent smile made being angry so goddamn difficult.
Grinning mischievously, Miles tore off into the woods.
"Catch me if you can!"
"Hey!" Blake called, but Miles ignored him. He liked being chased. Maybe it was some sort of residual caveman mentality. Or was it cavemen who did the chasing? He couldn't think clearly over the hammering of his heart. Perhaps it was cavewomen who liked being chased? Either way, he was soon panting and shimmering with sweat. He had to slow down, but he didn't care.
Getting caught was the fun part.
It didn't take Blake long to catch up. Strong hands seized Miles' bare shoulders and he laughed, tossing back a head of sandy blond curls. His back hit a tree trunk, knocking the breath out of him, but then there was Blake, bringing their lips together. He tasted like cherry pie and chewing gum.
"It's my lunch money, isn't it?" Miles gasped melodramatically. "Just take it, please. Don't whale on me."
Blake looked confused for a moment. His brown puppy-dog eyes widened-sweet, simple Blake, so very much the product of his farm upbringing-but then he grinned and bit his lip. He pressed into Miles, his body heat divine torture.
"Yeah," he said. "I really like, uh, sloppy joes, and?tater tots."
Miles laughed again. A bird flapped over their heads, disappearing into the canopy, which let in thin shafts of silver light.
They both froze.
"Miles, what if somebody catches us out here?"
He grabbed Blake's ass in both hands.
"They'll have to ask my permission to spank you, because this is all mine."
"Seriously, Miles, we could get in deep shit."
For a guy as big and powerful as Blake, he sure was a pussy sometimes. Miles liked that, though. He didn't get to play the strong one often.
"Come on." He took Blake's hand and pulled him through the woods.
"Where-" Blake began, but Miles held a finger to his lips.
"Shhhh."
They made their way between the trees, fingers entwined, finally emerging into the moonlight. The lake was still, like liquid mercury, and a boathouse rested at its edge.
More of a shack than a house. It was that old and decrepit and Miles felt confident nobody would disturb them there.
"The boathouse?" Blake murmured, uncertainty in his voice. "Isn't it condemned or something?"
"What can I say? I've always wanted to act out The Love Boat for real."
Miles turned the dial on the rusted padlock.
"You know the code?" Blake cast worried looks about them, puppy-dog eyes wider than ever. Miles couldn't help thinking it was adorable-and oh so ironic. Miles the bad boy. His mother would have a fit if she knew he'd snuck out there with another guy while the rest of the camp slept.
Good.
He was in half a mind to tell her every sordid detail, just to see the expression on her face. That'd make her take notice, stop harping on about her own miserable mother. Serve her right for enlisting him at this ridiculous camp. It was meant to fix him. Straighten him out, so to speak. Make him a real man.
Real my ass.
"There," he said, brandishing the padlock triumphantly. "Just call me Magnum, PI."
The door creaked loudly and Miles flinched, ushering Blake inside quickly before pulling it shut behind them.
Miles would have been creeped out inside the boathouse if Blake wasn't with him. A lone paddling boat rested half-submerged in the water, slowly rotting like a slumbering sailor. Cobwebs looped across the ceiling and junk cluttered every corner. Rusty tools hung on racks and Miles thought he saw a mouse skitter away. At least he hoped it was a mouse.
"See? Romantic as hell," he said with a grin.
"This place gives me the creeps."
"Don't be such a baby."
"Want to take my mind off it?" Blake sheepishly shoved a hand through his floppy black hair.
"Grrrrr!" Miles snarled, pawing at Blake's chest.
He loved what Blake did to him. Miles had never been so forward in his life. Back in Dallas, he'd never have dreamt of talking to a guy like Blake. He'd dreaded coming to the camp again. Even in the picturesque surroundings, the previous years had been miserable. But not anymore. This year he had Blake.
He hadn't believed it when Blake showed up all athletic and na?ve. Miles had watched him from afar for a few weeks, admiring the view as the jock strolled around Camp Genesis, blissfully unaware of the way everybody drooled over him. They'd barely said twenty words to each other when Miles received the news that changed everything. His dad was dead. Suicide. It came out of nowhere. Miles' dad was the kind of guy who always looked on the bright side. Miles couldn't imagine him taking his own life, but it made sense looking back on it. You'd have to be unhinged to marry the type of woman his father had.
In the wake of the news, Miles fell apart. He was only allowed a day off camp for the funeral, and when he got back, the other campers treated him like a leper; like something bad would happen to their loved ones by association.
Blake was different. One day, he stayed behind to make sure Miles was okay while the others had a swimming lesson. He'd sat on Miles' bed and listened while Miles rambled on in between sobs. Blake had pulled him in for a hug, and as they held each other, Miles realized Blake had a boner?
What started out as a comforting make-out session quickly developed into a real relationship. That was three weeks ago, and Blake had helped Miles whenever he retreated into himself. They had to be discreet about their relationship, stealing kisses in the dark and passing notes during mealtimes, but that made it all the more thrilling.
