The Complete Beast House Chronicles by Richard Laymon


  OH MY GOD!!!

  ‘How about tomorrow night?’ she suggested.

  Tomorrow?

  ‘Sure. Yeah. That’d be . . . really good.’

  ‘On one condition,’ she added.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Don’t you want to hear the condition first?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘I want you to get me into Beast House. Tomorrow night after it closes. That’s where we’ll have our date.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘Have you ever been in there at night?’ she asked.

  ‘Huh-uh. Have you?’

  ‘No, but I’ve always wanted to. I mean, I’ve lived here in Malcasa my whole darn life and read the books and seen all the movies. I took the tour before they started using those tape players, and I know the whole audio tour by heart. I bet I know more about Beast House than most of the guides. But I’ve never been in there at night. It’s the one thing I really want to do. I’d go on the midnight tour, but you have to be eighteen. Anyway, it’s a hundred bucks apiece. And besides, I think it’d be a lot more cool going in by ourselves, don’t you? Who wants to do it with a dozen other people and a guide?’

  ‘But . . . how can we get in?’

  ‘That’s up to you. So what do you think?’

  ‘Sure. Let’s do it.’

  ‘Where have I heard that before?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know, where?’

  ‘From all the other guys who promised to get me in . . . and didn’t.’

  He felt a strange sinking sensation.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘But maybe you’ll be different.’

  ‘I’ll sure try.’

  ‘I’ll be at the back door at midnight.’

  ‘Your back door?’

  ‘The back door of Beast House. What you probably need to do is buy a ticket tomorrow afternoon and go in before it closes and find a hiding place. The thing is, they count those cassette players they give out for the tours. They can’t be short a player when they go to close up for the day. If they’re missing one, they know somebody’s trying to stay in the house and so they search the place from top to bottom.’

  ‘You sure know a lot about it.’

  ‘I’ve studied the situation. I really want to spend a night in there. I think it’d be the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. So how about it? Are you still game?’

  ‘Yeah!’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘But . . . we’ll be staying in Beast House all night?’

  ‘Most of the night, anyway. We’d have to get out before dawn.’

  ‘Are you allowed to stay out all night?’

  ‘Oh, sure. Every night.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’m kidding. I’m sixteen, for cry-sake. Of course I’m not allowed to stay out all night. Are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So we’ll both just have to use our heads and improvise.’

  ‘Guess so.’

  ‘Just like you’ll have to improvise on getting in.’

  ‘How am I supposed to do that thing with the cassette players?’

  ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Mark, this is a test. A test of your brains, imagination and commitment to a task. I think you’re a cool guy, but the world’s full of cool guys. The question is, are you worthy of me.’

  Though she sounded serious, Mark imagined her on the other phone, grinning, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

  ‘See you tomorrow at midnight,’ he said.

  ‘I sure hope so.’

  ‘I’ll be there. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Okay. That’ll be really neat if you can do it. Thanks for calling, Mark.’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Bye-bye.’

  ‘’Bye.’

  After hanging up, Mark sprawled on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Stunned that Alison had agreed to go out with him. Trembling at the prospect of being with her tomorrow night . . . all night. Slightly depressed that she seemed less interested in going out with him than in getting into Beast House. And dumbfounded by the task of how to deal with the cassette-player problem.

  Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

  Usually true, but certainly not always. He could will himself to flap his arms and fly to Singapore, for instance, but that wouldn’t make it happen.

  He’d taken the Beast House tour often enough to understand the system. They gave you a player as you entered the grounds. You wore it by a strap around your neck and listened to the ‘self-guided tour’ through head-phones as you walked through the house. Afterwards, you handed back the player and headphones at the front gate. Handed it to a staff member.

  The crux of the problem, he thought, is the staff member.

  Usually they were good-looking gals in those cute uniforms that made them all look like park rangers.

  If nobody was watching, you could just walk up to the gate, return the audio equipment (slip it into the numbered cubbyhole in the storage cabinet), then turn around and go back to the house and find a hiding place. Or have an accomplice drop off both players on his way out while you remain in the house.

  But there is a gal at the gate and you’ve gotta hand her the player. They want to make very sure nobody’s in the house when they shut it down for the night.

  So how can I do it? Mark wondered. There must be a way.

  It’s just a matter of thinking of it.

  Bribe the girl at the gate?

  Create a diversion?

  He lay there staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, trying to come up with a plan that might work. Might work when you’re just a regular sixteen-year-old real kid, not Indiana Jones or James Bond or Batman.

  He came up with ideas. His only good ideas, however, involved the use of an accomplice.

  I’ve gotta do this on my own, he thought. If I drag Vick or someone into it, they might screw up the whole deal.

  So he kept on thinking. The thoughts filled his head, cluttered it, whirled, bumped into each other. They didn’t make his head hurt, but they certainly made it feel heavy and useless.

  Without realizing it, he fell asleep.

  He woke up at the sound of his father’s voice calling from downstairs. ‘Mark! You better get down here fast! Supper’s on the table. Come on, man. Move it. Arriba! Arriba! Andalé!’

