Free Allhallow's Eve: (Richard Laymon Horror Classic) by Richard Laymon

kind of guy who dumps people,’ she said, still staring.
    ‘I try not to.’
    ‘You’ve got such gentle eyes.’
    ‘Well …’ Blushing, Sam shrugged.
    ‘Whoever you’re engaged to, she’s a lucky woman.’
    ‘I keep telling her that.’
    ‘She’d better know it.’
    Sam took a sip of coffee. ‘I have to get going.’
    ‘Worried?’
    ‘A little.’
    ‘Don’t be. I’m harmless.’
    ‘Are you?’
    ‘You’re engaged, remember?’ She sipped her coffee, and set the mug down on the table. ‘I’d better give this back,’ she said. Smiling, she lifted the badge. ‘We’re not pinned, after all.’
    He watched her hands work at the clasp, and slide the badge off her sweater. It left two tiny holes over her breast.
    She placed the shield on his palm, and folded his fingers over it. ‘You’re the first guy,’ she said, ‘who ever let me wear his badge.’
    ‘Maybe we can do it again sometime.’
    Her eyes turned sad. She gave his closed hand a quick squeeze. Then she let go, and stood up. She backed away, rubbing her hands on her kilt. ‘Should I keep an eye on that room for you?’
    ‘Not much point, I guess.’ Sam finished his coffee, and stood. ‘Of course, if another woman shows up … I don’t think that’s likely to happen, though.’
    He followed Melodie through the door to the office.
    ‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ she said.
    ‘I appreciate all your help. And your coffee.’ Reaching for the doorknob, his back to Melodie, he felt uneasy – as if he’d forgotten something important. He turned to her, wondering what it could be. ‘Thanks again,’ he said.
    ‘It’s been nice knowing you, Sam Wyatt. However briefly.’
    He pulled her against him, felt her softness and warmth, her lips and the wetness of her mouth. Then her cheek was damp against his face, and he saw that she was crying.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
    She pressed her wet eyes to the side of his neck. ‘That’s okay,’ she said. ‘I was afraid you’d leave …’
    ‘I have to.’
    ‘… without kissing good-bye.’

13
     
    Lynn Horner was watching television with her two boys when the lights went out.
    ‘Oh no,’ said the older boy, John.
    ‘Hank?’ Lynn asked. She saw the vague figure of her husband sit upright in his chair.
    ‘Probably a fuse,’ he grumbled. He sounded only half awake.
    ‘Well, go see.’
    ‘Yeah,’ John said. ‘We’re gonna miss the best part.’
    ‘That’d be a pity,’ Hank said, getting to his feet.
    ‘Just ’cause you fell asleep.’
    ‘I’ll go with,’ said Mike.
    ‘Sure, come on.’
    The younger boy sprang to his feet. In the dark, he collided with his brother.
    ‘Hey, watch who you’re stepping on,’ Joe complained. ‘Klutz.’
    ‘Oh, go soak your head.’
    ‘ Boys ,’ Lynn said.
    Mike hurried after his father. ‘Hey, wait up, Dad.’
    ‘Get a move on, then,’ his voice called from the hall. ‘God forbid anyone should miss the end of the show.’
    ‘Boy,’ Joe muttered. ‘What a crummy thing to happen.’
    ‘It’s not the end of the world,’ Lynn said. Turning around on the couch, she pulled aside the curtain and looked outside. The nearby streetlight was shining brightly. There were no houses across the street, though, to check for lights. The trees on the golf course were blowing fiercely. ‘The wind might’ve knocked down a power line,’ she said.
    ‘Wouldn’t that be great.’
    ‘You can always catch the rerun.’
    ‘Sure. Six months from now. If we’re home. If the television doesn’t bust again.’
    ‘You’re probably just missing a commercial, anyway.’
    ‘Yeah, sure.’
    ‘I always thought it was fun to lose the power. It used to happen all the time, during thunderstorms. We’d get out candles, and tell scary stories …’
    ‘Sounds like a ball.’
    ‘My son, the cynic.’
    ‘What’s taking them so long?’
    ‘Maybe a goblin got ’em.’
    ‘Sure.’
    ‘Ate ’em up.’
    Joe laughed. ‘You’re nuts.’
    ‘Ghoulies,’