In the dark of the boathouse, Miles pulled Blake closer, pressing his mouth against Blake's sun-chapped lips, savoring the way he tasted. He smelled like a man, sweaty and alluring.
It was a miracle. Somebody this sweet returning Miles' affection. And a guy, even. He'd had to avoid awkward flirtations from girls for a few years, but now he felt like the awkward one making passes. Besides a few old perverts around Dallas, Blake was a first. And it wasn't just because Blake felt sorry for him-no one could fake a boner like that with a snotty, puffy-eyed guy during a crying jag. He seemed to genuinely care. Everything was so easy for him. He didn't seem that fazed at attending such a bizarre camp; he even put up with the stupid rehabilitation exercises without complaining.
Blake jerked away. "What was that?"
"I didn't hear anything."
"I heard something."
"Maybe it's the creature from the Black Lagoon," Miles teased.
"Black Lagoon?"
Miles sighed and wrapped his arms around Blake's shoulders.
"Just forget it," Miles said, giving him a reassuring kiss.
Then he heard it, too. A weird popping sound. His grip on Blake slackened and he looked around for the source of the noise. His gaze rested on the inky water. Bubbles burst on the otherwise still surface. Miles jumped back, half expecting a nest of giant water snakes to explode out of the wat
er at them, but then the water settled again.
"What the hell-" Miles began.
A shadowy figure erupted from the water. Before either of them could react, something shiny flashed in the dark and Blake made a guttural choke. Warmth spattered Miles' face and he stared at Blake, mouth wide in shock.
Blood gushed from Blake's mouth. He choked, confusion twisting his pretty face.
Something was wrong with his neck. Something protruded from it. Something sharp and dripping blood.
"M-M-M-" Blake reached out for Miles as he collapsed to the floor.
The dark figure turned, obscured by deep shadows.
"What's going on?" Miles demanded.
He couldn't think of anything else to say. He wouldn't have to think of anything else.
Something flashed in the dark once more.
Garden shears, Miles realized as they sank into his skull.
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August 2, 1983
THE summer heat had eased off and Miles took a grateful breath of the cool evening air. Back in Dallas, his hometown, the sidewalks practically sizzled all year round, but even he'd found the sweltering Colorado weather tough this week. He was glad that being a camper at Camp Genesis meant he got to wear shorts and a vest and goof off in the lake most of the time; otherwise he'd have melted into a gooey monster version of himself days ago. Hell, it was so hot he'd have worn nothing if he could get away with it. For some reason, though, the counselors frowned on nudity.
"Gorgeous, huh?" he sighed. As much as he hated the anti-gay activities they were forced to endure there, he couldn't deny the camp's beauty.
"What?"
Beside him, Blake looked blank and Miles shot him a glare. Blake didn't appreciate the peace of the dusky woods like Miles did. He came from Kentucky, where every sunset was a living postcard. He was taller, barely seventeen, and his tanned, defined arms gleamed blue in the moonlight. Miles shoved him, but Blake's innocent smile made being angry so goddamn difficult.
Grinning mischievously, Miles tore off into the woods.
"Catch me if you can!"
"Hey!" Blake called, but Miles ignored him. He liked being chased. Maybe it was some sort of residual caveman mentality. Or was it cavemen who did the chasing? He couldn't think clearly over the hammering of his heart. Perhaps it was cavewomen who liked being chased? Either way, he was soon panting and shimmering with sweat. He had to slow down, but he didn't care.
Getting caught was the fun part.
It didn't take Blake long to catch up. Strong hands seized Miles' bare shoulders and he laughed, tossing back a head of sandy blond curls. His back hit a tree trunk, knocking the breath out of him, but then there was Blake, bringing their lips together. He tasted like cherry pie and chewing gum.
"It's my lunch money, isn't it?" Miles gasped melodramatically. "Just take it, please. Don't whale on me."
Blake looked confused for a moment. His brown puppy-dog eyes widened-sweet, simple Blake, so very much the product of his farm upbringing-but then he grinned and bit his lip. He pressed into Miles, his body heat divine torture.
"Yeah," he said. "I really like, uh, sloppy joes, and?tater tots."
Miles laughed again. A bird flapped over their heads, disappearing into the canopy, which let in thin shafts of silver light.
They both froze.
"Miles, what if somebody catches us out here?"
He grabbed Blake's ass in both hands.
"They'll have to ask my permission to spank you, because this is all mine."
"Seriously, Miles, we could get in deep shit."
For a guy as big and powerful as Blake, he sure was a pussy sometimes. Miles liked that, though. He didn't get to play the strong one often.
"Come on." He took Blake's hand and pulled him through the woods.
"Where-" Blake began, but Miles held a finger to his lips.
"Shhhh."
They made their way between the trees, fingers entwined, finally emerging into the moonlight. The lake was still, like liquid mercury, and a boathouse rested at its edge.
More of a shack than a house. It was that old and decrepit and Miles felt confident nobody would disturb them there.