  On his way down the staircase, breathing deeply of the aroma of fried chicken, he heard a gruff Mexican voice in his head. It said, ‘Tape players? We don’t need no steeenkin’ tape players!’

  He grinned.

  Chapter Three

  Plans and hopes and fears swirling through his mind, Mark lay awake most of the night. But he must’ve fallen asleep somewhere along the line because his alarm clock woke him at seven in the morning.

  Friday morning.

  He lay there, staring at the ceiling, trembling.

  I don’t have to go through with it, he thought.

  Oh yes I do. I’ve gotta. If I screw up, that’ll be it with me and Alison.

  But what if I get caught?

  What if I get killed?

  What if she gets killed?

  By now, these were old, familiar thoughts. He’d gone through them all, again and again, while trying to fall asleep. He was tired of them. Besides, they always led to the same conclusion: getting a chance to be with Alison tonight would be worth any risk.

  He struggled out of bed and staggered into the bathroom. There, he took his regular morning shower. Afterward, instead of getting dressed for school, he put on his pajamas and robe and slippers. Then he headed downstairs.

  By the time he entered the kitchen, his father had already left for work and his mother was sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper. She lowered the newspaper. And frowned. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

  He grimaced. ‘I don’t think so.’

  She looked worried. ‘What’s the matter, honey?’

/>   ‘Just . . . a pretty bad headache. No big deal.’

  ‘Looks like you’re not planning on school.’

  ‘I could go, but . . . we never do much on Fridays anyway. Most of the teachers just show movies or give us study time. So I guess, yeah, it’d be nice to stay home. If it’s okay with you.’

  He knew what the answer would be. He made straight A’s, he’d never gotten into any trouble and he rarely missed a day of school. The few times he’d complained of illness, his mother had been perfectly happy to let him stay home.

  ‘Sure,’ she told him. ‘I’ll call the attendance office soon as I’m done with my coffee.’

  ‘Thanks. I guess I’ll head on back to bed.’

  As he turned away, his mother said, ‘Will you be okay by yourself? This is my day to work at the hospital.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, that’s right.’ He’d known full well that she worked as a volunteer at the hospital every Friday. It was perfect. Many of her regular activities kept her in town, but not this one. For the privilege of doing volunteer work in the hospital gift shop, she had to drive all the way to Bodega Bay. More than an hour away. She would have to leave very soon. And she wouldn’t be getting home until about six.

  By then, Mark thought, I’ll be long gone.

  ‘I’ll be fine by myself,’ he said.

  Frowning, she said, ‘I’ll be gone all day, you know.’

  ‘It’s no problem.’

  ‘Maybe I should call one of the other girls and see if I can’t find someone to fill in for me.’

  ‘No, no. Don’t do that. There’s no point. I’ll be fine. Really.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure. Really.’

  ‘Well . . . I’ll be home in time to make dinner. Or maybe I’ll pick up something on the way back. Anyway, why don’t you make yourself a sandwich for lunch? There’s plenty of lunchmeat and cheese in the fridge . . .’

  ‘I know. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.’

  Upstairs, he took off his robe and slippers and climbed into bed. He lay there, gazing at the ceiling, trembling, trying to focus on his plans but mostly daydreaming about Alison.

  After a while, his mother came to his room. ‘How are you doing, honey?’

  ‘Not bad. I’ll be fine. I took some aspirin. I probably just need some sleep.’

  ‘You sure you don’t want me to stay home?’

  ‘I’m sure. Really. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Okay then.’ She bent over, gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, then stood up. ‘If you start feeling worse or anything, give me a call.’

  ‘I will.’

  She nodded, smiled and said, ‘Be good.’

  ‘I will. You, too.’

  She walked out of his room. A few minutes later, he heard her leave the house. He climbed out of bed. Standing at his window, he watched her drive away.

  Then he went to his desk, took a sheet of lined paper from one of his notebooks and wrote:

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  I’m very sorry to upset you, but I had to go someplace tonight. I’ll be back in the morning. Nothing is wrong. Please don’t worry too much or be too angry at me. I’m not upset or nuts or anything. This is just something I really want to do, but I know you wouldn’t approve or give permission.

  Love,

  Mark

  He folded the note in half and put it on his nightstand. After making his bed, he got dressed. He’d thought a lot about what to wear and what to take with him.

  Down in the kitchen, he made two ham-and-cheese sandwiches. He put them into baggies and slipped them into his belly-pack. He added a can of Pepsi from the refrigerator. Realizing its condensation would make everything else wet, he took it out, put it inside a plastic bag, then returned it to his pack.

  In the kitchen ‘junk drawer’, he found a couple of fair-sized pink candles. He put them, along with a handful of match books, into his pack. After fitting his Walkman headphones into the pack, there was no room left for the Walkman itself.

  I don’t need it anyway.

  He put on his windbreaker, then glanced at the digital clock on the oven.

  8:06.

  Perfect.

  Patting the pockets of his jeans, he felt his wallet, comb, handkerchief and keys.

  That should do it.

  He looked around, wondering if he was forgetting anything.

  Yeah, my brains.

  He grinned.

  Chapter Four

  Outside the house, he took a deep breath and filled himself with the cool, moist scents of the foggy morning.

  A wonderful morning, made for adventure.

  He trotted down the porch stairs and headed for Front Street.

  In the early stages of making plans, he’d considered trying to sneak out of the neighborhood to avoid being spotted by friends of his parents. Friends who would blab. After a while, however, he’d realized there was no point. He might be able to sneak into Beast House and keep his rendezvous with Alison, but his parents were certain to discover his absence from home tonight. Thus, the note.

  And thus, no need for sneakiness. Not here and now, anyway.

  They’re gonna kill me, he thought.

  But not till after my night with Alison.

  And if something goes wrong and I can’t make it into Beast House, I’ll just come home and destroy the note and nobody’ll ever know what I almost did.

  That might not be so bad, he thought.

  It’d be awful! I’ve got to get into the house and be there at midnight.

  Walking along, he thought about how surprised Alison would be when he opened the back door for her.

  ‘My God!’ she would say, ‘you really did it!’

  And then she would throw her arms around him, hug him with amazement and delight.

  Would that be a good time to kiss her? he wondered.

  Probably not. You don’t go around kissing a girl at the start of a date. Especially if you’ve never gone out with her before. You’ve got to lead up to it, wait until the mood is just right.

  We’ll have hours together. Plenty of time for one thing to lead to another.

  At Front Street, Mark stopped and looked both ways. Only a few cars were in sight, none near enough to worry about. He hurried to the other side and continued walking east for another block. The barber shop was already open, but he didn’t glance in. The candle shop hadn’t opened yet. Neither had Christiansen Real Estate or the Book Nook or most of the other businesses along both sides of the road. Generally, not much was open in Malcasa Point before 10:00 a.m., probably because that was when the first tour buses arrived for Beast House.

  Coming to the corner, he turned right. Though bordered by businesses, the road was empty and quiet. He followed its sidewalk southward. Because of curves and low slopes, he couldn’t see where it stopped. The DEAD END sign and the fence and rear grounds of Beast House wouldn’t come into view for another couple of minutes.

  Almost there.

  Then the fun starts, he thought.

  But the fun started early.

  Two blocks ahead of Mark, a police car came around a bend in the road.

  Oh, shit!

  Just act normal!

  Trying not to change his pace or the look on his face, he turned his head slightly to the right as if mildly interested in a window display.

  Mannequins in skimpy lingerie.

  Terrific, he thought. The cop’ll think I’m a pervert.

  Looking forward, he started to bob his head slightly as if he had a tune going through it.

  Just a normal guy out for a walk.

  He glanced toward the other side of the road.

  In his peripheral vision, he saw the patrol car coming closer.

  He turned his gaze to the sidewalk directly in front of him.

  The cop’ll get suspicious if I avoid his eyes!

  Trying to seem very casual, still bobbing his head just a bit, he glanced at the cop. He planned to cast the officer a friendly, uni
nterested smile then look away, but couldn’t.

  Holy shit!

  In the driver’s seat of the police car sat the most beautiful woman in town – and by far the most dangerous – Officer Eve Chaney.

  I thought she worked nights!

  Heart thudding, Mark gaped at her. Though he’d seen Officer Chaney a few times at night and admired her photo in the newspaper every so often, this was his first good view of her in daylight.

  My God, he thought.

  She turned her head and stared straight back at him as she slowly drove by.

  ‘Hi,’ he mouthed, but no sound came from his mouth.

  She narrowed her eyes, nodded, and kept on driving.

  Face forward, Mark kept on walking. His face felt hot. He was breathing quickly, his heart thumping.

  How’d you like to spend the night in Beast House with HER?

  The prospect of that was frightening but incredibly exciting.

  He suddenly felt guilty.

  Hearing a car behind him, he looked over his shoulder.

  Oh, jeez, here she comes!

  She drove slowly, swung to the curb and stopped adjacent to him. Her passenger window glided down. Mark bent his knees slightly and peered in.

  Beckoning him with one hand, Officer Chaney said, ‘Would you like to step over here for a moment?’

  ‘Me?’

  She nodded.

  Heart clumping hard and fast, Mark walked up to her passenger door, bent over and looked in.

  He’d never been this close to such a beautiful woman.

  But she’s a cop and I’m in trouble.

  He could hardly breathe.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

  ‘Mark. Mark Matthews.’

  ‘I’m Officer Chaney, Mark.’

  He nodded.

  Though this was October, Officer Chaney made him think of summer days at the beach. Her short hair was blowing slightly in the breeze that came in through the open windows of her patrol car. Her eyes were deep blue like a cloudless July sky. Her face was lightly tanned. The scent of her, mixed with the moist coolness of the fog, was like suntan oil

  ‘How old are you, Mark?’

  He considered lying, but knew it was useless. ‘Sixteen.’

  She nodded as if she’d already known. ‘Shouldn’t you be in school?’

  ‘I guess so. I mean, I guess it all depends.’

 
Previous Page Next Page
Should you have any enquiry, please contact us via [email protected]