"The boathouse?" Blake murmured, uncertainty in his voice. "Isn't it condemned or something?"
"What can I say? I've always wanted to act out The Love Boat for real."
Miles turned the dial on the rusted padlock.
"You know the code?" Blake cast worried looks about them, puppy-dog eyes wider than ever. Miles couldn't help thinking it was adorable-and oh so ironic. Miles the bad boy. His mother would have a fit if she knew he'd snuck out there with another guy while the rest of the camp slept.
Good.
He was in half a mind to tell her every sordid detail, just to see the expression on her face. That'd make her take notice, stop harping on about her own miserable mother. Serve her right for enlisting him at this ridiculous camp. It was meant to fix him. Straighten him out, so to speak. Make him a real man.
Real my ass.
"There," he said, brandishing the padlock triumphantly. "Just call me Magnum, PI."
The door creaked loudly and Miles flinched, ushering Blake inside quickly before pulling it shut behind them.
Miles would have been creeped out inside the boathouse if Blake wasn't with him. A lone paddling boat rested half-submerged in the water, slowly rotting like a slumbering sailor. Cobwebs looped across the ceiling and junk cluttered every corner. Rusty tools hung on racks and Miles thought he saw a mouse skitter away. At least he hoped it was a mouse.
"See? Romantic as hell," he said with a grin.
"This place gives me the creeps."
"Don't be such a baby."
"Want to take my mind off it?" Blake sheepishly shoved a hand through his floppy black hair.
"Grrrrr!" Miles snarled, pawing at Blake's chest.
He loved what Blake did to him. Miles had never been so forward in his life. Back in Dallas, he'd never have dreamt of talking to a guy like Blake. He'd dreaded coming to the camp again. Even in the picturesque surroundings, the previous years had been miserable. But not anymore. This year he had Blake.
He hadn't believed it when Blake showed up all athletic and na?ve. Miles had watched him from afar for a few weeks, admiring the view as the jock strolled around Camp Genesis, blissfully unaware of the way everybody drooled over him. They'd barely said twenty words to each other when Miles received the news that changed everything. His dad was dead. Suicide. It came out of nowhere. Miles' dad was the kind of guy who always looked on the bright side. Miles couldn't imagine him taking his own life, but it made sense looking back on it. You'd have to be unhinged to marry the type of woman his father had.
In the wake of the news, Miles fell apart. He was only allowed a day off camp for the funeral, and when he got back, the other campers treated him like a leper; like something bad would happen to their loved ones by association.
Blake was different. One day, he stayed behind to make sure Miles was okay while the others had a swimming lesson. He'd sat on Miles' bed and listened while Miles rambled on in between sobs. Blake had pulled him in for a hug, and as they held each other, Miles realized Blake had a boner?
What started out as a comforting make-out session quickly developed into a real relationship. That was three weeks ago, and Blake had helped Miles whenever he retreated into himself. They had to be discreet about their relationship, stealing kisses in the dark and passing notes during mealtimes, but that made it all the more thrilling.
In the dark of the boathouse, Miles pulled Blake closer, pressing his mouth against Blake's sun-chapped lips, savoring the way he tasted. He smelled like a man, sweaty and alluring.
It was a miracle. Somebody this sweet returning Miles' affection. And a guy, even. He'd had to avoid awkward flirtations from girls for a few years, but now he felt like the awkward one making passes. Besides a few old perverts around Dallas, Blake was a first. And it wasn't just because Blake felt sorry for him-no one could fake a boner like that with a snotty, puffy-eyed guy during a crying jag. He seemed to genuinely care. Everything was so easy for him. He didn't seem that fazed at attending such a bizarre camp; he even put up with the stupid rehabilitation exercises without complaining.
Blake jerked away. "What was that?"
"I didn't hear anything."
"I heard something."
"Maybe it's the creature from the Black Lagoon," Miles teased.
"Black Lagoon?"
Miles sighed and wrapped his arms around Blake's shoulders.
"Just forget it," Miles said, giving him a reassuring kiss.
Then he heard it, too. A weird popping sound. His grip on Blake slackened and he looked around for the source of the noise. His gaze rested on the inky water. Bubbles burst on the otherwise still surface. Miles jumped back, half expecting a nest of giant water snakes to explode out of the wat
"What the hell-" Miles began.
A shadowy figure erupted from the water. Before either of them could react, something shiny flashed in the dark and Blake made a guttural choke. Warmth spattered Miles' face and he stared at Blake, mouth wide in shock.
Blood gushed from Blake's mouth. He choked, confusion twisting his pretty face.
Something was wrong with his neck. Something protruded from it. Something sharp and dripping blood.
"M-M-M-" Blake reached out for Miles as he collapsed to the floor.
The dark figure turned, obscured by deep shadows.
"What's going on?" Miles demanded.
He couldn't think of anything else to say. He wouldn't have to think of anything else.
Something flashed in the dark once more.
Garden shears, Miles realized as they sank into his skull.